London of the late 19th century is a haven for political exiles of all sorts - refugees, partisans, anarchists. Verloc has made his living spying for the Russian goverment, an agent ... See full summary »
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London of the late 19th century is a haven for political exiles of all sorts - refugees, partisans, anarchists. Verloc has made his living spying for the Russian goverment, an agent provacateur of sorts, while simultaneously providing information to the London police, specifically Chief Inspector Heat. When the new Russian ambassador demands he prove his worth or lose his salary, Verloc sets off a tragic chain of events that involves his pretty young wife Winnie, her retarded brother Stevie, and a figure called the Professor, whose fascination with explosives and destruction makes him the person to call on when Verloc needs a bomb. Written by
Gary Dickerson <slug@mail.utexas.edu>
Stevie:
Then... then what... what are they there for, Winnie?
Winnie:
The police are there so as them as have nothing can't take nothing away from them as have a lot.
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I would have chosen "Never more timely" for a title had the woman in NYC not taken it first. Robin Williams' fanatic could be any number of "players in this morning's "eve of war" headlines: The "End Times" druids who currently have the ear of America's Chosen-By-God president comes to mind. Or Osama bin Laden's Shi'ite zealots.
Conrad's literary genius is his ability to portray horror with the narrator's understatement and ambivalence. Bob Hoskins' film accomplishes this horrific understatement. Phillip Glass' (ordinarily no personal musical favorite) score gives the entire creepiness a magnificent auditory bas-relief. I wish I had voted it a "10" instead of merely "9." Superb.
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I would have chosen "Never more timely" for a title had the woman in NYC not taken it first. Robin Williams' fanatic could be any number of "players in this morning's "eve of war" headlines: The "End Times" druids who currently have the ear of America's Chosen-By-God president comes to mind. Or Osama bin Laden's Shi'ite zealots.
Conrad's literary genius is his ability to portray horror with the narrator's understatement and ambivalence. Bob Hoskins' film accomplishes this horrific understatement. Phillip Glass' (ordinarily no personal musical favorite) score gives the entire creepiness a magnificent auditory bas-relief. I wish I had voted it a "10" instead of merely "9." Superb.