Ace in the Hole - MatthewHunt

Serial Mom
(John Waters, 1994)
The central gag of a suburban homemaker turned serial killer is a good one, and Waters
gives it his all with a slew of gags aimed at the hypocrisy of middle-class American life.
Kathleen Turner gives an anything goes performance as the wife who acts upon those "oooh,
I could kill someone" moments we all get when faced with video tapes that aren't rewound or
uncaring neighbours.
The Servant
(Joseph Losey, 1963)
A claustrophobic battle of wills in a posh Georgian house in Chelsea, with Dirk Bogarde the
valet who gradually enslaves diffident, upper-crust James Fox. The allegory looks a little
obvious now, with its heavy symbolism (look deep into the much-polished distorting
mirror . . .), but it's a breathtakingly savage portrait of the English class system by the US
outcast Losey.
The Set-Up
(Robert Wise, 1949)
Wise has to be one of the most underrated and versatile of Hollywood directors â€" his CV
includes The Haunting, The Day The Earth Stood Still and The Sound Of Music. This boxing
noir unfolds in real time as Robert Ryan's failing fighter refuses to take a dive and has to face
the unpleasant consequences.
Seven
(David Fincher, 1995)
Although the success of The Silence Of The Lambs had flooded the market with serial killer
movies, Fincher's film managed to offer something new - not only for the viewer to enjoy but
also something for less imaginative film-makers to copy. Unlike the imitations that followed,
the darkness here is not just cosmetic; it has real impact and resonance.
Seven Samurai
(Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
For decades in the west, Kurosawa simply defined Japanese cinema: his muscular,
accessible dramas were massively influential here, and none more than this story. A poor
village, continuously under attack by bullying bandits, pools its resources to hire seven
unemployed samurai for a last, desperate stand. The villagers are redeemed by their
courage, and the rackety swordsmen-for-hire by their fight for the underdog. Tremendously
exciting and affecting.
The Seventh Seal
(Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
"Bin to Atlantic City a million times - ain't never[ITAL] seen Death walkin' on the beach!" says
Steve Guttenberg in Diner, but here he is, playing chess with the young and fearsomely blond
Max von Sydow. Ponderous but unforgettable high-water mark of Ingmar Bergman's
international career.
Sex, Lies and Videotape
(Steven Soderbergh, 1989)
A frigid housewife, her adulterous husband, her deceitful sister, and an impotent voyeur: these
are the ingredients of the film that won 26-year-old Soderbergh the Palme d'Or. Cerebral and
dense with talk, it's mostly devoid of cheap thrills - despite that fabulous title.
Sexy Beast
(Jonathan Glazer, 2000)
An intelligent, lucidly-shot rebuff to the Guy Ritchie school of gangsterism, you realise Sexy
Beast's loyalties are a little closer to the weirdness of Performance when one character
hallucinates an Uzi-toting bunny. Ben Kingsley's demented turn as the unwelcome interloper
on the Costa del Crime is on the same surreal level, and, as his reluctant host, Ray Winstone
is intriguingly soft; feminine even.