Flash Gordon.
A bored, unseen villain plans the destruction of Earth, but not before he’s had his fun “playing”, controlling various natural disasters that decimate the planet (a scene later sampled by The Orb on “Earth (Gaia)”, see 1991). FLASH! A-AH! The opening credits role as Queen’s iconic theme plays. New York Jets quarterback, Flash Gordon, boards a small aeroplane, where he meets the only other passenger, travel agent Dale Arden. The ongoing havoc on Earth causes the plane to crash land into mad scientist Hans Zarkov’s greenhouse laboratory. There Dr Zarkov reveals a rocket ship he has built, with which he intends to investigate the source of the chaos, believing an extraterrestrial to be the culprit. Having been lured onto the ship, Flash, Dale and Zarkov land on the planet Mongo, where they are introduced to Ming, the powerful, ruthless ruler of the galaxy behind the attack on Earth. Flash is imprisoned, Zarkov is to be “reprogrammed”, and Dale is to remain with Ming as his concubine. Flash must escape from prison, rescue his friends and save the Earth. Flash Gordon is tacky, campy garbage, in the best way possible. The so-bad-it’s-good fun was a welcome relief, having watched Utøya the night before. Worth watching for the American football guard fight scene alone. Hilariously tragic dialogue, garish costumes and sets, an awfully incredible film.
The Fog.
11:55pm on the 20th April 1980. Beside a campfire on the beach of Antonio Bay, California, an old man tells a group of children of a ghost story from the town’s past. One hundred years ago to the day, a clipper ship was engulfed by a thick fog. Guided only by a fire on the shore, the ship ran aground causing it to sink and all six people onboard to drown. As midnight strikes back in 1980, supernatural activities occur all over the town, along with the return of the ominous fog. A small shipping vessel is boarded and the crew are murdered. By 1am the town has more-or-less returned to normal, and the fog receded. As Antonio Bay’s centenary celebrations begin the following day, the mystery of the damned ship and the origins of the town are revealed, before the fog returns again at midnight, along with the dead crew of the sunken ship. John Carpenter’s The Fog is a terrifying, pulsating, classic-horror flick from a master of the genre. A chilling score. Tense silences. Visually stunning. A genuinely scary ghost story. Has you on the edge of your seat and watching from behind the sofa at the same time.
Camera Buff.
Polish factory worker Filip Mosz is a loving husband and new father. He purchases an 8mm movie camera in order to record his daughter’s first days, and explains to his wife that he now has everything he ever wanted in life. The director of the local Communist Party learns of Filip’s camera and “asks” him to make a film of the plant’s 25th anniversary celebrations. Filip is consumed by his new hobby as he becomes fascinated by the possibilities working with film presents, while his wife feels neglected and begins to worry for Filip; before long, that worry turns to anger and resentment. Filip continues his filmmaking ventures, but at the detriment to his marriage, will he realise the cost of his obsession before it’s too late? The semi-autobiographical account of director Krzysztof Kieślowski’s early years as a documentary filmmaker depicts the difficulty in remaining politically neutral in the bureaucracy of communist Poland. Camera Buff has the ability to simultaneously inspire and deter viewers from pursuing the filmmaking craft; the beauty of film and the power contained within each frame is offset against the censorship by those in power and the effect it can have on one’s personal life. Kieślowski refuses to put a step wrong.
Stalker.
A man, recently returned from prison, prepares to embark on a similar escapade that incarcerated him previously, much to the dismay of his wife. The man is a “Stalker”: he facilitates entry into the Zone, while also serving as a guide and protector. The Stalker leads a writer and a physicist through an abandoned, heavily guarded, fog-shrouded town, into the mysterious Zone where the rules of reality don’t apply. The Stalker, the Writer and the Professor travel on foot in search of a room that grants the inhabitants their deepest desire, never taking the shortest path for fear of traps and unseen antagonists. On their journey the men reflect on the their existence, the meaning of life, their personal reasons for entering the Zone and their innermost desires that await in the Room. Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker is an engrossing, tense, sci-fi fantasy that borders on psychological thriller; as one comes to expect from Tarkovsky however, there is a depth to the film that leaves the viewer with much to ponder once the credits roll. The director poses questions both philosophical and psychological on the subconscious mind and the nature of human desire, combined with the gorgeous photography and score, Stalker elevates film to a higher form of art. Tarkovsky at his flawless best.
Kagemusha.
16th century Japan. Ruthless warlord Takeda Shingen meets with his brother, Nobukado, who introduces Shingen to a petty thief he recently spared from crucifixion. The reason for this act of generosity: the thief bares a striking resemblance to the warlord. The two agree on the thief’s potential usefulness and have him serve as a “kagemusha”, a political decoy. Some time later while Shingen’s army is laying siege to an opposing clan’s castle, the warlord is shot by a sniper. The assassination threatens the prosperity of Shingen’s clan, with rival lords seeing his death as weakening his clan and therefore making it more vulnerable. In his final moments, Shingen orders his generals to keep his death secret for three years, by which time his son will inherit his role. Nobukado later presents the kagemusha to the generals and proposes that he take Shingen’s place in public, to which they, and the thief, reluctantly accept. An intriguing Japanese historical epic, Akira Kurosawa’s Kagemusha is a superbly made film: the sets, costumes and locations are exquisite. It does, however, drag at times as it attempts to stretch a fairly simple plot into a 180-minute run time. The fault isn’t entirely with Kurosawa in this regard though, as I started watching Kagemusha 9:30pm on a Saturday. An emotional samurai film from the master.
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