Thriller Archive

The Friday Night Fright: Die Screaming, Marianne

Die screaming? Die of boredom more like. Pete Walker’s first venture into the horror genre after producing cheap sexploitation flicks is a pretty dull affair. More thriller than horror, its plot doesn’t bear too much examination but deals with a wandering go-go dancer, Marianne (played by Susan George), who holds the key (by way of the number of a Swiss bank account) to the family fortune. As well as money there are also incriminating documents that could convict her father, an ex-judge, of illegal activities, so he, and her half sister Hildegarde, want Marianne found. When Sebastian, a past acquaintance of Hildegarde, finds Marianne he attempts to marry her in hopes of getting his hands on the money. When that plan backfires he persuades her, and her new lover Eli, to return to her family home in Portugal.

This is a convoluted mess, there’s little logic behind much of what happens – why does Marianne suddenly decide to return home when she’s only days away from being able to access the account (she must turn 21 before she can get her hands on the money)? There’s no suspense, with Marianne never seeming to be in much danger, her most life threatening moment comes when she’s trapped in the sauna, a trap she easily escapes from.

Watching the Detectives: Peter Lorre is Kentaro Moto in Mysterious Mr. Moto

This is the best film in the Moto series so far. Things start with a prison break from Devil’s Island, with Moto disguised as a prisoner in order to infiltrate the infamous League of Assassins. Post-prison break it’s of to London as Japan’s answer to Sherlock Holmes comes to the original’s home turf, with Moto frequenting a pub in Limehouse, where many a shady deal goes down.

Moto as usual is one step ahead of the crooks, and two ahead of the police, so the outcome is never in doubt but then the appeal of these quickies isn’t their intricate plotting, it’s Peter Lorre. There’s much fun to be had from Moto’s disguises (just as there was with Holmes) and Lorre’s German art critic at the films finale is guaranteed to raise a smile. Moto isn’t just a man of stealthy detective work, he gets stuck in when it comes to fights as well, with Harvey Parry, Lorre’s stunt double, throwing himself and others all over the place.

Add a western style barroom brawl and you’ve got a recipe for sixty minutes of fun. You’ll probably guess who the mysterious leader of the League is and you’ll certainly see how he’s going to come to a sticky end well before it happens but this works in the films favour this time as Mr. Moto dishes out some poetic justice.

I Spy: Syriana

Not really a spy movie as such, Syriana does feature a spy as one of its central characters. Bob Barnes, played by a bearded and slightly podgy George Clooney, is an aging C.I.A. operative with knowledge of Middle East affairs. When an assassination attempt on an Arab Prince goes awry Barnes is tortured, and when he’s turned loose he’s used as a scapegoat by the C.I.A. for the botched mission.

Now that may sound like a regular spy story but it’s just one strand of Syriana’s web of intrigue, that encompasses big business, terrorism and the Middle Eastern way of life. It’s a film packed full of political ideas, perhaps too full, there are so many strands here that it’s at times hard to keep track of them all. There are moments when you’re left a little bemused as to how such-and-such got to so-and-so and while it’s nice to have a film that doesn’t baby it’s audience, filling in everything they could possibly need to know about a character, the film jumps around so much that you may miss important information as you try and get your bearings.

Writer/director Stephen Gaghan won an Oscar for his Traffic script which had a similar multi-character storyline but for me it worked far better in the earlier film. Syriana feels far preachier than Traffic, concentrating as much on the message as on the story, rather than let one flow from the other. It’s a film that for all its depth still has clearly defined bad guys – the American oil companies, the C.I.A. (who, as one character observes, is just another multi-billion dollar business).

Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting: SPL

Director Wilson Yip seems to have fooled himself into thinking he’s made a serious crime movie along the lines of Infernal Affairs but beneath the films highly stylised look is a decidedly simple story. When Wong Po has the key witness in a case against him murdered, Detective Chan dedicates his remaining time on the force to bringing him down. With his time running out and Inspector Ma set to replace him he decides to frame Wong for murder. But how far will he go to make sure the case is airtight?

Simon Yam is good as Chan, although the story throws a little too much at the character (he’s got a brain tumour that’s killing him and a daughter he adopted from the witness Wong had murdered) instead of giving us a little more insight into what makes him tick. He clearly had a beef with Wong Po even before the witness is murdered but the script gives us no inkling as to why. Yam a great actor but he’s not given enough here to create a fully rounded character. His crack crime fighting team fair even worse, reduced to mere ciphers for the bad guys to pick off. Any attempts to make us care about them are so heavy handed that they almost have the opposite effect.

Watching the Detectives: Kevin Costner is Eliot Ness in The Untouchables

Sometimes when a group of incredibly talented individuals join forces the end result can be less than the sum of its parts, but once in a while you get a film where everyone is performing at the top of their game. The Untouchables is just such a film.

Brian De Palma’s career had stalled after Scarface, with neither the Hitchcock-with-added-sex thriller Body Double nor mob comedy Wise Guys delivering the goods. With The Untouchables though he was back on form, his show stopping visual flourishes married to David Mamet’s intelligent script and compose- supreme Ennio Morricone’s score.

That he’s got a damn fine cast doesn’t do any harm either. Kevin Costner is a model of restraint as Ness, perhaps a little too much restraint, as he often seems coldly unemotional, but this was the film that propelled him onto the A list. Ness is a bit dull though, which invites those around him to steal the limelight.

Charles Martin Smith connects far better with the audience, with his accountant-to-shotgun-toting-treasury-agent transformation adding a touch of humour. Caught here between jobbing TV actor and stardom, Andy Garcia shows how he made the leap – the camera loves him and he loves the camera. He only gets two big moments, his characters introduction and his timely intervention at train station, but he makes the most of them, holding his own opposite an old pro like Sean Connery. He also gets a well written intro, which never hurts if you’re trying to make a name for yourself.

Literally Speaking: Just Cause

To date John Katzenbach has had three of his books adapted for the big screen - The Mean Season (1985) Hart’s War (2002) and in the middle this legal/detective/serial killer thriller from 1995 (sadly no one has yet filmed The Traveller which is a book just crying out for the big screen). This is probably the best of the three and is a solid, if unexceptional, thriller.

The plot probably won’t keep you guessing to long, once you realise there’s a twist (and you will fairly early if you’ve seen more than a couple of these) it’s not a hard one to see coming, but it still manages to entertain. Sean Connery is as commanding as ever, although his liberal-do-gooder-lawyer, Paul Armstrong, is a little more restrained and intellectual than his usual characters, which makes for a pleasant change. If Sheriff Tanny Brown at first appears to be your typical corrupt cop Laurence Fishburne at least manages to add a little more depth, and reason, to him, with hardly anything to work with other than a short scene with his children.

Watching the Detectives: Boris Karloff is James Lee Wong in Mr. Wong in Chinatown

Going to Mr Wong for help is like wearing a red shirt on an away mission in Star Trek, it’s a sure sign you’re not long for this earth. This time the victim, a Chinese princess, expires in Wong’s own home and attempts to aid the master detective by writing what one assumes is the name of her killer. All she manages though is Captain J, now you might think that would be enough but as luck would have it there’s both a Captain Jackson and a Captain Jaime with ties to the deceased.

Karloff makes his third appearance as the venerable detective and gives a solid performance in what was a very cheap and formulaic series. He’s ‘aided’ once again by Grant Withers as the loud, belligerent but not completely inept Police Captain Street. This time the pair are joined by Marjorie Reynolds as nosey reporter ‘Bobbie’ Logan, who adds some glamour and (in theory) some laughs as well as saving Wong from an exploding taxi.

At a little over an hour it doesn’t drag too much but of the detective series’ I’ve featured so far in Watching the Detectives (Sherlock Holmes, Mr Moto, The Thin Man) this is by far the least enjoyable.

Literally Speaking: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

There isn’t really a lot to What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, two ageing sisters, a crippled former Hollywood icon, Blanche Hudson, and a child star gone to seed, ‘Baby’ Jane, live together in a rundown house. ‘Baby’ Jane is slowly going off her rocker and when she learns of Blanche’s plans to sell the house and put her into care her mental breakdown goes into overdrive with disastrous results.

What makes the film work isn’t the plot but the performances, with the inspired casting of fading stars Joan Crawford as Blanche and Bette Davis as the grotesquely comical ‘Baby’ Jane giving the film a far greater resonance than it would otherwise have. The two stars detested each other in real life and, while that must have made director Robert Aldrich’s task far from easy, it adds greatly to the performances, particularly Davis’s.

Davis’s ‘Baby’ Jane is a childlike version of Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, resentful of time and an industry that thrives on youth and the presence of her invalid, and vastly more talented,  sister gives her someone to take out that resentment on. Davis it seems decided on the method approach for the scene where she brutally kicks Blanche unconscious, actually landing a kick to Crawford’s head that required stitches (Crawford allegedly retaliated by putting weights in her pockets for the scene where Davis drags her across the floor).

Watching the Detectives: Sean Connery is William of Baskerville in The Name of the Rose

Sean Connery gets the abbey habit as the very Holmesian William of Baskerville (even his name is a nod to the greatest of fictional detectives) in Jean-Jacques Annaud’s film about murder in a Fourteenth Century monastery, based on the novel by Umberto Eco.

Rarely has history seemed as grim as it does here, this isn’t the fairytale history of Arthurian-style movies, this is a cold, dirty place that’s about as welcoming as a sleepover at the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family home. Some of the residents could give Leatherface a run for his money as well, with the flagellating monk who looks like a fat sweaty version of Uncle Fester topping the list, along with the always welcome Ron Perlman as the loopy hunchback, Salvatore.

Yet for such an outwardly bleak film its script has a wonderfully playful sense of humour. “That’s elementary, my dear Adso” states Connery early on, in another reference to Doyle’s famous sleuth, and he gets some great dialogue with his apprentice Adso (a youthful stand-in for Dr. Watson, played with admirable restraint by a very young Christian Slater ) including a Bond-like quip when one of the brothers turns up dead, stuffed headfirst in a barrel.

Connery may be the main focus but there’s hardly any member of the cast that doesn’t seem perfectly suited for the part. Perlman steals every scene he’s in, and that’s saying something when you’re up against an old pro like Sean, while F. Murray Abraham is hissably bad as Bernardo Gui the Inquisition’s answer to Moriarty.

Watching the Detectives: Basil Rathbone is Sherlock Holmes in Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon

Holmes does his bit for King and Country as he endeavours to keep a new bomb site out of German hands and once again faces his nemesis Professor Moriarty.

This second Universal Holmes movie is far more entertaining than its predecessor, Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror. Rathbone, sporting the same windswept hairstyle as he did in the earlier film, seems to be enjoying himself far more here, no doubt resigned to the fact that the Universal were never going to match the two Fox films for class. Nigel Bruce’s Watson seems to get dumber and yet more lovable with each film, you get the feeling he’d fall for the old “your shoelace in untied” trick, and not just once either. Of course the fact that Holmes puts his life in the hands of the bungling Doctor and the equally incompetent Inspector Lestrade at the films conclusion shows a level of trust that’s hard to qualify given what’s gone before.

 The Holmes/Moriarty confrontations are a joy as Lionel Atwill gets to ham it up as the yin to Holmes Yang. The film even manages to squeeze in a reference to Sherlock’s drug habit with Moriarty quipping “The needle to the last, eh, Holmes?” as Holmes details how, were he in the Professor’s shoes, he’d drain his blood in order to prolong his suffering.

The film finishes with Rathbone quoting Shakespeare – “This fortress – built by nature for herself; This blessed plot, this Earth, this realm, this England.” – and thanks to Universal Holmes would continue to do his patriotic duty for another ten films.