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A "no frills" presentation of Henry Rollins doing "the talking thing", in which he projects himself as a kind of hardcore drill instructor of righteousness and self improvement: a tattooed Anthony Robbins if you will. As with most populist commentators, he can claim to simplify the message through the use of aphorism and anecdotes in order to reach as wide an audience as possible. Often though, this is really symptomatic of a consistent inability to relate individual experience to a wider social context in an indepth and interesting way. One gets the disturbing impression that this stage act cannot maintain its illusion of spontaneity and loosening up. It seems carefully contrived, like Henry's weight lifting and rigorous work schedule, to render his responses automatic so as to eliminate any anxiety associated with uncertainty. This might explain the perfunctory character of this performance and its effect on the viewer. Regardless of what Rollins recalls in his anecdotes, there is a curious equivalency which renders them indistinguishable. While not without its charms, the main impression "Talking Out the Box" leaves behind is simply that Henry was there and lived to tell another tale.

Critics have attempted to undermine the grim intensity of this film by claiming it adopts a "separatist" position: the only sympathetic male character is an old derelict who poses no threat to the women. One could reply that it is equally plausible that the emphasis is intended as a corrective to many films which do not inquire into the gendered nature of violence. Instead, there is a tendency to focus on the "criminal genius" locked in mental combat with heroic authority figures. "Gebroken Spiegels" differs by drawing together the almost ritualised degradation experienced by the main characters who work in a brothel, and the repetitive atrocities of a serial killer. Irrespective of differences in individual circumstance, victims are shown to have been selected for a shared defining feature. The stark realism of the film has an almost documentary feel to it, and should stimulate debate on (feminist) resources of hope in diminished circumstances: one recalls how, in "A Hand Maid's Tale", (female) sociologists and other thinkers preferred to work as exotic entertainers for an elite who liked savouring the decadent pleasures forbidden to the "masses". Critical thought would be more tolerated in these circumstances than outside, if only as a kind of forbidden "exotic fruit". "GS" offers a different, although related context, which could also be usefully compared to "Female Perversions" and Lizzie Borden's revolutionary "Born in Flames."

A noble attempt to bring the Herman Hesse novel to the screen, enlivened by a complex and poignant performance by Max Von Sydow as the Steppenwolf, Harry Haller. His efforts are considerably aided by gloomy lighting and long meditative takes which convey the burden of the Steppenwolf's world view as a self proclaimed "outsider". Closely following the book, however, the film too, falls apart in its second half. It validates the asocial Steppenwolf, a misguided hero/martyr wanting to transcend personal inadequacy rooted in the disorder of the everyday world: his redemption comes through a woman who leads him into an enchanted magical world. Experience, with art often the privileged vehicle, might be better understood as redemptive if read in interpretive rather than metaphysical terms- i.e. it is a product of engagement with and not transcendence of or withdrawal from the social. Harry Haller reminds one of the "steppenwolf" in Apted's documentary "7 Up", Neil. Numerous visions of this transcendence, which can foster megalomania, are also evident in e.g.'s such as George Lucas's Jedi philosophy (Luke SKYWALKER), and Kubrick's Starchild in "2001". 2 documentaries on film making, "Hearts of Darkness" and "Burden of Dreams", show the difficulties faced by "control freak" directors in realising the theme of redemptive transcendence on the screen, given the teamwork of the production process etc. The Romantic poet in Cocteau's "Orphee" is similarly frustrated upon discovering the "afterlife" is routinised/bureaucratised. "Sphere" and "Solaris" also make critical overtures in this direction by questioning the desirability and possibility of experience bearing no disjuncture between thought and expression. But for a critique of "Steppenwolf" philosophy, it is hard to better the film adaptation of Dostoevsky's "Notes from Underground".

Given the avowed intentions of George Romero as an independent filmmaker, we can see his zombie epics as no mere tilting at windmills. Rather, Romero can be seen as a reflexive artist: his metaphorical depiction in these films of the constraints on attaining a fulfilling life run parallel to the difficulties he faced in the production process. This documentary charts the trajectory of Romero's career through a period in which access to the means of film production, he acknowledges, has become less possible for like minded independents trying to get a start in the film industry. These struggles are symptomatic of how globalisation has helped foster the libertarian survivalist mentality of "the player", dependent upon multi-skilling, movement and market "freedom" from government regulation and civility/citizenship (or loyalty to and/or lifetime employment by one studio/company). "Day of the Dead" depicts the destructive restlessness of soldiers and 1 mad scientist trapped in a bunker. With no government to sanction their role, they become increasingly mercenary/asocial. Rebellion against regulation is celebrated in the caricatures of BIG GOVERNMENT as Nazis or "the Evil Empire" in 2 of the biggest flagships for these changes; the Indiana Jones and "Star Wars" films produced by major studios. Their return of the "hero" cultivates reliance upon adaptive individual resources ("Han SOLO" indeed!) and changes in consciousness rather than social structures...the teachings of Anthony Robbins echo Yoda. Since the period in which this documentary was made, changes in media cross- ownership have led to films of popular computer and video games. It seems Romero has finally had to follow the trends by making "Resident Evil", if only to finance the concluding installment of his zombie series.

Bowie is clearly enjoying himself here, although today he claims to find this record of the Spiders final show unwatchable. The costuming IS spectacularly dated and Ziggy's antics do more to camp up a storm than forewarn of an imminent apocalypse. Aside from the music though, there is more going on here than silly, decadent posturing. Backstage musings by Bowie are suggestive of why he is not merely a relic from a past era: there is inherent tension between the public persona and the demand to discover the "real" Bowie. Rock music has since split into 2 positions along these lines: for the most part, the English traditions of camp and irony have served as a distancing device from the demands of an "authentic" self which can impose on others in an intrusive way- Jewel's folk music/"Knight Without Armor" is merely the latest manifestation of the latter tendency (also, despite the hatred of hippies, Nirvana ironically shared their "no hang ups" philosophy in their "Come As You Are" period). Ziggy was, at the time, the most extreme movement away from the "authenticity" of Woodstock Nation in which there was nothing separating the performer and the audience...been an "alien being" also guaranteed a spectacular show for record buyers who may otherwise have had little interest in live music given the high fidelity improvements in recording technology and home sound systems which were starting to become available. It is the irresolvable tension between these two tendencies toward camp/authentic which helps generate the excitement of the audience captured in this film, and which can still inspire interest and enjoyment today.

Jerry's greatest film, far superior to the Murphy remake. Many audiences find Jerry's persona(s) childishly overbearing, relentlessly needy, narcissistic and inappropriate for comedy. It might be better then, to experience his work as tragic farce. Particularly in this film, the characters have affinities with (Absurd) literary themes of the double and the Idiot in the writings of Gogol and Dostoyevsky: misfits who try too hard to conform or be different and embarrass themselves and everyone else. Even an episode of "Roseanne" found the family "adopted" by such a character, Burt, who was overflowing with the milk of human kindness. Roseanne comments, "how did you get this far in life without someone driving a spike through your head?" Aside from the homage to Jerry on "The Simpsons", Krusty the Klown, only Robin Williams can match the overtones of helpless desperation in his work. For example, his "Patch Adams" and "Jakob the Liar" have shades of a Lewis film considered too extreme to release, "The Day the Clown Cried", about a clown who led children into the gas chambers of a concentration camp. Robin Williams remains, if not the missing link between Lewis, Polanski's "The Tenant", and Fassbinder's "In A Year Of Thirteen Moons", the black hole at the end of the continuum....

A definite highlight of this excellent movie is the summary of Tony Curtis on Elvis's letter to Nixon, "a classic, so charming in its naive simplicity". This uncannily accurate recreation of historical events, which seems at times almost too surreal to be true, radiates the charm Curtis mentions, tempered by the pathos in the meeting of 2 men with shared fears about a world they apparently feared they could no longer influence or understand. E's journey to Washington seems familiar from the adventures of other "childman" heroes in "Crocodile Dundee", "Being There" and "Forrest Gump", but differs in not advocating a nostalgic retreat to simpler values in the face of social complexity. Instead, compared to Nixon, E comes across as an unwitting cultural revolutionary, who tragically couldn't understand his own impact .

Smug liberal Spielberg toggles back and forth between documentary style violence and sentimental reflections between soldiers: the Captain is revealed to be an English Lit teacher in civilian life who can instruct the novice writer character and others with idealised rhetoric about both the unique contribution each can make to the mission as well as their ability to choose at will a vision/memory of "the good life" back home worth fighting for: this emphasis upon individual freedom detracts from shared debate among the men about both the worthiness of the mission to save one guy, and the larger reasons for American involvement in the war. This deflates any anti- war sentiment in the film. Significantly, Ryan is the sole survivor who must, alone in the cemetery (predictably, his accompanying family are as silent as his fallen comrades), decide/hope he was "a good man" worthy of their sacrifice. In this emotional lynchpin of the movie, Spielberg suggestively cuts to Old Glory flapping in the wind: the link drawn between liberal pluralism/individual choice and the symbol of America remains an insidious and powerful ideological moment, equalled only by the title character in "Schindler's List" who had the power to choose who would live or die. Consistently in his historical revisionist pieces, Spielberg suggests this is the only kind of freedom worth fighting for, with no awareness of how it merely compounds the tragedy.

Essentially a one act play about the pathos in the meeting of two lonely, damaged people who can't communicate their feelings and intentions, this character study reminds you of the most disturbed Woody Allen personas, and Brando's character in "Last Tango in Paris"- narcissistic, haunted by the past and continually oscillating between isolation and the desire that someone will rescue them from deep seated shame. Unpretentious, tense and compelling, "W.H.W" never lapses into sentimentality, and seems more focused than comparable more recent films such as "Heavy". It succeeds because of its sensitive treatment of a difficult subject.

Another disturbing film about the complicity of ordinary people in fascism, which explores similar territory to "Cabaret", "The Conformist", "The Leopard" and "The Remains of the Day". It argues that fascism demonstrates how difficult it is to separate one's public and private roles and beliefs from politics. The title character, an actor, starts to realise how his "make believe" public role has very real, tragic consequences. In this sense, the film has merit beyond its superb acting and other technical features: it subverts the liberal pieties of Hollywood drama which resolve all conflict within the confines of the existing social system. It undercuts the banality of much film criticism which says it is "just entertainment" with "no subtext"- as if produced in a social/historical vacuum with no point of view. In short, the film argues that artists, like everyone else, have to take some responsibility and assume a critical role or risk being haunted, like Mephisto, by the awareness that they have become pawns in a dangerous game.

Perhaps not as open to interpretation as commonly assumed, Tarkovsky might make more sense if one sees him exploring similar territory to numerous films, such as "Contact". The malaise is over whether the dichotomies of Western culture such as intellectual/emotional, scientific/religious, and the cognitive/aesthetic should be exploded or inverted. Tarkovsky portrays a familiar society, increasingly secular/dominated by Reason- which has unintentionally increased meaningless through its ability to question everything (aware of this, the society here has become more totalitarian to prevent the rebellion of its freethinkers), leading to a return of/to the repressed Other of Reason as an alternative source of meaning i.e. the appeal of the Zone. The journey of the rebels to the Zone parallels that of the main character in "Contact" (another ambivalent scientist), who similarly threatens the "national security" of a militaristic society. Tarkovsky is ultimately confused and conservative, arguing that the inversion of the dichotomies is no solution (even the guide to the Zone, the Stalker, is disappointed by what he finds being no better than the society left behind), without indicating the alternative in "Contact" which explodes them. State censorship may also have prevented him, for the alternative argues that only a revolution of values and institutions can influence Reason to create a different future. "Contact" may be dubious in its privileging of the rarefied experience of a unique individual as the catalyst for change, but seems preferable to Tarkovsky's suspension in ambiguity.

As with Romero's zombie trilogy, critical/moral condemnations of this classic horror film have focused on its degree of violent content. But what may be more unpalatable for such critics is these films' similar satirical subtext which seems to suggest that a competitive consumer based society can dehumanise people and turn them into monsters. Perhaps all films, no matter how bland or innocent they seem, have a political agenda? The debate continues: contra the (affirmative) vision of, say, "Forrest Gump", "Chainsaw" might suggest that life is more like a box of human barbeque than a box of chocolates.