Cruising | 1980

The brief: Steve Burns (Al Pacino) - a NY cop - is asked by his superior (Paul Sorvino) to pose as a gay man and go undercover at leather/S&M bars because he resembles the victims of a serial killer preying on members of the homosexual community. 

The writeup: The only reason I watched Cruising was because I had read James Franco is making a film based on the apparent "lost 40 minutes" and wanted to prepare myself for that. This was all right, but repetitive in parts (man goes into gay bar, leaves with another man, gets murdered) and it also suffered from severe plot holes. The closest we come to a motive for the murders, for instance, is the suggestion of a screwed up relationship between the killer and his father. The father tells his murderous son "you know what you have to do", and the psychopath is revealed to have penchant for uttering the immortal line "you made me do this" to all his victims. While it is never revealed explicitly, we’re left to assume our killer is committing his crimes as a way of repenting for his own acts of homosexuality - turning the film into something of a morality tales for the gays of '80s New York. Go careful, homos, else this will happen to you.

It's a brave and bold performance by Pacino, though. And you have to give him kudos for taking on such a role during a time of considerably more blighted gay rights. He must've known, for instance, that the film (graphic in both its sexual and homicidal aspects) would've caused controversy. There are also times when the film expresses real depth. As Burns befriends members of the gay community and pushes the boundaries of how far he is willing to go to discover the killer's identity, questions about his own sexuality bubble to the surface; his relationship with his girlfriend is pushed to its limit and his bosses begin to suspect his motives, and we’re offered insight into a potentially thrilling character development. 

Unfortunately, this is never truly explored in the short 98 minutes of the film, and all that is really to be taken away is a so-so cop drama without a heart. There’s too much left unexplained – including a frankly bizarre sequence in which a bearish black man in a nappy walks in and sucker-punches both Burns and the killer during an interrogation scene – and an suspiciously ambiguous ending which posits that the killers hasn’t really been captured at all… Perhaps Franco’s Interior. Leather Bar. will answer some of these unsolved questions, but mostly Cruising left me more disappointed than excited about this new film.

The Departed | 2006

The Brief: Cop Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is convinced by police chief Captain Queenan (Martin Sheen), to infiltrate Irish Mob boss Frank Costello’s (Jack Nicholson) crew. Meanwhile, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) has been planted by Costello as an informant within the Massachusetts State Police. When both sides realise the situation, each attempt to uncover the other mole’s true identity before their own cover is blown. Winner of four Academy Awards: including Best Picture and Best Director (Scorsese).

The Writeup: Fast-paced, tense and bursting with amazing performances from the leads and supporting cast (also including Mark Wahlberg, Ray Winstone, Vera Farminga and Alec Baldwin), it’s obvious why the Academy went cock-a-hoop for this when it was realised seven years ago. Bad boys DiCaprio and Damon are both menacing and heroic in their roles, convincing you to be at once rooting for them and hoping they get their comeuppance in equal measure.

But with so many fine actors vying for our attention, it’s sometimes hard to keep pace with the action you’re watching. Some of the plot just doesn’t ring true. I had a seriously niggling feeling when Sullivan seemed nonplussed at murdering Costello – despite an opening sequence positing the old man as something of a father figure to Sullivan. Further to this, with Sullivan having grown up surrounded by mobsters, and with Costigan’s family ties to the mob, it seemed strange that neither man (of around the same age) would not be aware of the other’s existence already.

All of this only comes in retrospect, of course. The reality being that the film is so slick, hurtling toward its bloodbath finale with such aplomb that there’s little time to even think about such plot holes – let alone get caught up in them. 

Ultimately, while The Departed is certainly engrossing, gritty and authentic, and is clearly more than just a morality tale, I just don’t think it’s worthy of the esteem with which it has been steeped. Character motivations remain unclear to me; the reason we should care about these characters seems lost – and the occasional plotline is left untied (odd, for a film with such few survivors).  Yes, its brutal, gory entertainment, but even with the questions it leaves lingering, I’ve forgotten most of it already.

Exhaustive DVD collection? Exhausted, more like

While I consider myself an avid film fan, I have to admit my penchant for Broadway musicals has sullied my DVD collection over the years. I don’t own anything that doesn’t include at least one song and dance number. I’ve seen subsequently next to no “boy films”. No all-time greats. The classics are lost on me. 

Pacino and De Niro draw near-blanks; Scorsese, Tarantino, De Palma, Kubrick – they’re like another world. I am loathed to spend nearly £18 a pop at the cinema, and yet I hate to watch a movie for the first time with other people, in my living room (I talk too much); so just make everyone rewatch Mean Girls and Dreamgirls and those girls from Sex & the City over and over. 

I am far too computer illiterate to fathom the World of Illegal Downloads and Bit Torrents and am therefore a slave to Netflix, LoveFilm and OnDemand services – often just re-renting films I have seen before that I’d lost over the years due to lendings, house moves, break-ups, the VHS to DVD switch-up, and my tendency to prefer to binge on a new TV show instead of watching a movie (or 2) on a Sunday afternoon. 

But now, dear reader, the time has come to embrace those movies of yesteryear and share with you all my witty and irreverent, spoiler-filled reviews. Oh SURE I’ll still watch Bridget Jones’s Diary near-weekly and SURE I’ll still talk about that here, too; but this is my Martine McCutcheon. Behold as I transform and break free from my serious-movie-watching hiatus. Take that, Winkleman. This is Film 2004-or-thereabouts, and we’re watching the greats.