Chiwetel Ejiofor – The Magnificent 60s

American Gangster (2007) *****

I’ve seen this more times than The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974) put together, so, for me, yeah, this is the greatest gangster picture of all time. There’s always a snobbery involved in talking about your all-time favorite picture. In discussions, I often find that the movie people consider the best is rarely the one they watch the most. While I adore both Godfather pictures on an academic level, they now seem a haul, especially with the running time, overtly grandiose.

American Gangster, on the other hand, is fleet of foot. The dual storylines – Black gangster Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington) rising to the top, incorruptible cop Ritchie Roberts (Russell Crowe) heading a team targeting New York’s drug kingpins – neatly intersect until nearly the end.

Director Ridley Scott has thrown off the shackles of sci fi and history – the demands of the grandiose and the visually cinematic and (in the sci fi) the problems of finding a new way to tell the Alien tale when the audience is waiting for the gore. Here he concentrates on narrative that, seemingly at every turn, exposes character. The story is a fascinating one at that. Nobody in law enforcement or at the higher echelons of Government went after Frank Lucas because nobody thought a Black gangster could build an empire to which even the Mafia kowtowed.

Oddly enough, the violence is muted. Scott does away with the need for repeated violence by an opening shot that sets the scene, Lucas setting fire to a snitch. This is more of a story about big business, that entrepreneurial spirit by which America sets so much store. And it’s a story about family. Lucas recruits all his brothers for the enterprise. Roberts is an outcast in the family of cops because he refuses to be corrupted.

But Roberts is no saint. He is accused by wife Laurie (Carla Gugino) of being scrupulously honest on that front only so he can be dishonest in the rest of his life, with his promiscuity and neglect of his son. When Lucas has the entire extended family round the table to celebrate Xmas (or Thanksgiving – there’s turkey involved, that’s all I know) in a mansion, Roberts is reduced to a tuna sandwich in his cramped apartment.

This is a time when gangsters were celebrities, safe in the knowledge that they were untouchable as long as they paid off the cops. Lucas shuns excess, determines not to draw attention to himself, which is why he remains hidden for so long, and it’s only when, to satisfy his wife, he wears an outrageous fur outfit that he comes to the attention of Roberts.

As the tale zips along, in the background we witness the drugs industry at work, the packaging, the distribution, the clashes between rivals, the deaths of junkies (including a cop), and Vietnam, where corrupt soldiers have made possible Lucas’s clever scheme to buy drugs at the source, cutting out the middle man and ensuring the purity of the product.

But Lucas is a corporate hero. He believes in the brand. A brand, he says, is a guarantee of quality, its dissipation the cause of a dispute with mobster Nicky Barnes (Cuba Gooding Jr.). In the corporate drugs world, the Mafia might think it has drawn Lucas into its tentacles, but it’s the other way round.

This all climaxes in the most dangerous manner – cinematically speaking – possible. John Ford owns the doorway, has done since The Searchers (1956). Christopher Nolan has also taken a tilt at that particular cinematic crown in The Odyssey (2026) when the gates of Troy open to reveal the gigantic figure of Agamemnon in black shining armor. Here, the doors opening are those of a church. Lucas steps out to see the street deserted except for the waiting Roberts.

There are other standout scenes in a movie that careers along so fast it scarcely needs them – Roberts dressing a corpse up to look alive to escape a mob, the shock of the cops when Roberts hands in rather than shares out a million bucks, Lucas burning the fur coat in rage, any time corrupt Detective Trupo (Josh Brolin) appears the scene is a standout, Roberts begging corrupt cops for his money back, Lucas interrupting his breakfast to execute a rival in the street, even the meet-cute with Lucas’s future wife Eva (Lymari Nadel) “can you let go of my hand?”

Lucas dresses immaculately but conservatively, Roberts is in jeans but Tupo, in black leather coat, exudes power. There’s very little moralizing, although various people complain about the loss of an accepted order. The drug dealers go down but there’s no mention of imprisonment for the hordes of soldiers and airmen who took money to feed drugs to their own soldiers or ship them to America.

The cast is absolutely terrific, Denzel Washington (The Equalizer 3, 2023) a commanding, cunning, figure, Russell Crowe (Gladiator, 1999) with his shuffling walk, Chiwetel Ejiofor (Backrooms, 2026) and Josh Brolin (Weapons, 2025) as the most arrogant of the corrupt cops. Supporting roles are filled by the likes of John Hawkes (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, 2017) , Carla Gugino (Watchmen, 2009), Cuba Gooding Jr. (Jerry Maguire, 1996), Armand Assante (Blowtorch, 2016), Idris Elba (Heads of State, 2025) and Ruby Dee (A Thousand Words, 2012). Written by Steve Zaillian (The Irishman, 2019) based on an article by Mark Jacobson.

There’s one other stunning element that needs mentioning – the music by Marc Streitenfeld (Prometheus, 2012). This must be the most self-effacing score ever to grace a gangster picture.

If this has been made today, the trailers would be acclaiming the Oscar achievements of the actors – the tally comes to three winners and three nominees. Next year, when this is due a 20^th anni reissue maybe that will be the promotional tag.

I might well be tempted to watch it again tonight.

The Martian (2015) ***** – Seen at the Cinema (again!)

My guess is that the combination of the success of Project Hail Mary (2026), whose author Andy Weir also wrote this, and the imminent The Odyssey from Christopher Nolan which stars Matt Damon were the triggers for this big-screen reissue. These days, most reissues only play for one day, but this proved so popular it ran in two screens.

Although I reviewed it not so long ago that was on the back of a television screening and seeing it on the big screen reminded of just how brilliant it was – and it more than saved my Monday cinema outing after the abject The Invite. ao forgive me if I give this another plug.

You might recall how annoyed I was several weeks ago by being asked to tolerate Chris Pratt stuck in a chair in Mercy (2026) talking to the camera for what seemed like a solid hour. It struck me then how few actors could manage a whole film one-handed – Tom Hanks in Cast Away (2000) the most obvious example. But, in the wake of Project Hail Mary (2026) I realized there was another contender, Matt Damon as the stranded astronaut in Ridley Scott’s The Martian.

And sure, he eventually gets some help in maintaining audience interest once he communicates with Earth and the spaceship. But here’s the kicker. Mostly what he’s doing is exposition. That’s the one thing a star avoids like the plague. It’s usually left to the supporting actors to set the scene, explain the ins-and-outs of a situation.

But here it’s all down to Damon. He spends his time talking to camera, identifying a problem, usually so scientific you’d need academic books beside you, and then solving it. So, yes, like Cast Away, he’s a bloke on a version of a desert island who’s got to find his way to safety through how own devices.

But even so. What kind of screen persona do you need not just to keep us interested but enthralled? When he sees the first shoots of potato appear, it carries a massive emotional kick. The role of the people on Earth is wonderment and cynicism – no way he can do that sort of thing. Which rachets up the tension and then our hero does the impossible.

There’s always a moment in these space movies where someone comes up with something that’s never been done before – slingshots using gravity, Apollo 13 (1995) littered with improvisation. These scientists are I guess exceptionally brainy to qualify as lunar astronauts but even so.

As I said, I was coming to this again after Project Hail Mary so I was attuned to the science, or the expectation of science and the need to keep the audience informed. But Mark Watney (Matt Damon) comes up with unbelievably-inspired elements of improvisation, some of course pure science but others pure common sense, like pointing the camera at letters to spell out words.

It’s a heck of a ride, especially as with being under Ridley Scott’s command, there’s not a darn alien in sight, no stomach-bursting squeamishness to maintain audience attention, no rampaging monster scuttling along a spaceship. This is Mars as arid as you have been led to believe. Yes, an occasional mountain range or dustbowl to evoke the West of John Ford, and storms coming out of nowhere, but generally speaking as placid and dull a domain as you could wish for.

So in visual terms not much to help out the star. Every movement he makes is fraught with danger. He can choose to freeze through a long night or switch on the heating and thus lose vital battery power.

Every now and then, to speed things up, Ridley Scott literally does just that, characters whizzing around like they’ve just emerged from a silent movie. But mostly it’s slow painstaking going.

Of course we need a big finale and Scott obliges. And every now and then he flicks an emotional switch back on Earth and Nasa boss Teddy Sanders (Jeff Daniels) has to explain how the astronaut they held a memorial for is actually still alive, and the spaceship team have to come to terms with the fact that they abandoned not a corpse but a guy very much alive. There’s no room for humor, but occasionally some is squeezed in – Sanders having to apologize to the President for Watney’s profanity being globally broadcast.

Ridley Scott (Gladiator II, 2024) reins in the bombast and picks his way through a tricky scenario keeping the audience very much onside. Matt Damon (Oppenheimer, 2023) , who has surely inherited the Tom Hanks “everyman” mantle, demonstrates the power of a screen persona, in making an audience hang on his every word, even though most of what he says is scientific mumbo-jumbo. Jessica Chastain (Mothers’ Instinct, 2024) is the pick of the supporting cast.

Written by Drew Goddard who is as sure-footed here as on Project Hail Mary, again adapting a bestseller by Andy Weir.

Well worth another look.

Backrooms (2026) ***** – Seen at the Cinema

Cinema is my oasis of calm. I go once a week on the same day (Monday), on my own, usually sit two rows from the front so I’m not interrupted by heads or popcorn or whispering, and sit in darkness for three or four hours, occasionally longer. It’s usually a seamless procession from car park to cinema. For a number of reasons, I hadn’t managed my weekly visit for a couple of weeks so I had a lot of catching–up to do so much so that a quadruple bill was on the cards. What could possibly go wrong to disturb my tranquillity.

For a start, my regular car park was shut for maintenance. So instead of a 10-minute walk from car park to cinema I had a 25-minute trudge. Access to the cinema proved more difficult than usual. The escalator was out of action and for some reason the people who make escalators make them with bigger steps so it’s always an awkward climb. Things didn’t look any better when I settled down for my first screening. There was no sound. We were shunted out and into another movie. I can’t even be bothered to tell you how bad it.

So my day required immediate redemption. I wasn’t so sure about Backrooms given I didn’t have the same ecstatic reaction to Obsession as others.

What is so astonishing about Backrooms is the tone. It’s not like other horror films built on a soundtrack of screams and visually propelled by jump starts and gore. The two main characters are, in the main, solid and observant. Failed architect and full-time misogynist Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) runs a struggling furniture store. He’s separated and apt to blame others for his situation, inclined to brush aside his heavy drinking and anti-feminism.

Mary (Renate Reinsve) is his therapist with a cruel past, her mother demented and paranoid. She often appears distant even in company, separated from the real world.

Trying to find out why his electricity bills are so high, Clark passes through a wall in his basement and finds another, peculiar, world, occupied primarily by pieces of furniture, in places stacked to the ceiling, or sinking at an angle into the floor as if the floor was sand, or disappearing into the ceiling. There are a host of corridors and doorways, some horizontal, some vertical, some sloping.

Using his architectural skills, Clark scopes out the labyrinthine space. He takes his findings to Mary who thinks he’s gone off his rocker. Clark enrols his two assistants to help him investigate the space further. But they come to a bad end. Shadows lurk, someone strong pulls on the end of a rope.

Eventually, Mary investigates her missing client and discovers this parallel world where people appear as only part of what they are, as if the maze remembers them in a different way.

There are some nods to horror but mostly this is psychological sci fi. It’s the unexplainable. Even scientists can’t explain it, relying on the experiences of those who returned to build up their knowledge of the other world.

But because director Kane Parsons in his debut is so restrained this has more of the hypnotic air of Last Year at Marienbad (1960) than anything in contemporary horror or sci fi. In the Alain Resnais film repeated dialog and repeated visuals did most of the work, but here it’s the endlessness, the implacability of the otherworld. Even the otherworldliness is understated, inanimate objects creating the disjointed mood. It’s like Planet of the Apes (1968) where escapee Charlton Heston discovers at the climax that he hasn’t escaped at all. Or Seconds (1966) where Rock Hudson can’t even escape.

One of the problems facing any sci fi or horror picture is the necessity to maintain the logic of the situation. Too often, a director or screenwriter, chasing another thrill, just slips out of the world they have created. That doesn’t happen here. This remains implacably, ruthlessly, logical so, although we have travelled through this strange world, we are no clearer at the end as to how it came into being or its purpose or how to avoid its trap.

There are no heroes and no heroics. Depending on your personality, the back rooms might provide succor. Or they might not.

It’s rare that you’d find two Oscar-nominated actors turning up in a low-budget horror picture. The impassive Renate Reinsve (Sentimental Value, 2025) comes off better than the more emotional Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave, 2014) but there’s not much between them. I’m sure the film’s unexpected box office success will stir demand for a sequel, but I hope not, for as it stands it’s every bit as outstanding a venture as the best of sci fi. Written by the director and Will Soodik, also making his movie debut.

If only Steven Spielberg had shown an ounce of this originality in Disclosure Day.

All hail Kane Parsons.