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Classic Film Review: Bleak Moments (1971) plus Mike Leigh Q & A (Prince Charles Cinema, London.)

Classic Film Review: Bleak Moments (1971)

Directed by Mike Leigh

Written by Mike Leigh – Based on 1970 stage play by Mike Leigh

Produced by Leslie Blair

Cast: Anne Raitt, Sarah Stephenson, Eric Allan, Joolia Cappleman, Mike Bradwell, Donald Sumpter etc.

Cinematography by Bahram Manocheri

Camera Assistant: Roger Pratt

Edited by Leslie Blair



One of the quiet yet profound joys of cultural life is finding a creative or sporting figure—or team—whose journey you follow from an early age, growing alongside their work as it evolves. Whether it’s the cinematic brilliance of the Coen Brothers or Mike Leigh, the ever-shifting energy of Primal Scream, or the lifelong, often agonising commitment to Tottenham Hotspur FC, these long-term relationships offer a deep sense of continuity. They become personal landmarks in our emotional and cultural landscapes, threading through decades of change and grounding us with shared history, joy, and—especially in Spurs’ case—a touch of heartache.

I was born just a year before Mike Leigh’s Bleak Moments debuted in 1971, and it became a defining cultural touchstone for me. First encountering it in the early 1980’s, I was captivated by its raw honesty and quiet power—a film I returned to again and again on that solid-format VHS tape over the years. It marked the beginning of a lifelong relationship with Leigh’s work, a body of cinema that has shaped and shadowed my own personal and cultural journey. That connection endures to this day, most recently renewed with his 2025 release, Hard Truths—a testament to a career and vision that continue to evolve with undiminished integrity.



Bleak Moments centres on Sylvia (Anne Raitt), a lonely, introspective young woman navigating the quiet desolation of her suburban life while caring for her mentally challenged sister, Hilda (Sarah Stephenson). Trapped between duty and desire, Sylvia reaches tentatively toward human connection—most notably with a shy schoolteacher—yet every encounter is marked by awkward silences and emotional hesitations. Mike Leigh crafts a delicate, unflinching portrait of isolation and unmet longing, where the most powerful moments are found in what remains unsaid. Indeed, I would say it would have a powerful influence on awkward cinema or television such as Gervais and Merchant’s, seminal show The Office.

I hadn’t seen the film for twenty years and in a packed Prince Charles Cinema, what struck me was how Bleak Moments, while raw and unvarnished in style, unfolds with a beautifully episodic structure that gently accumulates emotional weight. Each scene offers a quiet vignette—moments of everyday awkwardness, tentative exchanges, and domestic stillness—that together create a deeply human portrait of loneliness and restraint. Despite its sombre tone, the film is laced with dry, observational humour and a deep sense of pathos, revealing the absurdity and ache of unspoken lives.

Mike Bradwell’s Norman and his dryly hilarious songs, and the most awkward of “romantic” dinner scenes in the Chinese restaurant just stood out to me as deeply funny. Raitt’s performance too is a masterclass of comedic understatement. Overall, these qualities—emotional nuance, character-driven storytelling, and a commitment to realism—would become defining hallmarks of Mike Leigh’s oeuvre, already fully formed in this striking debut. Finally, it was great to see and hear from Leigh, now in his eighties, answering some great questions with sharp wit and batting away some stupid ones too with his usual intelligence and droll honesty. Leigh remains a hero in my life’s cultural journey.


Cinema review: The Phoenician Scheme (2025) – plus Wes Anderson’s Top 11 films ranked in order of favourite!

Cinema review: The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

Directed by Wes Anderson

Screenplay by Wes Anderson

Story by Wes Anderson and Roman Coppola

Produced by Wes Anderson, Steven Rales, Jeremy Dawson, John Peet

Cinematography by Bruno Delbonnel

Main cast: Benicio del Toro, Mia Threapleton, Michael Cera, Riz Ahmed, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Mathieu Amalric, Richard Ayoade, Jeffrey Wright, Scarlett Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Rupert Friend, Hope Davis, etc.



Reviewing films for me is a form of study—a way to sharpen one’s eye, expand one’s perspective, and gain insight into the craft of filmmaking. It’s a dialogue between the film and the viewer, where curiosity, analysis, and empathy fuel a deeper appreciation for the storytelling process. Yet, Wes Anderson’s films often feel unreviewable in the traditional sense because they exist entirely within their own meticulously crafted universe—one governed by its own visual grammar, emotional tone, and narrative rhythm. His work defies conventional cinematic benchmarks not because it fails to meet them, but because it invents new ones.

His films are stylized to the point of abstraction: symmetrical compositions, pastel palettes, theatrical performances, deadpan dialogue, and storybook framing devices. These are not aesthetic flourishes added to conventional storytelling—they are the storytelling. Every element is calibrated to serve a singular artistic vision that prioritizes mood, irony, and emotional restraint in a way that often bypasses mainstream emotional cues. As a result, trying to evaluate Anderson’s films on the basis of relatability or realism can feel like trying to critique a painting for not being a photograph. You either enter his world and accept its rules, or you don’t.



The Phoenician Scheme (2025) is a whimsically convoluted tale of betrayal, bureaucracy, and buried emotion, anchored by a surprisingly tender pairing: Benicio Del Toro and Mia Threapleton as an estranged father and daughter navigating a pastel-hued world of espionage, assassination attempts and eccentricity. Del Toro brings his signature quiet intensity—filtered through Anderson’s signature deadpan—as Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda, a controversial businessman seeking backing from an array of peculiar business types. Threapleton, in a breakout performance, plays Sister Liesl, a guarded young nun.

As always, Anderson’s aesthetic is immaculately controlled—every frame a still life, every line delivered with just-so detachment. But where the plot sometimes meanders through its own labyrinth of quirk, the film’s emotional core remains grounded in Del Toro and Threapleton’s quiet push-and-pull: a relationship built on misread intentions, half-kept promises, and a strange kind of inherited stoicism. Michael Cera is on splendid form too as Bjørn Lund, a Norwegian entomologist, tutor, and Korda’s administrative assistant.

Overall, The Phoenician Scheme (2025) is best enjoyed as a moving art installation and while thematically strong in terms of the father-daughter-reconciliation theme, doesn’t reach the narrative heights of Anderson’s best work. It’s a visually charming and emotionally sincere entry—proof that even in a world of plane crashes, quirky business deals, weird relatives, religious fervour, eccentric guerrillas, the arc of connection between a father and daughter can still feel radical.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11



Wes Anderson’s Top 11 films ranked in order of MY favourites!

1. Rushmore (1998)

2. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

3. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

4. Bottle Rocket (1996)

5. Asteroid City (2023)

6. Isle of Dogs (2018)

7. Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

8. The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

9. The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

10. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)

11. The French Dispatch (2021)











Amazon Prime Film Review: Kneecap (2024) – Irish rap rebels substitute words-for-bombs in riotous youth-in-revolt triumph!

Amazon Prime Film Review: Kneecap (2024)

Directed by Rich Peppiatt

Screenplay by Rich Peppiatt

Story by Rich Peppiatt, Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, Naoise Ó Cairealláin, JJ Ó Dochartaigh

Produced by Jack Tarling and Trevor Birney

Main cast: Naoise Ó Cairealláin, Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, JJ Ó Dochartaigh, Josie Walker, Fionnuala Flaherty, Jessica Reynolds, Adam Best, Simone Kirby, Michael Fassbender, etc.

Cinematography by Ryan Kernaghan

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



The 2024 film Kneecap is a riotous, politically charged portrait of youth in revolt, channeling the raw energy of punk and hip-hop into a uniquely Irish-language rebellion. Starring the real-life Belfast rap trio—Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap, and DJ Próvaí—as fictionalized versions of themselves, the film blends anarchic humour, biting satire, rites of passage, and cultural defiance to tell the story of how a group of working-class misfits wove their frustrations into musical gold.

Set in post-Troubles West Belfast, the film captures the lingering scars of British occupation and the generational trauma it left behind. Liam (Mo Chara) and Naoise (Móglaí Bap) are introduced as small-time drug dealers navigating poverty, police harassment, and fractured families. Their lives take a turn when JJ Ó Dochartaigh, a disillusioned Irish-language teacher, discovers their lyrical talents and joins them as DJ Próvaí. Together, they form the eponymous group, an Irish-language rap group that weaponizes music as a form of cultural resistance.

The film is unapologetically rebellious, using the Irish language not just as a means of communication but as a symbol of defiance. Arlo (Michael Fassbender), Naoise’s father and a former republican paramilitary, encapsulates this sentiment when he declares, “Every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom” . This philosophy permeates the group’s music, which tackles issues like British colonialism, drug culture, and the complexities of identity in a divided society.



Kneecap (2024), while a bold and electric celebration of youth rebellion arguably overstretches itself emotionally by attempting to cover too many themes at once. In its ambition to be both a political statement and a coming-of-age tale, a musical odyssey and a generational cry for recognition, the film occasionally dilutes its emotional impact. As the film juggles a multitude of weighty themes: the trauma of post-Troubles Northern Ireland, the fight for Irish-language preservation, the drug culture plaguing working-class communities, the fractured nature of family life, absent fathers and mothers, and the burden of political legacy. Add to this the rise of a rap group in an unexpected cultural context, and the film becomes a whirlwind of ideas competing for attention. The result is a film that sometimes feels like it’s racing to say everything at once, rather than letting its most resonant emotional threads breathe.

Nonetheless, director and co-writer, Rich Peppiatt, displays strong visual flair evoking the urban vibrancy of Trainspotting (1996) and underdog musical joy of The Commitments (1991). It helps that the film is often fucking hilarious. Plus, I realise it’s a raw reflection of their life choices, I could take or leave the perpetual scenes of gratuitous drug-taking. At the same time, the film doesn’t shy away from the gritty realities of its setting. It portrays the trio’s clashes with radical republican groups, their run-ins with the police, and the family and romantic struggles that come with their newfound fame.

Amidst the chaos, Kneecap (2024) maintains a sense of humour and humanity, offering a nuanced look at the power of art to challenge the status quo and inspire change. In essence, Kneecap is a ballsy and risk-taking celebration of rebellion, a testament to the enduring power of language and music as tools of resistance, and a vivid portrayal of youth challenging the remnants of a colonial past and a country attempting to find peace and identity after centuries of conflict.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11


Apple TV+ Film Reviews – Part Two

Apple TV+ Film Reviews – Part Two

As is standard procedure when one creates a part one of a series, the logical and linear progression is to have a part two. So, having watched the majority of the AppleTV+ films currently streaming I now move onto part two. The first set of reviews can be found here:


Coda (2021)

For some unknown alphabetical amnesia I forgot to include this Oscar -winning film in the first set of reviews, so I rectify that omission now. Arguably one of the best films on the platform, it is simultaneously a feelgood, tearjerker and a Save-the-Cat-screenplay-template-box-ticker hitting wholly familiar beats and a well-trodden genre path. Nonetheless, it is a terrifically entertaining, moving, funny and heart-warming story which, on reflection kind of surprisingly won the Academy Award for best film. I personally think another remake West Side Story (2021) was a far more scintillating work of cinema, but hey what do I know? My original review of Coda (2021) can be found below. Mark: 9 out of 11.


Ghosted (2023)

Of late Chris Evans has been choosing roles, as with Red One (2024), that go against the Alpha-heroic persona of Captain America. Unfortunately, Knives Out (2019) aside, the results are average at best. Aside from a series of amusing cameos in the middle act, not even the alluring Ana De Armas can save this clunky AI-written-spy-romance. With better scripting and direction this attractive action fluff could’ve been almost bearable. I remember when Dexter Fletcher made really good low-budget indie films like Wild Bill (2011). Mark: 5 out of 11.


The Gorge (2025)

I really enjoyed this big-budget-romantic-monster shoot-em up. I need to watch it again sober before deciding if it is going to make my top films of the year list or did I love it because I was drunk. Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy revel in fine on-screen chemistry as the physical and symbolic divide provides no barrier to their lustful wants. My full review can be found below. Mark: 8.5 out of 11.


The Greatest Beer Run Ever (2022)

Likeable every-guy, Chickie Donohue (Zac Efron), has the crazy notion of hand delivering beer to his buddies fighting in Vietnam. But his naïve morale-boosting trip soon becomes an eye-opening and perspective changing nightmare. There’s a really good dramatic character arc in this historical 1968-set “road” movie but the comedic tone dilutes the overall catharsis of the journey. Efron is full of energy while the formidable presence of Russell Crowe is memorable if woefully under-used. Mark: 7 out of 11.


Greyhound (2020)

A fast-paced and technically impressive WW2 film with Tom Hanks portraying the Commander of a destroyer battling to survive an enemy onslaught amidst a part of the sea called ‘the Black Pit’. It’s been a while since I watched this but recall it being a solid suspense thriller with great production design and effects, although a little light on meaty character development. Mark: 7 out of 11.


The Instigators (2024)

Matt Damon and Casey Affleck team up once again for this underdog heist film which tries to be funny and dramatic, but misses the nuanced tone a director like Steven Soderbergh can deliver. I kind of enjoyed this because I like Damon, Affleck and Hong Chau, but many scenes suffer from the sense the actors are “improvising” and rewriting the script as they go along. Also, why can’t we have some proper 1970’s hard-boiled crime films like Sam Peckinpah and David Mamet used to deliver. Not all robbery films have to have one-liners throughout. Mark: 6 out of 11.


Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)

My critical feelings of Martin Scorsese’s most recent epic did not shift on the second watch. This profile of the horrors that befall the Osage people after they have struck oil remains compelling. Indeed the film contains powerful themes relating to the greed, power and psychopathy of the white man, but focusing the main thrust of the narrative from their perspective creates a skewed and oddly unimpactful viewing experience. Of course, Scorsese’s filmmaking expertise shines through and the performances are terrific. Mark: 8 out of 11. My full review is here:


Luck (2022)

I felt more than a tad unlucky after watching this animated misfire which didn’t work on any level. I know hundreds of crafts-people worked hard creating this, but why not spend a bit more time on the script. Or film another script altogether. The fact that the budget for this film is reported to be $140 million and there are people starving in the world is a travesty against humanity. Mark: 3 out off 11.


Napoleon (2023)

I haven’t had the spiritual gumption to re-watch this messy biopic from Joaquin Phoenix and Ridley Scott. There’s a four-hour directorial version to contemplate watching too. Oh, if only Stanley Kubrick had made his version. My original review is below. Mark: 7 out of 11


Palmer (2021)

Justin Timberlake again proves himself an adept leading man, having successfully graduated from the Disney-groomed production line he started out on. Palmer (2021) is overall a well-acted and directed redemptive crime drama, which also tackles themes relating to gender nonconformity to differentiate the well worn “parolee-trying-to-go-straight” narrative. Mark: 7 out of 11.



Sharper (2023)

Sharper (2023), directed by Benjamin Caron, skillfully uses classic con artist film tropes to craft a layered and compelling drama. By blending familiar elements of the genre with sleek cinematography and a nonlinear narrative, the film elevates itself above typical heist fare and leans into character-driven storytelling. The terrific cast, notably Julianne Moore, have fun with a genre script containing emotional depth, deliberate pacing, and decent characterisation. Mark: 7.5 out of 11.


Tetris (2023)

Tetris (2023), directed by Jon S. Baird, turns the unlikely origin story of a video game into a surprisingly engaging Cold War-era techno-thriller—at least for a while. Rooted in real historical tensions, the film smartly weaves espionage, corporate greed, and political paranoia into the story of how a simple puzzle game became a global phenomenon. However, its descent into exaggerated action sequences, particularly the climactic chase, turns it into something closer to parody than period drama. It’s a film that ultimately undercuts the suspense by choosing spectacle over substance. Mark: 7 out of 11


Cinema Review: The Monkey (2025) – a hilarious horror sketch-show with gore masking an inconsistent totemic tale!

Cinema Review: The Monkey (2025)

Directed by Osgood Perkins

Written by Osgood Perkins

Based on “The Monkey” by Stephen King

Produced by James Wan, Dave Caplan, Brian Kavanaugh-Jones, Chris Ferguson, etc.

Main Cast: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery, Colin O’Brien, Rohan Campbell, Sarah Levy, Adam Scott and Elijah Wood.

Cinematography by Nico Aguilar



Following the financial success of his 2024 psychological thriller Longlegs (2024), Osgood Perkins has recently embarked on adapting Stephen King’s short story, The Monkey, into a feature film. While I didn’t quite connect with it Longlegs (2024) it had many impressed with its strange, atmospheric tension as well as Nic Cage’s crazy look and performance. The Monkey (2025), differs in tone though as it this adaptation with a blends horror and dark comedy, allowing Perkins to showcase his versatility as a filmmaker.

The narrative of The Monkey (2025) centres on twin brothers, portrayed by Theo James, who encounter a cursed toy monkey linked to a series of gruesome deaths. Perkins expands upon King’s original short story, infusing it with themes of family, fatherhood, reconciliation and a litany of grisly sudden deaths. Having found the simian death totem as teenagers, Hal and Bill Shelburn find their lives and those around them impacted in the most bloody explosive of ways. Indeed, there is much thought and planning given to these Saw and Final Destination franchise influenced on-screen set-pieces. In fact, the exquisite surprise and laugh-out-loud hilarity which occur throughout somewhat overpowers any emotional connection with the thinly-written protagonists.



The film’s gore and relentless pace are undeniably its strongest assets — the kills are extreme, inventive, and staged with a gleeful disregard for realism, echoing the chaotic energy of ’80s horror comedies. Each death sequence feels like a miniature horror short, packed with practical effects and over-the-top carnage. Perkins crafts these moments with a twisted sense of humour, making the film feel like a sketch-show carousel of nightmarish vignettes, each more outrageous than the last.

However, despite the visceral fun, The Monkey (2025) struggles to leave a lasting impression. Unlike the original Saw (2004) by James Wan and Leigh Whannell — a film that balanced its brutal horror with sharp social commentary and tightly woven mythology — Perkins’ adaptation lacks a deeper foundation. The cursed toy monkey serves as a simple harbinger of death, but the film never establishes consistent rules for how the curse operates or why it escalates the way it does. Without clear internal logic or meaningful subtext, the horror loses weight, and the emotional stakes fizzle.

While The Monkey (2025) succeeds as a frenetic, blood-soaked thrill ride, it ultimately feels ephemeral. The film’s surface-level scares and comedic flair make for an entertaining watch, but the absence of narrative substance or thematic resonance leaves it as little more than a fleeting novelty — a film you enjoy in the moment, but rarely think about after the credits roll.

Mark: 6.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: Hard Truths (2024) – an unflinching look at a family struggling with depression.

CINEMA REVIEW: HARD TRUTHS (2024)

Directed by Mike Leigh

Written by Mike Leigh

Produced by Georgina Lowe

Main Cast: Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Michele Austin, David Webber, Tuwaine Barrett, Ani Nelson, Sophia Brown, Jonathan Livingstone, etc.

Cinematography by Dick Pope

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



Mike Leigh’s career has been defined by an unflinching exploration of everyday existence, shaped by a commitment to realism and a deep understanding of human behaviour. His films, whether contemporary or period pieces, dissect the nuances of ordinary lives, often capturing the struggles, aspirations, and quiet triumphs of working- and middle-class individuals. His signature improvisational approach—where actors develop their characters through extensive rehearsal—allows for an organic authenticity that makes his work resonate with honesty and emotional depth.

Leigh’s early films, such as Bleak Moments (1971) and Nuts in May (1976), established his interest in the mundanities and disappointments of daily life. His later films, such as High Hopes (1988) and Life is Sweet (1990), continued this trend, portraying ordinary people navigating personal and societal challenges with humour and pathos. Secrets & Lies (1996), one of his most acclaimed works, epitomizes his fascination with human vulnerability, as it dissects family relationships, race, and identity in a way that feels raw yet tender.

Leigh’s career trajectory has also included excursions into period dramas, notably the heart-wrenching, Vera Drake (2004) and arguably his most political film, Peterloo (2018). But rather than abandoning his focus on the intricacies of human experience, he applies the same observational precision to historical subjects. Topsy-Turvy (1999), about the creation of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado, examines the creative process with the same detail he grants his modern-day working-class protagonists. Mr. Turner (2014), a biopic of the painter J.M.W. Turner, similarly explores the artist’s struggles, eccentricities, and societal context without falling into the clichés of the genre. These films reveal that, for Leigh, the past is not a grand spectacle but an extension of the same human complexities that define his contemporary work.



His latest film, Hard Truths (2024), follows in this tradition, delving into the stark realities of its characters with the same empathy and directness. Set in London in the present day, it focuses on the Deacon family unit and extended relations, notably two personality-divergent sisters, Pansy Deacon (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) and sibling, Chantelle (Michele Austin). Pansy is a middle-aged London housewife whose relentless irritability and sharp tongue mask a deep-seated inner turmoil. Her acerbic interactions—whether berating her husband Curtley, chastising her son Moses, or lashing out at unsuspecting strangers—serve as both a source of dark humour and a window into her dissatisfaction with life. Indeed, some of her rants are absolutely laugh-out-loud hilarious.

Leigh’s nuanced direction ensures that while Pansy’s outbursts may elicit laughter, they simultaneously reveal the tragic underpinnings of her character. Her vitriolic remarks, often delivered with biting wit, are symptomatic of her internal struggles, painting a portrait of a woman grappling with unarticulated pain. This duality is evident in scenes where Pansy’s caustic rants thinly veils her profound sense of isolation and despair. The film delves deeper into Pansy’s psyche during interactions with the more upbeat, Chantelle. A pivotal moment occurs during a Mother’s Day visit to their mother’s grave, where Chantelle confronts Pansy about her pervasive anger. Pansy’s anguished admission, “I don’t know!” encapsulates the bewildering nature of her depression, highlighting how her defensive humour serves as a barrier against this insidious mental illness.

Marianne Jean-Baptiste’s absorbing portrayal brings emotional depth to Pansy’s character, capturing the delicate interplay between her abrasive exterior and the fragility it conceals. Similarly, Michele Austin brings light and optimism to the screen, along with her effervescent daughters, somehow striving to combat the all-pervasive cloud of depression. Some of my favourite scenes of the film were with Chantelle in conversation with customers in her hair salon. Thus, in essence, Hard Truths (2024) presents a compelling character study that intertwines humour with the sombre realities of depression. Through Pansy Deacon, Leigh illustrates there are no easy answers to the pain of an affliction that remains silent and invisible but is ever-present within everyone’s lives.

Mark: 8 out of 11


The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2024!

The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2024!

Good day and I hope you are well. I am slightly late to the party with these but happy new year nonetheless.

Here are my favourite films of 2024 that I watched at the cinema and on streaming platforms. The majority would have been released last year, however there were quite a few that crossed the last eighteen months or so. I cheated slightly with The Quiet Girl, but I watched in 2024, so there you go.

If I have missed any films then please let me know in the comments. I have either NOT seen them or did not enjoy them as much as you. Remember these are my FAVOURITE films seen in 2024 of new(ish) releases. So all purely subjective and am happy if you agree or disagree. Have a wonderful 2025!

Oh, for control and interest, I include my favourite films of 2023!



Ten Favourite Films of 2023

https://wordpress.com/post/thecinemafix.com/77015

ANATOMY OF A FALL (2023)
ASTEROID CITY (2023)
BROKER (2022)
MAY DECEMBER (2023)
OPPENHEIMER (2023)
PAST LIVES (2023)
SALTBURN (2023)
TAR (2022)
TOTALLY KILLER (2023)
THE WONDER (2022)


Twelve Favourite Films of 2024

ALL OF US STRANGERS (2023)


AMERICAN FICTION (2023)


HERETIC (2024)


THE HOLDOVERS (2023)


THE IRON CLAW (2023)


LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2023)


MONSTER (2023)


POOR THINGS (2023)



THE QUIET GIRL (2023)


SPEAK NO EVIL (2024)


THE SUBSTANCE (2024)


THE ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)

Cinema Review: Wicked (2024) – delivers a Magical Yet Overstuffed Musical Experience

Cinema Review: Wicked (2024)

Directed by Jon M. Chu

Screenplay by Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox

Based on the musical, Wicked by Stephen Schwartz & Winnie Holzman
and novel by Gregory Maguire
.

Produced by Marc Platt and David Stone

Main Cast: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande-Buter, Jonathan Bailey, Ethan Slater, Bowen Yang, Marissa Bode, Peter Dinklage, Michelle Yeoh and Jeff Goldblum etc.

Cinematography by Alice Brooks

Edited by Myron Kerstein

Music by John Powell (score) and Stephen Schwartz (score and songs)

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



I truly believe my love of cinema began when I was aged five. Or was it six? Picture the scene. Christmas Day circa 1976 and the living room of a Battersea tower block. A television emits a classic musical fantasy called The Wizard of Oz (1939). Shades of grey with a flickering light and shadow, drew me into its spell. I sat wide-eyed, cradled by the screen’s soft glow, unaware that something wondrous lay just beyond the monochrome.

And then it happened—like a magician’s flourish, the black and white world I had known melted away. Dorothy opened that door, and the screen burst into life, a kaleidoscope of impossible hues. Emerald greens, ruby reds, a yellow road that glowed with the promise of adventure. My eyes widened. Hang on! It was black and white and NOW the images are in colour! This was magic. This was film. This was Oz!

Forty-eight years later and back to the present. In 2024, I am sat in the cinema intrigued to watch the musical prequel, Wicked (2024). Based on a successful novel, then a spectacularly successful stage musical and now a big-budget Christmas cinema extravaganza indulgently split into a two-parter, does Wicked (2024) capture the cinematic sorcery I experienced in my youth? Of course it possibly cannot live up to my warm and fuzzy childhood memories, but it is a well-crafted, superbly choreographed and energetically performed Hollywood product with Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande on majestic form.



The film, based on Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire, is a brilliant twist on the “what if” storytelling lens—a speculative reimagining that turns a villain into a deeply human, complex protagonist. The novel takes the flat archetype of the Wicked Witch and asks: What if we misunderstood her? What if the “wickedness” she’s condemned for is not inherent, but the result of a life shaped by prejudice, politics, and pain? Indeed, the journey of Elphaba Thropp (Cynthia Erivo) powerfully drives the story, and in some fashion Wicked (2024) works brilliantly as a Breaking Bad-meets-Mean Girls-type-rites-of-passage musical.

Unfortunately, such strong narrative bones with weighty themes of identity, morality, and the price of power are adorned in a dazzling, over-the-top spectacle. While its core narrative explores profound questions about destiny and the nature of “wickedness,” these ideas often get buried under an excessive parade of well-designed production numbers that stretch the running time and tested one’s patience. The powerful emotional arcs of Elphaba and Glinda, rich with potential, are interrupted by TOO MANY songs that (Dancing Through Life is one such culprit), while entertaining in isolation, often feel like detours from the story’s heart.

By the final curtain, the spectacular musical embellishments, though undeniably crowd-pleasing, can leave the story feeling bloated. I am probably the wrong demographic for the production, given the cinema was full of children and parents. So, while there is much to enjoy in comparison with the original film’s genius, notably the invention of the flying monkeys, Wicked (2024), for all its glitter and showmanship, finds the greedy desire for a two-parter ultimately draining Oz of pace and magic.

Mark: 7 out of 11


Netflix Film Review: Emilia Perez (2024) – A Trans-formative song of Risk and Redemption!

NETFLIX FILM REVIEW: EMILIA PEREZ (2024)

Directed by Jacques Audiard

Screenplay by Jacques Audiard

Based on Écoute by Boris Razon

Produced by Jacques Audiard, Pascal Caucheteux, Valérie Schermann, Anthony Vaccarello

Main Cast: Zoe Saldaña, Karla Sofía Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Mark Ivanir, Édgar Ramírez etc.

Cinematography by Paul Guilhaume

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



There’s such a thing as having too much going on.” Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh.

I am a big champion of the films of Jacques Audiard. When his eccentric Western, The Sisters Brothers (2018), was released I wrote a positive review and tribute to several other fine films he has directed here. Audiard likes to take risks representing human beings on the edge of society and perhaps struggling with life; people who often make left-field decisions to improve or escape their existential plight. With his latest film Emilia Perez (2024) the filmmaking master challenges the audience again with a multi-blended genre film that also contains powerful themes of transformation, redemption, violence, crime and family values. Oh and there are songs too.

The narrative begins strongly as Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldana), a fiercely talented yet overlooked lawyer in Mexico City, finds herself thrust into the spotlight when she defends the wife of a prominent media mogul in a controversial murder trial. Despite her misgivings, Rita crafts a chillingly persuasive argument that frames the death as a suicide, securing an unexpected victory in the case—one that leaves her both celebrated and haunted.

As the dust settles, Rita’s restless dissatisfaction with her life grows louder. Then comes an anonymous phone call: an enigmatic voice offers her a chance at something extraordinary—and extraordinarily dangerous. Intrigued and desperate for change, she agrees to a clandestine meeting. The mysterious client turns out to be none other than Juan “Manitas” Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón), a ruthless and feared cartel kingpin. But the request they make isn’t what Rita expects from a crime-lord. Manitas dreams of living authentically by undergoing gender-affirming surgery and becoming a woman. Rita must decide: will she help Manitas rewrite their story, or will she risk becoming the next chapter in a tale of betrayal and bloodshed?



This fascinating set-up draws you in and I believe if Audiard’s narrative had concentrated mostly on the relationship between Rita, the transitioned, Emilia, then the film would have retained much emotional and thematic power. Yet, after Emilia’s operation the screenplay introduces several other story strands and characters to take in, including Selena Gomez’ feisty Jessi Del Monte, Manitas’ ex-wife who thinks “he’s” dead. This development works initially but then Audiard hurls so many more ideas and genres at the audience wall, not all of them sticking.

Admittedly, the film’s audacious blend of melodrama, crime, thriller, musical, and comedy creates an unpredictable and frenetic narrative that keeps viewers on their toes. However, this constant genre-shifting can undermine the weight of its core themes—gender and identity—by overshadowing them with spectacle and tonal inconsistency. The story’s rapid turns and refusal to settle into a single emotional or narrative groove risk, arguably trivializing the profound struggles and triumphs of its trans-protagonist. Moments that could serve as deeply reflective or cathartic explorations of gender identity are sometimes undercut by abrupt pivots into slapstick humor or hyper-stylized action. While these shifts might aim to reflect the disarray and fluidity of identity in a chaotic world, they can also dilute the thematic resonance.

At the same time, it’s clear Audiard is deliberately embracing this chaos and analysis of human flaws. The fractured tone might symbolize a world where stability and clarity are illusions, mirroring the internal and external conflicts of someone navigating personal transformation in an unyielding environment. This approach, while conceptually intriguing, can feel alienating. Nonetheless, the cast’s stellar performances anchor the film, ensuring that the characters remain compelling even when the story spirals into excess. Lastly, Emilia Perez‘ (2024) relentless energy often leaves little room for introspection, and whether this genre-chaos enriches or undermines the narrative depends largely on the viewer’s tolerance for Audiard’s embrace of choral disorder in a world seemingly allergic to calm and pattern.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11


BFI Film Review: Scala (2023) – At the Altar of Nostalgia for the Scala Cinema!

BFI Film Review: Scala!!! (2023)

Directed by Ali Catterall & Jane Giles

Produced by Andrew Starke, Alan Marke & Jim Reid

Cinematography by Sarah Appleton

Edited by Andrew Starke and Edward Mills

Music by Barry Adamson


The Scala Cinema, nestled in the heart of London, was more than just a film theatre; it was a refuge, a haven for anyone with a passion for films that didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I can still feel the sticky floors, the cats in the dark, hear the muffled sounds of the trains passing overhead, and see the hazy red glow that filled the theater. In the 1980s and 1990s, going to the Scala wasn’t just about watching a film; it was about being part of a community that celebrated the bizarre, the boundary-pushing, and the boldly artistic.

During those years, the Scala felt like my second home. It was where I could disappear into films that I couldn’t find anywhere else – obscure horror flicks, campy B-movies, gonzo-pornos, arthouse selections, and controversial classics from around the globe. It was my church. Films by David Lynch, John Waters, Yuen Woo-ping, Derek Jarman, Werner Herzog, Sam Raimi, Lucio Fulci, Russ Meyer, Kathryn Bigelow, Alex Cox, John Woo, Stanley Kubrick, Jane Campion, Orson Welles, Dario Argento, Alejandro Jodorowsky and many more – each screening felt like a small rebellion, a discovery that I’d carry with me. The Scala didn’t just show movies; it curated experiences. All-night marathons, double bills, and surprise screenings became a staple of my weekends, filling my mind with scenes that blurred the line between reality and the outrageous.



When I watched the Scala documentary on BFI Player, a flood of memories came rushing back. It was as though I’d been given a ticket back to those wild, late nights. I remembered how Scala regulars would shout lines at the screen or break into laughter at inopportune moments, making each viewing unique and unpredictable. The documentary captured not only the films but the spirit of the place – the staff who loved cinema as much as the patrons did, the strange but welcoming crowd, and the sense that Scala wasn’t just a venue but a movement. Watching it felt like reconnecting with a part of myself, an era when cinema was raw, thrilling, and unpolished.

The Scala in King’s Cross is a legend, and for those of us who were lucky enough to experience it, it’s a chapter we’ll always cherish. I was even there when they showed A Clockwork Orange (illegally), which led to the ill-fated court case which forced it to close. This documentary is both a valuable historical document and a joyous sharing of stories from those who worked there and attended the films shown, including: Mark Moore, Mary Harron, Isaac Julien, John Waters, Ben Wheatley; Barry Adamson, Matt Johnson, Adam Buxton, James O’Brien, Stewart Lee, Lisa Power and Graham Humphreys. Overall, the Scala Cinema wasn’t just about the films we watched; it was about finding a place where film became more than entertainment – they were a way of life.

Mark: 9 out of 11