Tom Burke was magnificent in BBC saga Strike, and is perfect as the hero of another detective saga. Dressing like Dennis the Menace and looking like a member of The Cure, he plays a man of many talents, passports, and identities who arrives in Northampton.
On a mission to locate a stolen artefact for his menacing client, Fletcher becomes entangled in a twilight world populated with voodoo gangsters, noir private eyes, and a masked avenger.
It’s a great synopsis, but as is often the way with Press blurb, it’s wide of the mark. The advertising copy doesn’t really do justice to this glorious mix of comedy, detective drama, gangster thriller and just plain extraordinary film making.
I’ve been hooked on Alan Moore’s work for decades, and have long been frustrated that he’s not done more film work. His comics, such as Watchmen, V for Vendetta and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen have of course been adapted, but he’s given them a wide berth and ensured his name never graced the credits.
While The Show’s peripheral characters are every bit as rich and interesting as those in the foreground, at the heart of it is Moore himself, who, as a thespian, is not bad at all.
Yes, there are times it gets a little confused, but the pros far outweigh the cons. There’s a Fast Show-style contrary character who lends valuable bits of exposition, and a cab driver who stitches the action together, not to mention one of the most surprising detective agencies in years. Think Bugsy Malone and you get the idea.
Burke is perfect as the hero, playing things straight, and keeping the viewer on side as things become increasingly bizarre. Christopher Fairbank, who has long been one of the best character actors in the business, lends solid support as the villain, and that finale is a nice twist on the usual showdown. Just wait until you see the hero’s weapon of choice.
I can imagine how huge the script must have been considering the density of detail. But that’s Alan Moore for you, a character who’s long been one of the most original forces in the comics industry. And on film he’s just as fascinating.Beautifully shot, with luscious cinematography by Simon Tindall, and a terrific cast, including Ellie Bamber and the excellent Siobhan Hewlett, The Show is one of my favourite films of the year. Having watched it once, I’ll happily give it a second viewing, because there’s so much going on.
If you’re a fan of John Steed’s 1960s era The Avengers, The League of Gentlemen, and obviously Moore’s other work, then this might be right up your neon-lit street.
Starring Dee Wallace, Susan Lanier, Michael Berryman
Directed by Wes Craven
Certificate 18
As a fan of classic horror, it’s always interesting to finally catch up with one of those iconic chillers.
In an age before the likes of Michael Bay started remaking iconic horror films like feature-length pop videos, Wes Craven was pushing the boundaries of the genre, creating a roadmap for countless film makers who followed.
In the era of Star Wars and disco, Craven had already made his mark in 1972 with The Last House on the Left, so by ‘77 he was a more assured film maker. And the success of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre had proved that low budget horror offerings could generate pots of cash.
Notable for starring Dee Wallace, five years before a little film called ET: The Extra Terrestrial made her a star, it takes a while for anything to happen as the Carter family break down in the desert.
Yes, real desert. Not some converted studio, which would have been more convenient, and less convincing.
Towing a caravan, dad is spooked by military aircraft, swerves to avoid a rabbit, and goes full Richard Hammond… into a ditch.
However, as the multi-generational family decide what to do, they are being watched from afar by nefarious antagonists with evil intentions.
It’s not long before one of the two dogs becomes a sacrificial pawn. And then all hell breaks loose when a family of cannibals attacks the family and kidnaps their baby.
What starts as a generic horror turns into a survival thriller as the clan try to rescue the infant from the claws of the bad guys.
Kudos to Michael Berryman for his unforgettable turn as Pluto, the most memorable flesh-chomping psycho in the movie. And there’s an ingenious third act which redeems some of the more unsavoury moments.
Yes it’s a grungy, rough around the edges slice of horror hokum, and even the brand new 4K restoration means the latest version looks like the film was shot through a gauze filter. But classic seventies horror was at its best when gritty and raw rather than some hi-def revamp with a cast of models.
Wes Craven, who also edited the movie, does a fine job of sustaining the attention, right up to that abrupt ending. However, the new UHD disc does give you alternate finales, as well as a host of extras and a making-of documentary.
Craven looking back on one of his early classics years before making A Nightmare on Elm Street and the Scream saga is a fascinating study of the much missed film maker.
The making of doc, which was probably assembled decades ago, is still a fascinating study of how to craft a film in an era before digital made everything so much easier. Even if you’re not a fan of the film, that’s well worth a look.
Aside from giving the world Freddy Krueger, Craven went on to create some other crackers, like Amish-centric thriller Deadly Blessing, which also featured Berryman and star-in-waiting Sharon Stone, and The People Under the Stairs, which I haven’t seen in 30 years, but deserves another look.
THHE inevitably spawned a sequel, written and directed by Craven, and a glossy remake and its sequel. It might not be my favourite offering from his back catalogue, but it’s a fascinating slice of full-on escapism for genre fans.
I can’t say I was desperate to see School of Rock on stage. I’d loved the film when I saw it in 2004, but despite being a great idea, and boasting a terrific performance from Jack Black, I hadn’t watched the movie since then.
Two of the key forces behind the stage show initially weren’t even bothered about watching the movie years ago, but their respective kids eventually changed their minds. Thank heavens they did, because when Andrew Lloyd Webber gets excited about converting a movie into a stage musical, things happen.
I like to know as little about a show or film as possible before going in, in case something clouds my judgement. A Jim Steinman musical like Bat Out of Hell? Sign me up. A stage version of Amelie or Back to the Future? Yes please. A Lloyd Webber musical? Hmm. I still have mental scars of seeing Jesus Christ Superstar on TV a few years ago, and Starlight Express was just okay on stage.
The thing about rock musicals is they need to come from the heart, and to paraphrase the key protagonist of this show. “You’re not hardcore… Andrew”. Or so I thought.
If you’d asked me who wrote the SOR book, the last person I’d have said was Julian Fellowes. Like Lloyd Webber, the brains behind Downton Abbey seemed light years from the rock side of things, and yet perfect for the official school element. Thankfully co-writer Glenn Slater ensures the rocky factor has that ring of authenticity.
The main setting is one of those prestigious American schools which cost parents a fortune; the staff are so buttoned up, there’s little wonder the kids turn into brainwashed drones designed for blue chip companies. Nothing wrong in that of course. All parents want their kids to get a great career, but at what expense?
Into this prim and proper environment comes the Tasmanian Devil that is Dewey Finn (Jake Sharp). Ejected from the band he helped create, and neck-deep in rent arrears, he’s desperate for cash.
So when the chubby, rock-loving singer/songwriter/musician takes a call intended for his hen-pecked mate and landlord Ned Schneebly (Matthew Rowland), offering a lucrative temp job as a teacher, Finn passes himself off as you know who.
As the show’s first touring production kicks off at Hull New Theatre, and the voice of Mr Lloyd Webber assures us that “The kids do play all their instruments”, we settle in for one of those nights to remember.
The sets by Anna Louizos are superb and beautifully crafted. They slot into place in seconds, perfectly creating the illusion of Dewey’s bedroom; the school; a bar, and the venue where the finale takes place, among other settings.
As our lovable rebel hero adjusts to school life with all the grace of a bull tiptoeing through a China shop, he soon discovers his pupils are gifted musicians, even if their style is more classical than classic rock. (There’s a nice in-joke about one of the young singers murdering a version of Memory from Lloyd Webber’s Cats, and the weird movie version also gets a gentle drubbing).
So naturally Dewey transforms their curriculum into something light years from what it should be, and gets away with it. For days.
It doesn’t matter about the logistics of kids playing rock music in their classroom and no passing teacher wondering why. School of Rock the movie and the stage show has that Road Runner quality in which the outrageous, impossible stuff happens because the story takes precedence over the reality.
And of course as the kids warm to the wonderful world of rock, fake Ned turns into the surrogate dad they need because their real fathers are too distracted with business to pay them enough attention.
There’s also a chance for romance as he tries to persuade uptight teacher Rosalie Mullins (Rebecca Lock) to let the kids go on a field trip, in the hope of winning the Battle of the Bands contest.
The power of beer and Stevie Nicks are the keys to unlocking that wild woman inside of her. She’s a character just as memorable as Dewey, though more because she’s a lonely soul who buried that love of rock rather than keeping the dream alive.
Yes, School of Rock is one of those perfect multi-generational stories that works for kids and their parents or guardians.
The songs, including Stick it to the Man, and In the End of Time, have that ear worm quality, and fans of the show who have history with the production no doubt got a lot more out of the tunes than this newcomer.
Are the kids any good? Well, while the songs are okay, the young cast are phenomenal. Whether singing, dancing, playing drums or keyboards, each of them is a superstar in their own right. That introduction by Andrew does keep mentally returning as you watch a youngster play a huge guitar with the skill of a veteran rocker. And don’t get me started on bass envy. Talk about too cool for school. It’s inspiring stuff, and there’s no doubt a good percentage of those bright young things on stage will be the household names of the next decade or more.
At the beating heart of it all is Jake Sharp. It takes a few minutes to adjust to that Jack Black comparison thing, but once he takes on the Dewey/Ned role, it may as well be Jack on stage. The guy is a force of nature, channelling the Hollywood superstar while making the part his own. And while he burns up the stage with a series of exhausting physical gags, there’s little wonder he has the audience in the palm of his hand for the duration.
So School of Rock pulls off the near impossible. It proves that Andrew Lloyd Webber and Julian Fellowes really are hardcore – sorry I misjudged you chaps – and the stage show is every bit as good as the movie.
Oh, and 18 months of hiatus has reminded me how perfect the venue is for this sort of thing. A terrific show in a fantastic setting. From start to finish, we may well have been on Broadway or the West End rather than Hull. Yes, really.
I’ll leave the final words to Betsy Greenway, 14, who is more qualified to review the show than me, having seen the original version in London years ago. She and dad Tony (who memorably interviewed Max and Harvey) also had a splendid time at the Saturday nightperformance.
“I loved the film – but this is an incredible night out,” enthuses Betsy. “First of all, the kids play all their own instruments – and their voices are amazing – and they’re about 12 or 13, which is kind of crazy. The staging was brilliant and the soundtrack is really memorable.
“I’ve been playing it on repeat ever since I got home. No wonder the cast got a standing ovation last night.”
Starring Tamaryn Payne, Emily Wyatt & Sian Abrahams
Directed by David Creed
Certificate 15
By @RogerCrow
When four beautiful young women head to a remote lodge for a weekend of fun, you know things are going to be anything but.
Once we get past the first of many drone shots over a forest, the film opens with a terrific scene involving one poor soul catching fire and staggering towards a swimming pool, which plays an integral part later.
Now you might know the dramatic law of Chekhov’s Gun – if a weapon has a prominent scene in the first act, it has to be used in the third. In this case it’s a flare gun, which is a nice twist on the usual weapon of choice.
Mystery machine – Sacrilege – formulaic but fun Brit indie
Naturally, when the young women aren’t deciding between tea or coffee and what to have for lunch, they love getting drunk and stoned, and at least one is obsessed with social media. Yes, she has her own online page and is keen to get loads of content by striking assorted poses while pouting. As shallow as she is, she’s perfectly harmless. Unlike the locals.
A couple of the ladies unsurprisingly have a romantic past, which creates much needed sexual tension in the early scenes. Will they get back together?
“For a minute I thought I was mates with a fat, ugly girl. Thank heavens all of my girl friends are so slim and attractive.” – Sacrilege
Well, like Chekhov’s Gun, such backstory also has to form some form of explosive result by the third act. Which it does, and should keep some genre fans watching – a key factor if viewers get bored and start scrolling through the scenes. Thankfully I never did.
This being a remote part of the UK, naturally there are plenty of pagan folks pottering around with masks and bits of wicker. Because nothing says pagan more than wicker, as the much missed Edward Woodward would remind us if he were here today.
The obligatory BFF party shot before the screaming and running starts – Sacrilege
Having met an attractive local who suggests they come to a not-at-all-creepy ‘party’, the stoned gal pals take part in a ritual in which they have to write their fears on a bit of paper and throw them into a fire. On the one hand it seems rather cathartic, but on the other is like data mining for demons. (Like those web pages which pretend to be interested in the name of your first pet, but are really storing the information so they can hack your bank account).
The must-have running gear for any heroine in distress – Sacrilege
Naturally, like Event Horizon or an old episode of Star Trek, the quartet are soon being plagued by their darkest fears, whether it’s dogs or bugs. Though ‘gram girl’s fear is growing old, I wish there had been a scene where we watch her social media followers dwindle to nothing. Less scary than a Poltergeist-style mirror meltdown, but it would have been a lot of fun regardless.
Despite the fact all this sort of thing has been done before, I loved most of it.
Window pain – Sacrilege
The cast are hugely likeable, and though the script could have done with more polish, it ticked over nicely.
Yes there were too many drone shots, and yes it exhausts the usual horror tropes, but the camper van alone is like a ray of sunshine every time it’s on screen. (A shame there was no tie-in merch with a model van and a sound bite of the heroines pondering tea, coffee or dope like some grown-up version of Scooby-Doo’s Mystery Machine).
Though there could have been more scenes of nail-biting tension, it’s one of those movies where the characters are more interested in breaking a nail than kicking the derrière of their aggressors. Until that finale, which sort of fizzles out. More Ripley-style kickassery and less ‘victims stalked by “the greater good”-style antagonists’, and it would have been more on the money.
The score is rather good, even if it does signpost dramatic scenes a little too obviously. There are also some cool indie songs, which I’d recommend dancing along to in slow motion the next time you have an outdoors celebration, with or without wicker.
“We only stalk young, attractive, slim women. For the greater good” – Sacrilege
Sacrilege is well lit, and there’s a great “Ouch!” death before the one-hour mark is up; perhaps all the more shocking because unlike some similar chillers which feature bloodletting every 10 minutes, this really dials down the horror. There’s also a kitchen scene which looks like a well deserved dig at people who took an orange president’s ridiculous anti-Covid advice too seriously.
As the first feature from Bristol-based Bad Blood films, they’re certainly a company to watch in future. I’m hoping if this is them in first gear, they ramp things up in the coming years. Snappier, sexier, and smarter is the key for survival for any indie movie company looking to breakthrough in these days of generic horror offerings.
Obligatory ‘formulaic but fun Brit indie has a flare for the dramatic’ caption.
I’ll happily watch it again in a few years when at least half the cast have landed that breakthrough role in a Hollywood blockbuster, and like one key protagonist facing their aged reflection, I too wonder where the years went since that first screening.
Finally, if you fancy a cool (okay lukewarm) drinking game, take a swig every time you see a drone/forest shot; another every time some asks tea or coffee; a third when the use of herbal narcotics are employed, and another every time you see that glorious yellow van. But please watch and drink responsibly. And definitely avoid the bleach cocktails.
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