The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976)

 "Tell them I was murdered by my mathematics tutor!"

This is the first time I've ever seen this rather good film, but I did read Nicholas Meyer's splendid original novel, at least twice, during my youth. And, while much of the plot was familiar to me, albeit with some jogging of the memory, I din't recall the ending, with the uncomfortably Orientalist overtones: an Ottomas pasha, in 1891, would not, I suspect, of being in the habit of kidnapping European red-headed ladies for his harem as they remindeds him of Circassians he'd, er, known. Still, that aside(!), this is a bloody good film despite a moderately low wattage cast and a rather straightforward directorial style.

The sets are sumptuous, the location superb, and to cast a film entirely with character actors is no bad thing. Robert Duvall is a good Watson, Alan Arkin carries the film well as Sigmund Freud, And Nicol Williamson- excellent as Merlin in Excalibur- is a superb but necessarily different Holmes, still the deductive genius but coming to terms with his cocaise addiction and haunted by childhood trauma: untill the end, not recalling exact details from the novel, I was worried that he may have been sexually abused as a child by his maths tutor. Thankfully,and wisely, the story does not take this path.... I was a bit worried, after all that cold turkey montage stuff with that phallic snake from The Speckled Band being so very prominent, in a film featuring Sigmund Freud...

It's not all character stuff, though. It's fun to see Holmes and freud work together and learn from each other, much though it felt a little roo easy for Holmes to fall fr the initial ruse and show so little resentment. There's lots of adventure, a sword fight, a train chase,and lots of deduction. Even better, there are lots of nice little Sherlockian touches- and, in the brief mention of the orang-utan case, an oblique reference to a Poe short story starring Holmes' literary progenitor, Auguste Dupin.  

The hints of romance at the end, though? Very brave! Overall, then, a film which may lack a certain visual flair but has astrong enough story and cast to carry it through.

Futureworld (1976)

 "Nothing can go wrong..."

Sequels are rarely better than the original, right? I mean, I tend to think this statement olds even with The Godfather. But this... well, it may be an exception.

Yes, the plot is simple- the same corporarion from Westworld have regrouped and now seem to be set on world conquest via duplicating world leaders, the implication being that robot duplicates have already taken over the company. It a solid premise, if not exactly original... although the point that humans will despoil the planet if left unchecked is certainly well made.

But it's not the premise but the execution that makes this sequel not only an underappreciated gem but a much better film than its predecessor. The direction is a triumph,with lots of arty touches but not too many for this type of film. Peter Fonda and Blythe Danner (especially) are absolutely superb as Chuck and Tracy. Not only do the characters come across as both likeable and very real, their romantic chemistry is perfect.

And the whole thing sizzles with wit and character, which add an extra dimension of both depth and fun to every scene, from Harry playing poker with "Clark" to the many amused jokes at how many of the park's guests just basically want to have sex with robots, which we all know is what would actually happen. But the film doesn't shine away from the philosophical implications of its premise either.

It is, perhaps, a little cheeky to make such a big deal of Yul Brynner for what is essentially just a cameo, but that is literally the only criticism I can make. And the entire dream sequence is superb. As is the film.

The Signalman

 "You! Down below!"

By 1976, it seems, the BBC had decided to move the focus of their Ghost Stories for Christmas annual tradition away from the tales of M.R. James, this time adapting a short story from the later career of Charles Dickens. The visual style and atmosphere, nevertheless, are just as eerie and just as full of foreboding. The change of authorial style is, oddly enough, not strongly felt as the visual tropes of Lawrence Gordon Clark's direction encompass us... eerie silences, creepy yet subtle use of sound, light, voice and facial expressions to evoke unease within these liminal spaces.

I won't repeat the plot, but the whole things is a subtle yet very rreal building up of tension as we are ledft in no doubt, albeit quietly, that dread approaches and that this world, in the depths of the night, is no place for reason. The twist at the end, and the horrifying supernatural sight, are well and truly earned. And the unease has an interestingly philosophical timbre to it- this Victorian signalman is thoughtful and nuanced.

Denholm Elliott, as though it needs saying, is superb. This is as good as any of its immediate predecessors and, indeed, one of the best such stories made by the BBC. M.R. James does not have a monopoly...

The Devil's Men (1976)

 "I beliewve the Devil has taken possession of this village!"

There was, around 1976-ish, a sudden craze for movies about robed devil worshippers sacrificing groovy youngsters in stone crypts, of which this is one. It's of it's time; the youngsters of 1976 may have considered themselves as hip and groovy, but punk was coming along to give them a good slap. 1976 was forty-seven years ago, as 1919 was to them. In some ways they were modern, yes, but the women shopped and cooked, and were slapped when, ahem, hysterical. It was a long time ago. It was the year I was conceived.

This is, I suppose, a silly B movie by a Greek director shot on sumptuous location saturated with visual culture, with Peter Cushing and Donald Pleasance imported for star power. The critics, it seems dislike it. Yet, accepting the fiulm for what it is, it's an enjoyable romp, full of lots of little cultural nuggets that become apparent, even in a B movie, after so many decades.

This is an X rated movie. There are boobs. There is Satanism. There is Kensington gore. Yet the hero is a friendly, likeable, boozy Catholic priest- played by a Donald Pleasance who will never be square jawed but is a hero more than one might expect- who gets to save the day with exorcism. The Pope would almost like this film. If not for, you know, the naked ladies and the fornication.

This film is a load of old tosh in the best possible way. It's on Netflix. Watch it. I advise a bottle of wine.

Satan's Slave (1976)

 "Don't forget- tomorrow is your special day!"

This film has such a lurid title, and an equally lurd opening scene and sequence. There's a fair bit of female nudity in it. Indeed, there's even a flashback to the witch hunting days of the 17th Century as a naked woman is branded, whipped and then immolated. Er, lovely.

Shame the film is so slow, dull and talky, then. Even with a scene of Mochael Craze being nebulously enchanted in a lift, causing him to die by suicide. Even with Michael Gough starring- he's phoning it in here, but he's incpable of not dazzling the audience with his charisma.

Candace Glendenning and Martin Potter are ok, but they can't phone it in as well as Michael Gough can. And, let's face it, they are playing cousins who have incestuous sex with each other. That's disgusting, and one wonders what they thoiught they were playing at.

The film drags terribly, consisting of mediocre actors and Michael Gough chatting nonchalantly in a country house while the direction fails to establish any kind of horror atmosphere. Even the twist at the end, with a little light gaslighting of Catherine and James Bree delivering a much less mannered performance than usual, underwhelms. The whole film reeks with the air of "that'll do". If you want a good horror film about Devil worshipping cultists, watch The Devil Rides Out. If you watch this, the only possible reason could be because of an actotr within it (for me, Michael Craze, seen sleeping in the most awful bedding in history) and no other reason. This film is pants.

To the Devil a Daughter (1976)

 “Damn you!”

I thought this was supposed to be a terrible film, the flop that ruined Hammer. It may not be as good as The Devil Rides Out, Hammer’s previous Dennis Wheatley adaptation, but few films are. Why is this film, which I have just thoroughly enjoyed,so widely disliked?

This is an oddity. Hammer did very few films in 1974, but here comes their last hurrah, two years later, post-dating the attempted revival of the format by Tyburn. And, as far as I can see, this is a wonderful Satanic horror film, not quite up there with Hammer’s very best but very much bubbling under. The plot is gripping, the direction sublime, the tension exquisite, the performances superb. Christopher Lee has never been more charismatic nor more evil. Richard Widmark is the perfect tough guy hero. Klaus Kinski’s daughter is bloody good. Honor Blackman and Denholm Elliott are extraordinary in supporting roles.

I’m baffled as to why this flopped. I enjoyed this much more than Don’t Look Now last night.

The Hand of Oberon by Roger Zelazny

 

I can certainly confirm that this series of novel is a Class A drug. It’s frighteningly addictive.

The series turns a corner here as the dazzlingly complex plot and series of revelations unfolds, compellingly. The ending is a genuine shock. Yet at no point do the constant stream of shocking revelations render the plot in any way difficult to follow, and they all arise out of increasingly well-sketched and constantly deepening character traits.

All this leads one to do er just how much of this Zelazny had in mind at the very beginning.I suspect a great deal, although there were changes here and there. This saga is, by this point, a colossal achievement of character, prose, world building and sheer craft.

And there is still one to go.

All the President’s Men (1976)

 “Follow the money!"

This is the second time I've seen this film- my first viewing was many years before this blog was even imagined. Nevertheless, I'm as blown away by this magnificent film now as I was back then.

This is, despite the desperately important subject matter- back in 1976 we all thought Nixon's sins were the worst imaginable, and had no concept of the sheer evil of Trump- a film about the process and the excitement of investigative jurnalism. Oh, it's beautifully and thoughtfully shot; Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman are sublime, with a nod to the superb Jason Robards; the script is witty, philosophical and natural all at once; and yet it all boils down to the thrill of the chase.

Nixon appears only in stock footage; only functionaries appear in the film. Action is punctuated throughout by radio footage of the 1972 campaign, and the implosion of the Democrats through Republican ratf**king. We see literally everything from the perspective of Woodward and Bernstein, knowing what they know, being utterly unaware that Deep Throat is Mark Felt, and feeling the tension when they have to present their conclusions to Ben Bradlee, properly sourced. It's a thrilling advertisment to journalism as a career in a pre-digital age, and the many scenes of witnesses being cleverly interviewed are fascinating. This is a very strange and very brave sort of film to be so unequivocally sublime. It's up there with the very greatest.

Still, the Republicans in 1972 may have been corrupt bastards- but they weren't fascists who hated freedom, as is every Republican today who fails to recognise Biden as president or fails to condemn Majorie Taylor Green and all of her ilk. May the party either die or suddenly accept democracy.

Carrie (1976)

“Thou shall not suffer a witch to live!”

This is a superb film. It really is. But it’s reputation as a horror film is not quite right. I don’t care how scary Sissy Spacek looks, emotionless and demonic as she gracefully, calmly and indiscriminately kills people , and in slow motion. At the dance. This isn’t a horror film. It’s a tragedy. And Carrie’s tragic flaw, sadly, is both her abusive upbringing and the savage bullying she endures. Abuse of children behind closed doors, and bullying in schools unchecked by adults, are two great evils of this and every age.

The film is shot superbly, with camera angles, viewpoints and (during the prom climax) slow motion being used to an effect of both suspense and beauty. I can understand why this is considered Brian De Palma's masterpiece, although one has to question why it was necessary to have a slow motion tour of the naked bodies of characters who are eighteen-ish years old, even if the actresses playing them are not so young. As a 42 year old man I'm not entirely comfortable with being forced like this to be a voyeur in a school changing room for girls.

That aside, though, the film is a faultlessly unfolding tragedy. Teenagers can indeed be that evil, and adults that negligent of the consequences- although, of course, Miss Collins in particularly doesn't deserve to die so horribly, which itself is the point. And, were I a religious man- which I am not- I would reserve a particularly nasty bit of Hell for people like Margaret White, religious fanatics who abusively raise their children in fear and a life-hating aversion of "sins" which hurt no one. Margaret is filled with a burning disgust of sex which, at first, makes me suspect an abusive past but no- from what we're told it's all fanaticism. The worst thing about her ex-husband having sex with her was that "I liked it". And the religion is no excuse for her being such a terrible mother, any more than it excuses sexism, homophobia or anything of the sort. Plenty of highly religious people are capable of doing none of these things. Interesting, though, that we are presented with no external tragedy in Margaret's life. I wonder whether the novel was any different?

A superb and very well directed tragedy that I had no business waiting until now to see, however weird it is to see a very young Nancy Allen as a bullying schoolgirl.

Taxi Driver (1976)

"Some day real rain will come and wash these scum off the streets."

What to say about Taxi Driver that hasn't been said already? That it's a towering cinematic study of loneliness and of the kind of dangerously alienated outsider who will one day explode horribly, that Robert De Niro's performance here is one of the greatest performances ever?

There's not much new to say about this justifiably acclaimed film, really. But I'll try.

Travis isn't just alienated and alone- he talks to lots of people but connects with none of them- he's stuck in a dead end job with no hope, probably a virgin, and left with nothing but his macho fantasies, his dislike of what he doesn't understand and his need to find people to whom he can feel superior. The taxi, with its separation from the passengers, is a fitting metaphor for Travis' disconnection from the world.

There are some superb performances from a young Jodie Foster and Harvey Keitel, but the film relies on De Niro as much as any production of Hamlet relies on the actor playing the Dane, and he's just as good here as any of the best screen performances in that role. It's something about his eyes, his delivery. He inhabits Travis, perhaps the most frightening character in cinema, a character who is wound up tight and inevitably going to unravel.

The film gives us a surprising and unexpected "happy" ending as Travis escapes in caught from his clumsy attempt at political assassination and instead ends up lauded as a fifteen minute hero for violently rescuing the twelve year old Iris from her pimp, but even this makes us uneasy. Travis' life is no better than before. He's snapped before and he'll snap again. We end the film with all the tension of a time bomb waiting to happen.

As usual for Scorsese we get a superb soundtrack and impeccable direction for this art film about working class alienation, which sounds almost Marxist for a Hollywood film. 

Freaky Friday (1976)

"Male chauvinist pig!"

This is one of two back-to-back old Disney films I will be blogging, mainly because we wanted them off our Sky Plus. They're both fascinating artefacts from another era, though, especially this one.

Obviously this is notable for featuring a very young Jodie Foster, but it also displays an instinctive slant towards gender roles that would never be seen again; phrases like the above quote are bandied about as a joke, but this is a world in which women stay at home to cook and clean, unless they are forced to work as secretaries because their husbands are out of work. It's a fascinating artefact of the social mores in 1970s America, perhaps all the more revealing in that this is a Disney film.

It works quite well as a comedy in spite of it's leisurely pace: the central conceit-another and a daughter switching bodies fortresses best left unexplained- is full of potential, and gives us a fascinating peek into what 1970s American high schools were like, with their marching bands and electric typewriters.

Everyone smokes. Annabel's dad reminds me of an American version of Reginald Perrin. This is the most 1970s film I have ever seen. 

The Omen (1976)

“When the Jews return to Zion
And a comet rips the sky
And the Holy Roman Empire rises,
Then you and I must die.
From the eternal sea he rises,
Creating armies on either shore,
Turning man against his brother
Till man exists no more.”

…And no, that poem isn’t real, it was made up for the film.

I’m not really what you’d call the most suitable person to review a horror film like this. Yes, I’ve done a few camp Hammers and Universals, but this is the first time I’ve done one which is supposed to scare you witless. But the thing is that I just don’t believe in anything supernatural- I’m the ultimate sceptic. Plus, I’m as atheist as they come- not the Richard Dawkins kind, mind. I just wasn’t brought up to be religious, I live in a fairly secular part of the world, and I’m one of those people who are simply unable to accept the existence of a higher being without actual physical evidence. The upshot of which is that films like this, which are reliant on at least some belief in the Devil and in predestination, just don’t scare me. Now, slasher movies, on the other hand…

None of this means I can’t appreciate when this sort of thing is done well, however, and it’s done brilliantly here. And, although Gregory Peck is always the most straightforwardly decent and heroic of leading men, there’s still a bit of camp horror here in the wonderfully over-the-top deaths of Father Brennan (the wonderful Patrick Troughton, whom we Doctor Who fans know to be a first-rate actor) and Keith (a shockingly young-looking David Warner).Plus, watching the film now, the atmosphere is a little diminished by the sheer retro pleasure that is the extreme 1970’s-ness of it all.

It’s a superbly taut script, with the first few scenes establishing the situation very quickly and economically, and unapologetically giving us a cast with fairly superficial; personalities so that we can focus on the plot. We’re given an image of a supremely successful man, Robert Thorn, United States ambassador to the Court of St James, and his seemingly idyllic family life. It’s only when Father Brennan intrudes into his life for the first time that we begin to get an inkling that his adopted son, Damien, may be something evil.

It’s interesting to ponder on the conceit of a child being evil in the light of the recent novel We Need to Talk about Kevin (recently filmed, of course) by Lionel Shriver. I should emphasise that I haven’t read or seen it yet, but it’s central theme- what if you, as a parent, raise a child who goes on to do something terrible?- seems to be the subtext of this film too, except that the fantasy / pseudo-religious elements help to make it more palatable for the movie-going public. It’s a deeply shocking idea (and redolent of original sin, of course) that a young child could be in some way “evil”. That’s what gives the film its power. That and the pacing.

There are a couple of plot holes, perhaps. Would a mother really not notice that her child had been switched just after birth? And how come the US ambassador to Great Britain has all this free time to go gallivanting all around Italy and Israel? But the whole thing fits together so well that I’m prepared to overlook these little things. The set pieces are superb: the sequence where Father Brennan is pursued by gales and tempests before his grotesque death is probably the highlight, but all the deaths are memorable, and the mutilated monk is a highlight too.

I’m glad I’ve finally seen this film- I’m 34, but today was the first time I’d seen it- as it looms rather too large in popular culture for it to be a film that can go unseen. I can’t say that I was scared, but that’s simply because such things don’t scare me. I enjoyed and appreciated it, at least. And so did Windsor Safari Park, I expect, who must have been delighted with the publicity.