Both this film and its central character are so unapologetic that it's difficult to get either out of your head long after the final credits roll. A fictionalised version of a notorious real story, this is an unflinching account of how the rich and powerful live seemingly above the law. Until they crash with a thud so loud it's heard around the world. And as an exploration of how money and privilege corrupt the soul, this film is essential viewing, no matter how uncomfortable it is to watch.
At the centre is Devereaux (Gerard Depardieu), the corpulent head of the World Bank, whose life is a whirlwind of prostitutes, drugs and wild sex parties, even as he still has hopes of one day becoming president of France. Then in a five-star suite in a Manhattan hotel, he unthinkingly assaults a maid (Pamela Afesi). And he has no idea why he's being arrested in a media frenzy. He calls his wealthy wife Simone (Jacqueline Bisset) for bail him out, and she reluctantly drops her charity work to fly to New York and rent a house for them for the duration of his trial, standing by his side for the cameras, along with his daughter Sophie (Marie Moute). But Devereaux is so sure his political connections will get him off that he remains utterly unrepentant.
Depardieu is astonishing in the role, giving a fearless performance as a man who is so self-absorbed that he can't even begin to think that his actions might hurt someone. Consequences don't matter to him, because he's always done whatever he wants. And Depardieu is utterly transparent in every scene, most memorably when he is strip-searched by the cops and, even more disturbingly, when he mauls a young journalist (Shanyn Leigh) interviewing him about the trial. Opposite him, Bisset is radiant and fierce as a woman worn down by her infant-like husband, but standing by him against her better judgment. Their bristly conversations in the final act play out in long takes that are seriously gripping.
Continue reading: Welcome To New York Review
Devereaux is well known by the people closest to him as an uninhibited playboy, using his wealth and his high status as a rich French politician to gain him access to a whole world of sexual adventures. Despite the fact that he has a loving wife, nothing stops him in his pursuit of pleasure, but such undisciplined behaviour is always likely to be dangerous. After one spontaneous encounter with a New York hotel maid, he finds himself suddenly accused by authorities of being a rapist. While everyone knows of his womanizing ways, no-one would've suspected such an occurence and Devereaux is left cowering and desperate, and feeling guilty that his lifestyle has led to such injustice. Will a man who has so many big ideas on rescuing the economy manage to hold his high for long enough to protest his innocence? Or has he managed to end his promising career?
Continue: Welcome To New York Trailer
Such are the totems of the godless world of Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant, a season in hell that doubles as a vehicle for Harvey Keitel's blistering tour-de-force as the nameless officer that gives the film its name. Full to bursting with unadulterated drug use, violent sex, and moral decay, it also serves as Ferrara's most unfettered and primal ode to a one-time soulless New York that now looks more like a planet of condos.
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Beats the crap outta me. I suffered through the 83 minutes of Revved and am no closer to figuring out why it was made, what attracted its stars to the project, or even what the hell it was supposed to be about.
Continue reading: All Revved Up Review
It starts off bad enough. As the credits announce the four writer/directors (Allison Anders, Alexandre Rockwell, Robert Rodriguez, and Quentin Tarantino), a cartoon sequence plays over them, in the tradition of cinematic masterpieces like Mannequin. This sets the stage: New Year's Eve at Hollywood's Mon Signor Hotel and only one bellhop (Tim Roth), and believe me, it's a rillyrilly wacky place. The film then launches into the first of four 30ish-minute shorts, one by each director.
Continue reading: Four Rooms Review
And though Artisan is issuing a two-disc DVD release of the film, don't expect it to find much more of a cult audience 14 years after its original release.
Continue reading: King Of New York Review
With the United States in the throes of an unexpected war, the timing may not seem right for a movie about military infighting. But "The Last Castle" has a certain popcorn-picture kind of flag-waving pride about it that is enormously satisfying and oddly apropos for this particular moment in history.
Robert Redford could be a gentleman's John Wayne in his starring role as Gen. Eugene Irwin, a highly decorated and revered Army officer beginning a 10-year sentence in military prison for leading his troops, against orders from the President, on a rescue mission that ended in catastrophe.
He's a humble but cocksure leader, greatly admired even by ironhanded warden Colonel Winters (James Gandolfini), who asks the general up to his office to shake his hand before having him shown to his cell. But Winters' respect soon turns to resentment as Irwin begins questioning his methods of managing the men in his jail -- nicknamed The Castle for its stately courtyard-and-towers design.
Continue reading: The Last Castle Review
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