THEY MADE ME A FUGITIVE, Cavalcanti/88 Films
An air of disillusionment was to replace the pulse-racing qualities of the more straightforward entertainments in Alberto Cavalcanti’s 1947’s They Made Me a Fugitive. Cavalcanti was (in his day) one of the unsung glories of the British cinema, producing quite the most chilling episode (that involving Michael Redgrave and a malevolent ventriloquist’s dummy) in the Ealing classic Dead of Night, but burnishing his impressive filmic credentials with such strong pieces as They Made Me a Fugitive, a crime film sporting a gritty verisimilitude that instantly sets it apart from most synthetic-seeming product of the day. The cinematography perfectly captures the dark chiaroscuro of the director’s unforgiving vision and presents a cold-eyed picture of British society in which non-achievers (or failures) are summarily dealt with. Perhaps the picture of Britain which informs Cavalcanti’s film is a consequence of the director’s outsider status, but a consideration of his entire career demonstrates that the film’s truthfulness and rigour is no fluke.
TIME WITHOUT PITY, Joseph Losey, director/88 Films (NOVEMBER)
Joseph Losey’s Time Without Pity is a reminder how the McCarthyite HUAC witchhunts in America sent some very impressive talents to work in this country – not least Losey, one of the great directors in 20th century cinema. This 1957 drama is a strong adaptation of Emlyn Williams’ stage play, with a father attempting to save his son from the gallows. The anti-capital punishment message of the film is presented in upfront fashion, but Losey is concerned with the impact of the drama, and the central performance by Michael Redgrave is as striking as anything else in the actor’s distinguish filmography.
JACOB’S LADDER, Adrian Lyne, director/StudioCanal
The disturbing Adrian Lyne thriller Jacob’s Ladder stars Tim Robbins, Danny Aiello, Ving Rhames and Elizabeth Peña, and appears here in a welcome new 4K restoration, courtesy of StudioCanal. Writer Bruce Joel Rubin scored a success with the screenplay for Ghost, and provides an ambitious scenario here in which Robbins plays a Vietnam vet living in New York who is plagued by hallucinations. The nightmarish visions are well handled by Lyne and Robbins, the latter providing a rich and interesting character study. Another plus for the film is an uncharacteristic score from Maurice Jarre, darker and more threatening than his usual fare.
THE AMBULANCE, Larry Cohen, director/Eureka
Responsible for such unusual movies as The Private Files of J Edgar Hoover, Larry Cohen is the very epitome of the single-minded, highly creative cult director, and in the lively The Ambulance he is joined by an actor who matches him for a singularly unorthodox approach to his material, Eric Roberts (brother of Julia). Characterisation and kinetic energy are the hallmarks of this film which has had to wait to be appreciated. Roberts is a comic book artist (comics legend Stan Lee plays himself in the film – and rather well at that) who pursues a missing woman, Cheryl, who has come into his life and is picked up by an ambulance before disappearing. Roberts’ character takes it upon himself to track down this mysterious vehicle. It’s a film unlike any you may have seen, and unless you are immune to Roberts’ mannered performance, a good time is guaranteed.
DEATH CARRIES A CANE, Maurizio Pradeaux, director/Indicator & PERFUME OF THE LADY IN BLACK, Francesco Barilli, director/Indicator
Once a despised genre (principally because of the crass dubbing they were once invariably subjected to), Italian crime thrillers (or gialli) have undergone a major critical re-assessment, with their visual stylishness and imaginative plotting now celebrated. This is partly due to the availability of prints in the original Italian, and the effect is much more interesting – as this duo of gialli proves. both may be shy of the final ounce of plotting logic, but their visual stylishness exerts a considerable grip. The contributions of actors Robert Hossein (in Death Carries a Cane) and Mimsy Farmer (in Perfume of the Lady in Black) shouldn’t be underestimated, as their performances are absolutely on the nail. Both directors, Maurizio Pradeaux and Francesco Barilli, have the full measure of their convoluted material.
