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.

Citizen Kane (1941)

"If I hadn't been very rich, I might have been a great man."

At the age of 38 I've finally seen this film, and feel a little bit more cultured than I was. It's far too dense with signifiers and crammed with meaning to add much to the decades of critical discussion after just one viewing, yes, but at least I can say what I thought. Essentially, it's exactly as good as people say it is. Sometimes you can go into a film with sky-high expectations and end up a little deflated that it turns out to be merely excellent rather than sublime. I suspect my expectations were lowered a little by the fact that Citizen Kane no longer tends to sit at the top of all these "Top 100" lists as it used to but, well, it should. 

Yes, the whole "rosebud" thing turns out to be a fairly facile revelation about the loss of childhood innocence, but there's a lot more going on than that. Plus the direction is incredible courtesy of a young Orson Welles, and his performance as Charles Foster Kane is spellbinding: a man of depth, wit and charisma and who never quite lets you in. 

The script, too, is as philosophical as a nineteenth century novel, with a line on memory that's redolent of Proust and a clever examination of the newspaper industry's loss of innocence, paralleling Kane's own. Most clever, though, is that Kane is only ever seen through the memories of others, never on his own terms; perhaps we have the cinematic equivalent of the unreliable narrator.

Oh, and at last I get the references in the White Stripes' "The Union Forever".

This is a truly great film and worthy of far more than a hurried blog post written on the 16.09 from Birmingham New Street to Coleshill Parkway. If you haven't seen it, you should bloody well do so.

Waterloo (1970)

"My God, Sir! I've lost my leg!"

"My God, Sir! So you have!"

There are three striking things about this superb film: Rod Steiger's electrifying, extraordinarily charismatic and career-defining performance as Napoleon, the incredible scope and accuracy of the battle scenes, and the fact that it was made in Brezhnev's Soviet Union with an international cast. That just seems bizarre.

Still, it's an extraordinary piece of cinema and one of the most accurate historical films ever made; even the dialogue is mostly documented from real life and I recognised a few of Wellington's. The only inaccuracies I could spot were the constant references to "Belgium" (not a country until 1830) and the slight musical reference to the modern German national anthem as Blucher's Prussians arrive to save the day. This is anachronistic; the tune existed at the time but it's lyrics were a paean to Emperor Franz of Austria, hardly a friend of Prussia. The Habsburgs were hardly friends of pan-German nationalism, which in any case wouldn't really become a thing until after the revolutions of 1848. Anyway, the film...

 Steiger steals the show as Napoleon, a charismatic genius refusing to give in to the failing health of his body, but Christopher Plummer also deserves high praise for his unflappable and blunt Wellington, refusing permission to have Napoleon assassinated ahead of the battle as such things are Simply Not Done. The opening scenes are extraordinary, though: Napoleon rants and raves like Hitler in Downfall before finally abdicating, only to escape from Elba with but 1,000 troops and suede power again through sheer magnetic charisma. It's eyebrow-raising here to see a somewhat corpulent Orson Welles in a cameo as Louis XVIII.

This is a true epic in scope, both thematically and visually. If you haven't seen it.. sorry for the spoiler, but Napoleon loses. Sorry.

A Man for All Seasons (1966)

"You lay traps for me!"

"No. I show you the times."

This is, obviously, an excellent film even if, like myself, you're somewhat sick of the excess of Henry VIII; can't historical dramas show a bit more interest in other periods. But we should pause and remember that this film is somewhat biased; there's a reason why it's one of the Vatican's official favourites. This is, quite literally, a hagiography. And, while I will leave the sectarian tiresomeness to those whom believe in God, I have to point out that Sir Thomas More himself tortured (personally!) and burned people at the stake because their religious beliefs did not accord with him. This makes his death seem rather less unjust; indeed, he died rather less painfully than most of his victims. More was no saint, whatever Pope Pius XI may have said.

But what of the film? Well, it's superb. To start with, look at the cast. Standing out is an excellent (and very young) John Hurt as the slimy and ambitious Richard Rich. Susannah York is excellent as Meg. Orson Welles, no less, plays Wolsey. But best of all is Paul Scofield himself, whose extraordinarily subtle and dignified More may be the highlight of his distinguished screen career.

But the script is the real star. The theme is of the rule of law, and how it protects us from both arbitrary tyranny and Hobbesian chaos. More's undoing, of course, comes because Henry, Cromwell and Rich are not as unscrupulous as he is, and will happily cut corners. The contrast is between More and Rich; More is willing to die rather than lie before God on an oath, while Tich casually perjured himself- and sacrifices More's life- for the sake of a petty little promotion.

More is forever cautioning people to avoid condemning themselves through what they say; careless talk at Henry's court cost lies. More believes that the age old religious tradition of dissembling will save him, but it does not. We proceed inexorably to his inexorable death, his world slowly narrowing; I love the shot of seasons and time passing as seem through More's tiny cell window. The end finally comes, the axe falls... and fade to black. Superb.

The Third Man (1949)

"In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."

Yes, it had to be that quote. Predictable but necessary.

This film is, essentially, superb. It tends to suffer somewhat from the overly high expectations one tends to have for films as critically acclaimed as this, but I won't discriminate against it for that. The film didn't choose to be so hyped. In truth, this film may not be quite amongst the best ever made but it is, nonetheless, utterly superb.

I won't recount the intriguing plot with its twists and turns and the gradual reveal of the story of Harry Lime, played with splendid charisma by the great Orson Welles. But the script paints as dark a picture of human nature as one would expect from the typewriter of Graham Greene. Vienna is made to look awesome by Carol Reed in its monochrome splendour, and the cast is superb. This is a Vienna still under occupation by the four powers, where even minor aristocrats resort to the black market to survive. This once-great imperial city has fallen very far indeed, with its grandiose Habsburg architecture seeming to mock it. 

Above all this film has atmosphere, pervaded as it is by a sense of doom and pessimism. And above it all floats that zither tune. This is a film that everyone should see.