Showing posts with label Brit Ekland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brit Ekland. Show all posts

Friday, 18 September 2026

Endless Night









Fragment Rock

Endless Night
Directed by Sydney Gilliat
UK 1972
Indicator Blu Ray Zone B


Warning: Endless Spoilers.

I almost didn’t bother writing a review for this one because, although I found the film entertaining, I also found it rather slight in substance. A conclusion which was obviously similar to UK audiences at the time, where it didn’t receive a great reception. Apparently it fared considerably better in Italy on its release. 

Based on a book by Agatha Christie, Endless Night is the last of three films made co-starring Hywel Bennett and Hayley Mills, two of which, including this one (and the slightly better known Twisted Nerve) were scored by the late great Bernard Herrmann. And, as I say, it’s not got a lot going for it storywise... it tells the tale of Hywel Bennett’s young chauffer Michael who makes good by accidentally falling in love with and marrying the sixth richest young lady in the world, Ellie (played by Hailey Mills). An architect friend, Santomix, played by Per Oscarsson builds Michael’s dream home for them in Wales (with a location in the Isle Of Wight standing in for it) and things go alright for a while, apart from the inlaws and the former housekeeper who kind of moves in with them... Greta, played by Britt Ekland. Then things start to go wrong and Ellie is found dead under mysterious circumstances one day.

The whole thing is made slightly more interesting than it sounds by the use of a fragmentary structure and a slightly experimental playfulness with some of the editing and stock treatment. It’s told as a kind of fragmented flashback by Bennett’s character and various false starts and other narrative stammers are fought against and overcome to get his story out into the open. For instance, foreshadowing at the start of something revealed in more crucial detail from his childhood only at the end of the picture and an odd scene of repeat edits where he comes upon a faceless woman in a forest, rapidly repeated as a smooth camera movement three times, but treated slightly different on each stammer, with a different colour on each pass having, what looks like, a single colour missing from it... so green and red on one pass, blue and red on another and so forth. It’s quite striking but only lasts a few seconds. 

It’s filed with a whole host of wonderful supporting actors too... Peter Bowles, Lois Maxwell (Miss Moneypenny herself), George Sanders (he killed himself a few months before the release of this film), Walter Gottell (who was in From Russia With Love and then as a regular reoccurring character in Roger Moore’s stint as James Bond) and even Windsor Davies. Plus, in a completely uncredited role, I spotted an auctioneer played by Nicholas Courteney (who was the long running character of the Brigadier in Doctor Who). 

Herrmann’s score is fine but it’s not what you’d be expecting for one of his thrillers, although it is appropriate to the movie. Although there are a few typical Herrmann moments of ‘fright’, using stabs of colour on a Moog synthesiser (Herrmann obviously thought the guy playing it did a good job because he let the musician share a credit on his card at the start of the movie... which I suspect he did because the producers wouldn’t give the musician his own credit and so offered space on his, like he did with the soloist on the film On Dangerous Ground... reviewed here), the score is much more in his lesser known romantic idiom, which aligns it much more closely to his scores for such films as The Ghost And Mrs. Muir than it does to any of his thriller scores. But it is good stuff, it has to be said.

The biggest problem with the film is that it telegraphs the killer from very early on. Hywel Bennett’s fragmented voice-over narrative really does point the finger very early on due as much to what is not said as much as what is initially seen. His general personality traits (and his relationship with his own mother) kind of flags his narrative as ‘not to be trusted’ and, I think without the framework that the director went with on this film, it would have been a far duller affair but with less chance of guessing the killer in the first five minutes, for sure. 

And that’s me done with Endless Night, I think... although I shall return to my CD of the score on occasion. Indicator do their usual nice job of including some extras, many of which on this Blu Ray focus on Bernard Herrmann... I haven’t explored those yet but I certainly intend to do so. 

Sunday, 14 April 2013

The Man With The Golden Gun




The Brave And The Gold

The Man With The Golden Gun
1974 UK
Directed by Guy Hamilton
EON Blu Ray Region A/B/C

The Man With The Golden Gun is the last of the four James Bond films directed by series regular Guy Hamilton. It was also, to the 6 year old child version of myself who had been sitting in a cinema waiting for the movie to start, my earliest disappointment in the milieu of film.

I’d seen Live And Let Die at the cinema when I was 5 years old, you see, and Bond had immediately become my new hero. Especially as, over the course of the remainder of the year, my parents had taken me out to see a few double bills of the earlier Connery films. It also had Christopher Lee in it, who was Ian Fleming’s cousin, as it happens, and who had been offered the role of Dr. No by Fleming years earlier. Now I think this was the same year (or it may have been a year or two earlier, can’t remember if I was 4 or 5 when I saw my first Hammer horror) that I first saw Taste The Blood Of Dracula when I’d been taken on a visit to my Uncle’s to watch said film on his “colour” television set (which was a big deal to me, since we only ever had a black and white TV until I was well into my late teens) and I was therefore also quite stoked to see how he got on in this movie playing a different character...

And then my disappointment began.

The film starts off with Marc Lawrence playing a similar role, possibly even the same character, as the one he played in Diamonds Are Forever (“I never knew there was a pool down there”). He takes on Scaramanga in his “funhouse” or “assassin’s playground” or whatever you want to call it and, at the end, a wax figure of Roger Moore’s Bond pops up and Scaramanga shoots the fingers off of its right hand before we go into the opening credits... and Lulu’s blisteringly seductive voice, belting out one of the catchier but lyrically challenging songs in the series. And from that pre-credits sequence I was a very glum six year old right until the end of the movie.

Because you can see Scaramanga’s demise so clearly telegraphed from the opening pre-credits sequence that even at that tender age, the assassin’s end was obvious and, frankly, defies credibility. And since I was the kind of kid who would favour the story dynamics over the way the camera works at the time (and I’m not a fan of the shot design and so on in the Bond films directed by Hamilton, as a rule, anyway) I was just humongously disappointed.

As a young ‘un, of course, there were other excitements on offer in Moore’s second stab at Bond. The comical school girls in their mini tribute to the kung fu craze which had exploded at the time was something I found most amusing (although not now) and Clifton James’ reprisal of the role of Sherif Pepper from Live And Let Die was a nice touch (again, at the time). There’s even some rather nice set design in the temporary offices the British Secret Service use in a half sunken boat, which may seem vaguely reminiscent of the set design in the German expressionist masterpiece The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari, in it’s “crooked house” stylings.

But for my younger self, this all paled in the face of the mantra of “I know how this movie is going to end” and even though I am much more (if not all) these days about the general mise-en-scene of a movie rather than any inherent story value, there is still a sense of outrage following me from my past whenever a movie fails to be less than obvious... which seems to be a constant failing of the majority of modern movies I see (I never did get around to watching James Cameron’s Titanic, ever, for example because, well... it sinks at the end, right?).

Looking at the film today I can say only three pertinent things about it...

1. John Barry’s score is stunning, even at it’s most corniest when a slide whistle is used to “mickey mouse” a much publicised, first time on film corkscrew car jump. I especially like the corny lyrics of the end titles version of the song, where Lulu belts out the following... “Goodnight. Goodnight. Sleep well, my dear. Have no fear! James Bond is heeeeeeere!” This stood me in good stead until I heard the brilliance of the Doc Savage song at the cinema, just a short year later.

2. The film is just as humdrum in many ways as the first time I saw it, but at least Moore’s version of Bond was written with a little more edge to him still than was usually associated with that actor. Moore apparently objected to certain scenes and his character was radically softened for the next installment.

3. The new blu-ray print suffers from none of the problems I had experienced with previous home video versions of this movie and looks pretty amazing in terms of clarity. To be fair, though, even comparing it to the DVD versions released previously... this one really did need some fixing.

And that’s about it for this one I’m afraid. The Man With The Golden Gun is a bit rubbish for a lot of its running time with only an enthusiastic John Barry score to keep someone like me entertained. But even so... not as awful as some of the Roger Moore Bond films went on to become.