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.

Richard III (1955)

 "Conscience is a word that cowards use..."

Ah, Richard III. Maybe he killed the princes, maybe he didn't. Maybe he was a tyrant, maybe he was a decent bloke and a goodand poular king. Certainly the Tudor propaganda- Shakespeare very much included- doesn't help his reputation.But one thing must be said: Laurence Olivier's mullet here is utterly horrifying. And on the evidence of portraits this is one crime of which Richard III is assuredly very guilty indeed.

This film, though, is as superlative as one might expect, given the director and the cast crammed with first class classical actors, including Claire Bloom, John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson and at least one Thorndike. Not that there isn't actor spotting fun to be had, of courdse. We get John Laurie of Dad's Army fame, plus Michael Gough as a murderer gets a line or two.

The sets are, perhaps, rather more dated than the acting. This is a very brightly coloured, Adventures of Robin Hood take on the late Middle Ages. The direction and cinematography are deliberately conventional and unexceptional, despite some creative use of lighting. Yet the performances and, of course, the words overwhelm everything. And Olivier's Richard, caricature though Shakespeare's Richard always is, remains utterly captivating throughout. Throughout all three phases of the play- the disturbing wooing/gaslighting of Anne, Richard's plotting, and his speedy unravelling and downfall to "despair and death"- Olivier';s Richard is superlative and,perhaps, definitive.

Henry V (1944)

 "But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make."

It is, I suppose, extraordinary that I've waited so long to see and to blog Laurence Olivier's version of this play, made in no small part to boost wartime morale, a task at which it broadly succeeds. Yet it is, of course, a far richer achievement than that.

The early scenes are inspired. We begin with a panorama of the London of 1600, such a small city focused north of the Thames, with the Tower on the eastern edge and the Globe, with other theatres, situated just south of the river. We then see the Chorus, and the early scenes, played out in the Globe, with glimpses of backstage and much of the groudlings. This makes perfect sense, given the Chorus' pleadings for us to use our imagination to conjure up vast armies and battlefields which cannot be shown in a mere wooden O.

Yet this is cinema, and the film soon shifts to allow us to see such incredible vistas. The matte paintings are obvious, but the effect is one of awe. This is, perhaps, whether we are looking at scenes of Elizabethan London or the muddy French battlefields of the early fifteenth century, a somewhat romantic, 1940s version of the past, reminiscent of The Adventures of Robin Hood. This is, perhaps, too clean and sanitised a recreation of an earlier age which, compared to Kenneth Branagh's version four decades later, does not quite feel lived in. While it is not necessary toshow blood and gore, the overall effect feels perhaps overly sanitised.

Nevertheless, the film is a triumph. Shakespeare stands and falls by acting, and Olivier's performance is spellbinding, the big speeches delivered to perfection. Olivier's style may be a little dated today, yes. That does not make it anything less than great.

One cannot help but see this film, released in the year of D-Day, through the prism of the time it was made. The heavy subtext of the horrors of war, that a war had damn well better be just for the suffering to be worthwhile, is unusually downplayed, the justness of resisting Hitler being clear. Yet the horrors are acknowledged, the humanity and the suffering. And the ending of the play, as Harry woos Kate through the language barrier, feels perhaps a little less odd here as it signifies the hope of peace that original audiences would have felt.

For me, this is not quite up there with Branagh's version. But it is great nonetheless.

Hamlet (1948)

 "This is thevtragedy of a man who could not make up his mind.

Said quote is the popular opinion of the play. It has truth to it. Yet, as always with Shakespeare, there is nuance.

This play is a deconstructioin of the late 16th century revenge tragedy. Hamlet is, yes, hesitant. He is inytrospective, introverted. Naturally he hesaitates. Right?

Yet the ghost of his father gives him clear information. we can't excuse his procrastination. And he is not the student, intoverted, poetic hero. His reaction to his father's ghost is not revenge but a crying-for-help version of suicidal thoughts- see that soliloquy- and misogyny. His treatment of ophelia, and his mother, is unforgivable.He is not a likeable charactor. Here, that is a brave and right decision by Sir Laurence Olivier, whise charisma ois beyond all.

Contrasted to Hamlet is Laertes, an extrovert, who just gets on with his revenge. Good on him. Hamlet loses our sympathy when he kills Polonius, perhaps. After failing to kill the unshriven Polonius in the church. One could construct an argument that he does, in fact, kill Claudius as soon as reason and circumstance permit. I mean, I did this play at both A Level and University. The question persists- does Hamlet procrastinate? There's an argument to say not. His father's ghost interrupts only to rebuke him for being nasty to his mother.

Olivier is superb here.The soliloquys are exquisite. The play, long and bloated though it is, remains a piece of art up there with the best. That Warwickshire boy could certainluy pack a sentence with meaning.

Dracula (1979)

“Oh, I loved to be frightened..”

This was the last of the famous Dracula films I’d seen and, while it doesn’t rival the recent BBC TV series, it’s easily the best cinematic version of the original novel, excellent though some of the others have been.

This film is, strictly speaking, based on the play written in the years after the novel was published but, despite skipping the famous Transylvanian bit, and with those inevitable lines "I never drink wine" and "Children of the night, what (sad music they make" present and correct, this is broadly very faithful to the original epistolary novel- not without changes but preserving the core of the story, namely Dracula coming through the window to threaten first Mina and then Lucy.

There's no downplaying the original sexual subtext of Dracula drinking Lucy's blood, either: the film is very well-shot throughout but the main scene of Dracula feeding from Lucy is directed in an abstract but obviously sexual way. Plus, of course, Frank Langella gices us a charming and deeply erotic version of the Count, with charisma enough almost to rival the great Christopher Lee.


Laurence Olivier is, perhaps, hamming it up as Van Helsing, although Larry hamming it up is worth a strong performance from a lesser actor. But it's a real stroke of genius to cast Trevor Eve as an appropriately chippy Jonathan Harker, somewhat pissed off at Dracula for nicking his fiancee.

It's also nice to hear Hollywood acknowledging that Whitby is in face in Yorkshire and not the Home Counties, with the not-posh characters having accents to match. It's a nice but crucial detail that is so often forgotten. It may or may not be the best Dracula film, but it's easily the best cinematic version of the novel Bram Stoker wrote.

As You Like It (1936)

"He that sweetest rose will find / Must find love's prick, and Rosalind."

Well then. This saucy, decidedly queer play, new to me, is not what I expected from Shakespeare, and the fact that this is a post-code film from 1936, subtitles for YouTube provided for cultural reasons by the US Government (I bet Trump has put a stop to that) only serves to show how intrinsic to the play this queerness is.

I know Shakespeare, I flatter myself to say, better than most. I have a mere undergraduate degree, from Nottingham uni, but before tonight I knew 22 Shakespeare plays to varying extents, now 23. And until tonight I have given no more than perfunctory acknowledgement to queer theory in relation to the bard. I am, of course, aware of the trope of women dressing as men in such plays as Twelfth Night, but have accepted this as early modern LGBT (let us not forget the T) only in the generic way that one must accord to all cross-dressing. And yet... here Rosalind calls her male disguise "Ganymede", Jove's eponymous catamite. It's hard not to see deliberate, glorious, authorial queerness here. And that's before considering the wonderful sexual ambiguity of pretty much all of Rosalind's lines once she takes on male guise. It's doubly wonderful that this happily queer character should be played here, with a noticeable accent but a great deal of charm, by Elisabeth Bergner, a Viennese Jew who had fled Hitler's Berlin.

Ok, queerness aside this stuck me as a relatively ho-hum Shakespeare comedy with moments of lyrical genius, not quite up there with his best, but that's a relative statement. But there's much to marvel at with this somewhat ancient artifact. My reason for watching this was the presence of Henry Ainley, father of the actor Anthony Ainley, well-known to us Doctor Who fans and subject of a splendid biography. Ainley, though, turned out to be the exemplar of something truly fascinating; the theatrical delivery of Shakespeare of a certain era, still "traditional" although pretty much beyond living memory, against which the more "naturalistic" delivery of actors such as Lauence Olivier.

Also notable are the presence of John Laurie (Private Fraser in Dad's Army) as a young heartthrob and a young Peter Bull- the Soviet ambassador in many James Bond films- as a young yokel. This film is fascinating, in the public domain, and on YouTube with proper subtitles.

Oh! What a Lovely War (1969)

"The lights are going out all over Europe..."

The cast for this film is ridiculous. Aside from the people I've tagged at the bottom we have the Master himself, Anthony Ainley, as a British staff officer. We also have Thorley Walters, Nanette Newman, Gerald Sim, Edward Fox, Angus Lennie, Dirk Bogarde, Derek Newark, Ralph Richardson, Maggie Smith, Susannah York, John Mills and (uncredited) Jane Seymour and John Woodnutt. All in the same film. It's absurd.

This is Dickie Attenborough's epic film version of the famously improvised musical by Joan Littlewood and her Theatre Workshop. It's a thing of magnificence but it does, of course, present a very Marxist view of the First World War. You certainly don't have to be a Marxist to subscribe to the view that this was not a "just" war but just a silly dynastic struggle between old empires, the War of the Spanish Succession with trench warfare and mustard gas; I'm not, and I do. But it certainly helps. However, this film is a strong proponent of the old "lions led by donkeys" view, an unpopular view in many quarters these days. From the arrogant xenophobia of the British officers towards their French allies to a doddering and uncomprehending Franz Ferdinand declaring war on Serbia this is not a flattering portrait of those in power.

Thing is, though, it's magnificent. As a musical (all the songs are versions from the trenches) it revels in the freedom from realism while maintaining a clever structure through the use of one family's ground level point of view and of the sinister photographer figure.

There are so many fantastic set pieces, from the British recruitment propaganda to the moving Christmas fraternisation between the British and Germans in 1914 (the top brass cancel their leave!) .But the structure, message and intricacy of the whole thing is quite something to behold. A thing of magnificence.