Ace in the Hole - MatthewHunt

Roger Waters' vision is brought to life with Gerald Scarfe's scratchy, hallucinogenic animation
drawing the parallels between rock audiences and fascist rallies.
The Pink Panther
(Blake Edwards, 1963)
The real thievery in this film has nothing to do with the eponymous diamond. It's committed by
Peter Sellers, who takes a small part in an ensemble cast and runs off with the entire movie
â€" with several sequels to be taken into consideration.
Pirates of the Caribbean: the Curse of the Black Pearl
(Gore Verbinski, 2003)
It never looked like it was going to be the defining action romp of our times, but all praise to
Johnny Depp for hijacking this unpromising theme-park vehicle and steering it into the realms
of joyful action comedy. The sequels were destined to disappoint, but the original sailed into
the history books.
Pixote
(Hector Babenco, 1981)
A harrowing tale of a Sao Paulo street kid that offers no answers but exposes the dangers
and pointlessness of such wasted lives with great insight and conviction. An extra level of
authenticity and sadness is added by the fact the non-professional star Fernando Ramos da
Silva not only came from such a life but died after returning to it a few years later.
Planet of the Apes
(Franklin Schaeffner, 1968)
The best of Charlton Heston's brief 60s/70s sojourn as an unlikely sci-fi kingpin (see also
Soylent Green, The Omega Man), in which astronauts crash-land on a monkey-ruled planet
that turns out to be our own. A crazed metaphor for racism, or something, and a bleak
indictment of man's idiocy ("Damn you all to hell!"), it spawned four successively less
interesting sequels.
Platoon
(Oliver Stone, 1986)
Oliver Stone's grunt's-eye view of Vietnam, concentrating as much on boredom, fear and
discomfort as actual action, became a classic of the genre. The movie made a star, almost an
indie legend, of Willem Dafoe as the druggie soldier Elias.
Play It Again, Sam
(Herbert Ross, 1972)
A perfect double-bill with Casablanca, Ross's hysterical adaptation of Woody Allen's play sets
a predictably neurotic film critic, and recent divorcee Allen alongside ghostly love-advisor
Humphrey Bogart for one of his most lovable, funniest early performances, before his schtick
got really, really old. Also the pinnacle of the Bogie-revival of the early 70s.
The Player (Robert Altman, 1992)
A movie executive tries to keep his job and stay ahead of a police investigation in Altman's
black-comic satire. The film walks fine lines with grace and style: it's full of industry in-jokes
and yet totally accessible, and rarely has an entire industry been disembowelled with such a
light touch.
Playtime
(Jacques Tati, 1967)
Tati's magical (if belated) satire of modernism ended being pretty modern itself: no close-ups,
no central characters, no proper dialogue, and a single, purpose-built set - a sterile modern
office building. The screen is filled with visitors, workers, strays and eccentrics, running gags,
sight gags, sound gags - it's like a cross between Mr Bean, Le Corbusier and Hieronymous
Bosch.