Ace in the Hole - MatthewHunt

The Front
(Martin Ritt, 1976)
Ritt's drama is a grim reminder of how McCarthyism destroyed actors' and writers' careers.
Ritt himself, along with screenwriter Walter Bernstein and several of their cast, had been
blacklisted in the 1950s because of their perceived communist sympathies. Their anger at the
injustice of it is palpable. There are desperately sad moments - Zero Mostel begging for work
- but some dark comedy too, courtesy of Woody Allen as the neurotic New Yorker acting as a
"front" for a blacklisted writer friend.
The Fugitive
(Andrew Davis, 1993)
One of the strongest of the 1990s' round of TV remakes, The Fugitive is Harrison Ford's last
great browbeaten star turn before he began the long slide into irrelevance. US Marshal
Tommy Lee Jones makes a superbly antagonistic opponent, cranking up the tension in an
unpretentious, pile-driving blockbuster.
Funny Games
(Michael Haneke, 1997)
Like all the best horrors, this one begins happily, with a nice family driving through the
countryside. What's different is the way Haneke handles what follows. As a pair of whitegloved
psychopaths get to work, he cleverly challenges our own appetite for screen sadism,
keeping the suspense at screaming point all the while.
Gallivant
(Andrew Kotting, 1997)
A travelogue like no other. Andrew Kotting's freeform road trip around the British coast is a
tribute to the unsung eccentrics who make up our national identity and to the bonds of family.
The two women in Kotting's life - his octogenarian gran and his young daughter Eden, who
has Joubert syndrome - are his companions on this salty mini-epic journey in a movie that is
as innovative and experimental as it is earthy.
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis
(Vittorio De Sica, 1970)
A wonderfully quiet, elegiac late film from the Bicycle Thieves director, dwelling on an Italian
Jewish family who live serenely behind their garden walls as Mussolini's fascism starts to bite
in the world outside. A dreamlike metaphor for the internal places that cannot be despoiled by
simple brutality.
The General
(Clyde Bruckman, Buster Keaton, 1927)
Watch The General with an audience and you realise just what a masterpiece this is. It's the
great communal rollercoaster of silent-screen cinema, greased with quicksilver, no-nets
physical comedy that constantly takes the breath away. Buster Keaton is the soulful centre of
a slapstick storm.
Get Carter
(Mike Hodges, 1971)
The granddaddy of the Brit-grit crime genre is every bit as sordid and compelling as when it
first came out. Michael Caine is the magnificently deadpan gangster who journeys to
Newcastle to investigate the mysterious death of his brother. He delivers some great lines,
including (all together now): "You're a big man, but you're in bad shape. With me, it's a fulltime
job. Now behave yourself!"
Ghost
(Jerry Zucker, 1990)
Lovers Sam (Patrick Swayze) and Molly (Demi Moore) are sundered when the former is killed
by a mugger, but Sam returns from beyond the grave to save his girl from a similar fate. It's
supernaturally silly and sentimental, but in spite of that, moving, with a transcendent
performance from Whoopi Goldberg as a wacky medium.