Terror Island (1920)

Harry Harper (Harry Houdini) designs a submarine with new features including a hatch by which people may enter and exit while submerged. He plans to use it to search for the wreck of the Hawk, which was carrying a cargo of South African diamonds when it sank in the South Seas. Meanwhile, Beverley West (Lila Lee) holds a map showing the position of the Hawk and a skull-shaped pearl, both sent to her by her trader-father. In a letter, Mr West (Fred Turner) pleads with Beverley to return the pearl to the natives, otherwise he will be sacrificed. He also warns her not to trust her uncle, Job Mordaunt (Wilton Taylor), but to hold onto the pearl and the map. Only interested in the diamonds, Mordaunt schemes to rob Beverley; while she, seeing a newspaper article on Harper’s submarine, offers him a partnership… Not a serial! spruiks the advertising art for Terror Island, though with very little extra effort it could have been, since even as a film its plot consists primarily of fights, kidnappings, rescues, deathtraps and escapes—all in the name of Harry Houdini making yet another attempt to launch a screen career. Surviving prints of Terror Island are unfortunately missing the third and fourth reels: consequently, the characters are abruptly catapulted to the “South Seas”, with the viewer robbed of the submarine scenes and much of the underwater action that were the major selling-points in the first place. Once the action shifts to the island where Henry West is to be sacrificed and, it is implied, eaten (seems counterintuitive to starve him first but oh well), the doings of the “natives”, their chief in particular (Frank Bonner, really hamming it up), add a painful serving of cringe to the proceedings; but then, if we can survive the early solemn assurance that Harry Harper wants the diamonds only to “brighten the lives of little waifs”, we can probably survive this too. The three Mordaunts, including son Guy (a slimmer-than-familiar Eugene Palette), make for truly nasty villains and the level of violence here is quite high. Lila Lee – who is sporting Princess Leia buns when she is first introduced – toggles between refreshingly feisty and a bit too much hand-wringing as Beverley, but does go through the second half of the film wearing a set of Oriental-ish pyjamas in place of her restricting dress, so we can forgive some of the rest.

Sky Bandits (1940)

Also known as: Renfrew Of The Royal Mounted in Sky Bandits. Sergeant Douglas Renfrew (James Newill) and his partner, Constable Kelly (Dave O’Brien), search by air for the wreck of a plane that crashed while carrying a shipment produced by the Yukon Gold Mining Company. Unable to locate it, they land and call at the company office, where Buzz Murphy (Eddie Featherston) is preparing for another flight—only planning, he tells Renfrew, to stay out of firing range, as he believes his predecessor was shot down. Unknown to the company, their head office has been bugged: the information gathered is transmitted by radio in code, under the guise of children’s stories told by “Uncle Dimwittie” (Dewey Robinson). To bring down the gold-carrying planes, gang leader Morgan (William Pawley) has financed the invention of scientist Speavey (Dwight Frye); although when Speavey is unable to get the necessary power out of his radio-beam, Morgan “hires” Professor Lewis (Joe De Stefani), under the guise of government defence work, to boost its range. When Murphy takes off, Renfrew and Kelly follow him in their own plane—and are witnesses when he suddenly crashes… Sky Bandits was the eighth (!) and last low-budget film based on the radio serial about the exploits of Renfrew of the Mounties; and while it isn’t like me to start at the end of anything, what this film also is, is an effective re-make of Ghost Patrol—which I’m not sure the world really needed but anyhoo. This is an even more poverty-stricken effort whose annoyances outweigh its entertainment value (most of which is inadvertent, such as the Professor being told late that the authorities will go easier on him if he co-operates, “Especially if you’re innocent”), but it does give us two truly stupid scientists for the price of one: Speavey who, if he wasn’t mad to start with, is by the time his pet rabbit gets accidentally zapped with his death-ray; and Professor Lewis, who somehow swallows Morgan’s cover story about war work but doesn’t hesitate to tell his daughter exactly where his “secret” research is being carried out. This paves the way for a tedious but thankfully minor romance element, when Madeleine Lewis (Louise Stanley) shows up and inevitably cute-meets Renfrew. Though he begins to catch on to the truth about the ray-gun, Renfrew can’t convince his superiors and so ends up volunteering to fly the next gold shipment himself—putting his life in the hands of Professor Lewis, who has just discovered that, far from helping to develop a defensive weapon meant to protect his country from air attacks, he is an accessory to robbery and murder…

Island In The Sky (1953)

Based upon the novel by Ernest K. Gann. During WWII, an Army Air Transport Command flight piloted by Dooley (John Wayne) runs into severe weather while flying the North Atlantic route. The radio operator, D’Annunzia (Wally Cassell), reports that due to interference from the Northern Lights, he is unable to get the plane’s bearings; while the navigator, Murray (Jimmy Lydon), can give only an approximate position. As the bad weather intensifies, ice build-up becomes a serious threat. Dooley makes the critical decision to turn the plane north-west, to evade the ice; he orders D’Annunzia to send out a message announcing the plane’s direction, and that he intends to fly as long as the fuel will last. Following this plan, Dooley seeks out open territory and succeeds in landing the plane safely on the frozen ground—but then he and his crew must face the fact that they are lost in a vast uncharted wilderness with extremely limited supplies… Directed (inevitably) by William Wellman, and written (inevitably) by Ernest K. Gann, Island In The Sky is based upon a true incident in the latter’s career, in which he was involved in the search for downed military plane—with the added twist that he had been bumped from the flight in question by a more senior pilot. After its set-up, the film divides itself between the struggle for survival taking place somewhere near, apparently, the Quebec-Labrador border, and the rescue mission based out of the Presque Isle Airfield in Maine. When word spreads that “Dooley’s down”, every available man presents himself as a volunteer; but as Colonel Fuller (Walter Abel) spells out what little they know for sure about the crew’s whereabouts, the magnitude of the job becomes only too clear: limited information, limited fuel, a limitless search area, and bad weather rolling in. Meanwhile, Dooley must hold his men together and guard against panic and hopelessness as the days creep by and supplies run out… Island In The Sky is a well-mounted and sincere drama, but also one that occasionally shows signs of not trusting itself—or perhaps not trusting its audience. This is a long film in which, perforce, there is very little “action” in the usual cinematic sense: long stretches are devoted to a small group of men huddling in the ice hoping for rescue, while others gaze anxiously out of aeroplane windows. Overlying this – and honestly, undermining it – we have portentous voiceovers (from William Wellman), some unnecessary internal monologuing (John Wayne), and occasional emotional outbreaks that have a tendency to tip over into bathos. Still—the film does a lot right too. With the Sierra Nevadas standing in for Canada, Archie Stout’s black-and-white cinematography and the art direction of James Basevi combine in conveying the staggering vastness of the men’s surroundings and the unspeakably bitter cold with which they must contend; while the choice to limit the film’s musical score further emphasises their isolation. John Wayne mostly underplays here as Dooley, letting the mask of stoicism drop upon occasion and showing both the weight of responsibility and a growing sense of despair. The other main appeal of Island In The Sky is an extraordinary ensemble cast which finds both Wellman and Wayne rounding up their usual suspects, and which includes (draws deep breath): Lloyd Nolan, Andy Devine, Walter Abel, James Arness, Allyn Joslyn, Harry Carey Jr, Regis Toomey, Paul Fix, Louis Jean Heydt, Bob Steele, Darryl Hickman, “Touch” Connors, Fess Parker, Carl Switzer, Ann Doran, and Tim and Michael Wellman (then eleven and five). Like its companion piece, The High And The Mighty, to which it acts as an interesting forerunner, Island In The Sky was the victim of a legal dispute and went largely unseen for decades.

(The film’s awful advertising art also indicates a lack of trust in this as anything but “a John Wayne movie”: I mean, really?)

Seven Ways From Sundown (1960)

Based upon the novel by Clair Huffaker. Newly-appointed Texas Ranger Seven Jones (Audie Murphy) is greeted with hostility in the town of Beeker’s Crossing where, the previous night, outlaw Jim Flood (Barry Sullivan) shot several men in a dispute over cards before torching the saloon. Jones rides on to Buckley and reports to the Ranger station under the command of Lieutenant Herly (Kenneth Tobey): he and the veteran Sergeant Hennessy (John McIntire) both knew Jones’ older brother, who was killed in the line of duty. Issued a revolver, Jones admits he has never used one before. His first practice session under Hennessy goes poorly but, to the surprise of his superiors, he proves a dead shot with a rifle. Sent to the home of Mrs Harrington (Mary Field), who provides meals for the Rangers, Jones is smitten by her daughter, Joy (Venetia Stevenson). When Hennessey and Jones are assigned to pursue Jim Flood, Hennessy privately protests sending a rookie officer on such a dangerous mission. Herly insists that he can spare no more men; though he agrees with Hennessy that it is best kept a secret from Jones that Flood killed his brother… Though not up with the top echelon of psychological westerns, Seven Ways From Sundown privileges character over action and gradually develops into an intriguing study of clashing personalities and mores. In modern terms, Flood is a charming sociopath: he makes friends wherever he goes even while leaving a trail of bodies in his wake; and in spite of what he knows of the outlaw – despite, too, Flood’s almost warning-shot killing of Hennessy – after time spent in his company Jones begins to fall into the trap of liking him too well and trusting him too much. However, this aspect of the narrative is thoughtfully balanced out by Flood learning a healthy degree of respect for his inexperienced but dogged adversary, who manages to capture him single-handed and outwits him several times: so much so, he refrains from killing him once or twice when he has the chance. But then—it’s a long ride back to Buckley… Seven Ways From Sundown takes a while to get going, but hits its stride once it settles down to focus on the evolving relationship between Jones and Flood. The film’s colour cinematography by Ellis Carter and its location shooting in Nevada and Utah (gorgeous, while avoiding the more familiar landmarks) emphasises the isolation of the two, who must work together to survive attacks by a band of Apaches and the family of Flood’s latest victims—even as they accept the unlikelihood of both of them surviving their strange “friendship”. The cast also includes Jack Kruschen, Fred Graham, Suzanne Lloyd and Claudia Barrett. Ironically, given his onscreen persona here, a violent clash between Audie Murphy and original director George Sherman saw the latter quit to be replaced by Harry Keller.

The Devil At 4 O’Clock (1961)

Based upon the novel by Max Catto. A small plane bound for Tahiti makes a preliminary stop on the island of Talua, where the pilot, Jacques (Jean-Pierre Aumont), announces they will be staying overnight. Onboard are young priest Father Perreau (Kerwin Mathews) and three convicts in chains under guard. Perreau finds his way to the residence of Father Doonan (Spencer Tracy), who gives him a bitter reception including mocking his desire to perform Mass before starting on his other duties. Meanwhile, to placate the island’s governor (Alexander Scourby), Jacques points out that Doonan will be leaving forever the following day, and insists that the convicts will be no problem. The governor retorts that they are escapees who stabbed a guard—and has his point proved when a violent struggle breaks out in the stockade. Overhanging the scene is the island’s volcano, which is releasing ominous black smoke… Father Doonan embarrasses his young replacement by begging and shaming some of the locals into making grudging donations for the small hospital up in the mountains. Perreau is also disturbed when Doonan stops at the stockade to collect its five inmates as convict labour. Discovering that the three recent arrivals are being punished with time in “the box”, Doonan defiantly releases them but, far from grateful, they resent being put to work. After a dangerous drive up the mountain, the newcomers to Talua discover the island’s dark secret: the hospital is a leper colony… Like Krakatoa, East Of Java, The Devil At 4 O’Clock is a proto-disaster movie rather than the real deal—though it comes much closer in many respects than the later production. The volcano is established early as an imminent threat, it begins impacting the action about halfway through the film, and the final extended act here finds the main characters attempting to lead the staff and patients of the hospital to safety in the face of its eruption. So far, so good. The rest of the film, however, fails the I-know-it-when-I-see-it test—being too much about its people and not enough about its disaster, if I can make that unreasonable criticism. It certainly ought to be closer to the real deal, given the film’s main overall failing: it is completely unsubtle and boasts not a single unpredictable touch…except perhaps its last few moments, and that might depend on whether or not you see the chutzpah of it coming. The body of the film, meanwhile, pontificates mightily upon prejudice, faith, redemption and self-sacrifice; though it allows for a believable dose of healthy self-interest, too. After triggering a series of earthquakes the volcano begins to erupt, prompting the governor to call for evacuation. Accompanying Jacques on a reconnaissance flight, Doonan believes he glimpses the hospital still standing and pleads with the governor for both time and help—proposing to parachute down and walk the survivors out. He gets no assistance from the locals but, in exchange for a promise of reduction of their sentences, the three convicts volunteer… Another disaster-movie-like touch here, prefiguring The Towering Inferno, is the behind-the-scenes manoeuvring with respect to the two stars of The Devil At 4 O’Clock: Frank Sinatra, as lead convict Harry, finally stepped back and accepted both a pay-cut and second billing to accommodate Spencer Tracy, and was rewarded with place-of-prominence on the poster. Somewhat weirdly, until very late in proceedings the two stars occupy mostly separate plot-threads, with Harry being won over not by the priest but by beautiful blind girl Camille (Barbara Luna); although his initial move-in does prompt the enraged Doonan to go for his throat. (Noting that we believe Tracy could take Sinatra here, as we did he could take Gable in 1936.)  The film’s special effects are quite impressive, giving us escalating dangers in the form of earthquakes, fiery debris, lava flows, collapsing bridges and an explosion (though the screenplay ignores both poisonous gases and the tsunami that ought to result from all this). The film’s location shooting was done mostly on Maui; while the cast also includes Grégoire Aslan and Bernard Hamilton as the other two convicts, Martin Brandt as the island’s atheist medico who is also the priest’s best friend, and Cathy Lewis as the hospital’s reformed-prostitute matron.

Cold Sweat (1970)

Based upon the novel Ride The Nightmare by Richard Matheson. Married to Fabienne (Liv Ullmann) and with a twelve-year-old step-daughter, Michèle (Yannick De Lulle), American ex-pat Joe Martin (Charles Bronson) runs a charter boat out of a small harbour on the French Riviera. One night, the Martins’ home is invaded by an armed man called Vermont (Michel Constantin). Joe manages to overpower him and, in the struggle, kills him. He must then confess his past to Fabienne: a period in the army stockade, an escape—and his presence when one of his companions panicked and murdered a German policeman. He managed to escape, but the others were caught and jailed. Agreeing not to call the police, Joe and Fabienne dispose of Vermont’s body; but before long the rest of the gang shows up, demanding that Joe pay off his “debt” to them by using his boat to transport heroin… Despite its general credentials and what I’m sure at the time was described as “an exciting international cast”, Cold Sweat is a rather lacklustre thriller whose disparate elements never quite gel. It is best remembered these days for an extended and insanely dangerous—not car chase, exactly, at least not until the police get involved, but race against time to bring a doctor to one of the gang who has been gut-shot, and in whose hands lies the safety of Fabienne and Michèle, taken hostage to ensure Joe’s compliance. A cat-and-mouse battle between the escaping hostages and ex-Foreign Legion killer Katanga (Jean Topart) is also suspenseful, but the fact that the film-makers apparently did set the French countryside on fire to achieve it is rather dismaying. The rest of the film doesn’t really work, and what ought to be its more interesting aspects are just uncomfortable instead. James Mason, as gang leader Colonel Ross, does a southern American accent that foreshadows Mandingo; while Jill Ireland, inevitably, shows up as his British-hippie girlfriend, who gets revenge-kidnapped by Joe. What Liv Ullmann was doing here is anyone’s guess; though for Euro fans, there is the further presence of Luigi Pistilli as another gang member, while Michel Constantin was dubbed by David Hess. Director Terence Young’s wife, Sabine Sun, has a bit-part as a nurse. Available prints of Cold Sweat are generally in poor condition even when they’re in the right aspect ratio, which takes away from the location shooting around Beaulieu-sur-Mer.

The Incredible Invasion (1971)

Original title: Invasion siniestra (The Sinister Invasion); also known as: Alien Terror. While conducting experiments into radium, Professor John Mayer (Boris Karloff) and his assistant, Dr Isabel Reed (Maura Monti), accidentally create and fire a deadly ray. Its discharge into space is noted by an alien race that, worried about this new and dangerous power, sends one of its number to Earth, to destroy it. Reasoning that a weak, criminal mind will be easier to control, the alien (Sergio Kleiner) takes over the body of sex murderer Thomas (Yerye Beirute), but finds unexpected difficulties… Professor Mayer and Dr Reed prepare a demonstration of their ray for representatives of the government, but are dismayed when it is viewed primarily as a potential weapon. Meanwhile, Dr Paul Rosten (Enrique Guzmán) renews his acquaintance with Mayer’s niece, Laura (Christa Linder). Thomas, posing as a villager, brings a “gift” to Mayer: the same disembodied force takes over the scientist… The fourth and last of Boris Karloff’s Mexican films, The Incredible Invasion is perhaps the most interesting of the group for its bizarrely unrelated elements, but finally falls down exactly where its predecessors do. The film is marked by a general air of sleaze and unpleasantness; the scenes in which women are attacked and/or murdered are heavily sexualised; and the film’s treatment of the unfortunate Isabel is unconscionable. (Remember, ladies: it is always better to be a pretty dimwit.) On the other hand, we have the plot of The Day The Earth Stood Still displaced to the late 19th century, a silver-suited alien entirely of the 1970s, and a Marie-Curie-meets-Jack-the-Ripper plot…so at least it isn’t dull. The “sleazy, slutty music” soundtrack is absurdly inappropriate; while the English-language version offers up amusing details such as the villagers of “Gudenberg” talking like characters in a western (and who is that woman leading the posse!?). The main plot, such as it is – and when it isn’t focused upon Thomas’s little “hobby” – involves the aliens’ attempt to force Professor Mayer to destroy his work, only to discover that in spite of their natural inferiority, human beings are far more difficult to control than anticipated. Even the weak-brained Thomas is sometimes able to break away—so when it comes to an intellect like Mayer’s, the aliens have a real fight on their hands… Though visibly ill and struggling, Boris Karloff gives it his all here as he always did, in what turned out to be the final film of his career: hardly a fitting send-off for one of the greats, but a tribute to his unwavering professionalism.

(And we do have a little Immortal Dialogue…)

Return Flight (1972)

After landing at Luton, Captain Hamish Rolph (Peter Barkworth) is summoned to the office of airline executive, and personal friend, Frank Warley (Bernard Brown). There, he is questioned by aviation investigator Mr Samuels (Artro Morris) about an incident during a previous flight out of Hamburg in which he took abrupt evasive action to avoid collision with another plane flying without lights. Rolph is irritated but sticks to his story, though he is told that no-one but he saw anything, and the Germans are denying any other plane was up there. After he leaves, Samuels questions Warley about Rolph and learns, among other things, that he was recently bereaved. Warley later calls upon Rolph to invite him for dinner, and finds him packing up his wife’s belongings: he speaks bitterly of his daughter’s failure to travel home from Africa for the funeral. Rolph takes his wife’s jewellery to the Warleys’ and offers it to Rosalind (Diana Fairfax), whose eye is caught by a small handcrafted plane—a reminder of Jenny Rolph’s first marriage… The second (and second surviving) episode of the anthology series “Dead Of Night”, Return Flight is a low-key drama built around the increasingly strange experiences of Hamish Rolph and the question of whether they are or are not all in his mind. There is a haunting here, but not the kind we might expect. Ultimately, this is a story of grief, resentment and feelings of inadequacy—and the dangers of burying such emotions. At this distance, the viewer will probably be appalled by the thought of someone returning to such a high-pressure job so soon after losing their spouse, even though, we gather, the Rolph marriage was not a particularly happy one; and even in-script, Samuels wonders out loud if such stiff-upper-lip-ness is really the best approach. We learn, in time, of Jenny Rolph’s first, brief marriage to a fighter pilot, who died within months; the inference that Hamish was always second best – and knew it – gradually emerges. It is only after the event that we realise the significance of Rolph’s reported incident – with a plane he describes as a four-engine prop-job, not at all the DC-8 the Germans eventually concede might have been up there – coinciding with his co-pilot’s remark about “a bomber’s moon”… Written by Robert Holmes, Return Flight does not attempt to be scary, but tries to place the viewer within Rolph’s experiences; making the ending perhaps unnecessarily cruel. One interesting touch here is the presence onboard one flight of a group of slightly rambunctious football fans – soccer, this time – in what I’m taking to be a nod at Arthur Hailey’s Flight Into Danger and its various incarnations.

Drunken Tai-Chi (1984)

Miserly salt-factory owner Mr Chen (Lee Kwan) spoils his younger son Ching Do (Donnie Yen), while at the same time ruthlessly working his older son Yu Ping (Yuen Yat-Choh) and blaming his brother’s misdeeds on him. While Ching Do carries on a feud with local rival Ta Sha (Mandy Cha Chi-Man), the latter’s father (Don Wong Tao) tries to intimidate Mr Chen into selling him his factory, but Mr Chen defies him. Intent upon taking revenge upon Ching Do, Ta Sha and his friends set a trap for him that backfires, subjecting Ta Sha to a barrage of fireworks that leaves him physically battered and catatonic. Enraged, his father hires a professional killer, Iron Steel (Yuen Shun-Yi), who burns down the salt factory and murders Mr Chen and Yu Ping. Devastated by the loss of his family but realising his own life is in danger, Ching Do goes on the run, finally being taken in by an alcoholic puppeteer (Yuen Cheung-Yan) who also happens to be a master of Tai-Chi… Drunken Tai-Chi was the film that introduced Donnie Yen to the world of martial-arts cinema, promoting him from stuntman to full-on star in a single bound, under the guidance of Yeun Wo-Ping. The various set pieces – from comic to serious, from classical martial arts to Donnie Yen doing his b-boying routine – are well-staged and satisfying, as we would expect. At the same time, this is a thoroughly bizarre and often disconcerting film. “Tone shift” doesn’t begin to describe it, inasmuch as this is effectively a comedy built around the brutal murders of the protagonist’s family, and in which its most sympathetic characters are also the butts of its crassest humour. By the latter I refer to the puppeteer, who comes equipped with a pair of wince-y buck-teeth, and his wife (Lydia Shum Tin-Ha), who is given no name here other than “Fatty”. Yet having gone about as low as it could with respect to both, the film turns around and makes this pair its most engaging and likeable characters—and, moreover, gives both of them the chance to kick the stuffing out of the self-satisfied Ching Do, who desperately needs it. In particular, there is something deeply satisfying about watching Donnie Yen get his butt handed to him by Lydia Shum, whose “Fatty” turns out to be both physically proficient and delightfully graceful. In its central scenario, Drunken Tai-Chi essentially follows Drunken Master, with its obnoxious protagonist brought low by circumstances before learning to be a better person—and a better fighter. A plot twist has Ching Do rescue from kidnappers a small boy who turns out to be the son of Iron Steel; but while we might think this would give the assassin reason to stop and reconsider his assignment, unfortunately for Ching Do he is 100% professional—and only able to be defeated by the power of Tai-Chi…

The Devil’s Advocate (1997)

Based upon the novel by Andrew Neiderman. Having never lost a case as a prosecutor or a defender, Florida-based attorney Kevin Lomax (Keanu Reeves) faces his greatest challenge when he realises that his latest client, a high-school teacher accused of molesting a student, is guilty. He requests a short recess in order to commune with himself—and then coolly destroys the young victim’s credibility… As he celebrates with his wife, Mary Ann (Charlize Theron), and his friends, Lomax is approached by a representative of a prestigious New York law firm and hired to consult on jury selection for an upcoming trial. After achieving a swift acquittal, Lomax is introduced to the head of the law firm, John Milton (Al Pacino), and offered a job—and also a luxurious apartment in what is described as a “family” building, housing most of the firm’s senior executives. At first thrilled by their new situation, Mary Ann soon becomes isolated as her husband’s work hours increase, and is disturbed by the behaviour of some of the other firm wives. Lomax’s conservative mother, Alice (Judith Ivey), visits the couple but leaves New York abruptly after meeting Milton. When real-estate mogul Alex Cullen (Craig T. Nelson) is charged with a triple homicide, the firm takes on his defence, with Milton insisting that Lomax take the lead. However, when Mary Ann begins to show signs of mental health issues, Lomax must choose between caring for her and continuing with the case… Part supernatural thriller and part morality play, The Devil’s Advocate is an almost absurdly unsubtle piece of work—entertaining enough, but without the slightest ambiguity in its depiction of the relationship between Kevin Lomax and his mentor-tempter; and while its narrative definitely places Lomax on the road to hell, we can hardly say he’s there because of his good intentions—which is part of the problem. While of course we smirk at the idea of a modern Satan at the head of a New York law firm, the film’s central scenario of lawyers literally doing the devil’s work is pretty much shooting fish in a barrel. A bigger issue is that Kevin Lomax was doing very (un)nicely on his own, without the need for any unholy temptation. There is no sense here of Lomax being turned or corrupted, of anything really being at stake until the final-act revelation, but rather that he is simply fulfilling his anti-potential; and if he does baulk at the last – the very last – it feels less like redemptive self-sacrifice than Lomax once again letting everyone down. Even here, though, the film overreaches, pressing the reset button—and then pressing it again for good [sic.] measure. Still, The Devil’s Advocate does make good use of Keanu Reeves’ clean-cut good-guy-ness in its rolling depiction of exactly how low Lomax is willing to stoop. Charlize Theron is sympathetic as Mary Ann, who is painfully out of her depth even before she ends up positioned as a potential sacrifice – literally – to her husband’s ambition. Meanwhile, Al Pacino was let completely off his leash as Milton; and while his bouncing, beaming, ranting performance is a large part of the entertainment value here, I have to go back to my original complaint: I prefer my Satans more subtle than this. More amusing to me, frankly, was the realisation of how very heavily this film influenced End Of Days.

Hostile Waters (1997)

Based upon the book by Peter Huchthausen, Igor Kurdin and R. Alan White. In 1986, as Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbechev prepare for disarmament talks in Reykjavik, the submarine K-219 performs manoeuvres off Bermuda, including a missile drill targeting all the major cities of the eastern United States. Meanwhile, USS Aurora tracks the Soviet submarine—only to be caught too close when the K-219 performs a “Crazy Ivan”. The result is a collision that, while leaving the American vessel largely undamaged, initiates a series of increasingly dangerous crises aboard the K-219. A ruptured seal on one of the ballistic missile tube releases fuel which mixes with in-leaking seawater and creates toxic fumes; while the corrosive reaction begins a fire which threatens the submarine’s nuclear reactor. Having reported the incident to the Pentagon, the Aurora receives clearance to torpedo the K-219 should it seem to be preparing to launch missiles—and when the Soviet submarine opens four of its hatches, a  critical decision must be made… To this day the US Government denies the accident occurred, intones the opening text of Hostile Waters—but then, who are we going to believe, the US Government or HBO?? It seems, however, that what has been denied since 1986 is not that a Soviet submarine came terrifyingly close to going into meltdown off the east coast of the US but that, specifically, a collision with an American vessel was the cause of the near-catastrophe. Of the rest, nothing has been said, as per policy—with the result that this film and the book upon which it was based got almost all their information from the Soviet side of things. It is therefore hardly surprising that the narrative is strongly weighted in that direction, while the Americans don’t come out of it well at all; with any remaining doubts about whose side we’re supposed to be on eliminated by the dead-giveaway casting of Rutger Hauer as Captain Igor Britanov—whose successful handling of the crisis was, typically, “rewarded” with six months in jail and dismissal from the navy. Heigh-ho. Biased and/or incomplete narratives aside, in its own right Hostile Waters is an effective thriller that stays almost entirely with the K-219 as its crew struggles heroically to prevent the meltdown that seems all but inevitable, aware at the same time that the fire itself has the potential to cause the unintended firing of the onboard missiles. Having learned by this time (thank you, Tom Clancy) to measure any given Soviet crew by their attitude to the assigned political officer, Hostile Waters surprises us by allowing Pshenishny (Colm Feore) to rise to the occasion during the crisis and earn Britanov’s respect. Meanwhile, the film acts as a tribute to Sergei Preminin (Rob Campbell), the young naval officer who lost his life during the manual shutdown of the overheating reactors. Martin Sheen appears as the unnamed captain of the Aurora; while Max Von Sydow, cameoing as Admiral Chernavin, gets a blackly humorous moment when he observes that the world’s only hope is that the Americans don’t react to the crisis in the way that, were positions reversed, the Soviets certainly would…

The Pentagon Wars (1998)

Based upon The Pentagon Wars: Reformers Challenge The Old Guard by James G. Burton. This HBO-produced black comedy must be approached with a certain degree of caution. While it appears to be a reasonable translation of its source, the book itself has since been called into question as a skewed and self-serving account of former Air Force Colonel James Burton’s time within the Pentagon, his role with respect to the development of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle, and his battle to ensure the vehicle’s fitness for purpose. Most fundamentally, Burton went in not as a fresh set of eyes but with a pre-determined agenda that influenced his conduct. Consequently, while The Pentagon Wars achieves its satirical purpose with respect to the various kinds of military madness it sets out to mock, its depiction of these specific events should be taken with a large grain of salt. So. United States Air Force Colonel James Burton (Cary Elwes) is assigned to the Pentagon as part of a joint-service live-testing program for military hardware in development. General Partridge (Kelsey Grammer) commiserates with him over his posting, but also suggests it may lead to new opportunities both in and out of the military—if he plays the game. Burton is given several projects to oversee, but Partridge makes it clear that his top priority must be getting the Bradley Fighting Vehicle into production, and into the field. At the testing-range, Burton is welcomed by Colonel Bock (John C. McGinley) and Major Sayers (Tom Wright). He arrives in time to witness the Bradley undergoing an armour penetration test: it appears a success, but Burton is disturbed by the rapidity with which the test is wrapped up and how little analysis is done in the aftermath. Afterwards, Burton receives an anonymous phone-call urging him to follow his instincts with respect to the Bradley, and always to read the fine print… Though its subject matter is too serious for the film to be considered an outright comedy (ignore the advertising art), The Pentagon Wars offers plenty of blackly humorous scenes as Burton tries to find a way through or around the network of obfustification and outright deceit created to prevent thorough testing of the Bradley, and the running interference which ensures that even when the testing happens, the results cannot be analysed. Perhaps the film’s most successful sequence is that depicting the Bradley’s initial development—with the unfortunate Colonel Smith (Richard Schiff) and the project’s outraged designer (J. C. MacKenzie) slowly losing their minds in the face of constant interference and demands for change from the higher-ups involved, which result in a mutant-hybrid vehicle fit for none of its intended purposes. But behind the humour there always lurks the spectre of the servicemen doomed to be sent into action in the inadequate prototype model; and when Burton learns that Partridge has succeeded in putting the Bradley into production without the testing being signed off, he must find a way to expose its deadly flaws… Despite its conceptual issues, The Pentagon Wars hits plenty of its intended targets. Its cast also includes Viola Davis as Burton’s sympathetic sergeant, Clifton Powell as the understandably cynical Master Sergeant Dalton, and Olympia Dukakis as the chair of the Congressional committee that finally takes Partridge down; while director Richard Benjamin appears as then-Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger—who later had Congressional problems of his own.

The Frozen Ground (2013)

This true-crime thriller is based upon the story of Alaskan serial killer Robert Hansen, who over an extended period abducted, raped and murdered at least seventeen women, probably many more. Though it follows the ordeal of Hansen’s final victim, the film does not dwell upon his activities, but instead divides its narrative between the detective who doggedly brought Hansen to justice, and the one victim who managed to escape him. Cindy Paulsen (Vanessa Hudgens) is found naked and handcuffed in an Anchorage hotel room by a patrol officer. However, the fact that she was working as a prostitute and is clearly lying about her age leads the detective to whom she tells her story of abduction and rape to dismiss it as a fabrication, particularly when she accuses respected local baker Robert C. Hansen (John Cusack); and though a rape-kit is taken at the hospital, the police do not bother to have it collected and analysed. Outraged by Paulsen’s treatment, the patrol officer who found her anonymously sends information about her case to the State Troopers… As he prepares to leave police work and move away from Anchorage with his family, Jack Halcombe (Nicolas Cage) is called to a remote area where a woman’s body has been found after it is dug up and partially eaten by a bear. Evidence at the scene connects the case to a number of others involving missing women, some of whom have also been found dead; while the victim’s sister tells police that she was last seen heading out for a photo-shoot. When the details of Cindy Paulsen’s case are received, it is obvious to Halcombe that the same perpetrator is responsible, but he faces two daunting challenges: the lack of physical evidence against Hansen, and the need to persuade the terrified Paulsen to testify… There is, of course, no “nice” way of telling the story of Robert Hansen, who was repeatedly exonerated from blame by the police in spite of a raft of near-identical accusations and a rape conviction in his past; nor of sugar-coating the appalling victim-blaming treatment of Cindy Paulsen—which cost several more lives in addition to exacerbating her individual trauma. Nevertheless, The Frozen Ground works hard to avoid any sense that it is exploiting the suffering of Hansen’s many victims. Instead, it focuses on the efforts of Jack Halcombe (an expy for real-life State Trooper Glenn Flothe) to forge a relationship with the justifiably hostile and distrusting Paulsen, and to keep her from slipping back into a world of drugs and abuse. Paulsen was, apparently, involved in shaping this film’s screenplay, so we must take on trust that section of the story in which Hansen, realising that she represents the main threat to his security, begins to hunt for her through the underbelly of Anchorage. Both Nicolas Cage and John Cusack give restrained performances here, and Vanessa Hudgens is quite brave in her handling of Cindy Paulsen’s brutalisation.

In The Heart Of The Sea (2015)

Based upon In The Heart Of The Sea: The Tragedy Of The Whaleship Essex by Nathaniel Philbrick. Author Herman Melville (Ben Whishaw) tracks down Thomas Nickerson (Brendan Gleeson), the only remaining survivor of the whaling ship Essex, lost at sea some thirty years earlier, and persuades him to tell the full story… In 1820, on Nantucket, Owen Chase (Chris Hemsworth) is infuriated when his promised captaincy is set aside by the owners of the Essex in favour of George Pollard (Benjamin Walker), who is from a famous whaling family but personally inexperienced. Accepting the post of first mate, Chase oversees the daily operations of the Essex and, as soon as the ship is on the open ocean, begins drilling its crew for the anticipated whale hunts. Envious of Chase’s experience and popularity, Pollard ignores his advice against sailing into a storm and, as a result, the Essex is badly damaged. Pollard’s first impulse is to return to Nantucket, but Chase argues for saving time through repairs afloat. The Essex successfully kills and harvests a bull sperm whale, but after this there are no more encounters for many months. The ship finally arrives in Ecuador, where a stranded Spanish captain tells them of the offshore grounds of the Pacific, where many whales may be found—but also of “a demon”, a white whale that sank his own ship… One of the few (relative) failures of Ron Howard’s career, In The Heart Of The Sea is more interesting as a failure than as the adventure-cum-tragedy it was meant to be—at least to this viewer. Though beautifully designed and executed and made with the trademark Howard sincerity, the film never manages to overcome the fundamental obstacle to audience engagement at its centre: namely, that it is about whalers killing whales; and in a world where people are Team Orca against the luxury boats and Team Capybara against the gated community, there was simply no way to make the human characters of this story sympathetic despite the courage required for 19th century whaling in the first place and the extraordinary endurance displayed by the Essex’s few survivors. There are clear signs throughout In The Heart Of The Sea that Ron Howard and screenwriter Charles Leavitt understood the problem, though they were unable to overcome it. The film goes over the top in establishing Owen Chase’s credentials, to the point of Chris Hemsworth leaping around in the rigging of the Essex like Gene Kelly in The Pirate; though more interesting is the acknowledgement of the issue inherent in the gradual perspective shift from Chase to first-time sailor Tom Nickerson (Tom Holland), who is allowed to be thoroughly sickened by the realities of whaling (not least because, as the youngest and smallest of the crew, he is forced into the body cavity of the one killed whale to complete the harvest). But the issue remains: who, in watching this film, doesn’t spend the first hour simply waiting for the white whale to show up? Once it does – once the fiery remains of the Essex have sunk into the Pacific – In The Heart Of The Sea becomes an increasingly grim tale of survival. Escaping the wreckage in the three whaling boats with as much water and provisions as can be salvaged, the crewmen finally wash ashore on a small island, only to be confronted by its extremely limited resources and the remains of others before them who did not live to be rescued. The men must then make a drastic choice: whether to wait and hope for better luck, or to repair the boats and again set out upon the sea… Given my particular mindset, in the end I suspect I got more out of In The Heart Of The Sea than most viewers would—and really, I can’t help feeling that what this film needed was for its makers to have the courage to go the full Orca, and give us the first version of Moby Dick told from the whale’s point of view.

Hunter Killer (2018)

Based upon the novel Firing Point by Don Keith and George Wallace. The USS Tampa Bay is silently tracking a Russian submarine, the Konek, in the Barents Sea when the latter emits a distress signal before suffering a deadly explosion. Before the Tampa Bay can react, it is torpedoed… Two hours after contact is lost with the Tampa Bay, Rear Admiral John Fisk (Common aka Lonnie Rashid Lynn) orders USS Arkansas, under the newly-appointed Commander Joe Glass (Gerard Butler), from its Scottish base. A career submariner lacking the usual formal military background, Glass takes a few minutes before departure to reassure the crew about his credentials and their mission. Meanwhile, learning from the NSA’s Jayne Norquist (Linda Cardinelli) that Russian President Zakarin (Alexander Diachenko) is meeting with his Minister of Defence, Admiral Durov (Michael Gor), at a naval base in Polyarny, Fisk orders a covert SEAL team into the area. The four-man team under Lieutenant Bill Beaman (Toby Stephens) successfully penetrates the area and sets up surveillance of the meeting—only to witness a coup d’état… Although in its own right an engaging military thriller, Hunter Killer is a film that feels about twenty years out of date with respect to both its political framework and its approach to its subject matter; likewise, the narrative’s focus upon avoiding catastrophe through mutual trust is appealing yet – at this point – painfully naive. The film’s dated feel is, if not consciously evoked, at least the inevitable consequence of heavy borrowing from The Hunt For Red October and Crimson Tide—particularly the former, although Joe Glass’s battle to retain the trust of his crew in the face of his own unconventional background and his still more unconventional handling of the rapidly escalating situation is closer to the latter. All that said, Hunter Killer still works well enough on its own terms, with the screenplay piling crisis on top of crisis as what starts as an investigation into Russian culpability in the fate of the Tampa Bay abruptly converts into a mission to rescue Zakarin—who is categorised at the outset as a threat to world peace but turns out to be the lesser of the two Russian evils, with Admiral Durov doing his best to provoke a shooting war. Durov’s opposite number is Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Charles Donnegan (a very strangely cast Gary Oldman), the film’s loud-mouthed Negative Nellie who would rather fire nukes than seek solutions. However, with its faux-Clancy “lots of good men” scenario, Hunter Killer’s narrative concerns the desperate efforts of everybody else involved – from the NSA to Zakarin’s personal security team – to keep the button from being pushed. When they reach the site of the initial disaster, the men of the Arkansas discover that the Tampa Bay has been lost with all hands, but hear noises indicating there are survivors on the Konek. Finding signs that the Konek was sabotaged, Glass faces down his hostile crew to rescue the Russians—one of whom is the Konek’s commanding officer, Captain Andropov (Michael Nyqvist). When the Arkansas is ordered to Polyarny to rendezvous with and extract the SEAL team, passage must somehow be found through the area’s daunting defences—with Glass realising that the only possible solution lies in his own ability to gain the trust of Andropov… Hunter Killer also features Carter MacIntyre as Glass’s doubting XO Edwards, Caroline Goodall as US President Dover, Yuri Kolokolnikov as Oleg, Zakarin’s security guard (and arguably the film’s real hero), and Zane Holtz as rookie SEAL Martinelli—who provides the biggest surprise here by not fulfilling his seemingly manifest destiny.

The Goya Murders (2019)

Original title: El asesino de los caprichos. A young professional woman is found murdered in her apartment, the body staged and clad in an elaborate dress. The case falls to seasoned detective Carmen Cobos (Maribel Verdú), whose abrasive manner and deliberate offensiveness grates upon her more inexperienced new partner, Eva González (Aura Garrido). Though the pair are initially suspicious of the victim’s cheating fiancé, the cause of death is tetradotoxin poisoning, pointing to a more obscure motive. When a second murder occurs, this time of an older man, the detectives realise that they may be dealing with a serial killer. The second victim was an art dealer and collector who specialised in the works of Francisco Goya: his housekeeper reports that a single print, one of the Los Caprichos series, is missing from his apartment; while the parents of the murdered girl also report that a Goya print has been stolen. When Cobos and González examine copies of the missing works, they discover that the murders have been staged to imitate the prints… An intriguing premise is wasted in The Goya Murders, which promises a lot more than it ever delivers and ultimately doesn’t make a lot of sense; in fact, from one point of view no sense at all. We hear quite a lot about Goya along the way, yet the film dwells visually neither upon the works themselves nor upon the staging of the crime scenes, which makes it all seem a bit pointless. Meanwhile, though there’s no sense that anything here is meant to be funny, the joint protagonists come across almost like a parody of the mismatched-partners trope. While the focus is more upon Carmen Cobos, her behaviour is often reckless to the point of stupidity, which makes it hard to stick with her even when she is in the right. Eva González is treated more kindly by the script – perhaps because she has a more “traditional” personal life? – but her habit of going off-phone is the repeated cause of trouble (and seems more than a little improbable in her line of work). But then, The Goya Murders is a film that doesn’t much like anyone. It presents a bleak view of Spanish society as riddled with corruption and duplicity, and builds its narrative upon conspiracy and betrayal. When Carmen’s journalist boyfriend, Adrián Iglesias (Daniel Grao), takes advantage of her confidences to present himself as an expert on the case, Carmen is suspended. Refusing to be sidelined, she instead spends her nights patrolling the area which the detectives believe to be the focus of the killer’s activities. Though physically attacked, Carmen manages to identify a suspect—but she and Eva must still deal with a police commissioner (Roberto Álamo) and a presidential candidate (Ruth Gabriel) intent upon manipulating the case for political gain…

Beast (2022)

In a wildlife reserve, poachers slaughter most of a lion pride—but the largest male escapes into the night after killing one of the men… After the death of his estranged wife, Dr Nathaniel Samuels (Idris Elba) takes his teenage daughters, Meredith (Iyana Halley) and Norah (Leah Sava Jeffries), on a holiday to South Africa, to see where their mother was from and to go on safari. Flying into a remote area, the three are met by local wildlife officer Martin Battles (Sharlto Copley), an old friend who introduced Nate and Ahmale. At Martin’s house, Meredith, who has ambitions herself as a photographer, is delighted to find examples of her mother’s work; while claiming bitterly that in one evening Martin has shown more interest in her own photographs than Nate ever did. After the girls have gone to bed, Nate admits that he has a lot of work to do to win his daughters back, and speaks of his feelings of guilt and regret at not being there when Ahmale most needed him. The next day, driving his three guests into a private section of the reserve, Martin astonishes them by walking fearlessly towards a small lion pride—and being greeted affectionately by two males, who he raised from cubs. Noting that one of the females has what looks like a bullet wound, he speaks angrily of the increasing problem with poachers. Martin then drives to a local village, where to their horror the visitors find that many of the residents are dead—apparently killed by a rogue lion… Beast has a few things going for it but ultimately fails because it did not, apparently, understand the audience most likely to be watching it (hint: it isn’t humanists). On the positive side, the locations in South Africa and the cinematography of Philippe Rousselot are spectacular; while the relative brevity of the film and the very straightforwardness of its narrative are refreshing. Some of the CGI work here is surprisingly good (other bits…not so much), and once the rogue lion shows up a good degree of tension is sustained. However— Throughout the rest of Beast, there are simply too many wrong choices. Having established a blunt anti-poaching position – to the extent of making Martin an actual “anti-poacher” (i.e. he kills them if he gets the chance), and having also offered the outrageous suggestion that the lion is “fighting back” – to explain that eternal killer-animal film bugbear, why it’s killing but not eating its victims – then of course the bulk of Beast should have been the lion hunting down the poachers one by one – and in daylight – rather than slaughtering a village off-camera and then wasting its time over a car-load of outsiders. As it stands, far too much of this film consists of Hero’s Death Battle Exemption meets Too Stupid To Live (although most of them do): it fails to make us care whether the main characters survive or not, in addition to serving up one of the creakiest of all killer-animal film clichés, with Nate winning his hostile daughters over by going to extremes in their defence. (It’s usually a step-father in this situation, but my point remains.) The film also offends my biologist’s brain: all those hours and no-one had to pee? I totally get the marketing appeal of “Idris Elba punches a lion”, but realistically that thing should have taken Nate’s leg off during their first encounter—or failing that, snapped his neck during their last; or if we’re not being realistic here— Well, I’ve already spelled out my Scenes We’d Like To See. Meanwhile, I hardly know whether to be amused or exasperated over Beast following Jaws 2 by having its rogue animal emerge from an explosion scarred up and more pissed off than ever…

Bullet Train (2022)

Based upon the novel Maria Beetle (aka Bullet Train) by Isaka Kōtarō. Despite a recent run of bad professional luck, the international operative codenamed “Ladybug” (Brad Pitt) accepts an assignment replacing a sick colleague, in which he is to retrieve a briefcase full of cash from onboard a bullet train travelling between Tokyo and Kyoto. The money was intended as ransom for the son (Logan Lerman) of Russian crime lord “The White Death” (Michael Shannon), who was rescued from his kidnappers by two British assassins, “Tangerine” (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and “Lemon” (Brian Tyree Henry). Meanwhile, after his young son is critically injured, Yakuza member Kimura Yuichi (Andrew Koji) boards the train in search of the boy’s attacker. Ladybug secures the briefcase but, before he can leave the train, Tangerine and Lemon discover that The White Death’s son is dead of a poison that causes distinctive bleeding. Evading them, Ladybug is about to exit at the train’s first stop when he runs into Mexican assassin “The Wolf” (Bad Bunny aka Benito A. Martínez Ocasio), who recognises Ladybug from his own wedding where everyone but himself died of the same characteristic poisoning… Initially conceived as a straight thriller (and preceded by the revenge drama Grasshopper, a 2015 adaptation of the first novel in Isaka Kōtarō’s crime series), Bullet Train is instead a wry action-comedy of the kind whose overlapping subplots, shifting perspectives, back-and-forth narrative and multiplying complications require a scorecard to keep up, and which in spite of its violence and escalating body count manages to maintain a general air of good humour. Though all of its main characters are killers if not professional assassins, Bullet Train’s narrative ultimately rests upon the disparate moral codes operating upon the Shinkansen, and the partnerships grudgingly forged amongst those who have such a code and against those who don’t. Ladybug – who at this point in his career at least tries to avoid killing people – and Lemon, motivated by his devotion to his twin brother Tangerine (no, really), become the heart of the story; and they are joined by Yuichi and his father, “The Elder” (Sanada Hiroyuki), who are acting in response to the attack upon their son and grandson, and in revenge for the killing of the latter’s wife. On the other side we have “The Prince” (Joey King), who poses as a helpless young student but hides both a secret identity and a secret agenda; and “The Hornet” (Zazie Beetz), who specialises in rare and deadly poisons. And behind them all lurks The White Death… The restricted setting of Bullet Train forced both director David Leitch and screenwriter Zak Olkewicz to exercise considerable ingenuity, though we might care to note the puzzling lack of passengers on the train in general. On the other hand, there’s a lovely “quiet carriage” joke. A note of fun is added by cameos from Leitch himself, Channing Tatum, and Ryan Reynolds as replaced-at-the-last-moment operative Carver; while Sandra Bullock turns up at the end as the otherwise heard-but-not-seen Maria Beetle. Meanwhile, the film offers Chekhov’s boomslang at the outset, properly serves up the snake halfway through, and lets it escape at the end—so you should probably measure my positive response to it accordingly…

A Family’s Secret (2022)

Also known as: Secrets In The Family. Working in a care home while she tries to earn enough to return to nursing school, Ana Garcia (Maia Alvina) applies for a new job as live-in carer for former businesswoman Joan Regan (Anne MacDonald), who is in the early stages of dementia. Ana is interviewed by Joan’s children, Carla (Louise Lambert) and Jason (Robert Notman): the former is hostile and stand-offish, but Jason takes a shine to Ana and quickly hires her—justifying himself afterwards to the disgusted Carla on the grounds that her credentials make her the best candidate. Stopping in the nearest town to the isolated Regan estate, Ana soon learns that the family is anything but popular, despite owning the steel mill that is the area’s leading employer. Ana’s first meeting with Joan does not go well, but Jason reassures her that Joan suffers from “sundowning” and is more her old self in the mornings. He and Carla run over Ana’s duties, including guarding Joan from her severe peanut allergy. Ana begins to settle in and patiently forges a connection with Joan, who frequently becomes agitated at night—insisting that someone is trying to kill her… Okay, first things first: there are no secrets here – not even a secret – so I have no idea what that title is about. A Family’s Secret is an almost painfully obvious Lifetime movie that shoots itself in the foot by offering such a restricted cast of characters that it is perfectly clear from its earliest stages how everything is going to play out. The screenplay offers up a hostile local shop-owner, Hank (David Young), who speaks, apparently, for every other person in the district with his grim mutterings about the Regans; and it reveals a suspicious connection between Carla and the Regans’ estate caretaker, Terry (Stuart Constable), who lost a hand in an industrial accident while working at the mill and is presumed to carry a grudge, and who expresses over-the-top hostility towards Ana from the moment of her arrival. Meanwhile, the viewer twiddles their thumbs and rolls their eyes waiting for nice-as-pie Jason to be revealed as the Secret Villain^TM…which doesn’t happen until after he and Ana have begun an affair (*eye-roll til it hurts*). Thanks to Ana’s quick response, Joan survives anaphylactic shock brought on by contact with peanut butter that – somehow – found its way into the house; she is not so fortunate when she wanders out of the house after the security system is – somehow – turned off. Carla’s reaction to her mother’s death is to bring charges of criminal negligence against Ana, which forces her to turn detective in order to save herself—in the process revealing a family’s secret… (Well. Not really.) It is still uncommon enough for films like this to have a non-Caucasian lead that Maia Alvina’s presence is refreshing; and the best thing about A Family’s Secret is Ana and Joan finding common ground despite the seeming gulf in their circumstances. Meanwhile, Joan’s preferred nighttime viewing of wildlife documentaries – always about animal matriarchs under threat – is the film’s single original and (intentionally) amusing touch.

Disquiet (2023)

Reformed husband and father-to-be Sam (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is involved in a serious car accident and rushed to hospital. He wakes to find himself in a strangely darkened room, on oxygen and with an IV and a feeding tube; while the next bed is occupied by an unconscious elderly man whose long hair and nails indicate he has been there for some considerable time. Unable to get a response to his call button, Sam struggles to free himself from the medical equipment and get out of bed. When he looks around, he sees to his bewilderment that the old man has disappeared. The next moment, he is violently attacked; and an extended altercation ends with Sam forced to kill the old man with a scalpel. He then yells desperately for help, but no-one comes. Turning back, Sam discovers that the old man has disappeared again—and then that he is back in his bed, unconscious… Disquiet tries to use a horror-movie framework as a vehicle to examine some big issues – Big Issues^TM, that probably should be – but ends up being both too much and not nearly enough. The film’s allegorical aspirations are dismayingly unsubtle, to the point where you wonder whether writer-director Michael Winnock really expected his audience to be that slow on the uptake, or whether – alas, more correctly – he realised there was a good chance the audience would phase out along the way. As he wanders the corridors – and I will give Disquiet this: it makes something meaningful out of my perpetual bugbear, The World’s Darkest, Emptiest Hospital – Sam encounters others in a similar predicament to himself. Monica (Elyse Levesque) came in for a boob job but woke to find herself under assault from three cosmetic-surgery scarred, scalpel-wielding harpies. Carter (Trezzo Mahoro), found handcuffed to a table, protests his innocence with respect to the convenience-store robbery that got him shot; though Frank (Lochlyn Munro), the cop who shot him, has another story to tell. After the four make unavailing attempts to escape the hospital, having to fight off attacks along the way, they come across Lily (Rachelle Goulding), a doctor, and Virgil (Garry Chalk), a wheelchair-bound patient, who have very different ideas of the best way to proceed… I have a lot of problems with Disquiet, including the fact that it just isn’t scary – visually or conceptually – which might have compensated for some of the rest. The real issue here, however, is the screenplay’s suggestion that all sins are created equal (I mean, why is Carter there at all?), which adds a cruelly unjust edge to a scenario that seems to be about making better choices. There is also an emotional gulf at the film’s heart, with Jonathan Rhys Meyers never succeeding in making Sam sympathetic or interesting. The film’s better performances are from Garry Chalk and Trezzo Mahoro; while Bradley Stryker manages to make the old man a credible threat. And on a brighter note—this film sure does love a scalpel…