Velvet Goldmine (1998)

 "I needn't mention how essential dreaming is to the character of the rock star."

It would be an exaggeration, perhaps, to say that rock 'n' roll is gay. The gayness of early '70s glam was not quite as prominent as portrayed here. Yet the LGBT+ness was present in real life as it was here- the New York Dolls; Bowie's (oops; Slade's) bisexuality; the whole damn aesthetic; Lou Reed having had that electric shock treatment to get rid of all traces of gayness, here attributed to Curt Wild, a character otherwise based blatantly on the rather less gay Iggy Pop.

It's a welcome perspective. And it's to be applauded that Todd Haynes, an American director, sees the importance of mudsic hall, as much as the blues, to British rock in general and Bowie in paticular. See also Ian Dury, Roxy Music (heard in this film) anfd the DNA of British punk and post-punk bands who may well know nothing of music hall. This is, I feel, an underexplored area. 

This is a glorious film, clever and directed with artistic confidence which nevertheless serves the narrative, however weird it may get. Obviously the narrative- a journalist researching how Bowie- oops, Slade- disappeared after faking his death, evokes Citizen Kane. That's no bad thing. The exploration of early '70s gay and general British culture are well done- a couple of old queens speak in subtitled palare. Vada that, me jolly old eek. Ooh, Mr Horne, etc. There are orgies. There's Angie Bowie- er, Mandy. 

Importantly, there are triumphant performances from jonathan Rhys Meyer and Ewan McGregor. Christan Bale, as ever, is a bit meh, but Eddie Izzard is superb as the quintessential rock manager.

And the whole thing is infused wth the spirit of Oscar Wilde, apparently a foundling deposited in 1854 by a flying saucer! His amulet of gayness is symbolic. Characters quote him at the drop of a hat. His aesthetic movement is echoed throughout,

This is a much, much more important and serious film than I'd expected to see. It's magnificent, an elowquent plea for the very important gay side of rock 'n' roll.

The Sixth Sense (1999)

“I see dead people!”

I've spent twenty years trying, not very successfully,  to avoid spoilers for this notoriously twist-dependent film. If you've been more successful than I was, PLEASE BUGGER OFF NOW, because it's impossible to talk about this film without spoiling the twist.

Right?

Right.

So... he's dead, isn't he? It's hrd to gauge how unobvious it would have been to the unspoiled, but the anniversary restaurant scene is devilishly clever, and I’m sure the big reveal at the end comes as a shock to the unspoiled; Anna has been distant with Malcolm simply because he’s dead and she’s been mourning him. It is, of course, totally implausible that it would never occur to Malcolm during those eighteen months that he might be a ghost, but I think we can accept that as a sleight of hand.

Beyond that, though, the film is very well made, with some highly effective jump scares with the ghosts, who are largely held back. As ever, it’s suspense that makes a film scary, not gore, and this has it in spades when it so chooses, even if the lighting and picture look so very late ‘90s. It also works brilliantly as a drama, with an impressive performance (and accent) from Olivia Williams but a truly magnificent and career-defining turn from Bruce Willis.

This film is superbly made. Perhaps not one for repeat viewings, as it is dependent on one big twist, but I see why it made the impact that it did.

Incidentally, I thought Philadelphia looked somewhat run down when I visited back in 2001, but this film makes it look beautiful.

Krampus (2015)

"Because that's what family is. We have to get along with them, even if we don't have much in common."

This film was suggested for me by Mrs Llamastrangler in a particularly evil moment as the Christmas film to blog this year. Next time I'm doing bloody Die Hard.

The German legend of the Krampus seems not to have travelled to this country with Prince Albert alongside Christmas cards and Christmas trees, but it seems to be impinging more and more on popular culture, particularly in the United States; I first heard of the legend from an episode of Grimm a couple of years ago. I suppose it's calling out for a good horror film but, well, this is not it.

Let me tell you the plot, shall I? A family squabble a lot. A kid wishes for it to stop. The Krampus arrives and offs them all. The kid regrets it and the adults all come back, except for those who really don't deserve it. And that's it. No stars, no wit, no fun. You don't care about any of the characters and it's boring, boring, boring.

Yep. Definitely Die Hard next year.