Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 75: Fri Mar 18

Dracula’s Daughter (Hillyer, 1936): Cinema Museum, 7pm

The Gothique Film Society concludes its 55th season at the Cinema Museum with this movie and the 1971 Italian horror film Lady Frankenstein.

Time Out review: A genuine sequel to Tod Browning's Dracula (based on Bram Stoker's story Dracula's Guest), Universal's low-budget shocker finds Van Helsing placed under arrest for the murder of the Count, only for a mysterious woman (Gloria Holden) to turn up and take away Dracula's body for ritual consignment to a funeral pyre. Though she has inherited the vampic urge from her father, this princess of darkness desperately seeks release from her condition through an understanding psychologist (Otto Kruger). Apart from its haunting, low-key mood, the film is also notable for its subtle suggestion (hardly expected from a former director of B Westerns) of the lesbian nature of the female vampire. David Thompson

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 74: Thu Mar 17

Under The Silver Lake (Mitchell, 2018): Prince Charles Cinema, 8.30pm

This presentation is part of a David Robert Mitchell season. Full details here.

Time Out review: The fog is thick in ’Under the Silver Lake’ – not the funk of pot smoke (though there is some of that) nor of bad weather. Rather, it’s the profound confusion located somewhere behind Andrew Garfield’s brow: His unkempt character, Sam, prowls the streets like a Scooby-less Shaggy in search of answers to a riddle he only half comprehends. Hypnotic, spiraling and deliriously high on its own supply of amateur-sleuth movie references, writer-director David Robert Mitchell’s deeply personal follow-up to his relentless meta-horror film ‘It Follows’ vaults him into ‘Big Lebowski’ territory, by way of several Lynchian side streets. It’s the kind of raggedy-ass thriller that only gets made when a young filmmaker, emboldened by success, moves past virtues of concision, hoping to summon the full, meandering spell of a paranoid dream. Don’t hold it against him. (Extended review here) Joshua Rothkopf

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 73: Wed Mar 16

Interview (Sen, 1971): Barbican Cinema, 6.15pm

This film is part of the ‘Other Modernisms’ season at the Barbican. Full details here.

New Yorker review:
The distinction between political and aesthetic audacity is obliterated in the Indian director Mrinal Sen’s 1971 drama Interview. It’s a Kolkata-based variation on “Bicycle Thieves,” about a young man named Ranju (Ranjit Mallick), who, for a job interview with a British firm, has only a few hours to get hold of a Western-style suit. During a scene in which Ranju is travelling by streetcar, the movie shows Mallick being recognized by a fellow-passenger, and Sen has the actor address the camera and explain how he came to be cast in the film (the director also depicts himself at work, camera in hand). This breaking of the fourth wall is part of Sen’s personal truth-in-media campaign: Ranju’s frantic dashes through the city are filled with the print ads, billboards, store displays, and movie posters that he sees, which Sen presents as a crucial form of political mind control and a prime target of any future revolution.
Richard Brody

Here (and above) is an extract.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 72: Tue Mar 15

Ugetsu (Mizoguchi, 1953): Prince Charles Cinema, 6.10pm

Chicago Reader review:
The mood of Kenji Mizoguchi’s 1953 masterpiece is evoked by the English translation most often given to its title, “Tales of the Pale and Silvery Moon After the Rain.” Based on two 16th-century ghost stories, the film is less a study of the supernatural than a sublime embodiment of Mizoguchi’s eternal theme, the generosity of women and the selfishness of men. Densely plotted but as emotionally subtle as its name, Ugetsu
 is one of the great experiences of cinema.
Dave Kehr

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 72: Mon Mar 14

Somersault (Shortland, 2014): BFI Sothbank, NFT2, 6.10pm

This 35mm presentation is part of the female coming-of-age films season (details here) and also screens on 11th March (details here).

Chicago Reader review:
An alluring Australian teenager (Abbie Cornish) stumbles into a kiss with her mother’s boyfriend, and after mom catches them red-handed the impulsive girl finds herself out on the street, where her only asset is a sexuality she doesn’t quite understand. Arriving in a mountain town, she’s not averse to trading her body for a place to sleep, but her bad choices come back to haunt her when she begins to connect emotionally with the townspeople, especially the bottled-up hunk (Sam Worthington) who catches her eye. This beautifully understated feature (2004) revolves around sex, but it’s neither erotic nor puritanical; its young characters are governed by their urges, but the experience itself seems as neutral and mysterious as sleep. Cate Shortland directed.
J R Jones

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 71: Sun Mar 13

Aimée & Jaguar (Färberböck, 1999): Cinema Museum, 3.30pm

Sapphic Cinema and Lesflicks have joined forces to start a new monthly film night dedicated to celebrating the best of Lesbian Cinema. This 1999 film is the first.

Chicago Reader review:
A torturous, dangerous romance between a Berlin housewife and a Jewish lesbian living underground in 1943 is the subject of this piece of art-house erotica disguised as melodrama disguised as history (1998). Rona Munro and director Max Färberböck wrote the screenplay, which was based on Erica Fischer’s book, which was based on letters exchanged by two real women and on interviews with one of them, Lilly Wust.
Lisa Alspector

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 70: Sat Mar 12

The Godfather (Coppola, 1972): Screen on the Green, 10.30pm

This 35mm screening is part of a 70s season screening from prints. The Godfather also screens on March 16th at 10.30am. Details here.

Chicago Reader review:
The ultimate family film. Francis Ford Coppola gives full due to the themes of clannish insularity that made Mario Puzo's novel a best seller, though his heart seems to be with Al Pacino's lonely, willful isolation. This 1972 feature is sharp, entertaining, and convincing—discursive, but with a sense of structure and control that Coppola hasn't achieved since.
Dave Kehr

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 69: Fri Mar 11

A Clockwork Orange (Kubrick, 1971): Rio Cinema, 11.30pm

Guardian review: 
Stanley Kubrick greeted the 1970s with this massive howl of rage: a boiling, combative screed as different as humanly possible from 2001’s paean to cosmic harmony which preceded it. Kubrick is taking aim at the powers-that-be, unable to effectively contain the problems in their midst, alternating between quasi-fascist social control and absurdly indulgent liberalism. Like Full Metal Jacket, this film’s first half is where the real goodies are: if truth be told, the fireworks tail off towards the back end as Alex successively re-encounters his victims. But what fireworks they are.
Andrew Pulver

Here (and above) is the new BFI trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 68: Thu Mar 10

Casino Royale (Huston, Hughes, McGrath, Guest, Parrish, 1967): Prince Charles Cinema, 3.20pm

This 35mm screening is part of the James Bond season at the Prince Charles Cinema. You can see all the details of the screenings here. Casino Royale is also being screened on March 10th. Full details here.

Radio Times review: It is perhaps wise not to think of this unwieldy spy caper as a James Bond movie at all. Though nominally based on Ian Fleming's first 007 novel (originally dramatised in a 1954 TV show starring Barry Nelson and remade in 2006 with Daniel Craig), it is in actual fact an Austin Powers-type spoof, in which David Niven's retired Bond recruits assorted 007 agents (among them Ursula Andress and Peter Sellers) to avenge the death of "M" (John Huston). A surfeit of screenwriters (eight, including Billy Wilder) and directors (five, including Huston) lends the whole a chaotic, disjointed air, but there is much fun to be had along the way. In the all-star cast, Orson Welles plays villain Le Chiffre and Woody Allen appears as James's neurotic nephew, Jimmy. Andrew Collins

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 67: Wed Mar 9

The Master (Anderson, 2012): Prince Charles Cinema, 8.30pm

70mm screenings of The Master are on an extended run at the Prince Charles. Details here.

Chicago Reader review: A self-destructive loner (Joaquin Phoenix), discharged from the navy after serving in the Pacific in World War II, flounders back in the States before coming under the wing of a charismatic religious leader (Philip Seymour Hoffman) transparently based on L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. This challenging, psychologically fraught drama is Paul Thomas Anderson’s first feature since the commanding There Will Be Blood (2007), and like that movie it chronicles a contest of wills between an older man and a younger one, as the troubled, sexually obsessed, and often violent young disciple tries to fit in with the flock that’s already gathered around the master. This time, however, the clashing social forces aren’t religion and capitalism but, in keeping with the era, community and personal freedom—including the freedom to fail miserably at life. The stellar cast includes Amy Adams, Laura Dern, and Jesse Plemons. JR Jones

Here is the trailer. 

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 66: Tue Mar 8

Le Mepris (Godard, 1963): BFI Southbank, NFT1, 8.50pm

This film, in the Big Screen Classics season, is also screened at BFI Southbank on March 1st and 12th. Full details here.

Chicago Reader review:
A tense, sensitive, and rigorous film by Jean-Luc Godard, based on Alberto Moravia's novel A Ghost at Noon. Michel Piccoli stars as a French screenwriter unable to counter the contempt that his wife (Brigitte Bardot) builds for him as he humbles himself before a producer (Jack Palance) and a legendary director (Fritz Lang). Made in 'Scope and color at the behest of producer Joseph Levine, who expected a big commercial success, this 1963 feature begins as an unlikely project for Godard but develops (some would say degenerates) into one of his most archly stylized films.
Dave Kehr

Here (and  above) is the trailer. 

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 65: Mon Mar 7

Heaven's Gate (Cimino, 1980): Prince Charles Cinema, 7pm

"It seems to me, in its original version, among the supreme achievements of the Hollywood cinema."

Robin Wood, Hollywood from Vietnam to Reagan

This is a 35mm screening

Time Out review:
For all the abuse heaped on it, this is - in its complete version, at least - a majestic and lovingly detailed Western which simultaneously celebrates and undermines the myth of the American frontier. The keynote is touched in the wonderfully choreographed opening evocation of a Harvard graduation in 1870: answering the Dean's ritual address urging graduates to spread culture through contact with the uncultivated, the class valedictorian (John Hurt) mockingly replies that they see no need for change in a world 'on the whole well arranged'. 

Twenty years later, as Hurt and fellow-graduate Kris Kristofferson become involved in the Johnson County Wars, their troubled consciences suggest that some change in the 'arrangements' might well have been in order. Watching uneasily as the rich cattle barons legally exterminate the poor immigrant farmers who have taken to illegal rustling to feed their starving families, they can only attempt to enforce the law that has become a mockery (Kristofferson) or lapse into soothing alcoholism (Hurt). 

Moral compromise on a national scale is in question here, a theme subtly echoed by the strange romantic triangle that lies at the heart of the film: a three-way struggle between the man who has everything (Kristofferson), the man who has nothing (Christopher Walken), and the girl (Isabelle Huppert) who would settle for either provided no fraudulent compromise is asked of her. The ending, strange and dreamlike, blandly turns a blind eye to shut out the atrocities and casuistries we have witnessed, and on which the American dream was founded; not much wonder the American press went on a mass witch-hunt against the film's un-American activities.

Tom Milne

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 64: Sun Mar 6

Blood of the Condor (Sanjinés, 1970): Barbican Cinema, 6.15pm

This film is part of the ‘Other Modernisms’ season at the Barbican. Full details here.

The falling birth rate and high infant mortality are noted with concern by the inhabitants of a remote Andean village. As rumour swirl, corrupt local police open fire on some local men. Ignacio, the sole survivor, is taken by his wife to La Paz for hospital care. There, his brother desperately tries to scrape together the cash for a blood transfusion, a quest that leads him to some shocking discoveries. Blood of the Condor was made in Quechua, and with the participation of (and starring) people from the village where it was shot. Its baseline realism is overlaid with an intricate narrative structure that makes extensive use of flashbacks, a technique borrowed from European art cinema.

Here (and above) is an extract.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 63: Sat Mar 5

Downpour (Bayzai, 1971): Barbican Cinema, 3pm

This film is part of the ‘Other Modernisms’ season at the Barbican. Full details here.

A young teacher is sent to a school in the impoverished south-end of Tehran where he falls in love with his student's elder sister, and directs all his energy into helping the students put on a stage show. Moving, witty and brilliantly directed in a dazzling and unusual combination of neorealism and political symbolism. In the late 1960s, Iranian audiences and filmmakers were hungry for an alternative to Hollywood imports and Iran’s own home-grown commercial genre cinema. With its contemporary, true-to-life subject, working-class protagonists, veiled social critique, and combined native and Western expressive styles, Downpour is typical of the new counter-cinema that emerged. 

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 62: Fri Mar 4

F For Fake (Welles, 1975): BFI Southbank, NFT3, 8.50pm

This film, showing as part of the Big Screen Classics season, is also being screened on March 16th. You can find the full details here.

Chicago Reader review:
'Orson Welles's underrated 1973 essay film—made from discarded documentary footage by Francois Reichenbach and new material from Welles—forms a kind of dialectic with Welles's never-completed It's All True. The main subjects are art forger Elmyr de Hory, Clifford Irving, Howard Hughes, Pablo Picasso, Welles himself, and the practice and meaning of deception. Despite some speculation that this film was Welles's indirect reply to Pauline Kael's bogus contention that he didn't write a word of Citizen Kane, his sly commentary—seconded by some of the trickiest editing anywhere—implies that authorship is a pretty dubious notion anyway, a function of the even more dubious art market and its team of “experts.” Alternately superficial and profound, the film also enlists the services of Oja Kodar, Welles's principal collaborator after the late 60s, as actor, erotic spectacle, and cowriter, and briefer appearances by many other Welles cohorts. Michel Legrand supplies the wonderful score.'
Jonathan Rosenbaum

Here is the most impressive part of the film, Welles' paean to Chartres Cathedral.

Here are Welles's words: 'Now this has been standing here for centuries. The premier work of man perhaps in the whole western world and it’s without a signature: Chartres. A celebration to God’s glory and to the dignity of man. All that’s left most artists seem to feel these days, is man. Naked, poor, forked, radish. There aren’t any celebrations. Ours, the scientists keep telling us, is a universe, which is disposable. You know it might be just this one anonymous glory of all things, this rich stone forest, this epic chant, this gaiety, this grand choiring shout of affirmation, which we choose when all our cities are dust, to stand intact, to mark where we have been, to testify to what we had it in us, to accomplish. Our works in stone, in paint, in print are spared, some of them for a few decades, or a millennium or two, but everything must finally fall in war or wear away into the ultimate and universal ash. The triumphs and the frauds, the treasures and the fakes. A fact of life. We’re going to die. “Be of good heart,” cry the dead artists out of the living past. Our songs will all be silenced – but what of it? Go on singing. Maybe a man’s name doesn’t matter all that much. (Church bells peal…)'

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 61: Thu Mar 3

July Rain (Khutsiev, 1963): Barbican Cinema, 6pm

This groundbreaking Soviet film, screened from a 35mm print, is part of the 'Other Modernism, Other Futures' season (details here).

Variety review:One of the highlights of the Locarno Soviet retrospective, Marlen Khutsiev’s “July Rain” has lost none of its radical modernity. Often described as the Soviet version of an Antonioni film, pic follows 28-year-old Lena (Evgeniya Uralova, who bears a vague resemblance to Monica Vitti) through a kind of existential crisis, as she realizes her relationship with perfect boyfriend Volodya (Aleksandr Belyavsky) is empty and their friends are superficial fools. The film captures a moment in time when Soviet life was radically changing, when the joyful camaraderie was turning into modern solitude and emptiness. The images, lensed by German Lavrov in striking B&W, often contrast with the soundtrack, as in the long opening dolly through the streets of Moscow to the accompaniment of radio music.

Made shortly before the Soviet invasion of Prague in 1968, it is in many ways a prophetic work forecasting the end of the dream of collectivism. This is in notable contrast to Khutsiev’s previous film, “I Am Twenty,” which propounded socialism with a human face. Twenty” was violently attacked by Khrushchev, but won a prize at Venice in a cut version. “July Rain” was also invited to Venice, but the authorities refused to send it. It received a very limited release.

Deborah Young

Here (and above) is an extract.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 60: Wed Mar 2

Silence (Scorsese, 2016): Prince Charles Cinema, 8.15pm

This film is part of the Scorsese season at the Prince Charles Cinema. Full details here.

Guardian review:
Silence is a movie of great fervour that resolves itself into a single thought: if a believer is forced to recant, yet maintains a hidden impregnable core of secret faith, a hidden finger-cross, is that a defeat or not? God sees all, of course, including the way a public disavowal of faith has dissuaded hundreds or thousands from believing. Is the public theatre of faith more important than a secret bargain with a silent creator? It is a question kept on a knife-edge. Martin Scorsese’s powerful, emotional film takes its audience on a demanding journey with a great sadness at its end.
Peter Bradshaw

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 59: Tue Mar 1

In the Eyes of the Law (Grunwald, 1919): BFI Southbank, NFT2, 8.50pm

This 35mm screening is part of the Asta Nielsen season. Full details here.

BFI introduction:
This dark thriller begins with a deceptive romantic breeziness, as Nielsen plays a journalist in love. However, this determined, principled woman will stop at nothing to support her friend’s life-saving medical research, which leads her inexorably towards a terrible act of violence. Soon, we sense the shadow of Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment) in Nielsen’s character – but played in her own, specifically modern way.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 58: Mon Feb 28

Taste of Cherry (Kiarostami, 1997): Prince Charles Cinema, 6.05pm

Chicago Reader review:
A middle-aged man who’s contemplating suicide drives around the hilly, dusty outskirts of Tehran trying to find someone who will bury him if he succeeds and retrieve him if he fails. This minimalist yet powerful and life-enhancing 1997 feature by Abbas Kiarostami (Where Is the Friend’s House?, Life and Nothing More, Through the Olive Trees) never explains why the man wants to end his life, yet every moment in his daylong odyssey carries a great deal of poignancy and philosophical weight. Kiarostami, one of the great filmmakers of our time, is a master at filming landscapes and constructing parablelike narratives whose missing pieces solicit the viewer’s active imagination. Taste of Cherry actually says a great deal about what it was like to be alive in the 1990s, and despite its somber theme, this masterpiece has a startling epilogue that radiates with wonder and euphoria.
Jonathan Rosenbaum

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 57: Sun Feb 27

Finally Sunday! (Truffaut, 1983): BFI Southbank, NFT1, 3pm

This Francois Truffaut film is part of the director's season is also being screened on Ferbruary 5th and 12th at BFI Southbank (full details here).

Time Out review:
Based on an American novel (Charles Williams' The Long Saturday Night, but set in small-town South of France, the plot introduces Jean-Louis Trintignant as the owner of an estate agency and Fanny Ardant as his long-suffering secretary. Trintignant is first implicated in one murder. Then his wife is killed. While he is on the run, it falls to Ardant to solve the crimes, with the neat role reversal allowing Truffaut both to cover familiar genre ground in unfamiliar manner, and to reflect on the fragility of the male ego. Thoughtfully composed, elegantly performed, and shot atmospherically in black-and-white, it could so easily have become a brittle exercise in form. But the sentimentality is constantly undercut, and almost every scene is infused with deft, sometimes dark humour, even as the corpses pile high on the sidewalks of those not particularly mean French streets.

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 56: Sat Feb 26

You Only Live Twice (Gilbert, 1967): Prince Charles Cinema, 2.45pm

The Prince Charles Cinema continues its full 007 Retrospective showing every James Bond movie over the coming months. You can see all the details of the screenings here. Yu Only Live Twice is also being screened on March 3rd and June 12th. Full details here.

Time Out review:
Agent 007 travels to Japan, where he fakes his own death, gets married (?!), and thwarts a plan by cat-loving SPECTRE mastermind Blofeld (Pleasence) to use hijacked US and Soviet space capsules to blackmail the world super-powers. 
Roald Dahl's implausible script is padded out with the usual exotic locations, stunts, and trickery. Sean Connery left the series after this one, but was lured back for Diamonds Are Forever four years later.
Nigel Floyd

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 56: Fri Feb 25

2046 (Wong Kar-wai, 20054): Prince Charles Cinema, 5.45pm

This screening is part of the Wong Kar-wai season at the Prince Charles Cinema. You casn find thew full details here.

Time Out review:
Wong Kar-Wai
’s long-awaited, sumptuous follow-up to ‘In the Mood for Love’ makes for a rapturous cinematic experience. It’s not just the stunning production design (William Chang), exquisite camerawork (Chris Doyle, Lai Yiu Fai, Kwan Pun Leung) and superbly used music (various artists and composers, including Shigeru Umebayashi), which together give the film the febrile intensity of a nineteenth-century opera (Bellini features on the track). It’s also the subtlety and complexity that distinguish Wong’s charting of the emotional odyssey undergone by Chow Mo Wan (Tony Leung) as he goes through a series of relationships with different but likewise lovely women: a prostitute (Ziyi Zhang), a gambler (Gong Li), a cabaret singer (Carina Lau), and his landlord’s daughter (Faye Wong).

With such beauties surrounding him, you’d expect Chow to be happy, but the film mainly takes place in the mid-’60s, the years immediately following his heart-breaking encounter with a married woman (Maggie Cheung in ‘In the Mood for Love’). It’s a relationship that still shades and shapes his reactions to every woman he meets, and it therefore also influences the allegorical sci-fi novel he’s writing, set in the year 2046 (after the number on a hotel-room door) but inspired by his own memories and desires… Wong intercuts scenes from this book with Chow’s various affairs and non-affairs, allowing Wong to build layer upon bittersweet layer of meaning in a work as cerebrally rewarding as it is sensually seductive. It may help if you grasp the many allusions to Wong’s earlier films (including, notably, ‘Days of Being Wild’), but it’s far from necessary. This, after all, is undeniably real cinema.
Geoff Andrew

Here (and above) is a season trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 55: Thu Feb 24

Sun and the Moon (Dwoskin, 2008): BFI Southbank, NFT3, 6.20pm

This film is part of a Stehen Dwoskin season at BFI. Full details here.

BFI introduction:
Dwoskin began as an underground filmmaker, and ended his career as one. Distantly inspired by Beauty and the Beast, The Sun and the Moon features Dwoskin as the Beast, all but confined to his bed and hooked up to a breathing machine, opposite performance artist and stunt performer Helga Wretman, and dancer Beatrice ‘Trixie’ Cordua (Dwoskin’s muse of many years). The high point of Dwoskin’s late period, the film was described by scholar Raymond Bellour as an ‘absolute masterpiece’.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 54: Wed Feb 23


Blue Collar (Schrader, 1978): Prince Charles Cinema, 6pm

This 35mm prersentation s aprt of the Paul Schrader season at the Prince Charles Cinema. You can find the full details here.

Chicago Reader review:
Paul Schrader did very well his first time out as a director with this downbeat tale (1978) of workday oppression starring Richard Pryor, Yaphet Kotto, and Harvey Keitel. The union squeezes from one side, the bosses from another, and three autoworkers are caught in the contradictions of capitalism. Schrader’s cold, deliberate camera style plays a subtle counterpoint to the story of breakdown and despair. An intelligent, controlled, and well-observed film, with excellent performances by Kotto and Pryor.
Dave Kehr

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 53: Tue Feb 22

We Don't Need A Map ( Thornton, 2017): Barbican Cinema, 6.30pm

This film is part of the 'Homeland: Films by Australian First Nations directors' season at the Barbican Cinema. You can find the full details here.

Barbican introduction:
The Southern Cross constellation is one of the most familiar symbols in Australia, which has been claimed and appropriated by many groups, including racist nationalists, since colonisation. For Indigenous Australian people, it is a symbol with profound resonance. In this scorching essay film, Warwick Thornton (Samson and Delilah, Sweet Country) explores the cultural roots of the constellation and its position in Australian culture. The film, edited from over 70 hours of footage, is infused with a punk spirit. Thornton is certainly unafraid of provocation – a couple of years before the film he stated that ‘the Southern Cross was becoming the new swastika’. Told through his often bawdy style, this is a passionate and fearless film that, in the words of the director, asks ‘who we are and where we are going’.

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 52: Mon Feb 21

Big (Marshall, 1988): Prince Charles Cinema, 6pm

This 35mm presentation is part of the Penny Marshall season at the Prince Charles Cinema. You can find the full details here.

Time Out review:
'It's no fun being in your early teens, especially if you're none too tall. So thinks Josh Baskin, having been denied a ride on a fairyground superloop. But neither is being a kid in a grown-up body so hot, as Josh discovers after a carnival wishing-machine grants the change overnight. What do you do when Mom doesn't recognise you, and thinks you're your own abductor? How do you get a job when you can't drive and have no social security number? And when you do find work with a toy-design company, how do you cope with board meetings, office rivalries, and swish staff parties? Penny Marshall's movie may be a mite predictable, but it's genuinely funny, thanks partly to Tom Hanks' engagingly gauche and gangly performance as the overgrown Josh, and partly to a script that steers admirably clear of gross innuendo. Much of the humour derives from Josh's inability to comprehend adult life; much of its charm from the way his forthright innocence steadily revitalises those around him. Admittedly, this latter theme makes for an ending oozing with saccharine sentiment; but until then Marshall, Hanks, and his co-stars seldom put a foot wrong.'
Geoff Andrew

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 51: Sun Feb 20

Bait (Jenkin, 2019): Close-Up Cinema, 8.15pm

This film is also screened at Close-Up Cinema on February 13th (details here).

Observer review:
Cornish film-maker Mark Jenkin’s breakthrough feature is a thrillingly adventurous labour of love – a richly textured, rough-hewn gem in which form and content are perfectly combined. A refreshingly authentic tale of tensions between locals and tourists in a once-thriving fishing village, it’s an evocative portrait of familiar culture clashes in an area where traditional trades and lifestyles are under threat. Shot with clockwork cameras on grainy 16mm stock, which Jenkin hand-processed in his studio in Newlyn, 
Bait is both an impassioned paean to Cornwall’s proud past, and a bracingly tragicomic portrait of its troubled present and possible future. It’s a genuine modern masterpiece, which establishes Jenkin as one of the most arresting and intriguing British film-makers of his generation.
Mark Kermode

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2022 — Day 50: Sat Feb 19

Thunderball (Young, 1965): Prince Charles Cinema, 3pm

The Prince Charles Cinema continues its full 007 Retrospective showing every James Bond movie over the coming months. You can see all the details of the screenings here. Thunderball is also being screened on February 24th. Full details here.

Time Out review:
Following up Goldfinger was no picnic, but Sean Connery’s fourth outing demonstrated the series’ durability, cementing a brash formula that yielded huge box office (it’s still the highest-grossing Bond, when adjusted for inflation). Return to it now, and the effort is painfully obvious: Yes, we love spooky underwater sequences involving the conveyance of stolen A-bombs, but must there be endless minutes of them? Regardless, there's some essential stuff here: the electric chair that incinerates an underperforming villain at a meeting, the swimming pool with sharks, the widescreen luxury.
Joshua Rothkopf