The film asks intelligent questions about what’s important in life. It looks remarkably “realistic”, and there are moments of great beauty – especially around Jupiter. Pitt has never particularly impressed me with his acting, but he’s excellent here. He conveys the desperately lonely experience of being on your own in the vastness of space.
Liv Tyler and Donald Sutherland play supporting roles.
The locations are perfectly chosen. Eastwood is effortlessly cool. The soundtrack by Lalo Schifrin is entirely suitable for the action but also works in its own right. The night scenes are atmospheric and suspenseful. And the psychopath Scorpio played by Andy Robinson is convincingly mad.
Four sequels would follow.
Kidman, Moore and Streep are all fantastic in emotionally complex and challenging roles. Kidman looks absolutely nothing like herself – it’s difficult to believe it’s her – owing to a prosthetic nose.
There are also strong performances from Miranda Richardson, Jeff Daniels and Ed Harris.
In many ways it’s a depressing film, and it deals with painful topics. But it also addresses the value of life.
Intense, sweeping, music by Philip Glass adds emotional depth.
Pacino is effortlessly and endlessly charming in the main role. Ellen Barkin plays his girlfriend and handles the nuances well. Is she or isn’t she the killer? Even John Goodman, usually guaranteed to ruin a film, judges it about right as Detective Sherman Touhey.
A couple of plot holes keep it from being perfect. There’s something not quite tied up about the “Sea of Love” single that the killer plays – and Ellen Barkin’s relationship with the song. Also, the attempt on Pacino’s life comes too late in relation to the killer’s attacks on previous victims. Why does the killer wait so long to strike?
Those points aside, it’s hugely enjoyable.
It’s beautifully shot in black and white.
Joe Pesci is superb as LaMotta’s brother and trainer. Brilliantly, we never find out whether he’s having an affair with the boxer’s wife (Cathy Moriarty) or whether this is merely LaMotta’s jealousy and paranoia.
It’s brutally violent and every one of those punches looks like it really hurts. It’s excellently shot, in that sense. Being totally “method” about it, De Niro famously gained weight to depict LaMotta in his later years.
Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet are endearing in the lead roles, and their opposites-attract romance is offbeat and believable. What spoils the film is that the visual representation of memory – much of the story takes place in Jim Carrey’s mind – seems gimmicky and over-stylised. I appreciate that they were looking for a cinematic style that could resemble the way memories appear to us, but the fast-cut visuals are so full-on and relentless that they get in the way of the story. It could have been a far stronger film if the narrative and the editing allowed for some slower scenes that gave us the space to get to know the couple better. Indeed, the rare moments when they are simply talking or enjoying being together make up the best parts of the story.
Oddly enough, a sub-plot about the boss of the company offering memory removal (Tom Wilkinson) and a woman who works for him (Kirsten Dunst) is better handled because it unfolds at a more natural pace.
It’s so nearly brilliant, but the execution gets in the way. It’s a shame because the idea is a great one, and it enables the film to consider all sorts of ethical and even spiritual issues about identity and how much our pasts define who we are.
Winger is one of the strongest actresses of this era, but she isn’t really given enough to get her teeth into. Likewise Gere, who is perfectly acceptable. More impressive than either of them is Louis Gossett Jr. as the drill instructor who teaches Zack discipline.
It’s entertaining and the final third certainly pulls you in as the sub-plots about the secondary couple (Sid and Lynette) are developed. It would have been stronger if Zack’s father had either been made more of or ditched entirely. And a few laughs would have helped.
The soundtrack is a little intrusive at times. One of the love scenes has what sounds like lift music playing all the way through it. At the end we get the big hit song, “Up Where We Belong” by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes.
Cybil Shepherd and Jodie Foster are excellent as Betsy (the campaign volunteer for a presidential candidate) and Iris (a child prostitute), while Harvey Keitel is suitably creepy as Iris’s long-haired pimp.
It’s beautifully filmed: you could freeze almost any frame and make a poster of it. And Martin Scorsese’s subtle handling of tension was never better judged.
The original score by Bernard Herrmann makes a compelling, noirish film even more so.
You can interpret it as a film about PTSD or a story about isolation and loneliness.
Disturbingly, this classic was an influence on John Hinckley Jr., who in 1981 attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan in order to impress Jodie Foster.
Shirley MacLaine and Debra Winger play a mother and daughter who share an intense connection. We follow the evolution of that relationship, along with their couplings with Jack Nicholson and Jeff Daniels respectively. Then the plot takes a sideways turn and everything becomes a lot more serious.
What makes this an absolute gem is the quality of the acting. All four leads are remarkable, but MacLaine and Winger are quite extraordinary. They convey such a strong sense of personality for their complex, fully rounded characters that it’s difficult to imagine they aren’t real people.
De Niro is fantastic: genuinely unpredictable and hugely watchable. Keitel is sympathetic: you can relate to him because he seems to want to do the right thing, but he’s out of his depth. His epileptic girlfriend Teresa (Amy Robinson) is also likeable and convincing.
While it’s a lower-budget, earlier film than most of the classics in his catalogue, Scorsese’s usual tricks and tics are all in place: the wall-to-wall use of music (including Phil Spector hits and the Rolling Stones), the distinctive dialogue and framing of shots, and the expert ramping up of dramatic tension.
