I shot an arrow in the air; she fell to earth in Berkeley Square.

Kind Hearts and Coronets

(1949)

Umpteenth viewing of Robert Hamer's masterpiece, which has a strong claim on the title of best comedy film ever made. Alec Guinness receives all the bouquets for his multi-performances as the D'Ascoyne family (I particularly like his suffragette Lady Agatha), but it's Dennis Price's suave, cool and witty serial killer that makes the film work.

The backbone of the plot may be a satire of the class system (apparently the novel on which it is based had as its focus anti-semitism) but it's never foregrounded so as to feel clumsy. Indeed, the film smartly juggles a number of taboo subjects; if cheerful, remorseless murder doesn't seem that outlandish a character trait today, the overt extra-marital affair conducted between Price's and Joan Greenwood's character still feels somewhat daring. Speaking of whom, Greenwood is one of the most deliciously sexy actresses ever, and certainly has the most seductive voice ever (no wonder it featured in Barbarella); her crafty Sibella is every bit the equal of Price's Louis. One of those films where every line is quotable and every scene a gem.

Hamer also directed "The Haunted Mirror" segment of Dead of Night, Father Brown and School for Scoundrels (the latter being another of my favourites); he was an alcoholic who died at only 52.

A remarkably svelte Arthur Lowe pops up as a reporter in the closing scene. The US Hays Code version of the film altered the ending to show Louis' memoirs being discovered, toned down the adultery and comments regarding the clergy and also changed "nigger" in "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe" to "sailor".

*****

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She writes Twilight fan fiction.

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Prediction 2019 Oscars
Shockingly, as in I’m usually much further behind, I’ve missed out on only one of this year’s Best Picture nominees– Vice isn’t yet my vice, it seems – in what is being suggested, with some justification, as a difficult year to call. That might make for must-see appeal, if anyone actually cared about the movies jostling for pole position. If it were between Black Panther and Bohemian Rhapsody (if they were even sufficiently up to snuff to deserve a nod in the first place), there might be a strange fascination, but Joe Public don’t care about Roma, underlined by it being on Netflix and stillconspicuously avoided by subscribers (if it were otherwise, they’d be crowing about viewing figures; it’s no Bird Box, that’s for sure).

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Roma (2018)
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Django Unchained (2012)
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Can you float through the air when you smell a delicious pie?

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Rejoice! The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice.

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(SPOILERS) The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and other tall tales of the American frontier is the title of "the book" from which the Coen brothers' latest derives, and so announces itself as fiction up front as heavily as Fargo purported to be based on a true story. In the world of the portmanteau western – has there even been one before? – theme and content aren't really all that distinct from the more familiar horror collection, and as such, these six tales rely on sudden twists or reveals, most of them revolving around death. And inevitably with the anthology, some tall tales are stronger than other tall tales, the former dutifully taking up the slack.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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