End of Days (1999)

Dir.: Peter Hyams
Plot: Don't be daft...

Well, here comes Christmas, and with it one of my absolute favourite holiday turkeys. Near-millenium fever can surely be the only reason this thing ever got made, cashing in as it does on the apocalyptic overtones suggested by approach of the year 2000.

God, this is such a bad film. However, this was my second viewing, so I knew this fact already and yet still taped the damn thing and watched it with my younger brother from start to finish. What I'm getting at, then, is that whilst by all artistic levels (also scientific, religious and general intelligence levels) this is a pisspoor movie, I still enjoy it tremendously. Arnie actually puts in a fairly thoughtful performance at times - okay, his delivery is always going to be stiff, but he manages to produce some tears - as some kind of bereaved cop (I admit I never have paid a huge amount of attention) trying to stop the Devil from impregnating a mortal woman at the moment of the new Millenium, thus establishing his reign over Earth (stick with me here). There are even tears at one particular high-point. Good gravy.

The Intruder, aka. Shame aka. I Hate Your Guts! (1962)

Dir.: Roger Corman

Plot: A small Southern town bubbling with resentment at new racial integration laws boils over after the arrival of a smooth-talking white supremacist who stirs up a frenzy beyond his control.

I don’t know if it was the knowingly provocative subject matter, the gaudy re-titlings or the presence of William Shatner that always made me think that this was a schlocky hixploitation picture bashed out to cash in on the Civil Rights movement. I confess I expected to see at least one corrupt overweight sheriff lean back in his desk chair, shoot a mouthful of tobaccy juice into a spittoon and say “Waaall, I’d sure like to help you, boy. But you see, we folks got a way of doin’ things round here…”. However, having now seen the film (albeit a very battered print), I can confirm that Roger Corman’s The Intruder (released several times under different names in a failed attempt to break even) is by no means a trashy race-hate potboiler. On the contrary, it is a very fine, powerful drama with a documentary feel in its raw, ragged glimpses of white Southern anger.

Home of the Brave (1949)

Dir.: Mark Robson
Plot: An army psychologist tries to help his patient, a mentally unstable black soldier, by digging into the memories of racism and deadly combat which caused him to suffer a breakdown.

One of the lovely things about liking classic cinema is that sometimes you stumble on a significant actor, an actress or even a whole genre you never even knew existed. How many of us, if it weren't for references in Barton Fink and the remake of The Champ, would even be aware of the 'wrestling picture' phenomenon that doubtless made heaps more money than half the artistic dramas we associate with that era? This was one of those moments for me. I knew that the late Forties saw a clash of two films exposing anti-Semitism (the good but rather overrated Crossfire and the appallingly underrated Gentlemen's Agreement), but I never knew that these years, in particular 1949, were notable for a sudden rush of 'tolerance movies' and 'Negro problem pictures'. Coming after Truman's 1948 integration of the armed forces, suddenly black issues were all the rage. Movies like Pinky and Lost Boudaries (both 1949) dealt with the anguish of blacks 'passing', sometimes their whole adult lives, for white. Films began to realise that black people existed as people rather than as porters or maids, and began at last to go some way to answer Myrna Loy's challenge "How about a black person walking up the steps of a court house carrying a briefcase?".

Watch on the Rhine (1943)

 Dir.: Herman Shumlin
 Plot: An anti-Nazi resistance fighter and his family flee to the United States, but their safety proves more uncertain than expected.

"What is your trade?"
"I? I fight against Fascism. That is my trade."

Has there ever been a more heroic exchange in the history of cinema?  My chest is swelling just typing it out. Anyway, Watch on the Rhine is best remembered these days a) for being written by Lillian Hellman and b) for denying Bogart the Best Actor Oscar that many felt was in the bag after the runaway success of Casablanca. However, it more than stands up on its own merits and in some respects outstrips that legendary blockbuster - in depth of psychological understanding and a much more realistic depiction of the heartbreaking decisions that face those who would stand against the Fascists.

Went The Day Well? (1942)

Dir. Alberto Cavalcanti

Plot: Nail-biting drama depicting a fictional Nazi occupation of a tranquil British village, and the transition of its mild-mannered inhabitants into a determined resistance force.

This deliciously tense what-if thriller is surely the jewel in the crown of wartime propaganda. A troop of Nazis infiltrates an English village disguised as Royal Engineers and proceed to insinuate themselves into village life with chilling ease. All the while they are cutting communications with the outside and readying the way in preparation for a full-scale invasion, so that when the villagers finally work out that there's something amiss, it's too late. Isolated from official channels, the unfortunate Britishers are forced to consider whether they have it in them to kill in order to avert a German takeover. Naturally, given the film's purpose, they do; but the depiction of their resistence is unflinchingly brutal and shocking for its time.

If you liked....

Heya, chaps - I have a little preview for you tonight. Don't get too excited. This article will be appearing in The Oxford Student in just a week or so, but the crossover between OxStu readership and the population of the Internet is fairly small so I thought I'd stick it up here.

It's basically just a suggestion or two for underappreciated films you might like based on well-known ones you might have enjoyed. The first one is here for your delectation - enjoy...

If you liked: Sweeney Todd (2007), Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)

Dir: Woody Allen

Plot: A restless Diane Keaton drags reluctant husband Woody Allen into a mystery after the death of an elderly neighbour sets off her alarm bells.


For me, this is Allen's most underrated film - a flooring exercise in modern screwball which reunites him with the irresistibly sparkling Diane Keaton. Taking its central inspiration from The Thin Man  (husband in search of a quiet life pestered into a murder investigation by over-inquisitive wife), the plot sees Keaton become convinced that their friendly neighbour has bumped off his missus and framed it as a heart attack. An even wetter than usual Allen plays her husband, Larry, who refuses to become involved, but is chagrined to find her then turning to his recently-divorced pal for help. At first he is spurred on by fear of potential infidelity, but then Larry too becomes certain that the cuddly gent across the hall is hiding something and soon the couple are in way over their heads.

The Women (1939)

Dir: George Cukor

Plot: Mary Haines finds out her husband is cheating through her gossip queen friends, goes to Reno to get divorce. Realises how she cannot possibly live without her man, even though he's a cheating rat bastard - after all, her annoying tendency to remain the same is what drove him away in the first place, right? Surprisingly frequent laughs ensue.


 Almost perfect satirical comedy, a look at the nature of sheer bitchiness which, even 70 years on, is still painfully accurate. The all-female cast is absolutely fantastic, with Norma Shearer giving the film its dramatic fuel while the big laughs come from a shining supporting cast. Rosalind Russell absolutely steals the show as queen bitch Sylvia, whose entrance to her cousin's party sets the tone for the entire film:

Edith Potter: [Wiping her hands on towel] Oh, cheap Chinese embroidery, you know I'll bet Peggy gave her these...
Sylvia Fowler: It wouldn't be so bad if only Mary's friends knew we could keep our mouths shut.
Edith Potter: I know plenty I'd never breathe about my friend's husbands.
Sylvia Fowler: Oh so do I!
[They both turn around and look at each other]
Edith Potter: Well you know I adore Mary!
Sylvia Fowler: I worship her, we're not only cousins, she's my dearest friend in the world, after all we WERE raised together!
[Turns around quickly]
Sylvia Fowler: Oh Edith I forgot to tell you...
[Whispers to Edith]
Mary Haines: Break it up girls! Break it up!
Edith Potter: Darling!
Mary Haines: Hello!
Edith Potter: You're so slim I could kill you.

Welcome!

Just a brief word of background and introduction so you know what exactly is behind this blog.

I'm Becky, I'm nineteen (going on nineteen-thirty) and currently a student of French and Italian at Oxford University.

I've been a fanatic cinephile since I saw The Usual Suspects at the age of thirteen and realised that films could be more than escapist pastimes. Since then, I have been a rapacious film addict, with my particular interest being the Golden Age of Hollywood, that is the films of the 30s and 40s and specifically comedies and film noir. In term time, I write for The Oxford Student, one of the university's two major student newspapers, as a reviewer and features writer for the film section. There is a link on the page to my profile on the OxStu website, which archives most of what I've had published.

I've been active on the messageboards for Empire, the film magazine, for several years and recently realised that as older posts begin to disappear, so do the reviews I have written. Therefore, I set up this blog to transfer my film reviews from the Empire boards here, as well as to write new material.

So, that's essentially it. Do leave a comment if you feel like it - a bit of interaction is always nice in these matters.