philkessell
Entrou em jan. de 2000
Bem-vindo(a) ao novo perfil
Nossas atualizações ainda estão em desenvolvimento. Embora a versão anterior do perfil não esteja mais acessível, estamos trabalhando ativamente em melhorias, e alguns dos recursos ausentes retornarão em breve! Fique atento ao retorno deles. Enquanto isso, Análise de Classificação ainda está disponível em nossos aplicativos iOS e Android, encontrados na página de perfil. Para visualizar suas Distribuições de Classificação por ano e gênero, consulte nossa nova Guia de ajuda.
Selos2
Para saber como ganhar selos, acesse página de ajuda de selos.
Avaliações17
Classificação de philkessell
Well I won't give the ending away folks, but you will see it coming a MILE OFF!!
Stanley Baker, in his last film performance, plays a tired, jaded under manager in a bank he's worked at for the past ten thousand years. He longs to escape the futile tedium of work, but is, on the surface at least resigned (and apparently content) to working out his days in a gold fishbowl office where his superiors can see him but he can't see them.
'I'm poor and broke' he sighs as he neatly summarises his attitude to 'work'. If we all have to do it (as most of us sadly do) we might as well acquire as much financial gain as we can. Very early on, it's clear that Baker's character is already painfully aware that he has gone as far as he is going to go, and that alternative action is required if he is not to give way to perpetual professional atrophy.
So, in comes Britt (can't think where they got that foreign sounding name or accent from, eh chaps). I disagree with some who say that Andress can't act. True, her range is limited, but so were those of luminaries like Bogart, so I feel it's a little unfair to admonish her professional credentials in this way. Also, let's not deny that there are worse things to clock within the cinematic pantheon that Andress's 'undress', and there's plenty of that here. I make this point from a purely 'cinematic' perspective, you understand.
True, the characters are all pretty unlikeable, Warner's in particular, yet it's interesting to see him turn from repellent upper class knob into Baker's whipping boy, mysteriously travelling up and down the country for no apparent reason. (What was THAT all about?) His gesture of defiance towards the end just comes across as toothless, when it's obvious to all who the real winner of the piece is going to be....
Anyway, not bad as it goes, but far from perfect. I always love films for this era (1969-72), just for the 'feel' of the piece, and the washed out yet oddly warm feel of the print itself. As one other reviewer said, there are still traces of 'swinging' London to be found here (in the feel of the film and knowing it was made in 1970), whereas by 1972, that eponymous decade had cinema well and truly contained within it's er' 'distinctive' sartorial grip. We're on the cusp here folks, and all the better for it.
Worth watching, but don't expect to remember it tomorrow.
Stanley Baker, in his last film performance, plays a tired, jaded under manager in a bank he's worked at for the past ten thousand years. He longs to escape the futile tedium of work, but is, on the surface at least resigned (and apparently content) to working out his days in a gold fishbowl office where his superiors can see him but he can't see them.
'I'm poor and broke' he sighs as he neatly summarises his attitude to 'work'. If we all have to do it (as most of us sadly do) we might as well acquire as much financial gain as we can. Very early on, it's clear that Baker's character is already painfully aware that he has gone as far as he is going to go, and that alternative action is required if he is not to give way to perpetual professional atrophy.
So, in comes Britt (can't think where they got that foreign sounding name or accent from, eh chaps). I disagree with some who say that Andress can't act. True, her range is limited, but so were those of luminaries like Bogart, so I feel it's a little unfair to admonish her professional credentials in this way. Also, let's not deny that there are worse things to clock within the cinematic pantheon that Andress's 'undress', and there's plenty of that here. I make this point from a purely 'cinematic' perspective, you understand.
True, the characters are all pretty unlikeable, Warner's in particular, yet it's interesting to see him turn from repellent upper class knob into Baker's whipping boy, mysteriously travelling up and down the country for no apparent reason. (What was THAT all about?) His gesture of defiance towards the end just comes across as toothless, when it's obvious to all who the real winner of the piece is going to be....
Anyway, not bad as it goes, but far from perfect. I always love films for this era (1969-72), just for the 'feel' of the piece, and the washed out yet oddly warm feel of the print itself. As one other reviewer said, there are still traces of 'swinging' London to be found here (in the feel of the film and knowing it was made in 1970), whereas by 1972, that eponymous decade had cinema well and truly contained within it's er' 'distinctive' sartorial grip. We're on the cusp here folks, and all the better for it.
Worth watching, but don't expect to remember it tomorrow.
Well, what can anyone say about this little gem! I saw it first in 1982 aged 15, and only last week came across it again.
Superlatives cannot describe this absolute, genuine classic - strong narrative, humour and a myriad of peachy one liners delivered by a posse of 'actors' who take the 'method' to its logical conclusion and genuinely look like they are enjoying themselves. There are times, my friends, when the delivery is so good you feel like you're almost in the room.
Unlike many films of this ilk, Babyface has a strong story with a fantastic twist you don't see coming till the Nutcracker's identity is finally revealed. I won't spoil it for you folks, but you'll be clinging on for dear life once you finally find out.
After a series of adventures and one serious er 'misdemeanour' our hero, Dan, finds himself at the Training Camp run by the redoubtable 'Champ' - a pint sized madam who makes Atilla the Hun look like a Red Cross volunteer. She reads Dan the Riot Act before introducing him to a small coterie of high achieving yet libidinous females who, over the course of the next ninety minutes, shag him senseless. That's about it, but watch out for the Nutcracker folks. She's heavy, really freaky....
The 'Citizen Kane' of adult entertainment, and not a zither in sight.
Superlatives cannot describe this absolute, genuine classic - strong narrative, humour and a myriad of peachy one liners delivered by a posse of 'actors' who take the 'method' to its logical conclusion and genuinely look like they are enjoying themselves. There are times, my friends, when the delivery is so good you feel like you're almost in the room.
Unlike many films of this ilk, Babyface has a strong story with a fantastic twist you don't see coming till the Nutcracker's identity is finally revealed. I won't spoil it for you folks, but you'll be clinging on for dear life once you finally find out.
After a series of adventures and one serious er 'misdemeanour' our hero, Dan, finds himself at the Training Camp run by the redoubtable 'Champ' - a pint sized madam who makes Atilla the Hun look like a Red Cross volunteer. She reads Dan the Riot Act before introducing him to a small coterie of high achieving yet libidinous females who, over the course of the next ninety minutes, shag him senseless. That's about it, but watch out for the Nutcracker folks. She's heavy, really freaky....
The 'Citizen Kane' of adult entertainment, and not a zither in sight.
One of those odd moments in time where it's just as scary later. It's old fear, folks. Many years ago they used to have Public Information Films on TV. This concept will mean nothing to anyone born after 1975, but to those of us unfortunate enough to have been lucid enough to understand what was going on in the mid 70s, everyone will remember their personal er, 'favourite'. Mine is my business.
The point is this - it's old fear. If you watch them with a clean slate, you wouldn't be affected. You'd laugh them off. This, however, you wouldn't. The sister of that Tory knob who masterfully pronounced Kevin Kline's fully made up name in 'A Fish Called Wanda' comes upstairs and....well you know the deal don't you? You watch it in 1978. You watch it in 2004. The reaction is the same, regardless of if you've seen it before. As an exercise, I tried it on someone younger. They were affected just the same way. Oh yes.
If you are are genuinely interested and have an inquiring mind, look it up...if you dare.
The point is this - it's old fear. If you watch them with a clean slate, you wouldn't be affected. You'd laugh them off. This, however, you wouldn't. The sister of that Tory knob who masterfully pronounced Kevin Kline's fully made up name in 'A Fish Called Wanda' comes upstairs and....well you know the deal don't you? You watch it in 1978. You watch it in 2004. The reaction is the same, regardless of if you've seen it before. As an exercise, I tried it on someone younger. They were affected just the same way. Oh yes.
If you are are genuinely interested and have an inquiring mind, look it up...if you dare.