Night Train to Venice

I was in my mums flat waiting for cable guy to turn up and I thought I would watch one of her DVDs. Well everything seemed fine when I read the cover and read the plot of film but as soon as it started I began to wonder.... has my mum gone mad!? Why did she buy this? From the acting to the direction I was appalled! This has to be one of the worst films I have ever seen! So Bad I still watched it to the end , hoping that there would be an explanation as to why this film was ever made in the first place or what it all meant and to think this was made with Malcolm McDowell (shame on you Malcolm!). the best thing to do with the DVD if you unfortunately have it in your collection is to use it as a nice coaster! Truly Awful!!

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.

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.

What a mess. I bought the laserdisc of this years ago, an impulse purchase, because of Hugh Grant. Up to that point I had enjoyed everything I'd seen him in. After suffering through watching the film, all I could think was that the writer(s) and director must have been doing vastly different types of drugs resulting in an incomprehensible train wreck (pun intended) of a film. Neither Grant's charm nor McDowell's depth and style can save this one. The re-titling of the film to "Train to Hell" is probably the best thing the distributors have done. At least they're being honest that this is a train ride to hell in a handbasket. I haven't bothered to watch the film since (just can't bring myself to torture myself that way again).