I am quite partial to ‘Antiques Roadshow’. Its not television that I hang out for, nor do I sit down and watch it each time it is on. It is something I can dip into when I am preparing or partaking of the evening meal whilst it’s in its present ABC timeslot. I like the woman of a certain age (Fiona Bruce) who hosts it. I like the looks on the faces of those who found an old painting up in the attic or who purchased a bit of crockery for 25p at a second hand shop and are gobsmacked when the valuer informs them of the multiples of thousands their finding is worth. And I like the back history of some of the items presented.

A couple of nights ago I was watching one of the show’s co-hosts, a very personable chap, waxed lyrical about a late Seventeenth Century teapot afore him for valuation. During a description of its provenance he remarked that the introduction of tea into British society was the first step on the long road to women achieving equality with menfolk – a road that still hasn’t fully arrived at its destination.

Previous to the transformation the humble tea leaf caused, a respectable woman could not enter the ale or coffee houses of the time and of course were completely subjugated in wedlock – emphasis on the lock. The arrival of this new beverage gave the mistress of the house a renewed purpose and allowed for some minor independence from hubby’s control. Drawing rooms could be opened up and gossip could be had around the intricate preparation then involved in making a cuppa. It was a matter of pride, getting the mixture of green and black teas used exactly right to create a signature blend. Chairs were no longer positioned around walls, but rather circled small tables designed especially for the serving of the refreshing hot liquid. As tea became more affordable and the drinking of it spread down the social strata, so women opened up their formerly underused front rooms for the commercial selling of the brewed product – thus gaining a modicum of financial security in isolation from their spouses. Women were on their way.

Around the same time tea was revolutionising the balance between the sexes across the Channel, a great palace was being built in the countryside around Paris – and here a singular woman was attempting to also break through the glass ceiling of the time – or as one commentator put it, more like a stone ceiling – Madame Sabina De Bara (Kate Winslet). Along my lovely Leigh and I went to view the film of her story this week. It turned out to be a good saga.

De Bara was a creation of the mind of Alan Rickman, the director of ‘A Little Chaos’. Now I am also quite partial to Alan Rickman – he enhances every project he is involved in. Of course a large amount of his recent time has been taken up by the Harry Potter franchise, but my favourite of his many offerings was the 2006 Canadian indie ‘Snow Cake’. Here he plays a man involved in a fatal car crash, thus causing a major attack of the guilts resulting in a life changing experience, a reawakening. It was the loveliest of movies.

In ‘A Little Chaos’ he also plays the role of Louise XIV, the Sun King. He is heavily involved in matters of state as well as attempting to build said palace, Versailles, together with its magnificent gardens. Mattias Schoenaerts, so revealing in his amazing previous outing, ‘Rust and Bone’, has a more subdued role here as the king’s gardener, André Le Nôtre – and this guy really existed too, although he was considerably older than the age of the hunk the Belgian actor portrayed in the movie. Madame De Barra, sadly, never existed. It would have been unthinkable back then for a real woman to crack that stone ceiling and be responsible for part of the landscaping under Le Nôtre. Still, without her, it would have been a dull old tale and the fictional she certainly caused consternation among the vested interests as portrayed in this cinematic product. Both Winslet and Schoenaerts are serviceable in their roles, as is Helen McCory as the scheming wife of the head gardener. Leigh could not understand how the handsome young fellow could be hitched to such a vile, much older creation – but they did things differently back then.

For me the movie doesn’t quiet work. The story line plods along – some judicious editing could have sped it up somewhat. Also there was seemingly no need to insert a back story towards the end to interrupt the flow – surely the audience would be intelligent enough to work out that widow Sabine bought a shit load of baggage into her relationship with André, once they eventually got around to acting on their feelings. Enough hints had been dropped. Broad English accents did not entirely sit well with such a period piece set in France.

It’s only when Rickman is on screen that proceedings liven up. He was delightful when, freeing himself from the remorse caused by the death of his wife and dispensing of his regal attire, he retires to his pear arbour only to meet Sabine. She decides he is just another horticultural type, causing confusion before the penny dropped – and then friendship. And I loved the bit where he explains the reasoning behind the building of Versailles was to take the children away from the temptations of city life. There are also some attractive performances from the lesser lights – Stanley Tucci as the king’s gay brother, for instance. His missus’ (Paula Paul) acceptance to Sabine of the fact her prince swings the other way is a quiet gem. ‘Silk’s’ Rupert Penry Jones is similarly very becoming in his small role as De Barra’s first friendly face at court. Rickman was very concerned that the fashions of the day – the gowns, frock coats, make-up etc – be as realistic to the times as possible, rather than a modern day type gloss over. It all largely gives the former impression despite the perfect teeth. And I did enjoy the ending, despite it being complete Hollywood mush.

All in all there is an opportunity missed here, but it still was a reasonably pleasurable way to while away a couple of hours – despite the distraction of some overly effective air-conditioning at the State turning our viewing room into an ice-box.

Fast forward now to the last century. Within the lifetimes of many of us, advancement for the female gender still had not made much headway on what De Barra had encountered. In Eisenhower’s America, on the sun-dappled coast of Northern California we find the Keanes, a couple riding a wave of fortune due to wife Margaret’s talent for kitsch and hubby Walter’s head for business acumen. The only trouble in their version of Camelot was that Walter was a fraudster – and the victim was Margaret. Claiming to be as equally endowed with artistic gifts as his spouse, Walter imported cheesy Parisian streetscapes to peddle as his own work at local markets and this is how he met his wife to be. On that occasion she was set up in a neighbouring stall, selling her own artwork, trying to make a buck after escaping misogynist husband number one. Her oeuvre on show consisted of small children with overly large eyes. After a whirlwind romance she was so charmed by the oily Walter Keane that nuptials soon ensued. Soon the man of the house was arranging joint showings of their artistic output, but hers, through a combination of events, took off and his knock-offs were being ignored. ‘No worries,’ he no doubt thought, ‘I’ll just pretend they’re mine as well.’ Word spread and Margaret’s work, signed by Walter, was soon flavour of the month with the punters, despite being derided by the critics. When Walter hit on the bright idea of turning her originals into thousands of prints so Average Joe and Josephine could afford them, they were on a roll. But at all costs the secret of their true origin had to be kept. As the marriage wore on and Walter’s behaviour developed peculiarity, Margaret became more incensed at her situation. She wasn’t going to take her subservience any longer, so she escaped to Hawaii and let the cat out of the bag. All hell broke loose, so over to the lawyers.

Initially ‘Big Eyes’ was a project intended to be a vehicle for Kate Hudson and Thomas Hayden Church. I wished it had remained that way. Whist I had no issues with Amy Adams in the role of Margaret, Christoph Waltz, as her over-bearing spouse, simply gave me the irits. No doubt this was intentional on the part of director Tim Burton, but when the proverbial hit the fan and Walter attempted to defend his own actions in court, the whole thing descended into farce. Waltz, clearly enjoying himself as a fellow going off his rocker, hammed it up for all it was worth and the film completely lost its way. Up until then I was thinking it was an interesting yarn. Burton, in an outing unusually taking him into the real world, should have exercised the control the ffilm’s courtroom judge was too inept to. It spoilt the exercise for me.

Still the movie certainly shed more light on the treatment of women during the early ‘Mad Men’ era – and it was lovely seeing actor Adams and the real artist Margaret together as the closing credits came down.

Unfortunately there are still men like Walter Keane here in our current century. Daily headlines constantly shout at us of ongoing mistreatment of women in all manner of ways – in the workforce, on our streets and behind the facades of suburbia. But whilst we have the modern equivalents of Sabine and Margaret ready to declaim ‘Enough’ and shatter glass ceilings, the fight will go on until the road reaches its destination.

‘A Little Chaos’ Official Trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENSjt4naxlE

‘Big Eyes Official Trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xD9uTlh5hI

A Margaret Keane Gallery = https://keane-eyes.com/

He went to film school for two days and decided it wasn’t for him. Yet he is now one of Hollywood’s most critically acclaimed and bankable directors. Instead of the normal route, to learn his aspired-to craft he watched movie after movie on video/DVD, all accompanied by the director’s audio-commentary. In other words, he taught himself to direct. He thought the best way to get the movers and shakers to sit up and take notice was to direct porn – or, at least, a short about porn. This took the form of a mockumentary on the life of the legendary John Holmes – you’d have heard of him if you’re into that sort of thing. This half-hour 1988 effort, ‘The Dirk Diggler Story’, later morphed into ‘Boogie Nights’, the movie that really announced the arrival of a special progeny back in ’97 – and the one that introduced this scribbler to his world.

Paul Thomas Anderson was born in 1970 to a disc-jockey, voice-over father and a mother who had difficulty relating to her son, the third youngest of nine offspring. Dad, though, was very supportive, allowing son PT to run with his passions. This soon turned out to be various forms of the video camera – to the detriment of his schooling. By the early nineties his shorts were receiving notice, leading to his first full length feature in 1996, ‘Hard Eight’. Those believing in him, to the degree they gave him the financial means to make it, included luminaries such as John C Reilly and Gwyneth Paltrow. His sophomore effort was ‘Boogie Nights’, resurrecting Burt Reynolds’ career. Anderson’s idiosyncratic style has since enhanced the careers of many noted thespians including Tom Cruise (‘Magnolia’, 1999), Adam Sandler (‘Punch Drunk Love’, 2000 – a personal favourite) and the vehicle that gave Daniel Day Lewis the second of his three Best Leading Actor Oscars,’There Will Be Blood’. Many regard this as the best film to come out of the noughties. The critical and commercial success of PTA’s offerings have continued on into this present decade.

Being one of the last movies to feature the incomparable Philip Seymour Hoffman before his untimely departure, when I espied ‘The Master’, considerably reduced, at my fav merchants of popular culture, I grabbed it quick smart. I’d missed it at the multiplexes. Hoffman didn’t disappoint and was duly awarded a nomination for the big gong. But it wasn’t he that blew me away, but the lead guy, Joaquin Phoenix. He was simply incredible in this and was also duly accoladed for his efforts during the awards season. Freddie, his character, was a WW2 vet off his head with PTS and industrial strength alcohol – plus anything else he could ingest. Returning back to the States after the conflict, he creates a fracas as a fashion emporium photographer, resulting in him being down and out, stowing away on a yacht, as one does in that condition. On this vessel he encounters the charismatic leader of the Cause (Hoffman). It’s a semi-religious cult Anderson presumably based on Scientology. As Freddie’s life becomes entwined with the Cult, so do his demons wax and wane. This has the result that we, the audience, are taken on a fantastical journey through the middle-America of the Eisenhower years. There was some memorable imagery involved in this, plus a copious eyeful of sex and nudity – so be warned. Through it all Phoenix’s contorted face and body are mesmerising – a truly remarkable performance that had this punter in awe – with, I suspect Anderson also so much in his thrall that the actor was a shoo-in for the lead in his next offering.

I was hanging out to see ‘Inherent Vice’ after the excesses of the above – and as I had read about the mutton-chops. I suspect that such glorious side-burn hair may not have been witnessed since the seventies – the setting of the film. And magnificent as well were JP’s actorly chops in this production.

I’d tell you about more about the plot if I could, but it completely lost me – as it did many more competent critics than I. I reckon it’d take more than another viewing to figure it all out, a fact that possibly cost it dearly when it came to those gongs this year. ‘IV’ only raised a three for the Globes and the Golden Man combined. But the trip it takes one on is wonderful. With a palette of washed out, sun drenched and burnished hues, the movie swings viewers back to more hedonistic times when pot-addled PI Doc (Phoenix) is up to his neck in drugs and loose women. He’s searching for his ex’s new lover. Katherine Waterston is brave in her role as said ex, but the whole ensemble revelled in out-and-out weirdness. Josh Brolin, as a possibly mad LAPD officer, was a great turn. Martin Short, a manic dentist, was unrecognisable. Owen Wilson entranced as a dead saxophonist, Benicio del Toro was terrific as I am not exactly sure what and Renee Witherspoon remained super-cool as Doc’s current squeeze. I adored the whole she-bang and will wait with baited breath to see what the directorial one-off, Paul Thomas A, has next in store for us.

Official Trailer ‘The Master’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ1O1vb9AUU

Official Trailer ‘Inherent Vice’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZfs22E7JmI

First Aussie Gem is Toni Collette. Bursting into our multiplexes in 1994’s exuberant ‘Muriel’s Wedding’, Toni then went international. More the under-bubbler than the out-and-out superstar, she lights up screens large and small world-wide in such fare as ‘About a Boy’, ‘Little Miss Sunshine and the recent ‘Long Way Down’. She has also brightened up tele viewing in the ‘United States of Tara’, portraying a unique range of characters.

In her latest project, ‘Lucky Them’, our Toni plays a soon-to-be-washed-up-rock-journalist-unless-she-can-bring-home-the-bacon-one-more-time Ellie Klug, writing for the once iconic rock mag ‘Stax’. The publication is struggling in the digital age and editor (Oliver Platt) suggests that hunting down presumed dead, but sighted countless times, a la Elvis, songsmith god Matthew Smith, could just save her said bacon. Of course it just had to be that the singer was one in a long line of musician bed-buddies of Ellie’s, albeit one who particularly resonated. In this outing Collette exhibits what RogerEbert.com describes as ‘…smarts, humour and world-weary cool.’ She is almost upstaged by Platt as her strung-out boss and Ryan Eggold as her twinkly I-wanna-be-that-next-muso-you-bed try-hard. But best of all there’s Thomas Hayden Church as her odd couple travelling companion on the search. If you loved this guy in ‘Sideways’, as this punter did, you’ll adore him in this. Without giving too much away in spoiler form, another of the film’s assets is the cameo from a Hollywood legend towards the end. Accompanied by an excellent soundtrack, this indie perhaps won’t trouble next year’s award season, but it retains its interest throughout with quality performances.

Aussie Gem number two has largely passed me by all these years, but to my beloved and her daughter, Ilsa, he is solid gold. They are long standing fans of stand-up comic Carl Barron. But what made this stage star think he was movie material is a bit of a mystery beyond this scribbler’s ability to comprehend. It also has been for others, judging by the lukewarm reviews ‘Manny Lewis’ has received from the critics. The plot line is trite, clichéd, reliant on unlikely coincidence and also has my pet hate device – the last minute dash to prevent the departure forever of the potential love of one’s life.

But here’s the rub. I enjoyed the thing despite its only too obvious shortcomings. Barron reportedly is the first to admit he can’t act, with that being an understatement. He comes over as a cross between Paul Kelly – who’s also had a go with underwhelming consequences – and Karl Pilkington. Barron plays it all with a ‘Tears of a Clown’ vibe. Manny is huge on the comedy circuit – Barron doesn’t stray from what is known territory – but possesses a loveless, joyless private life. He is befuddled by fame and desperate for a woman, if only he wasn’t shy and tongue-tied in the presence of beauty. For me, when he played himself on stage he raised a few laughs, but the rest of time it’s a journey of pathos. But Barron has had the nous to surround himself with some fine supporting cast members. Roy Billing, as his sad-sack father, does his usual shtick that makes him one of our most endearing thespians, with Patrick Garvey, as Manny’s mate/manager, showing he is also a dab hand at a lighter role than the usual heavies he plays. The scene stealer for my money, though, is Lewis’ fantasy sex-line confidante (Caroline)/potential love interest (Maria) – you’ll need to see the movie to figure that out. This is charmingly played by Leeanna Walsman. She is a stunner and knocks Manny’s socks off – but he stuffs it all up in typical style.

With Barron’s fan base there is hope for this movie to have some sort of success, despite it being far inferior to many other recent local offerings that have faded away without giving a whimper. I must say, apart from another couple, my lovely lady and I were the sole viewers at our showing – not a good sign, but fingers crossed. And the interesting soundtrack, including Barron warbling to his guitar, helps no-end.

For ninety-minutes or so I was pleasantly entertained by this light confection as Barron’s alter-ego tried his best to shoot himself in the foot with his Maria. As with the above title, I strongly suspect ‘Manny Lewis’ will be absent when gongs are handed out during our own awards season. Definitely worth seeing if you are a fan and I can clearly discern that the man’s laconic stage patter does have its attractions.

‘Lucky Them ‘ Official Trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KIcYfmkQcU

‘Manny Lewis’ Official Trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PMoUMjWUBs

The new year is already almost a month into its term; already losing some of its shimmer and gloss as our planet realises it is just more of the same old, same old. There are the endlessly repeating headlines about mad jihadists and the climatic peculiarities of global warming. So let’s shut ourselves off in a bubble for a wee while and transport our imaginings to another place, courtesy of an enduring actor, then one who has endured before a ground-breaking and remarkable comeback. We all thought the latter was yesterday’s man.

This past week I journeyed to two morning sessions at my local art house for ‘St Vincent’ and ‘Birdman’. I like the sessions earlier in the day – generally a smaller, quieter audience – less distractions to being able to completely let oneself go off into the world being presented up there on the screen.

The common denominator in these two films, apart from both being quality product, were that they featured Australia’s own Naomi Watts in supporting roles. We know her quality through star turns in such offerings as ‘The Impossible’, ‘Mulholland Drive’ and 2013’s underachieving Aussie four-hander of mothers falling in love with sons, ‘Adore’. In ‘St Vincent’ her role was of a faded, jaded, very pregnant hooker; a weekly regular in ‘Saint’ Vincent’s bed. In ‘Birdman’ she is a fellow thespian of and ‘…shares a vagina…’ with Edward Norton’s edgy, manic character, Mike Shiner, in the film.

I didn’t quite know what to expect of the first movie as its reviews had been mixed. Sure enough, of the two, it is the more ‘writ by numbers’ production, complete with a cheesy, typically predictable Hollywood ending involving the saint bit. I might add it still managed to produce a tear from this hoary old cinema goer. Raising it way above the normal dross is the magnificently dishevelled Bill Murray. It’s just his usual shtick, but he has it so down pat one can’t help but be charmed. He can do this sort of role in his sleep – it’s no stretch as he meanders along, obliviously creating mayhem with every step. He is raffish, he is vulgar, he is crass but we love him for it nonetheless. The icing on the cake is his star turn as dancer – not quite up to the Walken standard you’d have to say though– and his duet with his Bobness on ‘Shelter from the Storm’ for the closing credits – stay in your seats for that. The gambling, low-life hedonist Vincent needs money and looking after young Oliver – Jaden Lieberher (at last a cute child actor who doesn’t set your teeth on edge) – for feisty neighbour Maggie (Melissa McCarthy) seems like an easy gig. Murray milks the situation for all he’s worth, in both senses of the phrase, but it all comes up smelling of roses. Kicking back in a filmhouse watching Bill M in anything is always money well spent and this is far from the worst effort he has ever been involved in.

But ‘Birdman’ is on another plane entirely – as one may suspect given director Alejandro González Iñárritu. The Mexican virtuoso is well known for his interweaving sagas such as ’21 Grams’ – also with our Naomi – and ‘Babel’ – with our Cate. But here he changes tack and with some seamless camera work from Emmanuel Lubezki, gives the audience the ride of a cinematographic lifetime. If you are not mesmerised by this, then there’s Norton’s erection, death by falling stage light, blood on the boards and levitation to contend with. But in the end it’s Michael Keaton you will be blown away by. This is Keaton’s comeback, just as the adaptation of one of Carver’s short stories into a piece for the stage is the resurrection of Keaton’s character, Riggan Thompson. It’s Michael K’s performance for a lifetime. Forget about his Batman roles – this is what he’ll be remembered for. Ironically Thompson is also an ex-comic hero on the big screen. He also wants a more meaningful legacy to leave behind than being the inspiration for plastic action toys. But of course, it doesn’t go smoothly. Riggan’s ex is unhappy with him, his current claims to be pregnant and his co-star is shagging his daughter Sam – a great turn from Emma Stone. There’s also a vicious critic who is going to sink his ship come hell or hight water – a great little role for Lindsay Duncan. This movie is full of magic moments – just wait to you see Keaton fly! He is well backed up by other off-siders in lesser roles such as Zac Galifinakis and the eminently watchable duo of Andrea Risborough and Amy Ryan – as well as our Naomi. Yep, I adored this movie – one of the few I’d happily watch again.

I can only repeat what I stated in my last set of reviews for ‘The Imitation Game’ and ‘Mr Turner’ – the year is off to a blinder, with several promising features on their way as well. Can’t wait.

Trailer for ‘St Vincent’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dP5lJnJHXg

Trailer for ‘Birdman’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJfLoE6hanc

It’s the height of the holiday season and the multiplexes are full – there’s another ‘Hobbit’, another ‘Night in the Museum’ and another ‘Hunger Games’ for the masses to gawp and marvel at. Not to say these are necessarily below par films – just not my cup of tea. ‘The Water Diviner’ is doing very well at the box office too – at last an Australian movie people will actually leave their homes for – albeit it with the pulling power of a Kiwi-born superstar. Over half a million Turks have seen this title, as well, in their own ‘plexes. Maybe there will be Oscar nominations from the aforementioned, but I do doubt there will anything, in that lot, to match the extremely fine performances I witnessed this sunny first week of January from each of the duo of Benedict Cumberbatch (‘The Imitation Game’) and Timothy Spall (‘Mr Turner’).

Cumberbatch was simply remarkable in the story of a World War 2 hero, one who never fired a gun in anger. But his contribution in building a machine to break the Enigma Code probably saved hundreds of thousands of lives. For decades he was an unsung hero – his genius remained a British top secret hidden away until recent times. As well, his deciphering invention assisted the ushering in of our own digital age. Yet this illustrious soul ended his life by his own hand, reviled in many quarters for his sexual proclivity. Eccentric and riven by his own inability to cope on many social levels, Alan Turing, in the movie, is portrayed as ‘loving’, after a fashion, assistant Joan Clarke – a role that under-uses the acting chops of Keira Knightley. I very much enjoyed Matthew Goode’s engaging performance as Turing’s offsider, Hugh Alexander. Complementing these top billings was a fine English supporting cast, but it’s BC who mesmerised in the lead. At the moment he is also gracing our small screens in the ABC’s ‘Sherlock’, but his quirks in this pale in comparison with what he produced for Norwegian director Morten Tyldum’s fine offering. The actor himself related that he found the role almost too demanding, it was starting to do his head in – but for this scribe what he displayed in ‘The Imitation Game’ was a tour de force.

Another director of note, in Mike Leigh, has used heralded actor Timothy Spall in earlier offerings – in ‘Life is Sweet’ and ‘Secrets and Lies’.The great character thespian, however, has never been as dominant a presence in any of his considerable oeuvre than he is in ‘Mr Turner’. This is Leigh’s tribute to the man who revolutionised art and out-impressioned the Impressionists decades before Van Gogh and his ilk were in their pomp. JMW Turner has always been a personal favourite and seeing him come to life, warts and all, has been a revelation. And, oh dear, there are warts a-plenty. There are also glorious depictions of the British countryside and seascapes – the light that infuses this film is a work of art in itself.

Spall is simply superb. His extraordinarily porcine performance is riveting. He actually spent considerable hours preparing for this movie by learning how to imitate the types of brush strokes Turner would have had to use to produce his atmospheric masterpieces. Many of these are also given context by the movie. From the sketchy (pun) details of the great man’s life, Leigh has filled in the gaps and taken us convincingly to the middle decades of the Nineteenth Century. Unlike Turing, Turner found blissful happiness in later life in the ample arms of a seaside landlady, Mrs Booth (Marion Bailey). I wonder how they treated gays in his day?

So 2015 is off to a flyer with these two silver screen attractions, both featuring outstanding re-tellings of the lives of historical figures, albeit two from different walks of life and centuries. Let’s hope our sparkly new year ends up rivalling the previous for cinematic excellence. Cumberbatch and Spall will certainly prove testing acts to follow.

Article on the women who worked with Turing to break the Enigmas  Code at Bletchley  Park = http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-two/11308744/The-extraordinary-female-codebreakers-of-Bletchley-Park.html

Trailer ‘The Imitation Game’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5CjKEFb-sM

Trailer ‘Mr Turner’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tn4zSR_5ioI

List them – they all roll off the tongue. There’s Sophie Marceau, Emmanuelle Béart, Cécile De France, Marion Cotillard – just to get one started. The doyen is, of course, the magnificent Catherine Deneuve, still continuing along in fine form on the screen. Then there’s this scribe’s particular favourite – the sinewly sensuous Charlotte. Gainsbourg. These luminous ladies light up the silver screens of art house movie venues all around the world with their chic, their Frenchiness, their certain something Hollywood damsels have never been able to replicate. They are rightly revered in their homeland and I revere them as well. And there’s another who has been strutting her chops for decades now and illuminating many a movie with her porcelain beauty – the ageless Isabelle Huppert. Often noted for roles where she plays icy cool, in ‘Folies Bergere’ she glows with inner warmth.

There is an old adage that an affair can have a positive impact on a marriage – refresh it, liven it up. I suspect that in at least ninety-five percent of cases that is not the case, but Brigitte (Huppert) is bored, in a rural rut. Hubby Xavier (a fine, nuanced performance from Jean-Pierre Darroussin) is about to discover if that old saying it true for his stale relationship. These long term marrieds run a stud for those exquisitely hefty bovines, the charolais, in the French countryside. He is your typical ‘hide your feelings at all costs’ rustic. But Brigitte stands out with her millinery, as well as being, at around the fifty mark, still a beauty, a head turner – except for that pesky skin complaint on her chest that simply will not go away no matter how many exotic unguents she applies. She meets a younger slick city type at at local party she is cajoled to attend, with the result that horizons suddenly expand. Can he be the catalyst to lift her out of that rut? Using the treatment of her eczema as her excuse, Brigitte becomes cougar. She heads for the City of Light to track down her quarry in his own environment. When that does not exactly go to plan, she substitutes a Danish dentist (Michael Nyquist of ‘As It Is In Heaven’ and ‘Dragon Tattoo’ fame).

By now Xavier senses a rat and followers her to the sinful city, engages in a bit of detective work and spots her with her new beau. He knows by her body language she is not partaking in an innocent encounter. He doesn’t confront – he will bide his time. Eventually she’ll have to return to the farm, but what then? Can it really all be the same again?

There are some stunning scenes in this – several that will particularly linger. The couple’s son has eschewed inheritance of the farm to indulge his passion for circus skills. He is at odds with his father over this, but when Xavier surprises with a visit to where he trains it is revelatory. As it is when Brigitte finds evidence that she has been sprung. Her reaction displays just what an actress the venerable Huppert is!

And we also discover if smothering a nasty rash in passionate kisses can be a cure for the complaint. Well then, does our heroine truly find that it is never too late to live a little? Do there always have to be negative repercussions for bedding someone out of wedlock? I saw this French charmer in a week when a cafe siege and the slaughter of innocent children dominated the news. This sublime movie truly made me feel better about the planet. It will put you in a better place too.

Official Website = http://www.palacefilms.com.au/foliesbergere/

You’ll remember him if, like this scribbler, you’re of a certain vintage and back last century you had any form of relationship with the cinema. And he’s still lookin’ good – most dapper in all white Arab garb. He still has that sparkle, a certain glint in the eye. He’s now a venerable octogenarian, but back in the day he was something special – Alexandria’s great gift to the world. He shone in such movies as ‘Lawrence of Arabia’, ‘Funny Girl’ and more recently, ‘Monsieur Ibrahim’. But for this film tragic he remains the centrepiece of a triangle of love as two luscious beauties of the time, Geraldine Chaplin – who I felt was far decidedly more luminous than her rival – and Julie Christie vied for his character’s affections. I remember the iconic scenes – the train in the snow, the battle charge and the sheer desperation of being in Russia on the losing side during its revolution. ‘Dr Zhivago’, hitting our screens way back in 1965, was and still is a classic. The same could be said for Omar Sharif. He is wonderful as the ghost in ‘Rock the Casbah’.

And again, in this movie, he is surrounded by a bevy of stunning women as a family comes together for a funeral. Sofia (Morjana Alaoui), a reasonably successful actress based in LA, flies in to join her sisters Miriam (Nadine Labaki) and Kenza (Lubna Azabal). Also present are the bereaved mother/wife (Hiam Abbass) and a feisty grandmother. It is illuminating watching the Islamic way of burying their loved ones as the Hassan cohort grieve for patriarch Moulay. This French/Moroccan effort is pure Hollywood as kin, friends and servants gather to point score and settle old insults – prior, during and after the internment. But within the family there is a secret that threatens to turn relationships awry. As well, an old, explosive affair is rekindled and there’s also the proverbial black sheep to be thwarted.

It is all run of the mill stuff in narrative terms – there are no surprises here. It’s the gorgeousness and charisma of these women that will engage the audience. They certainly charmed me in the way Ms Chaplin did all those decades ago. Despite an exotic locale on show and practises foreign to us Westerners, this movie demonstrates that some features of the human condition are universal. These are strong, resilient ladies – all of them. In secular Muslim communities such indomitable creatures still run the show. As in our society, the menfolk are no match. Director Laila Marrakchi infuses the proceedings with a rich glow; his lenswork assisting in giving his offering immense warmth. Who knows how many more times Sharif will grace the world’s screens? ‘Rock the Casbah’ is worth a view for this alone – the added excellence is a bonus.

Trailer for ‘Rock the Casbah’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zud2_-im5aM

My son and his partner recently visited the City of Love. As with many like souls who see their future as eternal togetherness, they made the journey to one of the bridges of locks across the Seine. Rich and Shan duly attached their commitment to each other. And now my lad’s beautiful partner is my daughter-in-law to be – to my great delight. And the rite of passage in placing a lock on a Parisian river crossing has a small, but significant, role to play in ‘My Old Lady’.

Kevin Kline and Kristin Scott Thomas are two actors who, as they age, have taken on more ‘interesting’ roles, with the result that they’ve become even ‘sexier’. And as for the grand dame, Maggie Smith – well, has she ever been young? Of course, as the real star of the behemoth that is ‘Downton Abbey’, she is in her pomp. She gives any side project, such as this, true pulling power. She is a marvel.

‘My Old Lady’ is basically a three-hander featuring those three thespians – quite a stage-y one, betraying its origins. One assumes at the start that this Israel Horowitz offering will be a droll comedy revolving around a French law that complicates property inheritance. It seems that when destitute, bedraggled Mathias (Kline) discovers he is heir to prime Parisian real estate he reckons all his Christmases have come at once. Thanks to the law, all is not as straight forward as it seems for, with it, comes a non-evictable tenant in nonagenarian Mathilde (Smith). Also in residence is her life-disappointed daughter, Chloe (Scott Thomas). Once the set up is done with, we soon enter darker territory as it emerges their links to each other are much deeper than the trio could possibly imagine. There are bursts of humour throughout to alleviate the downward spiral in tone, the latter thanks to the ever increasing self-loathing of the younger duo. One returns to the bottle, the other gives a lover the flick. Then, a decision has to be made – so enters a bridge of locks and Hollywood pap.

This effort will please those of us who like to leave a cinema with a smile on our faces. There was, though, provision here, given the set up, for a little more straying from the predictable, thus producing a more compelling piece. Still, the movie is time well spent staring up at a silver screen. The three old stagers can do this sort of stuff in their sleep – it is no stretch to their actorly bona fides. Looking at the still beauteous Ms Scott Thomas, I certainly wasn’t disappointed with it.

‘My Old Lady’ trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ck35r6E4VRM