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F.W. Murnau's 1922 silent horror Nosferatu' is a genuine classic of must-see proportions, but the same regrettably cannot be said of this oddity based loosely on events surrounding the original production. Initially shot against the backdrop of a convincingly decadent looking 1920s Berlin, the premise is relatively straightforward Mernau, (played by an unusually one-dimensional John Malkovich), decides to shoot his own version of Dracula having been refused the rights by Bram Stoker's estate, changing the Count's name to Orlock and casting a mysterious actor Max Schreck in the title role. The rest of the cast and crew are informed that Schreck (an almost unrecognisable Willem Dafoe) is a method actor who briefly studied under Stanislafsky. Consequently when they arrive on location, leaving behind what Murnau describes as the artifice of the studio', Schreck insists on appearing in full costume and make-up, and that shooting can only be carried out at night.
Factual inaccuracies aside (the necessary film stock for night shoots hadn't been developed in 1922), the first third of this film displays some definite potential, refusing to conform to any generic ideal and swinging with occasional accomplishment between moments of high comedy and unsettling horror. The film rapidly becomes unstuck when it's revealed that Murnau has made some fairly unconventional casting decisions in his quest for the ultimate in cinematic authenticity. Schreck is neither employing the Method to get into the part of Orlock, nor is he strictly human. Whilst ignoring the exceptional performance of the actual Schreck in the original, this revisionist perspective is certainly interesting, and it's a shame that it's revealed far too early in the film. Had director E. Elias Merhige kept his audience guessing as to Schreck's true nature, the whole experience would have been considerably more rewarding.
Whilst the individual performances, notably a fiendishly OTT Dafoe and a spoofy Eddie Izzard (as the increasingly uneasy hero Gustav von Wangerheim) are invitingly watchable, the story as a whole fails to gel satisfactorily or sustain the viewer's attention. It's more of an exercise in psychological disintegration than a traditional horror movie, focusing on Murnau's obsessive need to complete the film at any cost. It becomes apparent that the despotic and drug-addicted director has entered into an almost Faustian pact with Schreck, promising him the neck of young starlet Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack) in return for his undead performance. He's fully aware of the morbid implications of his actions throughout; but by the time he realises that it's Schreck who controls the agenda it's far too late for his cast and crew, and also unfortunately most of the struggling audience. Some fairly fragmented editing inhibits any detailed development of characters and narrative structure, and the ultimate message that Murnau is more of a monster than his pitifully tragic leading man is blatantly signposted from the outset. For a film that attempts to evoke the dramatic gravitas of Gods and Monsters' or the comedy value of the far superior Ed Wood', Shadow of the Vampire' ultimately captures neither.
Factual inaccuracies aside (the necessary film stock for night shoots hadn't been developed in 1922), the first third of this film displays some definite potential, refusing to conform to any generic ideal and swinging with occasional accomplishment between moments of high comedy and unsettling horror. The film rapidly becomes unstuck when it's revealed that Murnau has made some fairly unconventional casting decisions in his quest for the ultimate in cinematic authenticity. Schreck is neither employing the Method to get into the part of Orlock, nor is he strictly human. Whilst ignoring the exceptional performance of the actual Schreck in the original, this revisionist perspective is certainly interesting, and it's a shame that it's revealed far too early in the film. Had director E. Elias Merhige kept his audience guessing as to Schreck's true nature, the whole experience would have been considerably more rewarding.
Whilst the individual performances, notably a fiendishly OTT Dafoe and a spoofy Eddie Izzard (as the increasingly uneasy hero Gustav von Wangerheim) are invitingly watchable, the story as a whole fails to gel satisfactorily or sustain the viewer's attention. It's more of an exercise in psychological disintegration than a traditional horror movie, focusing on Murnau's obsessive need to complete the film at any cost. It becomes apparent that the despotic and drug-addicted director has entered into an almost Faustian pact with Schreck, promising him the neck of young starlet Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack) in return for his undead performance. He's fully aware of the morbid implications of his actions throughout; but by the time he realises that it's Schreck who controls the agenda it's far too late for his cast and crew, and also unfortunately most of the struggling audience. Some fairly fragmented editing inhibits any detailed development of characters and narrative structure, and the ultimate message that Murnau is more of a monster than his pitifully tragic leading man is blatantly signposted from the outset. For a film that attempts to evoke the dramatic gravitas of Gods and Monsters' or the comedy value of the far superior Ed Wood', Shadow of the Vampire' ultimately captures neither.
It's 1958, and a group of the finest aviators the airforce has to offer known as team Daedalus, are on the brink of being the first Americans to be sent into space. Due to some backroom politics and the intervention of their moody commander, Gerson (James Cromwell) the team is grounded and replaced by a chimp.
Jump to modern day, and a crippled Russian communications satellite is in a degrading orbit with all systems offline. Gerson, now a NASA bureaucrat has no other option than to find the retired Frank Corvin (Clint Eastwood), original Daedelus team member and designer of the guidance system that has somehow found its way onto the satellite, and ask his old nemesis for help.
Desperate to have one last shot at space, and eager to rub Gerson's nose in it, Frank agrees on the condition that he can re-unite the team and take them all with him. Enter Hawk Hawkins (Tommy Lee Jones), Tank Sullivan (James Garner), and Jerry O'Neil (Donald Sutherland), combined age 250years plus, for the most ridiculous yet enjoyable space romp since Capricorn One.
The team have to settle past differences, pass a rigorous NASA medical test and embark on a training course which should take months, but of course our wrinkly heroes only have a few days....
The cast really milk the OAP gags in these earlier scenes, and it's all done with tongue firmly in cheek. Sutherland's character is blind as a bat so he cheats the sight test by memorising the sequence of letters, and there's generally lots of one-up-manship as the old codgers attempt to impress various female members of the technical and training staff by behaving like they're 20 again...
The plot is fairly ridiculous, as it gradually transpires that Gerson has some hidden agenda behind his reasons for wanting to rescue the satellite, and subsequently has no intention of actually sending the team up to do the job until there's a press leak, and the whole project becomes a John Glenn-esque media circus. The fogeys instantly become national heroes and the vice president HIMSELF insists they're the right stuff.
The space scenes themselves are extremely accomplished, and although director Eastwood decided not to film aboard the 'vomit comet' which produced such excellent effects in Apollo 13, space has nonetheless rarely looked so detailed and realistic.
Needless to say, nothing on this particular mission goes according to plan, and what starts out as a relatively routine salvage job turns into a fully-fledged disaster requiring the astronauts to perform above and beyond the call of reasonable duty.
It's cheesy, it's very American, and there are more out-and-out gung-ho heroics than a dozen Top Guns, but eastwood keeps any saccharine sentimentality to a bare minimum and concentrates on keeping the story moving along at a decent tempo.
It's not an essential movie that will change your life, nor is it as good as The Right Stuff, but it is a lot of fun, and if you want to spend your five quid on two hours of unpretentious straightforward entertainment, you could do a lot worse than checking this one out.
Jump to modern day, and a crippled Russian communications satellite is in a degrading orbit with all systems offline. Gerson, now a NASA bureaucrat has no other option than to find the retired Frank Corvin (Clint Eastwood), original Daedelus team member and designer of the guidance system that has somehow found its way onto the satellite, and ask his old nemesis for help.
Desperate to have one last shot at space, and eager to rub Gerson's nose in it, Frank agrees on the condition that he can re-unite the team and take them all with him. Enter Hawk Hawkins (Tommy Lee Jones), Tank Sullivan (James Garner), and Jerry O'Neil (Donald Sutherland), combined age 250years plus, for the most ridiculous yet enjoyable space romp since Capricorn One.
The team have to settle past differences, pass a rigorous NASA medical test and embark on a training course which should take months, but of course our wrinkly heroes only have a few days....
The cast really milk the OAP gags in these earlier scenes, and it's all done with tongue firmly in cheek. Sutherland's character is blind as a bat so he cheats the sight test by memorising the sequence of letters, and there's generally lots of one-up-manship as the old codgers attempt to impress various female members of the technical and training staff by behaving like they're 20 again...
The plot is fairly ridiculous, as it gradually transpires that Gerson has some hidden agenda behind his reasons for wanting to rescue the satellite, and subsequently has no intention of actually sending the team up to do the job until there's a press leak, and the whole project becomes a John Glenn-esque media circus. The fogeys instantly become national heroes and the vice president HIMSELF insists they're the right stuff.
The space scenes themselves are extremely accomplished, and although director Eastwood decided not to film aboard the 'vomit comet' which produced such excellent effects in Apollo 13, space has nonetheless rarely looked so detailed and realistic.
Needless to say, nothing on this particular mission goes according to plan, and what starts out as a relatively routine salvage job turns into a fully-fledged disaster requiring the astronauts to perform above and beyond the call of reasonable duty.
It's cheesy, it's very American, and there are more out-and-out gung-ho heroics than a dozen Top Guns, but eastwood keeps any saccharine sentimentality to a bare minimum and concentrates on keeping the story moving along at a decent tempo.
It's not an essential movie that will change your life, nor is it as good as The Right Stuff, but it is a lot of fun, and if you want to spend your five quid on two hours of unpretentious straightforward entertainment, you could do a lot worse than checking this one out.