King of Thieves: Michael Caine Recruits the Old Gang

They were like a real-life Going in Style, but these retirement aged crooks had sharper elbows. They also pulled off what is considered the biggest heist job in British history. This is the third film version of the unlikely Hatton Garden caper, but the first to reach our shores in any noticeable way. Crime does not pay, not even for seniors, but at least it provides a way to pass the time in James Marsh’s King of Thieves, which releases today on DVD.

Brian Reader didn’t exactly go straight, but he got out of the game relatively on top. Out of his past “known associates,” John “Kenny” Collins is somewhat comfortable, but Terry Perkins, Danny Jones, and Carl Wood are largely scuffling. When “Basil,” a socially awkward security specialist comes to Reader with a potentially lucrative score (a safety deposit company catering to gem merchants), he has no trouble recruiting his old accomplices. The question is whether the recently bereaved Reader’s heart is really in it. Just try doing him dirty and see what happens.

Details of the Hatton Garden heist are still coming to light, even at this late date. Regardless, the Rififi-esque caper business is pretty entertaining, but Joe Penhall’s screenplay focuses more on the subsequent double-crosses.

Of course, the whole point of King is watching Sir Michael Caine do his thing as Reader. He has been stealing jewels in films since before you were born, so show some respect. He’s Michael Bloomin’ Caine and he is terrific as Reader. When he gets hacked off, all that old magic comes back with a vengeance.

As usual, Ray Winstone is as compulsively watchable as ever as the brawler, Jones, while Jim Broadbent takes advantage of the opportunity to finally chew some scenery as the goonish Perkins. Tom Courtenay plays Collins as a bit of a silly duffer, but it is just embarrassing to see Michael Gambon stuck as the butt of jokes as Billy “The Fish” Lincoln, the incontinent fence. Still, there is Caine and Winstone.

Clearly, nobody better understands the appeal of this greybeard A-Team than Marsh because he openly invites nostalgia by incorporating clips from their classic street-smart swinging sixties films, most especially the original Italian Job. British pop-jazz vocalist Jamie Cullum also maintains the cool retro vibe with his groovy, brassy cover of The Killers’ “The Man.”

Harry Brown is still probably the ultimate Michael Caine film, but it is great to see him strut his way through a capery lark, more or less in the tradition of Italian Job and Silver Bears. Recommended for fans of heist movies and the accomplished cast, King of Thieves releases today (3/26) on DVD and BluRay.

45 Years: Rampling and Courtenay

It is like Banquo’s ghost appearing forty-five years after Macbeth’s crime, except Geoff Mercer has nothing to feel guilty about. Right? That is exactly the question his wife Kate will wrestle with when word arrives of the discovery of his tragically deceased former girlfriend Katya’s body. The fact the she died before the Mercers even met is a crucial detail. Frankly, all the details are important in 45 Years (trailer here), Andrew Haigh’s rigorous examination of an ostensibly comfortable marriage under sudden stress, which opens this Wednesday in New York at the IFC Center.

The fact that she was named Katya is almost too much. She and Geoff Mercer were quite the item but she got too close to the edge while hiking in the Alps and over she went. After all these years, she has finally been found, perfectly preserved in an ice crevice. Initially, Geoff Mercer tries to shrug with “oh, surely I mentioned her” prevarications, but his distracted manner speaks volumes. Still, Kate tries to allow him a little melancholy nostalgia as she finalizes the plans for their forty-fifth anniversary party. Despite never having children, she always thought they had built something solid and meaningful. Yet, the absence of photos documenting their life together takes on nagging significance, especially since old Geoff still has pictures of Katya.

He does indeed, but audience members should not expect to see them. Shrewdly, Haigh only allows us oblique and obscured glimpses of the eternally young and vivacious Katya. How we see the Mercers seeing her is more important than getting a good gander at the spectral home-wrecker.

Casting 1960s era icons like Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay is almost too on-the-nose, but their considerable chops casts aside any gimmicky casting reservations. Courtenay no longer looks anything like a long distance runner, as we can plainly and shirtlessly see, whereas Rampling is still ramrod straight and naturally elegant. Yet, they still feel like a couple that is well familiar with each other. They are still two of the best in the business, who say more with silence and restraint than someone like a Meryl Streep ever could with all the shtick and histrionics at her disposal. There is just something uncomfortably honest about their performances. Just watching the film feels like an intrusion into a very private drama.

Haigh almost overdoes matters with references to the 1960s, but those clichéd pop songs Kate Mercer choses for the party rather underscore the generic nature of their relationship. They do not really have a song. She just picks something that fits. She and Geoff listen to the popular songs of their day, read the right books according to the right reviews, and hold properly reflexive left wing opinions to mark them as products of their generation, but none of that means anything. That truth and the other doubts it fosters are what makes 45 Years so potent. It is a mature, uncompromising film likely to earn (further) award notice for its two accomplished stars. Recommended for sophisticated palates, 45 Years opens this Wednesday (12/23) at the IFC Center.

Quartet: Old People Are So Precious

In the film adaptation of Neil Simon’s California Suite, Dame Maggie Smith played a beloved English actor, rather embarrassed to be nominated for light weight comedic role.  She won her second Oscar for that role.  Somewhat ironically, Smith is back in Oscar contention for more or less the sort of part Simon’s character was up for.  The just winner of back-to-back Emmy Awards for Downton Abbey, Smith may not exactly be the sympathetic favorite for Quartet (trailer here), Dustin Hoffman’s feature directorial debut, which opens this Friday in New York.

Beecham House for retired musicians (mostly classical, aside from a few token big band vets) is anticipating the arrival of a new resident.  Jean Horton was the diva of her day.  She was also part of the celebrated “Rigoletto Quartet,” whose other three members are already residents of Beecham.  Their reunion is the cause of great trepidation for her.  Everyone gets along with Wilf Bond, the compulsive old flirt.  Likewise, Cissy Robson’s good nature never fails her, but her mind is slowly slipping.  Reggie Paget is another story.  Still sharp as a tack, he remembers only too well his ill-fated relationship with Horton.  Indeed, his bitterness still lingers.

Will the four former friends be able to put their differences behind them a come together as quartet to save Beecham House at the annual talent show gala?  Are the ponds in New Hampshire still golden?

Smith might be the film's biggest name, but the Weinsteins shoulld have put Quartet's Oscar chips on Tom Courtenay.  He brings such exquisite dignity and sophistication to Paget, viewers will long to see him in a film with more heft.  Smith is fine as Horton, but the character just seems so bland and pedestrian compared to Downton’s fan favorite, the Dowager Countess.  Rounding out the foursome, Billy Connolly is likably roguish as Bond and Pauline Collins is rather sweet and earnest as Robson.  There is nothing really wrong about Quartet, per se, except a lack of ambition, adding up to a bit of Marigold me too-ism.

No horses were injured in the filming of Quartet, so it has that going for it.  Do not expect any surprises though, in this story of third act pluckiness adequately but not inspiringly helmed by Hoffman.  Frankly, there is something slightly frustrating about a film whose most inspired moment is its closing credits, in this case showing vintage photos of its cast of accomplished opera singers, classical musicians, and classically trained thespians early in their careers.  Predictable and unabashedly sentimental, Quartet should satisfy those who like sugary, ascot-wearing films (but classical music connoisseurs will be better advised to check out A Late Quartet instead).  It opens this Friday (1/11) in New York at the Paris Theatre.