The War of the Worlds (USA, 1953)
Directed by Byron Haskin
Starring Gene Barry, Ann Robinson, Les Tremayne, Cedric Hardwicke

It's a common complaint that American adaptations of British novels lose the quintessential nature of their source in favour of something more glossy and marketable. That's certainly true of The War of the Worlds, the first attempt to put H. G. Wells' iconic novel up on screen, and the first to come in the shadow of Orson Welles' ground-breaking radio play. It's not as tense as Welles' version, or as enjoyable as Steven Spielberg's take, but it is a perfectly passable adaptation with a number of strong points.The film starts off with our narrator (played by English character actor Sir Cedric Hardwicke) guiding us on a whistle-stop tour through the solar system. He explains the hostile nature of other planets' atmospheres, concluding that if the Martians should invade anywhere, it would have to be Earth. The Martians are presented as an intelligent race, and we are to some extent shown the build-up to the invasion from their point of view.

Having started promisingly, it isn't long before some of the film's budgetary constraints become apparent. Like a lot of B-movies, the film is heavily reliant on stock footage during its bigger, more action-packed moments. Its re-use of the same shots of cannons firing and tanks rolling into battle make it seem like an ad campaign for the American army. In the middle of the film there is also a montage of destruction and chaos intercut with footage of the actors, a technique which would later be used to perfection in the opening sequence of Mad Max 2.On the other hand, we have the special effects of the aliens. This is the element which Byron Haskin and his team had to get right, and generally speaking, they did. The swan-shaped copper aliens were specifically designed not to resemble flying saucers, and in the wide shots especially they are pretty threatening. They are not, however, tripods as detailed in the book; rather than walking (which is difficult to replicate mechanically), the war machines float via beams of blue light, which at the very least distract us from the wire work.But while the war machine designs are truly out of this world, the Martians themselves are disappointing human. The faces of the Martians, which are replicated in their periscopes, are made up of red, blue and green panels, which are arranged to vaguely resemble the outline of a human face - the red panel is at the bottom to denote a mouth, and the blue and green panels above it could easily be eyes. As is so often the case, the aliens in The War of the Worlds look most sinister from a distance - when a Martian touches our heroine on the shoulder, it's a bit pathetic.This version of The War of the Worlds deviates sharply from the novel in a number of ways, some interesting and successful, others less so. Most obviously, the action is relocated from 1890s Woking to 1950s California, and in doing so a lot of the substance of Wells' novel is lost. So much of the original story is about turning the accepted British political and social attitudes on their heads by portraying a war in which the British are the victims of an invasion rather than the conquerors. British imperialism, Herbert Spencer's natural selection and the 'English way of life' are all held under the microscope and shown to be ruthless and unjust.By transferring the story to America, as Welles had done, The War of the Worlds becomes more about the Cold War and American fears of 'Reds under the beds'. Some of this substance fits quite nicely around the original plot: the Martians, who come from 'the Red planet', are demonstrated to be highly organised and efficient, and working collectively towards a single goal. But even as bald allegory goes, it's not as satisfying an examination of Communist threat as Invasion of the Body-Snatchers (which itself is trumped by the 1970s version by Philip Kaufman).

More frustratingly, the film makes big concessions to melodrama. We are required, for instance, to believe that Gene Barry is a famous and highly intelligent scientist, despite the fact that he looks every bit as chisel-jawed and rugged as Charlton Heston. When Ann Robinson's character questions him about this, he says that he shaved his beard off before coming to town and so no longer resembles his photo on the cover of Time. As laughable excuses go, it's up there with the line in The Hunt for Red October in which Sean Connery's unique accent is explained away by saying he is Lithuanian.Being an old Hollywood film, the role of women is, shall we say, restricted. Robinson is required to scream and be hysterical on cue, while all the men around here can be noble, restrained and carry out a plan of action. While the male leads dash around the bunker, planning their attack on the Martians, she is left to hand up cups of coffee; and after the couple have sheltered in a tumbledown house, she makes Barry his breakfast first thing in the morning. The film may not be as sexist as The Snows of Kilimanjaro, but it's hardly pushing the envelope when it comes to female roles.

Despite these contrivances, however, we find ourselves bonding to these characters and staying with them for the course of the film. Although their introduction might be slightly silly, they are generally well-drawn and sympathetic. We certainly care about them enough to worry that they might get separated and never see each other again, as happens in the last twenty minutes when the film really girds its loins and shows human society on the verge of collapse. Critics of The War of the Worlds have written the story off as people running away for 90 minutes, but these scenes are both visually spectacular and emotionally engrossing.The film is at its most interesting when it taps into the characters trying to cope with the invasion and depicting the surrounding chaos. Aside from the street scenes in which men are turning on men and money has become worthless, there are a number of moments of genuine panic or alarm which stick in one's mind. The scene of the vicar wandering out to meet the Martians while reciting Psalm 23 will have you on edge, as will the feeling of desperation after the aliens survive an atomic bomb.

As with all productions of The War of the Worlds, we eventually have to face one of the anticlimactic endings in literature. Having the aliens being killed by bacteria is a classic deus ex machina, drawing the action to a convenient close through a plot device which is deeply unsatisfying. But rather than go the way of The Blob or Invasion of the Body-Snatchers and leave us on a daring cliff-hanger, this adaptation takes the original ending and manages to fudge it further.Wells was a scientific socialist who believed in rational progress towards a better society. In the book, our narrator takes shelter with a priest who loses his mind and meets a sticky end: the rational survive, the irrational do not. But Haskin and his screenwriter Barré Lyndon (an obvious but witty pseudonym) fudge this by inserting religious themes. Just before the Martians start falling out of the sky, the survivors are gathered in a church praying for a miracle. The narrator explains that "humanity was saved by the littlest things, which God, in His wisdom, had put upon this earth.". Suggesting after such carnage that God was involved all the time simply doesn't cut the mustard in this context.The War of the Worlds is perfectly passable tosh. It doesn't have the political balls or ambition of Orson Welles' version, and it deviates from its source so wildly that purists will be annoyed. But there is enough schlocky B-movie charm in it to entertain for its short running time, and those who are not fans of Spielberg's version will probably enjoy this more. It's nothing to write home about, but as 1950s B-movies go it has lasted and dated surprisingly well.

Rating: 3/5
Verdict: Perfectly passable B-movie tosh

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (USA, 2008)
Directed by Steven Spielberg
Starring Harrison Ford, Karen Allen, Shia LeBoeuf, Cate Blanchett

Nostalgia is a very dangerous thing. Having great memories of a certain point in one's life is fantastic, but any attempt to recapture that moment when everything around you has changed is bound to end in failure. All that remains once the forced smiles have disappeared is a sad sense of disappointment and an increased awareness of the rapid passage of time.

It is with a similarly heavy heart that we approach the fourth, but perhaps not final, Indiana Jones film, which comes 19 years after the original trilogy bowed out on a high with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It's been a long time coming, having gone through various scripts and directors since The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles wrapped in the mid-1990s. Steven Spielberg, who felt he had matured as a filmmaker since the originals, only agreed to make a fourth film if he could guarantee the fans something new and entertaining. And in all fairness, he has partially succeeded.The problem, as Spielberg readily admits, is that so much has changed since the original trilogy. On the one hand, there have been many films, if not entire franchises, which have unashamedly ripped off Indiana Jones. Romancing the Stone, Tomb Raider, National Treasure, even The Da Vinci Code, all try to do their own version of the films with varying degrees of success. On the other hand, the action genre has changed beyond recognition, through the work of John McTiernan, the Wachowskis, Paul Greengrass and (unfortunately) Michael Bay. Just as James Bond looks out of place next to Jason Bourne, so Indiana Jones feels at best like affectionate old hat.

What this all means is that 'Indy 4' has the dual burden of having to update the series to give it a relevance or purpose, while also retaining the nostalgic, B-movie aesthetic and pantomime content which made the originals so much fun. To everyone's surprise, and some disappointment, what we end up with is just more of the same. It's delivered every bit as efficiently and light-heartedly as the originals, but with an even more deliberate nostalgia and not much of an attempt to argue its case for existing.Proof of this is easily found in the plot, which borrows heavily from the first three films. The central strand, about recovering an ancient religious artefact which may have magical powers, is a straight lift from Last Crusade, only with Mayan mythology rather than Christian icons. The involvement of foreign armies (the Russians on this occasion) sits very closely to Raiders of the Lost Ark, with Cate Blanchett's character filling in for both the poncy archaeologist and the Gestapo officer. And the scenes of underground tribal warriors clearly resemble the mine scenes in Temple of Doom, with vague, heavily watered-down hints of Apocalypto.

All that has been said so far makes the film seem like a simple case of George Lucas betraying the fans that made him rich and famous, ruthlessly milking a cash cow while flogging a dead horse. One of the big criticisms centres on the involvement of aliens in the story, which brings with it a lot of special effects and the kind of preposterous mythological dialogue which was already quite silly when The Omen was being made.But, at the risk of a massive backlash, this idea is more or less in keeping with the spirit of the series even if its execution is not. The work of Erich von Däniken, about the possibility of extra-terrestrial influence on prehistoric societies, is every bit as preposterous as the legend of the Holy Grail - it doesn't in itself make the story any less compelling or entertaining.

Just like its predecessors, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is at heart an upmarket B-movie, which pays tribute to the matinee idols and boys' own adventures of Lucas' and Spielberg's youth. The new material (well, I say new) is handled in the same pulpy way as the other plots: it matters in relation to keeping up with the story, but you don't have to go away and think about it afterwards. And the film does a fairly decent job of showing how certain aspects have moved on; there's a sad moment of Indy looking at photos of Henry Jones Sr. and Marcus Brody on his desk, but we don't linger on the details long enough for it to get mawkish.Spielberg has always been as his best directing light-hearted, crowd-pleasing popcorn fodder; even when the films are familiar in terms of story and themes, they are better assembled and more engaging than his 'serious' works. And in this film there is a lot of fun to be had. There's nothing quite as witty as the sword vs. gun fight in Raiders of the Lost Ark, or all the banter between father and son in Last Crusade. But the scene where a fight breaks out between the rockers and the jocks to the sound of 'Shake Rattle & Roll' is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.Like the originals, there is an element of silliness involved. If you find yourself losing it when Indy survives a nuclear blast by hiding in a lead-lined fridge, then you're not going to get through it. But for those of us who are left, the film manages to keep up the entertainment just enough for us not to notice. Let's be honest, if you handle a guy who manages to survive such amazing stunts, even at this ripe old age, then a prospect of crystal aliens or a sand-based obelisk with a lake underneath isn't going to faze you.The stunts and set-pieces in Crystal Skull are also generally well-played. Most of them refer directly back to the previous films - the truck chase through the jungle begins almost exactly like the truck chase in the first film. Others are more generic, such as the cars racing along a cliff or driving a motorcycle through a building. As before, these scenes are unremarkable but efficiently delivered, and they deserve credit for mostly avoiding CGI, with Harrison Ford still doing most of his own stunts.

The performances are all quite enjoyable, like seeing old friends again after a long time apart. Ford, who has become noticeably grumpier off-screen, handles the older persona of Henry Jones Jr. pretty well, proving he is still skilled with the whip and can deliver one-liners every bit as tartly. It's good to see the feisty Karen Allen back on screen, and her character is much more substantial than either of Indy's other conquests - as he says himself, the problem with the others was that "they weren't you".Elsewhere we have John Hurt and Cate Blanchett having a good time chewing the scenery, and Ray Winstone turning even the silliest line into something vaguely threatening. The one weak link is Shia LeBoeuf, who isn't convincing either as Indy's son or as a rebel-without-a-cause. When he first romps on screen, looking like a kid dressing up as Marlon Brando, you sort of forgive him and expect improvement. But he simply isn't charismatic enough to carry the film, let alone any future instalments.

But the main problem, which stops Crystal Skull from being just another decent film, is the ending. The actual ending, with Indy and Marion getting married, isn't a problem at all: it's a fitting way for these characters to wind up and Spielberg's sentimentalism isn't out of place. But the scenes preceding it, with the crystal skeletons merging and the flying saucer destroying a whole valley, do look for all the world like Lucas snuck behind the camera while Spielberg was on his coffee break. The special effects are poorly obvious, it's boring to watch and the characters are lost in the wide shots as everything blows up and nobody cares.Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is not a terrible film by any means. It recaptures the tone of the originals very well, something which is both its biggest strength and its greatest weakness. It is staggeringly unremarkable in its plot and execution, but at under 2 hours long it is much less bloated and baggy than either the Star Wars prequels or the Pirates of the Caribbean series. In the end, it's probably as good, if not slightly better than we had any right to expect. But if a fifth instalment should come along soon, it might not be so easily embraced.

Rating: 2.5/5
Verdict: Remarkably unremarkable

Shutter Island (USA, 2010)
Directed by Martin Scorsese
Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley, Max von Sydow

It's very common for directors to indulge themselves after winning awards, using the heft of their new-found acclaim to splash out on a pet project. And considering how long Martin Scorsese had to wait for his Oscar, no-one could complain about him letting his hair down and doing something a little less cerebral. While it never reaches the heights of his earlier work, Shutter Island is a fun and engaging thriller which more or less holds together, and which is made with the same affection for its genre as Peter Jackson's remake of King Kong.The comparison with King Kong extends further than just two great directors kicking back a little. Both Jackson's remake and Shutter Island are upmarket re-workings of rich B-movie traditions, namely the monster movie and the asylum-based thriller. Both take films or genres which are well-worn or familiar, and re-imagine their stories as they would have been told had the technology or the money been available the first time around.

The core ideas in Shutter Island are easily recognisable to film fans, and even casual Scorsese-ites will be able to spot the master returning to old themes. The idea of a mental institute in which the lines between patients and doctors are blurred is a big lift from Shock Corridor, or its slightly more upmarket cousin The Ninth Configuration. The idea of foul play involving Nazi or ex-Nazi scientists is taken from The Boys from Brazil, which itself was rather ripe. And the device of an island or isolated location being cut off by the elements is as old as the trees; Stanley Kubrick was pastiching it when he made The Shining.This revamped B-movie aesthetic is reinforced by Shutter Island's pulpy, glossy visuals. The film is often art directed to within an inch of its life, as Scorsese seeks to wring out every inch of suspense and terror from the claustrophobic setting. Like The Killer Inside Me shortly after it, Shutter Island's visuals are rooted in 1950s noir, not just in costumes and lighting decisions but in the measured and deceptive staging of certain sequences. Scorsese utilises every possible camera angle to tell the story, from tough dolly shots when the German soldiers are executed, to tight zooms on the spiral staircase which recall the ending of The Red Shoes.

As if you needed any more convincing that this is not a 'serious' work, you only have to listen to the dialogue in the first 30 minutes. The running of the island is explained in such a way that you know which elements will come into play later on. And there are a number of deliberate continuity errors which are common in low-budget films, such as glasses disappearing and re-appearing. The film is edited by Thelma Schoonmaker, widow of Michael Powell, and both she and Scorsese are too talented to let such things slip by unnoticed.The central idea or twist of Shutter Island is that of people pretending to be other people, and living out their lives as highly complicated fantasies or repetitions of past lives. Again, we are on familiar ground, not just with The Shining but with Roman Polanski's The Tenant. Both of these films succeed by completely disorientating their audiences: the goalposts are constantly shifting and what seemed a watertight explanation ten minutes ago is no longer anything of the sort. On a slightly lesser note, the actual revelation involving Teddy Daniels' name is a clouded reference to Robert De Niro's character in Angel Heart.All that has been said so far makes Shutter Island out to be a failure, a film packed with enough references to satisfy fanboys but nothing for the uninitiated. Considering that so much of the film is well-worn to the point of being ridiculous, and that is knowingly well-worn at that, the film must then succeed or fail on whether or not it is entertaining and thrilling in its own right. And broadly speaking, it's is, albeit not completely.

The most illuminating comparison is with The Ghost Writer, another Polanski film which is also at heart an old-fashioned thriller. Both Polanski and Scorsese are fantastic visual artists, who know how to use colour and music both thematically and symbolically, and who can achieve a real sense of thrill whatever the subject or situation. But The Ghost Writer is the superior film because it is much more certain of its own purpose and identity, not just in terms of its politics but as a piece of genre filmmaking. The Ghost Writer is so constantly aware of what it wants to be, and of the manner in which it wants to achieve that, that even when aspects like the final twist don't quite work, it still feels reasonably sure-footed.Shutter Island, for all its knowing ripeness and unapologetic B-movie trappings, can't quite make up its mind how serious it wants to take itself. For its first half hour, where the dialogue is expository to the point of being parody, you are expecting a kind of knowingly cheesy film in the manner of High Anxiety. But as the various plot twists start to unfold, including some very graphic dream sequences involving murdered children and the Holocaust, we begin to feel like the film is wanting to carry more weight that its setup seems to allow.

To its credit, most of Shutter Island does hold together rather well. The dream sequences involving Teddy Daniels' wife and children are beautifully done; seeing his wife turn slowly to ashes as the house burns is very striking. And taken purely as a thriller, it is an exciting romp with a series of plot points which fit together while throwing us off. The scenes of Leonardo DiCaprio wandering along dark corridors by match-light are like the action sequences in The Time Machine married to the haunted house traditions of The Haunting or Alien.On the other hand, as many reviews have pointed out, the final reveal involving Teddy's true identity is somewhat disappointing. It's not that the twist comes out of nowhere and makes no sense, nor conversely that we could see bits of it coming a mile off. The disappointment comes from the fact that we have to definitively settle for one version of events over another; once we leave the lighthouse, the sense of threat has largely gone. It would have been braver and more effective to have left the audience hanging, to decide for themselves whether Teddy was real or not. There is not the same level of ambiguity as in The Shining, or Inception, or indeed Mulholland Drive. But it would have satisfied both the conventions of the genre and created enough debate for a couple of water-cooler moments.The performances in Shutter Island are as ripe and enjoyable as the material. DiCaprio may have assumed Robert DeNiro's mantle as Scorsese's actor of choice, but his performances have been much more larger-than-life than his predecessor. While his Howard Hughes in The Aviator occasionally drifted into pastiche, here he is in full-on scenery-chewing mode, playing up every emotion and being constantly on edge. Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow are clearly enjoying themselves, revelling in the chance to play with the material and send up their earlier, 'serious' selves. And Mark Ruffalo is also solid, even if his role does become more of a cipher as things play out.Shutter Island is ultimately a good fun thriller which is a great deal more stimulating than Quentin Tarantino's efforts at B-movie homage. It's not a 'serious' or 'proper' Scorsese work both by design and execution, but it is slightly hamstrung by its occasional desire to take itself a bit too seriously for the circumstances. In all it's an enjoyable, atmospheric work crammed with enough suspense for thriller fans, enough references for film geeks, and just about enough entertainment for the rest of us.

Rating: 3.5/5
Verdict: Cheesy, romping and ultimately good fun

Flash Gordon (USA, 1980)
Directed by Mike Hodges
Starring Sam J. Jones, Melody Anderson, Max von Sydow, Brian Blessed

It's often the case that films we loved in our childhood don't hold up half as well when viewed again as an adult. Likewise it's very common to rediscover a film we hated in our teenage years, only to find that we were completely wrong and that said pariah is actually a masterpiece.

Flash Gordon is a more complicated example of this prolonged change of heart. As a boy under the age of 10, you can't believe your luck - bright colours, big action sequences, scary villains and a chisel-jawed hero. As a teenager who desperately wants to be cool, it's deeply embarrassing - dodgy special effects, hammy acting, a nonsensical plot and Max von Sydow dressing up as Fu Manchu. It's only after this difficult period has passed that the film reveals itself for what it really is - one of the most deliberately and thrillingly silly films gave to grace the screen.If one were to sum up Flash Gordon in a sentence, one could describe it as a remake of the 1936 film, with the added benefits of colour, a better soundtrack (just) and (in Britain at least) more famous actors. For those of us with some knowledge of British character actors and eccentrics, the film contains a number of irresistible one-offs. Where else could you see future Bond Timothy Dalton in green spandex, or ex-I, Claudius emperor Brian Blessed in wings and a leather tunic, or Rocky Horror's Richard O'Brien as a double-crossing pipe-player?

There is also some enjoyment to be derived from the fact that the film is helmed by the same man who made Get Carter, a film as far removed from comics as you can get. Flash Gordon was Mike Hodges' first completed film in six years, after he was sacked from Damien: Omen II three weeks into filming. And for all its technical shortcomings (more on those later), Hodges does direct very well; his compositions are good, the stunts and fights are well-choreographed, the characterisation is memorable and - most importantly - he captures the spirit of the original comics.The reason that Flash Gordon works so well, both as a comic adaptation and a film in general, is that it is aware of the limitations of both its source material and the level of spectacle its budget allows. The original Flash Gordon comics were classic boys'-own adventure tales: stories of adventure on faraway worlds where ordinary heroes battle evil villains, save the world and get the girl. The film updates the characters a little, so that Flash becomes an American footballer and Dale Arden is a travel agent, but otherwise the story plays out in exactly the same kind of romping, rapid-fire style of the original stories.

If we attempt to take Flash Gordon seriously, watching it as a 'proper' science fiction film and looking for deeper meanings in its talkier scenes, we'd last about five minutes before either giving up or bursting out laughing. The plot is totally ludicrous, requiring us to accept a load of unbelievable coincidences. For instance, how lucky that Flash and Dale's plane happened to crash land right in front of Dr. Hans Zarkov's laboratory, just as he was about to launch the rocket?Ming the Merciless' evil plan for defeating the Earth is staple science faction fantasy; we're used to films with ray guns and magnetic shields, and so we don't question that he has the ability to move the Moon using a ray. But we still have to contend with a number of cavalier inconsistencies in the plot. The process of brainwashing Zarkov is built up and up into something quite unnerving. But five minutes later, he's back to his old self, having survived it by remembering fragments of the Talmud. In another scene, Princess Aura and Dale catfight for the best part of a minute, and then quickly become friends as if nothing happened. And why, oh why, did Ming choose to stay standing exactly where he was when the spaceship was clearly heading straight for him?

It's true that evolutions in technology take time to filter down through the various echelons of filmmaking; just because Industrial Light and Magic existed in 1980 doesn't mean that everyone could afford them. The art direction in Flash Gordon (which was BAFTA-nominated) makes the clouds resemble a marbling kit, and the special effects themselves make Thunderbirds look slick. Take the early shots of the rocket entering Ming's universe, in which one can clearly see the image on a piece of acetate being moved across the background. And then we have Gilbert Taylor's cinematography, which bathes everything in so much red that it's like watching the whole film through a vat of claret.And you know what? None of this matters, and here's why. If this storyline had been played even faintly seriously, the film would have been a naff, self-important turkey like Xanadu (or maybe Dune, considering the presence of Dino De Laurentiis). You simply couldn't treat Flash Gordon like Batman or Superman because it's not designed to be taken seriously or to have allegorical connotations. The closest it ever comes to having any kind of message is in the big final showdown, with all the various people uniting against the evil emperor. Considering the comic's origins in the 1930s, one could argue it was making a political message about fascism, but even that's stretching a point.By playing everything for the fans and getting knowing laughs, Flash Gordon is a triumph - or as close to one as we could expect. The fact that we laugh at it so lovingly is no accident. The screenplay comes from Lorenzo Simple, Jr., who wrote the Batman TV series and manages to tap into the inherent silliness of the plot. The soundtrack by Queen and Howard Blake sounds mediocre on its own, but when you've got big battle scenes with camp choreography, it makes sense to have stunts being backed by kick-ass guitar solos and pounding drums. In any case, Brian May's take on the wedding march is genuinely cool and really brings out the best in that scene.

From an historical point of view, the film also illuminates much about the original Star Wars trilogy. It's well-documented that Star Wars had its origins in the matinee idols and Saturday morning westerns of George Lucas' youth. But the influence of Flash Gordon goes beyond that, with this version containing many scenes which seem to eerily foreshadow Return of the Jedi. Both films feature a forest planet with tribal communities living in the treetops, and both have a giant monster with a beak and tentacles that tries to swallow people up. One could certainly argue that Krylus was the Darth Vader of his day, albeit with a voice which is much more Jeremy Irons than James Earl Jones.On top of everything, Flash Gordon is simply great fun. Despite the various fallings-out that happened in post-production, you get the sense watching it that the cast and crew had great fun making it. Brian Blessed and Timothy Dalton are clearly having a ball, judging their lines perfectly and relishing the stunts; one can see in Dalton's performance the same kind of ferocious intensity that would serve him well during his tenure as Bond. Max von Sydow relishes his part, playing pantomime villain complete with curled lips and clipped pronunciation. Cinema fans should also keep an eye out for very brief cameos from Robbie Coltrane (at the airfield) and Deep Roy, who would later play all the Oompa-Loompas in Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.It would be very easy to view Flash Gordon with disdain or contempt. Just as Airplane! eventually led to Epic Movie and Disaster Movie, so one could hold Flash Gordon to task for giving us Batman and Robin. But this would be deeply unfair considering how well the finished product holds up after thirty years. The film is directed with wit and intelligence, the script does justice to the comics while retaining a sense of humour, and above all it's virtually faultless as a slice of pure entertainment. For all its faults (and there are many), Flash Gordon is a triumph of both the sublime and the ridiculous. It's incredibly silly from start to finish - and you simply won't care.

Rating: 4/5
Verdict: A cult camp classic

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (USA, 1975)
Directed by Jim Sharman
Starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick, Charles Gray

Film critics spend a sizable part of their careers trying to convince people to judge films on deeper grounds than whether or not they are fun. But every so often a film comes along which defies all their holier-than-thou criteria, a film which laughs in the face of criticism itself. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is one of these films, and seeing it as “just a bit of fun” is the only way to approach it.

If you go into Rocky Horror wanting to analyse deep-seated themes, or unpick the dialogue to reveal some ecstatic truth, you’ll sit through the whole thing either frustrated or bored and come out completely po-faced having not got the joke. If you go in looking to spot all the B-movie references, you’ll enjoy it a little more, although you will look every bit as geeky as Quentin Tarantino. The only way one can really experience Rocky Horror is to take the film’s advice and “give yourself over to absolute pleasure”: sit back, open your mind and let the Time Warp do the rest.Like all the best cult films, Rocky Horror commercially underperformed when first released. And in hindsight it’s not hard to see why. Much like its contemporaries (Night of the Living Dead, Pink Flamingos, El Topo and Eraserhead) it is very hard to sit through Rocky Horror in complete comfort the first time round. Part of this is intentional: several scenes are scary and the visuals are striking enough to send the uninitiated reeling. But equally there are things about Rocky Horror which (at least now) don’t quite hang together or work as well as one would want.

Richard O’Brien (who also stars as Riff Raff) conceived the stage show as a love letter to old sci-fi and horror B-movies; he described it as a means to relive childhood memories of Frankenstein and Nosferatu, and escape from the reality of being out of work. True to form, the opening song pays lip service to a host of old movies, from the original versions of Flash Gordon and The Day The Earth Stood Still to more campy fare like The Invisible Man and It Came From Outer Space.The film plays out like a jumble-sale of B-movie plots, restaged with maximum camp and more than a little affection. The creation of Rocky is a witty riff on Frankenstein; the monster remains largely mute and afraid of fire, but the master designs him as a source of pleasure rather than a means to make humans immortal. There are clear hints of King Kong in the final third, as Frank N. Furter wonders “Whatever happened to Fay Wray?” and Rocky dies from falling off the RKO Tower. The Hammer stable also runs right through Rocky Horror, solidified by the casting of Charles Gray in his most enjoyable performance since The Devil Rides Out.But by far the biggest influence on Rocky Horror is The Wizard of Oz, something which O’Brien readily acknowledges. The film was originally intended to be filmed in black-and-white up until Frank N. Furter’s entrance, to mimic Dorothy’s journey from Kansas. Moreover, the central story of Brad and Janet is one of innocent, pure individuals being whisked off against their will to a world they don’t understand – and like Dorothy, they have to deal with many great evils in their desperate bid to get back home.While it retains many aspects of the L. Frank Baum story, Rocky Horror subverts or departs from key elements in a way which reveals its deeper message (if it has such a thing). While Oz has a cop-out ending where everything returns to normal, the lives of Brad and Janet are shattered forever; there is no going back to their previous lives of whitewashed churches and pastel dresses. Likewise Dorothy retains her purity or innocence throughout, while both Brad and Janet give in to temptation and find that they enjoy it. The final song is a duet between the conflicting desires of Barry Bostwick’s ‘bleeding’ heart and Susan Sarandon’s promiscuity. One could almost liken the final scene to a sexualised restaging of the Fall, with Charles Gray looking on as a God who is criminally disappointed in his ‘insects’.

Rocky Horror has been hailed as many things in its lifetime, from a call for sexual liberation to some sort of Brechtian challenge to the role of an audience. Most of these accolades have an ounce of credibility but were not the intention of the filmmakers; no-one ever planned that audiences would start dressing up as the characters or talking back to the screen. Its sexual politics are incredibly liberal, with the message being one of accepting each other’s identities and preferences rather than encouraging the 1970s equivalent of ‘free love’. To suggest that Rocky Horror is a non-ironic advert for sexual promiscuity is to foolishly ignore the film’s more sophisticated side.If Rocky Horror were simply a vehicle to convince people to dress up in fishnets and give in to lust, far less effort would have been expelled on the dialogue and the characters. O’Brien’s script is witty and in-your-face, and Tim Curry chews his way through every line with relish and panache. The character of Frank N. Furter is much more complex and unpredictable than one might assume; he is not just a mad scientist posing as a drag queen, or indeed vice versa. Like the story he inhabits, he flits from one aspect to another – he is equal parts bawling child, narcissistic drama queen, sexual sadist and English gentleman, and it remains Tim Curry’s finest performance.

It’s very hard to pin down exactly what makes Rocky Horror such a hoot to watch. Some of it is the songs, which are brilliantly written with syllable-stretching humour. Some of it is in the action scenes, from Meatloaf riding indoors on his motorbike to Dr. Scott’s wheelchair becoming magnetised. But most of it comes from the knowledge that the film doesn’t really care what you think, and that the cast were having a ball – seeing Gray dance the Time Warp on a table is one of the best comedy moments of the decade.Inevitably, there are things about Rocky Horror which don’t work, at least not anymore. In the final third the songs become more medley-based and the plot steadily peters out. Although the ending itself is befitting, there is a lot of filler in the floor show before we get there. This may be intentional, since cabaret shows are not known for being speedy affairs. But there is a still a sense of the film dragging and getting caught up in its own indulgences, particularly in the lengthy dance sequences.

Because the plot is so much of a jumble, the film is incredibly uneven, with regard to the level of humour or horror on offer. Some scenes remain funny, others are scary, but others still seem incongruous or unnecessary. Janet’s encounter with the monster (‘Touch Me’) is toe-curling, and the increasingly campy tone can become tiresome. Because everything is so full on and over-the-top, there will always be some people who won’t put up with all the non sequitur. In its darker moments the film wobbles as the desire to laugh begins to falter, and no amount of singing is going to bring those people back.The Rocky Horror Picture Show is trashy cinema at its most enjoyable. The story may be silly beyond belief and the acting is intentionally hammy, but the music is great and the overall experience is enjoyable. The film has such alacrity, such a cheerful readiness to make you forget the outside world, that you can’t help falling in love with it just that tiny little bit. It isn’t by any stretch a masterpiece, or a particularly rounded work. But as a musical, cult film and watershed, its importance cannot be underestimated.

Rating: 3.5/5
Verdict: Triumphantly trashy