You didn't prepare me for this.

Hanna

(2011)

I thought Joe Wright's Atonement was half of a decent film (the first half) and The Soloist was star-powered with little else to recommend it. This, however, suggests he's not all about assembling casts and cynically chasing prestige projects.

For a start, he shows he has far better chops as an action director that many who have made it their profession. He shoots his scenes clearly and comprehensibly so that, for all the Bourne-ness of the film's premise (CIA tracks down kid/dad super agents who have a murky history that the agency doesn't want revealed), it bears little resemblance to shakycam thrills. The plot may be so-so, and hyper-violent minors suddenly seem like an overburdened sub-genre (see also Kick-Ass), but Wright infuses it with a clear Grimm's fairy tale signature (maybe he saw the underrated Paul Walker thriller Running Scared, which overlayed a similar vibe on an ultra-violent urban thriller) and an ability to render note perfect performances from his cast.

Saoirse Ronan is compelling in the lead role, completely unfamiliar with the populated world and social niceties. Either side of her are Eric Bana as the father figure (his best performance in a good while) and Cate Blanchett as the wicked witch (dependable, but nothing she hasn't done before). A word too for Tom Hollander's grotesque track-suited blonde henchman (whistling one of The Chemical Brothers' compositions) and the over-pronounced but resonant surrogate family that Hanna meets on her travels (Olivia Williams, Jason Flemyng and Jessica Barden); Wright's composition of a scene of open separate shipping crates is as off-kilter and surreal as Hanna's visit to Grimm's theme park.

****

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Mondo bizarro. No offence man, but you’re in way over your head.

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Isn’t it true, it’s easier to be a holy man on the top of a mountain?

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You have done well to keep so much hair, when so many’s after it.

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Schnell, you stinkers! Come on, raus!

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My Doggett would have called that crazy.

The X-Files 9.4: 4-D I get the impression no one much liked Agent Monica Reyes (Annabeth Gish), but I felt, for all the sub-Counsellor Troi, empath twiddling that dogged her characterisation, she was a mostly positive addition to the series’ last two years (of its main run). Undoubtedly, pairing her with Doggett, in anticipation of Gillian Anderson exiting just as David Duchovny had – you rewatch these seasons and you wonder where her head was at in hanging on – made for aggressively facile gender-swapped conflict positions on any given assignment. And generally, I’d have been more interested in seeing how two individuals sympathetic to the cause – her and Mulder – might have got on. Nevertheless, in an episode like 4-D you get her character, and Doggett’s, at probably their best mutual showing.

It’s not as if she were a… maniac, a raving thing.

Psycho (1960) (SPOILERS) One of cinema’s most feted and most studied texts, and for good reason. Even if the worthier and more literate psycho movie of that year is Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom . One effectively ended a prolific director’s career and the other made its maker more in demand than ever, even if he too would discover he had peaked with his populist fear flick. Pretty much all the criticism and praise of Psycho is entirely valid. It remains a marvellously effective low-budget shocker, one peppered with superb performances and masterful staging. It’s also fairly rudimentary in tone, character and psychology. But those negative elements remain irrelevant to its overall power.

You’re a disgrace, sir... Weren’t you at Harrow?

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I tell you, it saw me! The hanged man’s asphyx saw me!

The Asphyx (1972) (SPOILERS) There was such a welter of British horror from the mid 60s to mid 70s, even leaving aside the Hammers and Amicuses, that it’s easy to lose track of them in the shuffle. This one, the sole directorial effort of Peter Newbrook (a cameraman for David Lean, then a cinematographer), has a strong premise and a decent cast, but it stumbles somewhat when it comes to taking that premise any place interesting. On the plus side, it largely eschews the grue. On the minus, directing clearly wasn’t Newbrook’s forte, and even aided by industry stalwart cinematographer Freddie Young (also a go-to for Lean), The Aspyhx is stylistically rather flat.

The best thing in the world for the inside of a man or a woman is the outside of a horse.

Marnie (1964) (SPOILERS) Hitch in a creative ditch. If you’ve read my Vertigo review, you’ll know I admired rather than really liked the picture many fete as his greatest work. Marnie is, in many ways, a redux, in the way De Palma kept repeating himself in the early 80s only significantly less delirious and… well, compelling. While Marnie succeeds in commanding the attention fitfully, it’s usually for the wrong reasons. And Hitch, digging his heels in as he strives to fashion a star against public disinterest – he failed to persuade Grace Kelly out of retirement for Marnie Rutland – comes entirely adrift with his leads.

You know what I sometimes wish? I sometimes wish I were ordinary like you. Ordinary and dead like all the others.

Séance on a Wet Afternoon (1964) (SPOILERS) Bryan Forbes’ adaptation of Mark McShane’s 1961’s novel has been much acclaimed. It boasts a distinctive storyline and effective performances from its leads, accompanied by effective black-and-white cinematography from Gerry Turpin and a suitably atmospheric score from John Barry. I’m not sure Forbes makes the most of the material, however, as he underlines Séance on a Wet Afternoon ’s inherently theatrical qualities at the expense of its filmic potential.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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