In late 1950s New York, Tom Ripley, a young underachiever, is sent to Italy to retrieve a rich and spoiled millionaire playboy, named Dickie Greenleaf. But when the errand fails, Ripley takes extreme measures.
A cab driver finds himself the hostage of an engaging contract killer as he makes his rounds from hit to hit during one night in Los Angeles. He must find a way to save both himself and one last victim.
Martine offers Terry a lead on a foolproof bank hit on London's Baker Street. She targets a roomful of safe deposit boxes worth millions in cash and jewelry. But Terry and his crew don't realize the boxes also contain a treasure trove of dirty secrets - secrets that will thrust them into a deadly web of corruption and illicit scandal.
Stephen Campbell Moore
At 5 o'clock in the morning, the police blasted their way into Eddie's apartment and took him to the police headquarters. He's sitting in an interrogation room opposite detective John Steele who frequently interrupts the interview letting Eddie sweat until he comes back. He's suspected of car theft and even murder. But he isn't the only one under pressure, the detective himself has people on his back with other agendas. Written by
Jean-Marie Berthiaume <firstname.lastname@example.org>
At the beginning of the New Yorker Video DVD, right before the main menu appears, a quote of Eddie Fleming fills the screen: "Just goes to show you how the mind works." At the very end, after the credits roll, a quote of Det. Steele fills the screen: "I don't know Mr. Fleming, how does the mind work?" But if you run the end credits a second time a different quote appears at the end, this time from Det. Prior: "It's about a fucking stolen fucking car you fucking fuckwit." See more »
Ah, the little Australian film, how we love you. Cosi, True Love and Chaos, Bliss does anyone in the world do low-budget films better? Next case for the defence is The Interview, a film which consists almost entirely of Reverend Bob from E Street and his offsider putting the screws to Hugo Weaving (legend!) in an attempt to get him to confess to a crime he may or may not have committed. It's claustrophobic, features a cast of fairly nasty characters, and boasts more dialogue per square minute of screen time than any film in recent memory (except perhaps Glengarry Glen Ross). It does, however, draw you in like the receding tide, doubling back and forth until you no longer remember just who you're supposed to be believing. It's worth noting that this film managed to provoke the longest discussion with a fellow movie-goer after it ended that I've had for a very long time, and that's a testament to the way in which the film leaves it to the viewer to make their own judgements, rather than spoon-feeding us in the usual Hollywood tradition.
It's not going to set the world on fire, and it's not going to shoot into your top ten with a bullet, but it's a thought-provoking effort which should not be missed. Give it a go.
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