Night Train to Venice

And I don't think I am exaggerating. Everything is terribly wrong in this picture: from the absolute lack of story (from minute 20 there is nothing to understand) to the amateur performances or cinematography. A complete failure.

If you like experimental films then you might get a modicum of enjoyment out of the non-linear story line, interleaved editing, and Kenneth Anger-style fantasy imagery, but to the rest of us it is a jumbled mess. As the film progresses, many cards are laid on the table, but not a one of them is played. The dialog is embarrassingly bad, and the meager plot meanders in a few different directions, but doesn't develop any of them. It wasn't even bad enough to laugh at. The ending came close to being laughable, but when I realized that this was in fact the end I was furious at having wasted so much time. The ONLY redeeming quality of the film was the images of Venice during Carnival. That was quite haunting and beautiful, but not nearly worth the boredom and frustration one must endure in the vain attempt to make sense out of this cluttered mishmash.

I think my life can be divided in two parts, before watching "A Night Train To Venice" and after. I used to be an indecisive and hesitant man, a weak-willed and irresolute person. Then came the two hours that changed it all. I was pushed to my limit, tested the boundaries of my spiritual and even physical powers, the very capacity of human strength! And I made it, I actually managed to see THE WHOLE freaking thing, from start to finish, from first to last carriage. And surprisingly I lived. Now I am the most confident, positive tenacious and tough man... in the local madhouse. The things movies can do for you...!

P.S. Anyway, if you're preparing your dissertation on the refraction of artificial light through the windows of a night train, you may actually find the movie quite useful.

Movies that parallel reality with a surreal, dream-like existence run the risk of alienating any audience not completely in tune with the director's vision; in this case, that alienation turns to unintended comedy when journalist Hugh Grant boards the Orient Express from Munich to Venice, where neo-Nazis have sneaked aboard and threaten to cause chaos. Also on-board this train trip to Hell is Tahnee Welch as a recently-widowed stage actress, her little girl and caretaker, plus an internationally known dancer, some drag queens, and Malcolm McDowell as a tough-talking "Stranger". From what I could decipher, it appears Grant blames the presence of the Nazis on himself (he apparently wrote an unflattering piece about Skinheads), but once the train pulls into Venice (in time for Carnival!) all that business aboard the Express seems to have been forgotten. It would be impossible to credit director Carlo U. Quinterio for his 'unique' vision; the filmmaker blatantly copies the criss-crossing style of Nicolas Roeg's thriller "Don't Look Now" (also set in Venice), creating an indecipherable scenario wherein the editor was allowed to go berserk with the flash-forwards and flashbacks. The movie is so cluttered up with murky minutiae that it allows the straight-faced proceedings some camp value (how else to describe the cobbling together of Nazi atrocities and S&M imagery with sex scenes involving Grant nibbling on Welch's breasts--shown again under the closing credits!). Low-budget mess resembles those Golan-Globus pictures from the 1980s, and poor Grant seems at a complete loss for words. NO STARS from ****

This film was in one of those boxed sets, together with two other films I had never heard of (and Kickboxer staring Van Damme).

When I watch a movie, I don't have any expectations, so am rarely disappointed. When I was watching this one, I was disappointed.

Hugh Grant plays a writer living in Munich, who travels on the Orient Express to take his book manuscript (on the subject of Neo-Nazis) to a publisher in Venice. Unknown to him, a bunch of German skinheads (with authentic American accents) sneak onto the train.

While the above excitement is going on, a parallel story of a beautiful woman with a young daughter, and a white haired stranger hovering around in the background (played by Malcolm McDowell, doing his best to look extremely intense).

I didn't know what to make of this film. From the cinematography I had assumed that this film was shot in the late 80s (actually 1993 - one year prior to Hugh Grants success in Four Weddings and a Funeral). The plot was non-sensical, the direction was non-existent, and at the end of it I had no idea where the time had gone, or what I had just seen.