Licence to Kill (John Glen, 1989) -
On the whole, I think I've more or less outgrown James Bond films. There are only about three I honestly like anymore - and Licence to Kill is one of that illustrious trio. The Timothy Dalton films were rather underrated - they took a serious turn after the cartoonish antics of the Roger Moore films, and Licence to Kill accurately reflects one of the best moments when Bond turned even more serious. Here, Bond is out for revenge after his friend and occasional comrade-in-arms Felix Leiter is attacked by the drug lord he's been investigating, willing to risk it all for vengeance. Dalton makes for a great Bond, managing the right blend of easy charisma and stony professionalism that the role requires. He is helped by an ample supporting cast, with the star pick being Robert Davi as Sanchez, the film's cool, almost likeable villain. Of course, it doesn't skimp on any of the usual Bond tricks - Carey Lowell and Talisa Soto make for one of the best pairs of Bond girls ever, the climatic tanker chase is the sort of high-octane extravaganza Bond films are known for and of course, cantankerous gadget master Q (the irreplacable Desmond Llewellyn). As I have said before, I'm more or less through with Bond, but Licence to Kill is a worthy exception.
To Live and Die in L.A. (William Friedkin, 1985) -
Now this is my kind of film. A crime film rooted firmly in 1980s Los Angeles - a hot and grimy hellhole filled to the brim with either immorality or amorality, a place where the good are beaten into submission by the adversity of such a crime-ridden pit. William Petersen and Willem Dafoe are the two actors at the heart of a cat-and-mouse drama - Dafoe is an eccentric counterfeiting kingpin, while Petersen is the bloody-minded FBI agent hot on Dafoe's tail after the death of his partner. Their clashes with a variety of characters on every level and side of the law make for a compelling tale that's almost a tragedy of sorts, considering the effect that Petersen's character has on his straight-laced partner (John Pankow). A grubby yet excellent dive into the LA underworld.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Steven Spielberg, 1977) - +
Okay, second time around I actually began to appreciate it a bit more and not mind various qualities I had previously considered flaws (while I had initially found it hard to sympathise with Roy Neary's obsession with the truth, given his personal circumstances I can now totally understand his decision to go after it). The funny thing is, one thing I liked about the film the first time was something I actually didn't like as much the second time around - the appearance of the aliens themselves seemed even more anticlimatic once I had learned to appreciate the rest of the film up to that point. I kept thinking of when I watched James Cameron's The Abyss not too long ago and the way that seeing the aliens in that (which obviously owe a debt to the aliens in Close Encounters) just floored me emotionally, yet seeing the aliens in Close Encounters didn't do as much for me. Strange.
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Iro's Top 100 Movies v3.0
I really just want you all angry and confused the whole time.