The Brood (1979)

 "It has no teeth, but you'd get a pretty nasty bite from these beak-like gums..."

Nasty divorces and unpleasant custody battles happen, sadly, even to auteur film directors. And, if said auteur happens to be David Cronenberg, this will naturally lead to a film all about how evil his ex is and why he should have custody of his daughter, all through the medium of extreme body horror.

Thing is, though, it may well be blatant that this is what he's doing, but none of that stops this film being a masterfully helmed wotk of genius. This film really ought to feel self-indulgent, but it's just too good for that.

It helps that we have a just-sober-enough Oliver Reed as a gloriously weird red herring of a creepily unorthodox psychiatrist (his book looks like a kind of very '70s yet also very Cronenberg tome: Erich Von Daniken with body horror) who is there as a very prominent piece of misdirection, but the real killers are, it seems, a gang of homonculuses (none of this Latinate "homonculi" nonsense; loan words don't get to bring their own syntax with them even if they are from swanky old Latin) which are birthed by, let's face it, a character representing Cronenberg's ex, in gloriously horrific ways as seen in the extraordinarily long and wonderfully effective final scene.

As ever with Cronenberg we have exquisite direction with the most banal of locations made to look creepily beautiful. We have eccentric minor characters and his usual themes of memory, family, bodily squelchiness and medical madness. This film is superb.

The Three Musketeers (1973)

“You cannot go to the Queen with dirty legs...”

I hadn’t seen this before, amazingly, so I certainly raised an eyebrow when the opening credits revealed this film to have been scripted by George MacDonald Fraser. This gives certain expectations and, true to form, the film turns out to be a highly entertaining and rather bawdy comedy that has a lot of fun with the culture of realpolitik and duelling that prevailed in the France of Louis XIII. This is a rather straight adaptation of the novel, albeit one in which Faye Dunaway as Milady gets oddly little screen time, but one that adds a splendidly comical gloss to what was hardly the most serious novel to begin with.

This is a decadent France reigned, but not ruled over by the feckless Louis XIII, not half the man his father was or, indeed, his son will be, leaving a vacuum to be filled by the ambitious Cardinal Richelieu, a competent but oddly miscast Charlton Heston, with the far more suitable Christopher Lee in a lesser role. Perhaps they just needed a big Hollywood name, but why hardly use Faye Dunaway?

Regardless, the whole thing looks gorgeous, odd though the Hong Kong martial arts opening may be, and the cast is quite magnificent. Michael York is the perfect bumbling D’Artagnan for this film,  Raquel Welch is the perfect sultry Constance, and Christopher Lee mystifies is all A’s to why he isn’t playing the Cardinal. The film is pretty much stolen by the splendid comic acting of Spike Milligan though, who shoes us what a bloody comic genius he is.

I don’t think I’ve seen a finer version yet than this.

Sword of Sherwood Forest (1960)

"I absolutely forbid it!"

Oh dear, this just isn't any good, is it? The script is for kids in the worst possible way, casually tossed out in the belief that, if it's for kids, it doesn't need to be any good. Richard Greene is crap, hammy and over the top, possibly suitable for live telly in the '50s, but not for the big screen. And Peter Cushing, while he's hardly phoning it in, is wasted on a part that asks very little of him.

Nigel Green's casting as Little John is almost as ridiculous as, well... Nigel Green's casting as Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts. It says a lot that a young Oliver Reed is the best thing in the film, and he's bloody dubbed. Still, at least we get a speaking cameo from a pre-Q Desmond Llewelyn.

There's not a lot else to say though: perhaps Hammer should have stuck to horror.

The Assassination Bureau (1969)

"Human life is so expendable. So easily replaced, and pleasurable."

This film gets a rough ride from critics, I feel, many of whom just don't get the understated black humour that gives the film its charm. I won't deny that the tone is at times uneven and the premise, great on paper, begins to drag a bit with the monotony of Oliver Reed's Ivan Dragomilovitch having to assassinate his colleagues one by one. But a delightfully urbane and witty Reed, a sexy, unflappable and Emma Peel-sequel Diana Rigg (I love her wardrobe!) and the hugely witty and quotable dialogue make this film a pleasure to watch in spite of its flaws. Hopefully a DVD release in Europe is not too far away; I had to rely on Netflix.

The casting of Telly Savalas to play Lord Bostwick with a blatantly North American accent is often disparaged by critics who miss the fact that the character is clearly based on Lord Beaverbrook. And there are plenty of enjoyable cameos from the likes of Beryl Reid, Roger Delgado, Warren Mitchell and George Coulouris.I thought Vernon Dobtcheff was bogey amusing as a stereotypically lugubrious Russian.

This is a gloriously cynical film, appropriate for one set in an age when war loomed, life was cheaper and it was important, if you had the means, to enjoy life as much as you could while maintaining a raised eyebrow at all times.