There’s a lot to love about Inglourious Basterds, which makes its shortcomings all the more frustrating. Going all the way back to Reservoir Dogs I’ve said that Tarantino is a better director than a writer, and Inglourious Basterds is further proof. His direction is confident, the production is beautiful, and unlike most modern directors, Tarantino can construct a cinematic set piece in the classic tradition.
In addition, Tarantino elicits terrific performances from most of his actors. The film features a simply outstanding performance by Christoph Waltz as Colonel Hans Landa, one of the most villainous Nazis to grace the silver screen in years. Kudos also go to Diane Kruger, Mélanie Laurent, Til Schweiger… have you noticed yet who’s missing from this list?
Quite honestly, I’m not sure what Brad Pitt is doing in this movie other than to get asses in the seats. His character is almost inconsequential to the plot, and his performance is so arch it sticks out like a sore thumb. Indeed, the “Basterds” comprise such a small part of the film that in retrospect the advertising was largely deceiving. Far from being a Dirty Dozen-type action film, Inglourious Basterds is primarily a suspense film, borrowing liberally from Paul Verhoeven’s 2006 film Black Book. In fact, I’m surprised no critics have noticed the similarities.
However, Black Book’s screenplay was tight as a drum - whereas Inglourious Basterds meanders from setpiece to setpiece, and as the film enters the third act it blithely starts to abandon all narrative logic. The plan The Basterds come up with to foil the Nazis is so foolhardy one simply can’t believe they’d attempt it. Would Mélanie Laurent’s projectionist / implied boyfriend really agree to incinerate himself out of love for her? Would a character as intelligent and crafty as Landa place himself in such danger? For a screenplay Tarantino supposedly worked on for ten years, the gaps in logic are numerous. And as the film slowly abandons its internal logic, it becomes increasingly irreverent, as if to say, “It’s all just a joke anyway, so who cares?”
Also, Tarantino’s needle drops - culled from various Ennio Morricone scores, Jacques Loussier’s score to Dark Of The Sun, and even a David Bowie song from Cat People, to name a few - break the tone of the film at every turn. If the aforementioned list sounds like a conflicting mishmash of styles from different eras, imagine how it sounds in the film. Hey Quentin… Morricone is still alive and working, y’know. How about you hire him? Create some music tailored to your film that doesn’t refer to a half-dozen other films?
One of the things I admire about Black Book is that it updated and reinvigorated the WWII thriller with a straight face. Perhaps the difference between it and Inglourious Basterds can be attributed to the generation gap between their respective directors. Verhoeven is in his sixties, and experienced the war firsthand as a child. Tarantino is some twenty years younger, and is part of a generation that prides itself on being self-conscious and ironic. I’m even younger than Tarantino, but for some strange reason my sensibilities are more in line with Verhoeven. I’m not interested in a cinematic post-mortem on the WWII genre - I want to see it revitalized.
Y’know… it’s almost impossible to defend a movie like this, so I’m not really gonna try - but I had a good time with G.I. Joe. Yes, it’s ridiculous. Yes, the acting is cartoonish at best and downright awful in some cases. Yes, it’s basically a giant advertisement for toys.
There are a number of things I greatly admire about Public Enemies. It’s a beautifully crafted period piece, Elliot Goldenthal’s score is terrific, and while the Luddite in me is reluctant to admit it - I actually liked the digital cinematography.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t change Johnny Depp’s persona from gentle, quirky and soft-spoken to an aggressive alpha-male living without any care for the future, which is what John Dillinger was. Depp gives it his all, compensating with his good looks and natural charm, but when Dillinger brutishly seduces Billie Frechette (Marion Cotilliard), it doesn’t ring true. Johnny Depp is many things, but intense is not one of them.
Anemic characterizations notwithstanding, the film moves along at a good clip, features a show-stopping tommy gun battle at the end of the second act that rivals Mann’s bank heist in Heat, and there are moments of purely visual filmmaking that are simply terrific - in particular, Dillinger’s demise is beautifully directed. There’s a lot to recommend about Public Enemies to a true cinéaste… it’s technically superb, and Mann’s directoral approach is worthy of your attention. But for the general moviegoing public who want characters they can become invested in, it’s a marginal effort.
Despite my love for the miniseries 
The sequel, Streets of Laredo, picks up several years later. Call is a much older man, now working as a bounty hunter of sorts, and is hired to dispose of Joey Garza, a Mexican bandit who is single-handedly fleecing the railroad. Other characters from Lonesome Dove reappear, others do not - either because they met their end in Lonesome Dove, or because McMurtry ruthlessly disposes of them in the early pages of Streets Of Laredo.
And now, the prequels… Dead Man’s Walk introduces us to Gus and Call as mere teenagers - Gus a runaway and Call an orphan, who end up in the Texas Rangers mainly because they’re so poor they need a job, even a life-threatening one. On their first expedition, Gus has a nighttime encounter in the desert with the Indian warrior Buffalo Hump - a fierce, powerful man carrying a heavy mass of deformed flesh between his shoulders. Buffalo Hump puts a spear in Gus’ hip and nearly kills him. Completely outmatched by the Indians, the Rangers are forced to retreat to Austin. Then, on an expedition to invade and annex Santa Fe, the Rangers are decimated by Buffalo Hump and his men. The survivors are captured by the Mexican army, and forced to walk the ‘Dead Man’s Walk’ from Santa Fe to El Paso to face execution.
Finally we come to Comanche Moon, which bridges the gap to Lonesome Dove. Gus and Call are several years older. Gus’ efforts to woo Clara are proving futile, while Call’s relationship with Maggie is becoming more difficult for him to manage. She wants marriage, but he’s hesitant to marry a whore, and when she becomes pregnant Call is beset with doubts as to who the father is. Meanwhile, their old nemesis Buffalo Hump decides it’s time for his people to take the offensive one last time and terrorizes the countryside, eventually invading and pillaging the city of Austin itself - a real incident known as 
Easy Rider is a film I never managed to see from beginning to end despite its status as a cultural touchstone - so when The Nuart screened a digitally restored 35mm print, I decided it was time to finally sit down and give the film its due.
I’m glad I waited to see Easy Rider on the big screen, because despite its low budget the film is part travelogue, and some of its pleasures might not have been as enjoyable on my decidedly un-HD television set. Also, the film is an unintentional time capsule - you can almost touch and smell the era in which it was made, and in a darkened movie theatre the experience was immersive.
The only bad thing about seeing Solomon Kane early is… you have to wait even longer than the rest of the world for the sequel.
Actor James Purefoy makes for a terrific Solomon Kane. He sinks his teeth into the role, as he did with Mark Antony on the HBO series Rome, and doesn’t let go, deftly portraying a violent man who strives to be peaceful, but can’t stand idly by while good people are made to suffer. Director Michael J. Bassett not only drew solid performances out of everyone - Purefoy, Pete Postlethwaite, Alice Krige, Max Von Sydow (!) - but he kept the film moving at a good clip and showed a steady hand with the action scenes.
I hesitate to discuss the plot in any detail since the film won’t be released for some time yet, but a number of story beats were plainly inspired by Star Wars and Conan The Barbarian. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t.
Once you get past the absurd concept that the protagonist of Danger Man, John Drake (Patrick McGoohan), is supposed to be an American secret agent, you’ll have a good time with this series. McGoohan is many things, but an American he is not.
Each episode is half an hour, so the pacing is brisk. A typical episode begins with Drake journeying to a foreign country on a mission (i.e. stock footage followed by a small set in England doubling for the location). Sometimes Drake recovers a stolen piece of microfilm. Sometimes he breaks up a spy ring, or a band of drug smugglers. Sometimes he solves a murder, or prevents one - but he rarely commits one.
On a side note, fans of The Prisoner - 
Is it good? Yes, it is. Is it as good as everyone thinks it it? No, it isn’t. Much like The Dark Knight, people have such love for this franchise they’re not seeing the film, they’re seeing what they want to see.
That being said, the film does what it sets out to do - it clears the decks and sets the franchise back at zero again. Since I loathe every iteration of Star Trek that followed the original series, it pleases me to see the franchise return to its roots. Hopefully, the people in charge of making the inevitable sequel will avoid the modern compulsion to retread old ground and tell some new stories instead. After all, the idea is to “boldly go where no man has gone before” - so if I see Javier Bardem playing Khan in the sequel to this film, I’ll content myself with the original episodes and movies. But for the time being, let’s say I’m cautiously optimistic.
Those who know me well might ask why I didn’t seek out this film years ago - not only do I love historical epics, I love the films of director Anthony Mann. He forged his talents in film noir with classics such as Raw Deal and T-Men, directed a string of terrific psychological Westerns with Jimmy Stewart - Winchester ‘73, The Naked Spur, Bend Of The River, The Man From Laramie - and in the 1960’s he graduated to the epic film with El Cid, followed three years later by The Fall Of The Roman Empire. Without question, Mann is one of America’s most underrated directors.
According to Hollywood lore, super-producer Samuel Bronston wanted to reteam El Cid stars Charlton Heston and Sophia Loren for Fall Of The Roman Empire, but Heston declined. Feeling they had a top-notch cast otherwise - Alec Guinness, James Mason, Anthony Quayle, John Ireland, Omar Sharif (as the King of Armenia!) and newcomer Christopher Plummer - Bronston and Mann decided to cast Stephen Boyd, Heston’s nemesis in Ben-Hur, as their leading man, and this is the film’s Achilles’ Heel. Surrounding Boyd with such powerhouse actors only serves to diminish his performance, not elevate it. He’s earnest and stalwart, but the moment Mason or Guinness speak, Boyd is completely marginalized. And he’s a poor match for Sophia Loren, who was at the peak of her beauty here. Only an actor of Heston’s stature could have been a convincing love interest for her.
Nevertheless, the film does feature terrific performances by Alec Guinness, James Mason and company. And no expense was spared - they literally built the Roman Forum, and the sight of this massive set filled with thousands of extras will leave you in awe. It’s one of the most stunning physical productions I’ve ever seen, from the sets to costumes to the smallest trinket.
If you’re not familiar with the films of Powell and Pressburger, you need to find copies of Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes and Tales Of Hoffmann right now. One of the singular virtues of these films is that they were shot by esteemed cinematographer Jack Cardiff, who was and always will be a perfect example of how much a cinematographer can bring to a film.
In addition, Cardiff had a fine career as a director through the sixites and early seventies, adapting D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers for the screen. He also gave us a rollicking Viking saga with The Long Ships, and one of my favorite adventure films - Dark Of The Sun, starring Rod Taylor and Jim Brown. He eventually returned to cinematography, shooting big-budget Hollywood genre films such as Death On The Nile, Ghost Story, Rambo: First Blood Part II, Conan The Destroyer and Tai-Pan. He died on April 22nd at age 94 .