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Jack Nicholson

Tony Talks #18: New Eureka Blu-Ray Goodness!

Greetings everyone!

As you know, this year I’ve been doing quite a bit of reviewing for Eureka Entertainment, one of the best cult and classic movie labels out there in the UK who have been kind enough to send me screeners of their upcoming films. I’ve seen a bunch of movies I never would have independently watched via this method and it’s been terrific fun.

A stack of Eureka titles all came at once recently and many without the in-depth extras most of their other titles have, so I thought I would badge them up into one post as I clear the decks for this year.

I’m probably going to review less Blu-Ray content in 2020 from Eureka and elsewhere, to be honest, only cherry picking what really takes my fancy. I have Book 2 which I need very much to be getting on with as we enter the New Year and I want to devote time to a few other bits & pieces as well, such as more Scene by Scene film breakdowns & my upcoming 2000 in Film project.

So anyway, here we go. The last (but one) stack of Eureka titles to consider for 2019…

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From the Vault #5: THE SHINING (1980)

From 2012 onwards, before developing this blog, I wrote a multitude of reviews on the website Letterboxd. In this irregular series called From the Vault, I’m going to haul these earlier reviews out of mothballs and re-purpose them here.

This one is from October 31st, 2012, revisited with Mike Flanagan’s Doctor Sleep just around the corner…

I’m going to throw out there a statement that is controversial when you say it about any movie: The Shining is one of the greatest motion pictures ever made. There, I said it. That’s right out there and I’m standing by it.

Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s well-known psychological horror is a remarkable piece of work, operating on an incredible amount of levels. It’s the most chilling movie I have honestly ever watched; other movies have made me jump more, or squirm, but The Shining every time gets inside my bones, gets inside my head, and refuses to go anywhere. The sign of a truly great movie is one that won’t leave you when the credits roll, and Kubrick’s tale sits in a very select group of films that have done that to me, and continue to on repeat viewing.

JOKER: A male rage manifesto with ugly societal truths

Even for a film devoted to perhaps the most iconic comic book villain in history, Joker has arrived front loaded with a measure of positive and negative hype mixed in with a significant level of anxiety and paranoia.

In that sense, Todd Phillips’ deconstruction of DC Comics villain The Joker, Batman’s eternal primary nemesis from almost a century of comic book lore, befits the approach taken by this detailed, Bat-free examination of the character. Phillips’ film takes a major cue from the work of Martin Scorsese, a filmmaker at the core of the American New Wave movement that defined 1970’s cinema, whose work has particularly concentrated on New York City. Were Joaquin Phoenix’s failed stand up comedian Arthur Fleck not a resident of the fictional, legendary Gotham City, Phillips’ film could easily be set in NYC. His Gotham has the same feel and texture, the same nihilistic cruelty and dystopian economic social and political divide. The early 80’s of Joker is Scorsese’s 70’s, riven through Phillips’ key inspirations such as Mean Streets or particularly Taxi Driver, not to mention the early 80’s showmanship of The King of Comedy.

It would therefore be easy to cast Joker off as a pure Scorsese-homage, or even rip off. Joker wears its inspirations very clearly on its sleeve, lifting Travis Bickle’s righteous fury at society’s decay or Rupert Pupkin’s delusional fantasy of fame and recognition, and porting them into Arthur’s descent into madness. Yet there is a case to be made that Phillips’ film and Arthur’s transformation are one and the same thing. Joker presents an origin story in which a murderous psychopath is created as a product of his environment, of his experiences, and of society’s evolution into the shape it is today. Joker, similarly, is an echo of a cinematic 70’s filled with pictures—such as Sidney Lumet’s Network or Serpico, or Alan J. Pakula’s conspiracy thrillers—that raged at the system, the inequality, and the corruption at the heart of American society. Joker, too, is a product of its own cinematic heritage. It feels like an evolution of the form.

The question is whether Joker, as a depiction of white male rage, is an irresponsible manifesto or a remarkable moment for comic book cinema.