Well, this is a first. . . watching an exploitative pandemic themed film during a real life pandemic – talk about making the subject matter much more horrifyingly effective! An aggressively edgy Hong Kong feature that deservedly received the restrictive Category III rating (like the dreaded X found in many other places in the world, it means no one under the age of 18 is allowed into theatres to see it), Herman Yau’s Ebola Syndrome (1996) might make your skin crawl in more ways than one. Not for the faint of heart, the piece is centered upon a psychopathic, sex crazed lowlife criminal, Kai (Anthony Chau-Sang Wong) – who likes nothing better than schtupping his crime boss’s younger wife. Unceremoniously interrupted by the big man himself, instead of taking the harsh punishment, he decides to kill his way through man, wife, as well as bodyguard, promptly fleeing the country while leaving one witness behind – the boss’s young daughter, Lily (played as an adult by Chui Ling).

It’s intriguing to think how time tends to shrink an actors or directors filmography. . . the passing years seeming to erase movies (be them lesser, unrelatable to present viewpoints, simply lost to time, or so on). For instance, Lionel Barrymore – once one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, a two time Academy Award nominee (and one time winner), is mostly known for his cantankerous and utterly realistic portrayal of villainy as Mr. Potter in the Frank Capra Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life. In actuality, he has an impressive 217 acting credits to his name, while many may not even know that he was also a director. . . today’s film his fourteenth and final credited effort – Ten Cents a Dance (1931). A title pulled from a popular 1930 song of the same name (written by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Lorenz Hart, originally sung by Ruth Etting), the playful, jazzy romp sways over both the opening credits as well as when the screen turns black at the end of the film. A tune lamenting the work of a taxi dancer, that is, a girl hired to shimmy with libidinous men at a happening nightclub for ten cents a dance, poor Barbara O’Neill (Barbara Stanwyck) is our titular character.

Sometimes you just have to ‘Marvel’ at what the aptly named Cinematic Universe has done. Like any so-called franchise, it has had its ups and downs, but kudos are justly deserved for efforts like Guardians of the Galaxy (after all, who throws 170 million at a story revolving around a talking raccoon, a tree that only has one line, a very literal E.T., a green female alien with anger issues, and a sarcastic self-professed Star-Lord), or how everything was brought beautifully together to create a most cinematic experience with Avengers: Endgame. And the newest laudable effort to add to the list – 2021's Spider-Man: No Way Home, directed by Jon Watts. A movie that must be experienced firsthand, this is going to be a very short and as close to spoiler free review as possible. Tom Holland’s third outing as the friendly neighbourhood superhero, it picks up nearly right after the second feature finished. Peter Parker has been outed as Spider-Man by vanquished villain Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal)...

Titane, Julia Ducournau’s second feature film (and the winner of the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2021), is a bit like a cinematic car – with the disfigured metallic body of David Cronenberg’s Crash, the scary powerful engine of John Carpenter’s Christine, and an interior reminiscent of the essence of French cinema itself (with a hint of late Hitchcock experimentation), this vehicle displays quite the unique package. Living in some sort of dreamscape (that often lingers in a more nightmarish realm), Ducournau embodies the piece with a fantastical essence – like a sleep-induced vision, much of the narrative seems rooted in reality, yet with delusory elements that make us question the supposed corporeality of the story.

One has to wonder if all cinematic taxidermists have been painted with the same brush since the release of Psycho all those years ago in 1960. Well, that theory will be put to the test in the 1977 giallo Crazy Desires of a Murderer, directed by Filippo Walter Ratti (though titled in the credits as Peter Rush – his seventeenth and final film making credit). Welcome to the slowly crumbling manor home of the Baron De Chablais (Stuart Brisbane Colin), the dilapidated location echoing the poor health of its aged owner. . . after two heart attacks, rampant dementia has attacked the brain, leaving this supposed psychic (oddly, this pre-credits reveal will never be followed up on) in very rough shape.

A deep dive into 60s Swinging London, or should I say ‘dream dive’, Edgar Wright follows up his 2017 hit Baby Driver with another film that gets its title from a song – Last Night in Soho (a 1967 single by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mich & Tich – I know, quite the band name). Set in the present day, Eloise ‘Ellie’ Turner (Thomasin McKenzie – Jojo Rabbit) is a fragile, mousy young woman who has immersed herself in 60s culture... constantly listening to records of the time, her dream is to bring the swinging era’s fashion back. Leaving for fashion school in Soho, she is still haunted by her mother’s suicide – something that happened when she was just a young child (in fact, she sometimes sees her mother’s spirit in the mirror).