krocheav

Here we have yet another Australian movie hell bent on proving we fund more movies that don't make money and are deliberately perverse for the sake of it. From beginning to end, this decrepit movie just sinks further into its own dreary sludge. Kidman must only be after the money, or she would not touch these stinkers, and she shows she will perform any morally low-life action for the right price in the name of 'art'. Director Kim Ferrant and writer Fiona Seres don't help, offering guideless, shallow characters, stumbling obcenly through a wasteland of cheap, melodrama.

They present Kidman and Daughter as both sleazy nymphomaniacs, occasionally throwing up weak physiological allusions as to why each may have become such, but not flowing up with vital support for any of them. As it endlessly ambles along, each scene seems to attempt to outdo the crassness of the one that went before.

Then, without any intelligent conclusions, this way overstretched mess just sinks further into its own forgettableness - throwing away some reasonable cinematography and performances along its weary way.

Wit is quite astounding on several levels: firstly, that it was made at all; secondly that any lead could play it as if it was actually happening to them, and thirdly, that it could be directed and photographed so superbly within the confines of the story-telling and settings. I doubt that we have ever seen (or could see again) Emma Thompson so utterly and desperately convincing in an excruciatingly realistic portrayal.

She and Mike Nichols have created a sterling screenplay from Margaret Edson's Pulitzer Prize-winning play, constructing a continuous tour de force screen experience. They have overcome the often static nature of stage material with heartfelt performances and editorial perfection. This could prove too potent for some viewers not wanting to engage with the final throws of life, but it's so perfectly done - it carries the viewer in its arms to the final desperate outcome, leaving us as if we've all learnt something.

A genuine, compelling screen achievement for discerning, mature audiences, with a hard-working, hand-picked cast, bringing it sharply to life.

Who would have expected a film that runs for under 80mins to have such 'A grade' credentials? Nightfall is such a movie. With credits starting with Ted Richmond and Tyrone Power's Production Company, it then boasts Jacques Tourneur as director (Out of the Past '49). Then comes the top flight cast; Aldo Ray, Brian Keith, and a lovely, youthful Anne Bancroft, supported by well known character players. Now add cinematography by the great Burnett Guffey (All the Kings Men '49 etc, etc), a screenplay by Stirling Silliphant (Charlie '69) based on David Goodi's robust novel.

It has the earmarks of a film intended as a main feature that, for some reason, ended up being a support for a double-feature bill - it also keeps the viewer engaged with a series of compelling, tense situations. While there are a couple of strange plot gaps, it flows at such a pace these can be somewhat overlooked. Lovers of fifties noir dramas won't be too disappointed with this quite rare offering, and Ray does well as the everyman thrown in at the deep end, hiding out for his life.