Crimezine takes a Walk Among the Tombstones

Liam Neeson stars in Lawrence Block’s A Walk Among the Tombstones

Thank goodness for Liam Neeson Crimeziners. If you’ve got kidnapped female relatives, he is definitely the one to call. Let’s face it, he is so introspectively crumpled and Liam Neesonish there isn’t a felonious spouse-snatcher, or kiddy-bothering ransom merchant anywhere who can match his patented soft-Irish charm and “troubled-look-to-camera thoughtfulness”.

How appropriate then, that Neeson should take the lead as the Crimetastic Mathew Scudder in Walk Among the Tombstones the latest cinematic interpretation of Crime legend Lawrence Block’s grand oeuvre. Many with better memories than Crimezines cognac addled collective consciousness will be just about able to recall the 1986 Scudder movie 8 Million Ways to Die, starring Jeff Bridges and Rosanna Arquette. Apparently this cinematic marvel barely made enough buckeroos to cover the bar bill.

It is perhaps no surprise then, that Scott Frank, screen writing genius behind Elmore Leonard’s Get Shorty, Out of Sight and [cof] Marley and Me, reckons it took ten long years to get this movie made. That’s a lot of Hollyweird spritzer brunches, and air-kissing focus groups for one man to endure. But Crimezine commends his tenacity. Mr. Frank is a strong advocate of adult-orientated crime movies that don’t involve superhero costumes. But, he reckons that the time is now past when such movies can be made with the frequency they once were. He even doubts that a movie like Get Shorty could be made in today’s movie making climate. Those that do make it are the exception he says.

With this in mind, Crimezine was eager to take a walk amongst the aforementioned tombstones. With the forces of righteousness on its side—surely this move will be unable to fail? Welllll. Nesson is awesome as Scudder and the movie gets off to a rip-roaring start, examining his back-story motivation. The power of the Scudder books is brought to life in an admirable way, incorporating the former detectives boozehound past and twelve-steps present. And Brian “Astro” Bradley is adorable as Scudder acolyte TJ. Expectations run high and one just can’t help but get a thrill of pleasure when Neeson growls the classic Scudder line, “I do favors for friends”.

But then we meet the supporting cast. None of whom are bad per se—but there are no stand out performances whatsoever and the remainder of the movie unwinds like a low-budget teleplay. Grungy nastiness abounds, as does questionable motivation, grisly mutilation and industrial strength misogyny from two limply thuggish kidnappers—who appear to be recent overacting graduates from the Hollyweird Academy of bad guys. It is all very disturbing, but not for the right reasons. Scott Frank thinks TV is the new home for ambitious screenwriters. Seeing this movie one can perhaps understand why.

Crimezine wholeheartedly recommends the outstanding Scudder novels by Lawrence Block. Start with the first: The Sins of the Fathers (1976). Contact Lawrence and buy his books at: http://lawrenceblock.com/

http://www.awalkamongthetombstones.net/

Crimezine catches The Drop a movie by Dennis Lehane

Tom Hardy and James Gandolfini: standout performances in The Drop

Everybody loves a good heist movie—right Crimeziners? Thing is, The Drop is much more than just another heist movie, it is a slow burning tale of manipulation based around Brooklyn Bar Marv’s. James Gandolfini is the marvelous Marv, an on the ropes bar manager who used to own the place until his gambling debts forced him to sell up to the new owners—a Chechen organized crime syndicate.

The Chechens needless to say are very bad people—the kind of gangsters who would hack you up and dump you in the East river in a New York second if they thought you were trying to steal their money. Who would do such a thing? Plenty of folks as it turns out, because the Chechens are using the bar as a “drop joint” a collection front for their ill gotten loot. And in the down at heel environs of Marv’s Place, there are a whole host of bottom feeders stupid—or desperate enough to give it a go.

However, the real star of this movie is simple-minded barman Bob Saginowski played by Tom Hardy. Bob is a sweet guy who puts up with bitter uncle Marv, because he doesn’t have options. But Bob’s life changes irrevocably one dark winter night, as he heads home and finds a battered puppy abandoned in a trashcan. Who would do such a thing?

Enter nutso neighborhood character Eric, who has gifted the battered puppy as a nasty surprise to his ex Nadia. [Noomi Girl with a Dragon Tattoo Rapace.] Needless to say Eric is non too happy when Bob and Nadia hook up and begin nursing the puppy back to health. Bottom feeder Eric has many cruel and creepy surprises up his sleeve for the young couple, all delivered with his characteristic sniveling nastiness.

Just as it seems things cannot get any worse for Bob, a junky duo snatch the till takings at the bar. They want the drop money, but settle for five large instead. Not much money in the scheme of things but the Chechens want their money back on the hurry up. What is a guy to do?

The Drop was based on the Dennis Lehane short story Animal Shelter. Lehane wrote the screenplay for the movie, which after his outstanding record of success with projects such as Mystic River, Gone Baby Gone, Shutter Island is a natural progression. This movie isn’t exactly Lehane’s first rodeo as a screenwriter. he has written three episodes of the award winning series The Wire and worked as writer and creative consultant on the crimetastic HBO series Boardwalk Empire.

It is rare to see a screenplay this real or this engaging. Standout performances by Gandolfini and Tom Hardy are so good you almost don’t want The Drop to end—This was Gandolfini’s last movie before he died. He chain smokes and waddles corpulently through every scene and whilst his performance provides an outstanding epitaph, one cannot help wishing the great man had shown a little more concern for his personal welfare. Run don’t walk. Go see The Drop today.

Kisses—Tom Hardy and Rocco the pitbull star in the Drop

 

http://thefilmstage.com/news/ahead-of-the-drop-read-dennis-lehanes-animal-rescue-and-watch-films-tiff-conference/

Crimezine catches up with Guy Pearce and The Rover

The Rover: more murders than you can shake a dingos donger at

Strewth Crimeziners. There’s not even a moment to say g’day and wouldn’t you know it, a truckload of bleary-eyed bludgers have just stolen Guy Pearce’s car. But the great man isn’t about to chuck a wobbly, no mate. Guy is a man who gets even, no matter what the price.

Now Mr. Pearce is, as many will know, is a Crimezine favorite. He played the charming Mike Young in 80’s soap Neighbors but has since redeemed himself considerably, starring in such cinematic classics as Ravenous, LA. Confidential and er… The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

Well, you can be assured there are no queens in this desert Crimeziners. It is dryer than a drovers dog out there in the outback. And you can be certain there is even less happening there, in a post apocalyptic Australia, than on a work week Tuesday in Wisconsin. It is however cinematically “Atmospheric” and if you enjoy that kind of thing, that is just fine and dandy. To add to viewing enjoyment the endless panoramic vistas are accompanied by a soundtrack composed by a particularly heavily drugged and tone-deaf Velvet Underground fan, whose hobbies include listening to flies and drawing his nails slowly down a blackboard.

So what can liven this thing up we hear you ask. Well, there are the murders of course—a lot of murders. There is wounding too and cruelty to midgets, but mainly murders. There is also a soupçon of roadside crucifixion, but Director David Michôd is just funning with us here, in a way that might lead us into thinking something is actually going to happen. Not much does. Then there are some more murders.

We would like to say the pace picks up when facially ravaged and perennially sweaty Pearce meets the wounded and mentally challenged Rey, played by Robert Pattinson. It didn’t—there are however more murders to look forward to. And all the while we were wondering about Guy Pearce’s hair: Alopecia? An engaging sub plot that we liked very much.

There is a thriving genre of artistically shot “horror in the desert” movies. If you liked films like 29 Palms and The Hills Have Eyes, and Mad Max, you may very well enjoy this movie a great deal. The poobahs at the Cannes film festival did not, and you just know that if a film is too artsy for those bludgers—it is very artsy indeed.

Now, there is a point to relentless horror Crimeziners, but it is a very long time in coming and standout moments by the chilling Gillian Jones aside, this movie is deader than a dingo’s donger. Fair dinkum? We thought so. Now where are those tinnies? A golden throat charmer was never more sorely needed.

Crimezine goes down to Sin City and meets a Dame to Kill For.

Micky Rourke as Marv in Sin City a Dame to Kill For

New York City. West 34^th. It is raining. Shambling concrete towers reach for the ominous sky. Crimezine is here for one reason: to see the new Frank Miller/ Robert Rodriguez crime thriller—Sin City: A Dame to Kill For.

It has been a while since the last Sin City epic Crimeziners—2005 to be exact, which is an eternity in Hollyweird terms. Why you may ask when the original genre busting movie made big box office buckeroos? Well, the similarly styled Spirit movie, also written and directed by Miller sank  faster than an Italian cruiseship and lost almost as much money. Still, best not mention that eh?

The fabulous Marv played by Micky Rourke is back once again and he has been drinking…heavily. You just know that means trouble right Crimeziners? Especially for those frat-boy funsters who are setting fire to the Sin City derelict down on his luck. Meanwhile, supersmug teenybop heartthrob Joseph Gorden-Levitt is new in town, thinking he can make fast and flashy at Kadie’s place. Trouble you will be pleased to hear is on the way when the cocky young buck imagines he can fleece the sinister Senator Roarke [played by the awesome powers Boothe] at cards. Hideously mangled? You betcha.

So what else happens? Wellllllll. Jessica Alba wiggles her ass and drinks pints of vodka straight out the bottle [Don’t try this one at home children] and a crumple faced Josh Brolin wanders around with a permanent hangover, wondering endlessly in a gravelly voice what the hell is going on.

Bad shit is what is happening dude and lots of it and the pantingly gorgeous femme fatal Ava Lord [Eva Green] is behind much of the upset, ably assisted by the almost supernatural Manute [Dennis Haysbert]. The gorgeous young strumpet elevates the role to Bond Villain proportions. Hurrah! we hear you cry.

Old favorites also make swift appearances—the marginally revamped girls from the old town and a spectral Bruce Willis as John Hartigan. This film really does have a stellar cast and marvelous cameos come in the form of Christopher Lloyd, Ray Liota and Lady Gaga.

Cinematically, the film is much the same as the first—grizzly silhouettes, extreme neo-noir contrasts—weird shit that looks like nuclear fallout drizzling endlessly from the sky. Needless to say, it is always night. As for the action there is lots of that, the decapitation count rides higher than an Islamosupremacist Sunday school outing and there is at one point, a gouging so unspeakably horrible the entire auditorium broke out with cheers/laughter/cries of unmitigated terror.  The sound of actual vomiting could be heard amongst audience members for several minutes after this scene—maybe it was the hotdog/nacho plate combo-meal?

Given that this is the kind of cinematic vehicle we are dealing with, it seems strange that certain critics are leveling accusations of political incorrectness at this movie. To wish that a Frank Miller/Robert Rodriguez movie should be more politically correct is like buying a Motley Crue record and wondering wistfully why it doesn’t sound more like limp-wristed student popsters Cold Play.

Crimezine love, love, loves Frank Miller and Robbo Rodriguez and we love the noirtastic harboiled world that is Sin City.

http://sincity-2.com/

 

Crimezine delves into the heart of darkness with Cormac McCarthy and Child of God

Child of God Lester Ballard, always kisses on a first date.

Greetings Crimeziners. Can we interest you in a little violence and sexual deviance? It is the weekend after all—

Now, we know you are fans of serial-sicko Cormac McCarthy, who’s anatomically correct slabs of stomach churning darkness are the nouveau craze du jour in Hollyweird. No doubt you have already seen No Country For Old Men, The Road and star-studded enigma The Counsellor but you ain’t, as they say, seen nothing yet.

Enter Academy Award winner and pulchritudinous polymath James Franco. Now Jimbo, as many will know, has been trying for years and without a great deal of success, to make a movie out of Cormac McCarthy classic Blood Meridian. To date this hasn’t happened, so young Jimbo has upped the ante and is about to unleash another McCarthy based movie Child of God starring Scott Haze and Tim Blake Nelson. Oh goody, we hear you cry, an uplifting religious work—what is it about exactly?

Well, necrophilia mostly and serial murder figures heavily too. Imagine if you will Sevier County Tennessee in the not so swinging sixties. For it is here we find wild eyed protagonist Lester Ballard, a man cast very much in the Ed Gein mold. Now, young Lester, as you might expect is every bit the outsider. After finding a couple dead in a car wreck, the delightful young charmer falls head over heels in love with the deceased. And much kissy-kissy ensues.

Unfortunately for our hero his “first love” is consumed by fire, so he sets to work creating more corpses he can “fall in love” with. Unfortunately for Lester, too much is never enough and the cycle of cruelty, moral degradation, and isolation forces him into the barbaric existence of a cave dwelling savage.

Now, this delightful movie has already been released to much acclaim at the Venice Film Festival, but Crimezine is sad to report that this cinematic gem will not reach American cinemas in time for Valentines day.

For the more literary minded amongst you Child of God the novel, which first appeared in 1973, is a cult classic that scorns literary conventions in a similar way that it tackles social and moral conventions. As for the movie—watch out for cross burning protestors and switch out the king-size popcorn for a super-size barf bag.

Crimezine, it’s the Real Thing

Accept no substitutes Crimezine is the #1 site for crime. Join the real true Crime Zine at https://crimezine.wordpress.com

Crimezine does cocaine with Martin Scorsese

Cocaine glamorous, surely not?

Martin Scorsese has done cocaine before. He did it in the crimetastic 1990 masterpiece Goodfellas based Wiseguy by Nicholas Pileggi, a book loosely based on the life and crimes of Lucchese crime family foot soldier Henry Hill.

Now, the diminutive Director is doing it again, this time in The Wolf of Wall Street a film based on the life and crimes of rogue stockbroker and professional asshole Jordon Belfort. This is no mean achievement, as Belfort’s book on which the film is based, is as cretinous and self-serving slice of drivel you are ever likely to read. Heavy larded with profanity, this semi-literate litany of stupidity is an A-Z glorification of vice and depravity in all its forms. “Oh goody” we hear you cry, Vice and depravity are the cornerstones of any successful weekend. But wait, there is more. This story, offers a distasteful glamorization of drugs and greed and demonstrates an understanding of the needs of women that falls somewhere between a gangster rapper and a priapic teenager.

But stop— We also get amusing anecdotes, smashed cars and helicopters, a sunken super yacht and more drug addled shenanigans than a night out with Ozzy Osbourne. And that means cocaine—lots of cocaine, in every scene, on every available surface, up every available nose and orifice and it is fun, fun, fun—at least that is what The Wolf of Wall Street would have us believe. Forget the swindled seniors, forget the monetary malfeasance and the spiral of personal tragedy—because glamorous Leonardo DiCaprio [Wolfie] and Jonah Hill, [as loudmouthed sidekick Donnie Azoff,] are the Laurel and Hardy of drugs & debauchery. What harm can come from such sleazy cinematic nonsense?

According to the United Nations, the global cocaine trade generates $92 billion per year, $20 billion more than the combined revenues of Microsoft, Kellogg’s and McDonald’s. The cocaine trade has destabilized national economies throughout Southern and Central America, causing a crisis of corruption at every level of government and law enforcement. The drug is largely responsible for the epidemic growth of Narco-trafficking and the emergence of the new breed of ruthless of super cartels who have murdered tens of thousands of people in order to ply their trade. In Mexico alone, there have been 47,515 Narco murders during the past two years.

For most cocaine users, Mexico and the Narco nations of South America seem very far removed from a weekend tootski. Forget about the decapitated bodies, the machine-gunned innocents and the Narco malaise that infects every level of economic, judicial, and governmental life. It’s just a little something for the weekend right? What harm can it do?

Cocaine permanently damages the heart, the brain, the lungs and the gastrointestinal tract; it can cause heart attack, stroke, intestinal ulcers, kidney failure and permanent sexual dysfunction. Habitual use leads to delusions, hallucinations & paranoia. Cocaine changes not only the chemistry of the brain but its actual physical structure, reordering normal priorities such as the need to eat, sleep, procreate and survive. The drug subjugates these needs, creating only one overriding priority—the need for more cocaine.

Of course naughty Jordon Belfort gets his comeuppance in The Wolf of Wall Street, after many long years stealing from the gullible and foolish and spending his ill-gotten gains on a heady mixture of drugs, hookers and luxury living, he gets a slap on the wrist prison sentence of three years, at what appears to be some kind of health spa/tennis club—if Martin Scorsese’s movie is to be believed.

Meanwhile, that other Scorsese stoner Henry Hill star of Goodfellas became a government fink, went straight and joined the witness protection program, living life out in the suburbs, to the soundtrack of Sid Vicious’ My Way. Right?

Not really. Hill got kicked off program due to his continued criminal activity and addiction to cocaine and other drugs. By his own admission, Hill was not only dealing cocaine during the Goodfellas period, but heroin too. No doubt that fact was missed out of the screenplay, as heroin—it’s not that sexy, is it Crimeziners?

Welcome to Club Fed Mr. Wolf

Meanwhile, 50% of the US prison population is drug related. Almost 800,000 people incarcerated due to drug use, that is a $40billon cost to the US taxpayer last year alone, and the problem is increasing exponentially. Add the fact that Mexican cartels who murder an average of 50 people a day—every day, are importing 90% of cocaine into the United States and that little tootski at the weekend doesn’t seem like such good value does it?

As cocaine use is virtually unheard of in Hollyweird, Crimezine is certain that Mr. Scorsese and his lawyers have never “done” cocaine themselves. If however you are looking for a “good hit” this weekend, we would encourage you to see Scorsese’s new movie The Wolf of Wall Street. Consider it a cautionary tale.

http://www.thewolfofwallstreet.com/

http://jordanbelfort.com/blog/

http://www.amazon.com/Cocaine-Unauthorized-Biography-Dominic-Streatfeild/dp/B00D9TIQZ0

Nothing Lasts Forever—Crimezine Dies Hard with Roderick Thorp

Roderick Thorp, Nothing Lasts For Ever

Yuletastic Crimbletide greetings Crimeziners. Here at Crimezine HQ on the world famous Mulholland Drive, we often find there is no better way to kick off the Christmas holidays than with a good old-fashioned hostage situation.

We therefore invite you to don your soiled wife-beater singlet and join us at Klaxon Oil’s Christmas Party at the very top of their 40 story HQ in snowbound, reindeer-infested Los Angeles California, for a meeting with retired fighter pilot and NYPD Detective Jo Leland—or John McLane/Bruce Willis, as you might more readily know him.

Die Hard the movie, is based on the 1979 novel Nothing Lasts Forever by pulp novelist Roderick Thorp. It is the sexy sequel to Thorp’s earlier bestselling novel The Detective. Rat Pack aficionados will no doubt be aware that Sam Giancana associate and some time cabaret singer Frank Sinatra starred in a lukewarm movie of the same name. What you may not know is that 20^th Century Fox were contractually obligated to offer the superannuated crooner the role in Die Hard—[Sinatra was 73 at the time] unsurprisingly Frank passed on the kind offer and the role was dangled before Arnold Schwarzenegger, who also turned it down, as did every other action star of the day, from Sly Stallone to er-herm Don Johnson. Bet Donnie is kicking himself now—eh, Crimeziners?

Roderick Thorp thought up the idea for Nothing Lasts Forever after seeing the hit movie Towering Inferno—after watching the movie he had nightmares of being chased through a burning building by men with guns and thus a masterpiece of crime fiction was conceived.

The book relates the story of former Detective Leland, who is visiting his daughter at Klaxon Oil’s Christmas gathering, when a ruthless band of Kraut terrorists move in with their Stalag 13 accents and a list of demands, which include exposing Klaxon’s corrupt dealings with a nasty government in Chile. They also think it will be a cool idea to dump $6,000,000 in cash out of the towers windows. Vive la Revolution.

Course it turns out that Leland has history with gang leader Gruber that dates back to WWII, so we just know things are going to end badly. Add to this a rich, pulpish undertow of alcoholism, guilt and the twisted psychology of the human mind and you have a Christmas read that will have Granny pounding the sweet Sherry until well into the New Year.

As for the movie, you have seen it a bazillion times already, but once more never hurts. Filmed for the most part at 20^th Century Fox’s HQ in Century City, Los Angeles, the building was still under construction during filming, hence the building equipment scenes. The city backdrop was provided by a 380 foot background painting, complete with fully functioning lights, a prop that tight-wads FOX have used on many movies since. The helicopter scene took six months of preparation, but the production was given only two hours above Fox Plaza in which to film it. It took three attempts to get the shots and nine camera crews. And if you were wondering why Alan Rickman looks so surprised when he takes a plunge off the building, it is because naughty John McTiernan tossed the hapless thesp’ off the building without warning. Apparently the RADA trained limey was “boiling with anger” Bet the Royal Shakespeare Company never treated him with such a cavalier attitude. Still Rickman can no doubt take solace in the fact that McTiernan changed the films original three-night time line to one, after watching Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Nights Dream.

Merry Christmas Crimeziners Hope Santa visits you with his bulging sack.

Crimezine gives a verdict on The Counselor

Brad Pitt looks resplendent in cowboy hat, as counselor Michael Fassbender prepares once again to sob his heart out.

Ever wanted to see Cameron Diaz have sex with a Ferrari? You heard it right Crimeziners. Not on, or in, but actually with a Ferrari. No doubt there are parts of the interweb, where such dark fantasies can come true, but now thanks to Ridley Scott’s Crimetastic new movie The Counselor, based on the tale by Cormac “No Country for Old Men” McCarthy, we can all witness this edifying spectacle within the framework of a mainstream Hollywood movie. Hurrah!

So, we hear you ask, just how central to The Counselor story is this scene of Hollywood super-vixen Diaz squeegeeing the windshield of a sex on sex super car with her snatch? Not very central, but finally after many long years, it will ensure that the gorgeous Ms Diaz is no longer referred to, by the cinematic suffix—You know, that girl who got her bangs clagged with baby-batter in [the nineties Farrelly brothers romp], There’s Something About Mary.

So, who’s the lucky guy behind the steering wheel? The ludicrously coiffed Javier Bardem, who is upstaged throughout the film, by a wardrobe so gauche that a West Hollywood Hairdresser would consider it “overstated”. Not that Javier would mind, as he is real life hubbie of the film’s other swoon-some love-interest Penélope Cruz.

Ms Cruz is an awesome actress, but all she is required to do here is look doe-eyed and wobble her bottom lip occasionally. Shame.

But never fear Crimeziners, there are a bazillion other cameos in this marvelous movie of missing mullah, devious druggies and a crooked counselor, who is way too wet for his own good. Man of the moment Michael Fassbender is the aforementioned counselor, and poor Mikey is so “sensitive and vulnerable” throughout, he literally blubs in every scene; on one occasion so hard, that snot literally runs out his nose. In Crimezine’s humble opinion Mr. Scott should have cut in a scene where the wonderfully hard-nosed Ms Diaz comprehensively bitch-slaps the blubbing thesp. Sadly this did not happen.

What does happen, is a bunch of McCartheyesque dialogue so philosophical, poetic, and yes, on occasion mystifying, that one can see, straight out of the gate, why so many big name actors wanted to be in this movie. Crimezine love, love, loves Cormac McCarthy with his dark webs of philosophical intrigue, and this marvelous film valiantly attempts to honor the legend of the man. What we get is two hours of mystery, suspense and enigmatic verbosity that will undoubtedly leave the average guns and explosions cinemagoer scratching their heads.

Still, we know you want to see Ms. Diaz doing it with the Ferrari, and you will also want to witness some of the most goretastic demises you have seen since last weeks, Machete Kills. Decapitation? Check. Uzi-strafing antics? Check. Grizzly goings on—you got it. Which brings us to the subject of Brad Pitt. Brad looks marvelous in a cowboy hat throughout this movie, but one cannot help but think the Clooney chum and Crimezine confident has been erherm “piling on the pounds” of late. One cannot also help but feel that, in a similar way to Ms Cruz, his talent has been somewhat underutilized in this movie. Crimezine has no doubt however, that his part in the finale of The Counselor will stay with you almost as long as the image of Ms Diaz doing it with the Ferrari. Out this weekend. Go see it.

http://www.thecounselormovie.com/us/#!/characters

Crimezine goes into a Trance and discovers new truths about the British film industry

James McAvoy. Look into the eyes, not around the eyes 321. You are under—

Trance. Listen to Crimezine’s voice. Look into the eyes, not around the eyes 321. You are under—transported into Danny “Slumdog Millionaire’”Boyle’s crimetastic new movie Trance. Crimeziners will no doubt know Boyle’s work from such disparate classics as Trainspotting, Shallow Grave and James Franco vehicle 127 hours—no arm hacking at the back of class please.

This tense psychological crime thriller stars James McAvoy, Rosario Dawson and Vincent Cassel and the action kicks off when fresh-faced Simon (McAvoy) decides he can use his position as a fine art auctioneer to make some quick cash, by stealing an old master painting.

But as is so often the case, the plan goes badly awry, and Simon’s villainous associates led by Franck (Cassel) become enraged when it appears that clean cut Simon has double crossed them and stolen the painting for himself. Naturally they torture him extensively, but poor old Simon got bonked on the head during the robbery and now he cannot remember where he put the painting. [Curses] Enter the gorgeous and exotic Rosario Dawson as hypnotist Elizabeth Lamb and pretty soon both Simon and his partners in crime are learning some short order truths they rather wish they hadn’t.

Trance is classic Boyle. B movie crime with a plot that is Twistier than Topaga Canyon, how twisty is that? we hear you ask—like a seniors sightseeing trip in Switzerland and then some. The screenplay by is by TV writer Joe Aherne and John Hodge, who has worked on many of Boyle’s classic movies. Interestingly, Aherne came up with the screenplay for Trance in 1994. It is said that Boyle thought the idea too ambitious at the time, so in 2001 Aherne turned the script into a TV movie. Now, after a marathon journey Trance resurfaces for the big screen.

Although this is a Brit flick, it manages to transcend many of the pitfalls that British crime cinema has fallen into recently, namely a self-conscious tendency to favor self parody over innovation, or an overreliance on the heavily structured Hollyweird plot model, that chooses gunfights and explosions over pretty much anything.

Clearly Boyle and Co. have chosen a European feel for this movie, more particularly a French feel. It can be no coincidence that the multi talented Cassel, a major French movie star, was chosen for the role of Franck. Cassel has starred in such Frenchie crime classics as La Haine and Irréversible as well as mainstream Hollywood movies such as Oceans Twelve. And most notably received the 2009 Cesar award for best actor for his performance in Mesrine, directed by Jean-Francois Richet.

So Crimeziners, if you are a fan of trippy European crime cinema with a heavy side order of mystery so complex that no gunfight/explosion movie will ever seem the same—you need to see Trance. See it now, tell them Crimezine sent you. 321 You are back in the room.

 

http://www.TranceTheMovie.com/

http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/fox_searchlight/trance/