Clash of the Ninjas (1986)

 "The rebels have been sent to the organ grinder, you see? Ha ha!"

Yesterday was a bit deflating at disappointing, so a hilarious B-movie seemed a good idea. And this film is, let us make no bones about it, terrible. Hilarious, yes, but terrible. If you're the kind of person who enjoys so-bad-it's good type of cinema you may enjoy this... but I'll not be held responsible for that eighty-four minutes of your life. This blog accepts no liability for any displeasure incurred...

I've blogged a couple of Godfrey Ho's films and... well, this is another one! He made incredibly cheap Hong Kong films that, in the mid-'80s, tended to crowbar in references to the then-current ninja craze. Frequently he would buy the rights to films that had never been finished and splice them together into a whole which, as here, makes no sense whatsoever.

Where shall we start? I love the grand guignol of the premise- a Triad that kidnaps people and gruesomely operates on them to remove eyes and kidneys for onward sale. But, well...

I mean, naturalistic dialogue and decent characterisation? Ha! This is the crudest melodrama possible, and magnificently so. It's basically just set piece after set piece, with fight after fight. And ninjas, yeah? They're magic, they can apparently teleport, set stuff on fire and, er, make people explode. I mean, that ending...

Still, the baddie ninja is suitably moustache-twirling and I, for one, was entertained by this rubbish. If you must watch this, though, alcohol is highly recommended.

Antigone (1986 TV Film)

 "When the state becomes one man, it ceases to be a state."

And so we come to the third and final iteration of Don Taylor's translations of Sophocles' Theban plays, made for the BBC in 1986. I was vaguely aware of Antigone by reputation, but this is the first time I've experienced the play. It packs quite a punch, to put it mildly.

The production retains the form of classical Athenian theatre, as with its predecessors, hence the slightly odd sight of the Chorus, with a number of very familiar British character actors speaking in unison. The costuming works well, evoking a dictatorship in the modern age, appropriately for the autocratic hubris of Creon who, this being classical Greek theatre, awaits his certain nemesis.

As with other plays, the visually dramatic moments (especially the deaths) happen offstage, with most of the drama consisting of an utterly enthralling dialogue of ideas. The premise is well-known- Antigone insists on giving her brother a proper burial despite Creon's newly enacted law making this a capital offence. And Creon is allowed to make some valid points- Antigone's brother was not only fighting against Thebes but wanted to destroy it and enslave its inhabitants, so Creon is entitled to feel aggrieved.

Yet his arrogance, his sheer insistence on his absolute power, is devastating and way over the top: at one point he tells the soldier who reports the illicit burial to either find the culprit or be tortured to death, which is a bit harsh! And the way he speaks to his son again shows such tyrannical hubris.

 In the cosmology in play here, the laws of the gods may not be overridden by the laws of men (yes, men- the dialogue makes the inevitable misogyny very, very clear!), and the arrogant Creon is doomed. His final downfall is almost as terrible as that of Oedipus.

The staging is, yes, a little flat, but that's the nature of the beast. Above all, the play is carried by extraordinary performances from Juliet Stevenson and John Shrapnel, who truly excel in a production that is devastatingly effective.

Oedipus at Colonus (1986 TV Film)

 "Only the gods escape the penalties of age and death. Time undermines everything. Nothing can stop the inevitable process of decay."

Blimey, is Sophocles always this bleak?

This is my second taste of his writing, and yet again in the form of a BBC televised play from 1986, translated and directed by Don Taylor. The production really works, with a strong cast (many well-known faces in the chorus!) and a very misty setting, stage-like yet using the medium of television to bring out mood. Anthony Quayle and Juliet Stevenson, in particular, excel as Oedipus and Antigone.

The contrast with Oedipus the King is marked. This play is far less overtly dramatic, far more talky and philosophical... and clearly the writing of a very old man, whose body is failing and who knows, as Oedipus does, that the end is far away. Indeed, he may well have been over 90 when he wrote this play, a rare happening for all of literature, let alone the Athens of the 5th century BC. Yet there's a constant emphasis on the inevitability of decay, entropy, decline: all things end, and always with sadness.

Yes, Oedipus dies painlessly, seemingly blessed by the gods, and able to bless Athens, the city that gave sanctuary to this refugee, and wisely so. We need more of Theseus in this world, and far less Nigel Farage.

Yet there is tragedy. His daughters are left bereft.... although, at least, Theseus offers her safe passage back to Thebes, where Antigone has promised a proper burial for her brother. I'm sure that will go fine. And Oedipus is now in the underworld, living the half existence of the dead. So yes, there is some catharsis, some closure. But only some. Suffering can be relieved, but only so much.

This is extraordinary. But oh, it's bleak!

The Delta Force (1986)

 "You don't need beds. You're gonna die tomorrow..."

I seem to be very much in the mood for cheesy '80s action films and this very much seemed to fit the fill- by Cannon, themasters of the genre, and starring Chuck Norris yet featuring a rather impressive-looking cast.

And it is, indeed, a fun watch, slowly going through the events of a hijack based loosely on one from real life the previous year. While there's plenty of action towards the end, there's plenty of tension throughout and the decision to take us through the mechanics of the hijack is in itself highly engrossing.

It helps, too, that we spend time getting to know and like the passengers and crew, many of whom are played by rather high profile character actors. It's very odd indeed to see a young Robert Forster, who I know from Jackie Brown and Mulholland Drive, as the chief hijacker... but he's very good indeed.

The film is, however, of its time. Very gung-ho, and the main flashpoint of the world is of course Beirut. The presentation of Arab characters- not just the hijackers but air traffic control and so forth- is, let us not mince words, quite shockingly racist. And there's a very prominent pro-Israeli subtext throughout the film. It's not crudely overdone, but it's ever-present.

However, there's no denying that, if you're in the mood to switch your brain off and enjoy a proper '80s action film, this very much does the trick.

Raw Deal (1986)

 "You should not drink and bake."

…Or, indeed, shoot and drive. Please, any drivers reading this: keep your eyes on the road (or quarry). Engaging in a gun battle with the goons of an entire Mafia family can impair your driving concentration, even if, like Mark here, you also come armed with prodigious quantities of plot armour.

I must be close as dammit to having blogged all the '80s Arnie action movies, so here's another one. And it's good, it's fun, like all movies of this ilk. It isn't the greatest action film of all time, but it doesn't have to be. The action set pieces are great. Sam Wanamaker is also great as a Chicago Mafia boss, and Robert Davi is exceptionally good, as ever, as Max. But Arnie, in his first real role with lots of proper dialogue, just oozes so much charisma.

The film really showcases Chicago as a city, too, as all the suspense and action takes place. Admittedly the final scene is very Saturday morning cartoon, and the film nicely reminds us that two bottles of champagne in one sitting is perhaps not great for one's sex life. But then, of course, the plot mustn't allow Mark to sleep with the rather lovely Monique, lest he commit adultery with his rather unpleasant, cake throwing wife.

Still, the flaws of this film are all partr of the fun. Highly recommended if you just want to switch off your brain and watch some '80s action with car chases and shooting galore.

Foundation and Earth by Isaac Asimov

 Like Robots and Empire, this novel can very much be seen as continuity-driven, tying up loose ends in what Asimov has decided to make a single universe of Foundation, Robot and Empire novels and stories. In a sense, it's a kind of self-fanwank. It just so happens to simultaneously be a bloody superb novel. You'll noticed I read it rather quickly after my last Asimov despite working full time and having rather a lot going on. This novel is a Class A substance. It's dangerously addictive. You have been warned.

Part of the reason it's so damn satisfying, of course, is the fanwank. Everything is resooved- where the Solarians went; what happened to Earth; why Galaxia is necessary; why women seem to find the rather annoying Golan Trevise so damn irresistible. You can tell that Asimov, in his sixties, is rather enjoying being able to reflect in his writing some rather more relaxed sexual mores than he would have known in his youth.

The ideas are not so central as earlier novels, perhaps, but they are there. The society of Solaria reaches its logical extreme.And there are thrilling moments- Comporellon is Baleyworld! Aurora has literally gone to the dogs! And on the Moon is... ah yes.

This ties everything up rather neatly. I'll get round to the other Asimov novels eventually but for now, I think, I'll diversify my diet. But this novel, while obviously not self-contained and with a lot of required pre-reading, is a real joy.

Ninja Champion (1986)

 "Not the wine. My nipples, you jerk."

Oh, look. It's a cheap Hong Kong action film from the mid-80s, directed by Godfrey Ho and with the word "Ninja" in the title.  This will be a cinematic materpiece, right? And in no way a hilariously cheap little film full of laugh out loud moments and the most blatant of "as you know, Bob" clunky exposition?

Well, no. I mean, you could tell where that first paragraph was heading. I could, if I was feeling lazy, just say "this is a Godfrey Ho ninja film, you know the drill" and leave it there. But let's talk about the film, because it's fun.

The thing is, the plot is actually pretty well-constructed and satisfying, with clever reveals amongst the action, if you'll forgive the sudden use of a previously unmentioned identical twin sister. But the acting, dialogue and sheer 80s-ness of everything make it impossible to take the film seriously. There's a scene with a horny wife trying to turn on her frigid husband until the scene suddenly switches to her, on a beach, building a high, vertical tower out of hard stones. I'm sure there's subtext here but I can't quite put my finger on it.

There is a whiff of that very 80s nastiness where a woman is raped and sets out to kill her rapists, and this is at the centre of the film. Worse, the "hero", George, subsequently abandoned Rose as she was "soiled" by her rape. But I think he both comes to repent what he's done and is adequately punished by the end. He has lost Rose and will now be alone forever.

Hilariously, the ninja sub-plot is basically crowbarred in, and only really intersects with the main plot at the very end. But the fight sequences are fun. And that is, with a film like this, the main thing. 

Yeah, this film is rubbish. Gloriously so.

Clockwise (1986)

 “It's not the despair, Laura. I can stand the despair. It's the hope."

I was probably still in primary school when I last saw this film, expecting a straightforward comedy that, after all, starred John Cleese. That's not what I got, and I recall being disappointed.

What a difference thirty-five odd years makes.

I'm not, as a rule, one for farces. They run like clockwork; they tend to be masterful exercises in plotting and to showcase superb comic acting but, for me, they tend to be more a thing to admire than to love.

Yet this film, although genuinely funny in a gently facical way and showcasing a bravura performance from John Cleese and lots of fun little appearances from various familiar character actors, has a lot to say beneath the surface humour. Brian Stimpson is a man obsessed with punctuality and propriety who was, we learn, perpetually late in his youth. He has overcome his own flaws through fear of his own weaknesses. I can identify with that, certainly, in my own life.

Yet he's also a man with a slight chipon his shoulder but determinedly ambition. He's the firsty head of a state school to char the Headmasters' Conference, which is dominated by the public school clique that runs far too many things. He knows, deep down, despite his upper middke class lifestyle and respectability, that he will never be as "good" as they are, but he's chairman now. And, with all those evenings at Tory party events, he hopes this may be a step to political success. He can dream.

And yet, alas, not all ambitions can be realised in Thatcher's Britain. Hubris is still a thing. Sois nemesis. Stimpson's arrogance lets him down in the end, ruining his life but bringing him, also, a much-needed momemt of self-realisation and genuine self-awareness, wearing a monhk's robe on the side of a country road.

This is a superblyu crafted and surprisingly deep film. I'm impressed.

Metallica- Master of Puppets (1986)

 I suppose this, while not as widely popular as the bestselling Black Album, would be the Metallica album of choice for the cognoscenti. This is partly, of course, because it's the end of an era, being the last album to have been released before the shockingly premature death of Cliff Burton, an absolutely crucial member of the band and songwriter; subsequent bassists would not have anything like his influence. What Metallica would have gone on to do if he'd lived is one of the great "what ifs" of metal. The band would go one to achieve further great things, but there's an obvious discontinuity.

There is, conversely, a continuity from Ride the Lightning to this, not least in the production. But this album shows a real progression. "Call of Ktulu" was a superb piece of musicianship; "Orion" is sublime. And such standout tracks as "Battery" and "The Thing That Should Not Be" are among Metallica's best work. There's no filler here, and throughout we have the perfect blend of deep musicianship and restrained songwriting. The songs are long, often complex, but never over-long or pretentious.

This is, for me, the finest metal album of the '80s.

Big Trouble in Little China (1986)

 "I'm a reasonable guy. But I've just experienced some very unreasonable things."

I've only seen two of John Carpenter's films before- Halloween and Christine. Both, to some extent, are genre films. This is a massively mainstream Hollywood blockbuster. And it's awesome. I don't care if it flopped. You can't trust the judgement of the general public. You, dear reader, have impeccable taste. But people in general are rubbish and like rubbish things. I'm sure you agree.

Anyway, this is bloody good. It seems to give quite a positive depiction of Chinese culture to my ignorant eyes, but this was 1986. There's plenty of scope for cultural insensitivity to have happened which will have sailed right over the head of this Leicestershire lad. Yet it seems to me that, whatever flaws I cannot see, the film shows a lot of affection to Hong kong kung fu movies, and with bloody good direction to boot.

Kurt Russell is an idiosyncratic, mildly humorous, action hero- the working class man as decent bloke rather than as the bigoted wanker that modern expectations may demand. It's quite refreshing to see a leading man from a time where politics wasn't composed of this culture war nonsense and Donald Trump, if rather more compos mentis in 1986 than he was in his rather confused presidency, was rightly dismissed by the Jack Burtons of this world as a rich wanker.

This is a wonderful, very '80s film, with an equally '80s soundtrack and splendid performances from all involved, not only the wonderful Kim Cattrall but a load of Chinese-American actors who seem to have few other credits. It's as good an '80s blockbuster as any of its many competitors.

The Dragon in the Sword by Michael Moorcock

 

This is the last of the Eternal Champion trilogy, and a fitting ending that draws together many threads from both earlier novels, as well as the two Von Bek novels. It fleshes out Moorcock’s ideas of the Multiverse to a satisfying degree, and shows us a existence of Law forever warring against Chaos in ways which make me highly suspicious that Games Workshop, and others, have been merrily lifting concepts from Moorcock’s novels. Yet these ideas are not just cool but also have intellectual substance. As with the Von Bek novels, the idea seems to be that humanity needs to grow out of gods and the supernatural, and to find the moderate path between Law and Chaos, excess and monkish restraint, licence and tyranny.

Not all ideas are philosophical: we have magnificent fantasy concepts here such as a linked series of worlds in a system resembling a wheel with spikes. But the characters are compelling, especially the likeable version of Von Bek we have here, a man of deep integrity but also humour, distracting us from the somewhat morose personality of the Champion himself.

I’ve enjoyed my mini-Moorcock marathon. There will be more in a while, but first I’ll turn to something else…

The City in the Autumn Stars by Michael Moorcock

I read this novel, like its predecessor, long ago. I recall snatches and images- not least the balloon and the Diderot-worshipping fox- but I recall not liking the novel as much as I did this time round. Nor do I recall enjoying the subtext.

As with the previous Von Bek novel, with its hope that the horrors of the Thirty Years war would yield to an age of Reason, this novel again mixes historical and philosophical themes, this time from the other side of the Enlightenment, with fantasy which owes much to Christian mythology but which, I suspect, would be best understood in terms of Moorcock’s multiverse if I had more awareness of that backstory than I do.

However, this is a rollicking novel, at once a gripping adventure story, a fascinating novel of ideas and an exercise in world building that gradually adds increasing elements of fantasy to a very recognisable Europe of 1794, as in Paris the Terror proceeds apace while the capitals of Europe shudder. It mimics, enough to delight but not enough to confuse, the stylings of a novel of the late eighteenth century and is crammed with delightfully vivid characters, from the charmingly deceitful balloonist St Odhran to the mysterious and alluring Libussa, Duchess of Crete, whose fate is at once horrifying and symbolic of the appalling lot of women throughout history.

The subtext is rich, yet resistant to being reduced to some simple summary. The results of the concluding ritual are left sensibly ambiguous, although we are clearly ending an age of Alchemy and entering one of Industry. The protagonist, another Von Bek, is perhaps rather more passive than his war hound ancestor. But that is, perhaps, the point.

A gloriously weird, philosophical and exciting novel. I shall briefly read something else to cleanse the palate, then it will be more Moorcock for me.

Biggles: Adventures in Time (1986)

 "I you can fly a Sopwith Camel... you can fly anything..."

This is, let us make no bones about it, a B movie with inexplicably high production values. This is no bad thing.

Let us be equally clear that this an utterly bonkers concept. I remember naff all now, but I read two or three of the '50s publications of the W.E. Johns novels inherited from my dad in my childhood. That someone decided to make a cinematic tribute to Biggles by doing all this sci-fi stuff about a sonic weapon and, indeed, random and unexplained time travel, is enough to restore one's faith in human eccentricity. This film is both silly and wonderful. It knows damn well that ir's a B movie, as all the best B movies do.

Alex Hyde-White is superb. So is Cushing, who nevertheless looks much older than 72. So is the direction, from an old Hammer veteran. The opening titles and, in particular, the music, are both magnificent and from no other conceivable year than 1986. This so splendidly of its time. There's even a moment where Biggles gets to see a load of proper 1980s punk rockers and declare them "inconceivable"

This is wonderful. I don't care how silly it is. I don't care that airmen are inexplicably doing missions best suited to ground troops. I'm not going to criticise a B movie for this or that moment of implausibility. Just watch this film.

Highlander (1986)

 "There can be only one!"

Everybody has really big films they haven't seen, even those of us who have blogged over five hundred. For me, Highlander was one of them until tonight, despite the fact that the '80s were the decade of my childhood.

It's extraordinarily good, of course; really well made with lavish production values but, far more importantly, a masterfully paced and structured script that takes a simple idea (superpowered immortals who duel for the "Prize") and executes it well in a more than usually thoughtful blockbuster. Oddly, it matters not that Lambert doesn't really shine as MacLeod; he's as good as he needs to be. He's outshined, of course, by genuine Scotsman Sean Connery who plays... a Spaniard, or an Egyptian, but certainly not a native of Caledonia. Yet Connery is perfect as Ramirez, Roxanne Clark is excellent as leading lady Brenda (still a young woman's name in 1986, apparently) and it's awesome to see Alan Police Squad North as a detective inspector, or whatever they're called in America.

There's some thoughtful meditation on what it must be like to be immortal, and see your loved ones age and die, but there's a deeper subtext to this that is perhaps not intended. Like Flash Gordon, this film is splendidly soundtracked by Queen, and the use of the song "Who Wants To Live Forever" these days evokes the AIDS pandemic of the time, especially as I saw this film in the wake of It's a Sin.

There is, I understand, much more fiction set in the intriguing world of this film. It is, however, satisfying as a whole. A superb '80s classic that I should have watched well before my forties.

Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986)

"I think we're dead meat..."

I know; it's been a long time. But after the not-very-goodness of the last film- indeed, of the last few films- it took a while before I could face another Friday the 13th. Imagine my surprise, then, when this instalment actually tuned out to be pretty decent. I won't use a stronger word than "decent", mind, but I unexpectedly enjoyed this.

For a start, it's genuinely well shot and acted throughout; the film doesn't look like a throwaway B movie, despite the total lack of famous faces and the obvious recasting of Tommy. The plot is pretty standard stuff but .the story is told well- with plenty of wit, suspense, character and Alice Cooper, all of which enhance this film well beyond any of its predecessors.

It's also good to see just a little bit of self-referential irony. The fourth wall is never explicitly broken and this film isn't Scream, but it's clear that this is a script that knows its horror movie tropes and how to have fun with them: yes, the teenagers having sex in the motorhome are inevitably killed, but she's trying to get him to last for the lenth of the song playing, and when Jason cuts the power she's annoyed when he cums- and then he's obliviously listening to Alice Cooper while she's being killed, probably without even getting an orgasm. This film feels modern and real in a way none of its predecessors did, and even the arsehole sheriff feels like a real person.

Let's not exaggerate; this is hardly the greatest slasher ever made. But it's actually good, and for a Friday the 13th film that's a massive achievement.

Transformers: The Movie (1986)

"Bah weep graahah weep ni ni bong."

I was born in 1977. Thus I care nothing for anything other than what is now called "Generation One". I'm firm in my belief, having rewatched bits as an adult, that the TV cartoon was casually tossed away crap, far inferior to the comics which were the true carriers of the flame. And, being British, I'm lucky enough to have been blessed with Simon Furman from early on- we got Target: 2006. And yet this film (comics canon!) is a huge part of my childhood, watched and rewatched many times. This time I watch with a critical eye- and no little trepidation.

So is it actually any good if you strip away the nostalgia? Well, yes, much as its roots as a cynical advert for toys are far more visible to me at forty-one than they were at nine. It has a truly awesome soundtrack, for one thing, and opening titles that, at one point, seem suspiciously to be channelling Tom Baker era Doctor Who title sequence tunnel. It has Orson Bloody Welles, for another. Unicron is, of course, blatantly based on Galactus, and for someone supposed to be planet-sized his scale compared to various Transformers isn't very convincing. But yes, destroying a world at the start creates a certain epic scale.

This film was, of course, planned far earlier than 1986, so the deaths of so many early Autobots- Prowl, Ironhide and Brawn among them- seems very cynical. Kids, all your favourite toys are dead. Now get your parents to buy some new ones. And why does this Decepticon attack happen to suddenly kill loads of Autobots where countless previous attacks haven't?

Anyway, we get a big cinematic battle for Autobot City- which evokes the toy Metroplex without actually being it- and the umpteenth epic battle between Optimus Prime and Megatron which this time happens to result in a dead Oppy (awww!), who promptly hands over the Creation Matrix to wet drip Ultra Magnus, and a badly injured Megatron  Then, inside a bizarrely large Astrotrain, a load of injured Deceptcons are jettisoned- the ever-awesome Starscream (Chris Latta was a legend) gets rid of Megatron, of course, but also, I spotted, Bombshell, Skywarp, Thundercracker and Shrapnel, at least. So we have Unicron upgrading Megatron to the much tougher Galvatron and his voice from Frank Welker to the much more famous Leonard Nimoy; not sure how this works diagetically.

Anyway, we get a few set pieces and some picaresque adventure on various planets inhabited by sentient robots. (Is this because the Singularity eventually happens within every technological civilisation and life is ultimately replaced by AI? I'm overthinking this, aren't I?) This gives us a chance to highlight new character such as Springer (who clearly has the hots for poor Arcee), and especially Hot Rod and Kup, who are in the shops now, kids. It also gives us the ridiculous idea of the TV-talking Junkions, silly dancing, Eric Idle and Weird Al Yankovic, so it's not all bad, even if that stupid "me Grimlock" way of talking for the Dinobots is utterly cringeworthy.

The ending, with Hot Rod becoming the Autobot messiah, is obviously lifted straight from all them legends about young Arthur pulling the sword out of the stone, but his defeat of first Galvatron and then Unicron is deeply satisfying, even if it also inexplicably leads to a sudden Cybertronian utopia. Have all the Decepticons been ethnically cleansed off screen or something?

This film is at once very, very silly, extremely cynical and deeply awesome all at once. I loved every frame in spite of everything.

Poltergeist II: The Other Side (1986)

“They're baaaack!"

 And so we have the inevitable sequel, in a decade full of popular and now iconic horror film franchises.We don't have Tobe Hooper, so we don't have the atmosphere or the depth, but we do have some rather good shocks and rather effective set pieces. It's a pretty good film, as long as you don't expect it to be as good as its predecessor.

The first film ended with the revelation that the house had been built atop a Native American cemetery, and thus a trope was born. It's now a year later and, in a nice touch, the family has become penniless as a result of being unable to tell their house insurers exactly what happened. But further graves have been found under the old house, and the evil from the other side continues to haunt the family, although I'm not sure much of it is necessarily poltergeist activity. Still, no matter; it's an exciting watch.

It's interesting to see a pointedly positive (although inevitably inaccurate and probably patronising) portrayal of Native American cultural practices. This gives a sense of responding to criticism for the previous film perhaps, but it's always good to see Will Sampson in this sort of part. Also exceptional is Julian Beck as the sinister Henry Kane, an excellent principal baddie. Most exceptional of all, of course, is the tragic Heather O'Rourke.

This is a far more conventional film than its predecessor, far less ambitious in scope, but in terms of script, effects and performances it is nevertheless a commendable sequel. It probably won't be very long at all until I blog the next one...

Blue Velvet (1986)

"Why are there people like Frank?"

It really is about time I got round to blogging a David Lynch film, frankly. It's inevitable when you review a large number of films (Blue Velvet is my 377th, quite shockingly) that certain omissions get more and more embarrassing, and David Lynch was at the top of that list.

Blue Velvet is, of course, at once very, very good and very, very weird. It may not break the fourth wall or break its linear narrative beyond a few minor flashbacks, and it may make narrative sense, but that uncomfortable sex scene with Dorothy and Frank goes beyond just weird and deeply uncomfortable into just plain weird, and just as weird are the whole scene at Ben's and, well, the entire characters of Dorothy and Frank. Into this very odd world come the picket fences and more or less wholesome characters of Sandy and Jeffrey.

But Jeffrey is no innocent, literally driven by morbid curiosity and having an affair with Dorothy at the same time as he tries to woo the very innocent and very vulnerable Sandy. It's tempting to see this as a film about the male gaze, centred on Jeffrey's spying voyeuristically from Dorothy's closet but essentially driven throughout by Jeffrey asserting his male gaze on the female sexuality and female life that surrounds him.

There's a lot more going on here than I've spotted, of course, not least the significance of the music, but there's no doubting that this is a splendidly shot, deeply multilayered and utterly superb cinematic classic. With some very '80s decor.

Labyrinth (1986)

"It's only forever. Not long at all."

This film is all about two departed individuals- Jim Henson, the creative mind behind a fantasy film whose fantastic beasts are, in the best possible way, Muppets; and the similarly missed David Bowie, arguably the greatest solo artist who ever lived and a true genius right up until the end. I can't help observing, though, that this major Hollywood starring role came at a time when his career had entered its mid-'80s slump, having failed to match the commercial success of Let's Dance and not really to experience a sustained career renaissance until (unorthodox opinion alert) Earthling. In this film he's the same age I am now, a sobering thought.

But what of the film? Well, it's '80s Hollywood fantasy in the best possible way, redolent of both Time Bandits and The NeverEnding Story in that it plucks a child from the world of the mundane and plucks them into a world of fantasy and adventure. Indeed, the first two thirds of the script bear the indelible imprint of the great Terry Jones, however much his contribution may have been changed. Certainly, the great Sir Didymus, a part of popular culture whom I am now finally able to know, reminds me of nothing more than the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail which was, I believe, a Jones/Palin scene.

Jennifer Connelly is splendid as the teenage, fantasy obsessed lead and Bowie is, well, magnificently himself as the Goblin King, with plenty of musical numbers to match. I suspect the fantasy world is based on items within Sarah's bedroom; certainly the Escher painting finale is. And my fellow Doctor Who fans will be reminded not only of Castrovalva but, because of a certain riddle, Pyramids of Mars. It's a picaresque, absurdly humorous little movie that channels Alice in Wonderland in the most splendidly '80s way possible. Not to be missed.

9½ Weeks (1986)

"I almost waited too long."

Oh dear. I've blogged some bad films in my time but this is by far the worst, committing that most unforgivable of sins: dullness. Even the sex scenes are as slow and boring as the film itself.

For what it's worth, both Kim Basinger and a pre-plastic surgery Mickey Rourke actually bother, for some reason, to give interesting performances, but sadly this does not detract from the fact that nothing seems to happen over two whole hours. The conceit, which is nowhere near as clever as it thinks it is, is a sexual attraction between two urban and alienated individuals who proceed to have various kinds of mildly interesting yet ultimately meaningless sex, yet ultimately fail to develop a proper relationship because of the lack of anything deeper to the relationship. That's it. Really. No need to watch the film now that you've read that. Even the sex scenes really are as slow and boring as everything else.

Part of the problem is the interminable pace, which is the director'a fault for the most part- so many slow scenes of people looking at each other across a room and doing nothing- and part of it is a total lack of charm or humour within the script: this doesn't exactly qualify as a "romantic comedy".

Having said all that, at least the wife and I were amused by the ending and its "walking away music", just like with Bill Bixby at the end of every episode of The Incredible Hulk...