A Law Unto Themselves

Maybe some of you have come across the term Giallo before. A type of Italian thriller that bubbled up in the sixties, it became very popular in ‘The Boot’ at the beginning of the 1970s. Filmmakers and screenwriters fused noirish murder mystery and tense thrills – usually with high doses of violence and more than suggestive nudity to create a crime or horror leaning story that could both scare and titillate its audience. Think of it kind of like when pulp fiction meets slasher film. One example that actually shows ‘some’ restraint in both of the above categories is Luciano Ercoli’s 1971 motion picture, Death Walks on High Heels. With definite connections to Alfred Hitchcock (Vertigo, Psycho) and many other thrillers of the past, as well as bringing to mind the 80's work of Brian De Palma (specifically Dressed to Kill and Body Double), the sordid tale follows a sultry stripper by the name of Nicole Rochard (credited as Susan Scott, a model who used the stage name instead of her original Spanish one, Nieves Navarro).

Alfred Hitchcock once said "if it’s a good movie, the sound could go off and the audience would still have a perfectly clear idea of what was going on". A perfect example of this is the first sixteen minutes of the 1972 action film The Mechanic. Directed by Michael Winner and starring Charles Bronson (the pair, who had made one film previously, would go on to make a total of six together), the plot follows an aging hit-man in Los Angeles. The opening sixteen minutes is a masterclass in patience, restraint and telling a visual story, without any dialogue. We watch as the man, named Arthur Bishop, intricately plans his next kill. No dialogue is needed to make this an effective scene, as it captures a tense atmosphere and places us in the mind set of our lead, as we now know that he has a deft touch at killing and is not to be messed with. It is a bold choice to open a movie and it is all the richer for it.

A violent dystopic vision of the future, Kinji Fukasaku’s 2000 feature film Battle Royale sets up a scenario in which adults do not trust children – as a lack of jobs, student protests and many other ominous happenings have led to the government passing the controversial BR Act. Selecting one class each year, the students will be transported to an uninhabited island where they will have to duke it out until only one teen is left alive. A more intense, visceral example of The Hunger Games, it is set up to quash the idea of rebellion, dissidence and youthful exuberance – a horrific example of a totalitarian government with no scruples when it comes to curtailing the behaviour of its people.

Some of you may recall famous clothing designer Tom Ford deciding to enter into the world of film making back in 2009. Though some were sceptical, his first foray into the movie business was a huge critical success, as A Single Man became one of the most lauded pictures of the year. Now seven years on, the choosy, multi-talented man has finally found another project that has piqued his interest. Based upon Austin Wright’s 1993 novel "Tony and Susan", Ford adapted it, changing the title to Nocturnal Animals. A complicated, three pronged tale, the story, at least in the real world, follows a wealthy art gallery owner named Susan Morrow (Amy Adams), a cold, calculating woman, who, despite seemingly having everything (a handsome husband named Hutton – Armie Hammer, a beautiful Hollywood hills house, good looks, and money), is empty and dead inside.

Predicted winners, who should win, and my favourites from this year's Oscars (the 89th Academy Awards). Catch up on all of the buzz before the big event.

Unfurling the story that takes place immediately after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, 2016's Jackie is an intimate portrayal of a woman in a dreadfully surreal crisis. Delving into a horrifically memorable moment from the past that has seemingly been looked at in every which way, Jackie succeeds at developing a multilayered story that goes beyond the surface, and thought-provokingly brings up questions of fact versus fiction, history versus myth/legend, idealism versus realism, as well as finding stark stoicism in the face of unimaginable horror. And horror it is, as director Pablo Larraín weaves together multiple threads that create a somber, melancholic mood that teeters on realistic dread, dismay and terror. It is something that is hard to fathom – as it is unbelieve to imagine that any of us will ever experience such a dreadful incident that is then followed by overwhelming media attention and scrutiny. Though vulnerable, our main character is able to steady herself, finding a poised grace in order to stand strong, being a calm, enduring, mother-like figure that will help guide the nation through one of its darkest hours.