Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 7/8/2014)

Yet, for all its proficiency and polish, this adaptation of a long-forgotten David F. Dodge thriller lacks the psychological complexity that characterised Hitchcock's finest films. Indeed, it has much more in common with droll capers like The Trouble With Harry (1955) and North By Northwest (1959) than Rear Window (1954) and Vertigo (1958), which combined intensity with insight to divert and disconcert the viewer in equal measure. But while John Michael Hayes's screenplay lacks depth, it fizzes with a risqué wit that is relished by Grant and Kelly, who exude old-style star quality in their third outing each for the Master of Suspense. Moreover, Robert Burks's Oscar-winning VistaVision photography captures the effortless elegance of a bygone age that is reinforced by Edith Head's costumes and Hal Pereira and Joseph MacMillan Johnson's exquisitely atmospheric interiors.

As a black cat prowls a tiled roof and wealthy women across the Côte d'Azur discover their diamonds are missing, Commissioner René Blancard declares that the prime suspect can only be Cary Grant, a once notorious cracksman nicknamed `The Cat' who has been in retirement since escaping from prison and fighting with the Maquis during the Second World War. However, aided by his faithful maid, Georgette Amys, Grant gives the gendarmes the slip and reassures onetime comrades Charles Vanel and Jean Martinelli, who now run a restaurant in Cannes, that he has not broken their mutual vow to go straight and determines to turn detective in order to discover who is copying his techniques and jeopardising their liberty.

Whisked to Cannes by speedboat, Grant is teased by Martinelli's daughter, Brigitte Auber, who suggests they run away to South America, despite being convinced of his guilt. Lloyd's insurance agent John Williams is more trusting, however, and, in the hope that Grant can catch the culprit and save his company a small fortune in claims, he gives him a list of wealthy clients currently holidaying in the resort. Among the names is Jessie Royce Landis, a widowed oil tycoon who is staying at the Carlton Hotel and trying to find a suitable husband for her pampered daughter, Grace Kelly. Posing as a businessman on the lookout for rental properties, Grant befriends the pair at the casino and is surprised when the seemingly prim Kelly plants a kiss on his lips as he escorts her back to her room.

The following morning, Grant goes for a swim and rendezvous with Auber at the hotel float. She informs him that Vanel and his friends are convinced he is behind the burglaries and are quite prepared to kill him to avoid being returned to jail. Piqued by the sight of Grant with a younger woman, Kelly comes to join them and embarks upon a barbed exchange with Auber that leaves Grant squirming with amused embarrassment. Back at the hotel, Kelly offers to help him find some viable villas and they spar about love and riches as they drive into the hills in her flashy sports car. On their way to a secluded picnic spot, however, they are followed by the police and Kelly negotiates the winding cliff roads with cool assurance as she leaves the chasing car in her wake.

Over lunch, she mocks Grant for having been so nervous and not only reveals that she knows his true identity, but also offers herself as an accomplice kitten to his cat. She returns to the theme that evening as they watch fireworks from her darkened room and exchange double entendres about her necklace and her décolletage. Kelly offers to help Grant gain admittance to an exclusive house party at Russell Gaige's villa, which Vanel is catering the following week. Knowing his time is running out to clear his name, Grant allows himself to be seduced. But Kelly is furious when Landis discovers that her jewels have been stolen and calls the police, even though her mother is delighted to make the acquaintance of such a celebrated larcenist and realises that her daughter is head over heels in love with the man who has just taken her virginity.

Williams also remains certain of Grant's innocence and informs him that he has set a trap to catch the copycat that night. However, the scheme backfires, as both the police and the maquisards have had a similar idea and Martinelli falls to his death from a wall, as Grant makes his getaway. The press proclaim that `The Cat' is dead, but Grant informs Williams and Blancard that Martinelli lost a leg during the war and would simply not have had the agility to commit the recent crimes.

At the funeral, Auber accuses Grant of killing her father and he slaps her face to calm her down. Kelly meets him outside the cemetery and tries to apologise to landing him in trouble. She also declares her love for him and he chides her for being foolish. However, he persuades Kelly to get him an invitation to Gaige's 18th-century costume ball and he mingles with the guests as a Nubian slave. But, at the end of the night, Williams reveals that he has been wearing the costume to enable Grant to keep a vigil on the roof. He spots the burglar and unmasks her as Auber. However, as the police shoot at him from below, she almost slips and Grant threatens to let her falls unless she makes a full confession implicating Vanel.

The closing sequence shows Kelly speeding after Grant to his home, which she pronounces perfect for a new bride as church bells toll in the distance. The irony will not be lost on modern viewers, who will know that Kelly not only married Prince Rainier of Monaco a year after the picture was released, but that she also lost her life in 1982 on the very roads she had traversed with such dexterity on screen But the fact that these are the first thoughts that spring to mind suggest that this is slick entertainment rather than compelling cinema.

Often compared to a glass of champagne, this is what an Ernst Lubitsch thriller might have looked like, as the exchanges between Grant and Kelly effervesce as intoxicatingly as the finest screwball vintage byplay. But the core mystery is as transparent as something from Scooby-Doo, as there are so few suspects that the identity of the villains is evident from their first appearance in a rundown restaurant that contrasts so starkly with Grant's well-appointed retreat. Moreover, the motive for the deceit seems deeply flawed, as the crooks would surely not be able to continue their racket once Grant had been apprehended without drawing attention to themselves.

Blithely ignoring such narratorial weaknesses, Hitchcock indulges himself with impudent shots of a cigarette being extinguished in an egg and a firework display providing the backdrop to a deflowering. He also appears to relish touching upon the delicate topic of the Vichy era, as he implies that war heroes can have feet of clay, even if they did kill 72 Nazis. This was a bold stance to take, considering that Hitchcock had produced the French-language propaganda shorts, Aventure Malgache and Bon Voyage, for the Ministry of Information in 1944. But his ridiculing of nouveau riche Americans is equally scathing, although it's sometimes as subtle as the gag in which a gambling chip slips down the front of a buxom woman's dress.

Clearly Hitchcock and Hayes were intent on pushing their luck with the Production Code Administration after Otto Preminger had breached the dam with The Moon Is Blue (1953). But the humour too frequently induces smutty sniggers rather than knowing smiles and much of the sparkle comes from Jessie Royce Landis, who would also play Kelly's mother in her final feature, Charles Vidor's The Swan (1956). However, she would also reunite with Hitchcock and Grant to play his mother in North By Northwest, even though she was only seven years his senior. At the time the film was released, however, she claimed to be 11 months his junior and her little vanity only came to light after her death in 1972.

The Vietnam War would not end until Saigon fell on 30 April 1975. Three years later, four films were released exposing the horror of the conflict and the psychological scars it left on the thousands of young American men who had been drafted into action. Hal Ashby's Coming Home, Sidney Furie's The Boys in Company C and Ted Post's Go Tell the Spartans have rather faded from memory. But Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter has lost none of its provocative potency and its return to cinemas reminds one how much it evokes the mythic muscularity of the works of James Fenimore Cooper and Ernest Hemingway.

Despite winning five Academy Awards from nine nominations (including Best Picture), this politically naive and emotionally exploitative three-act saga has always divided reviewers. Yet, while it betrays Cimino's stylistic self-indulgence and technical gaucheness, it consistently overcomes its historical inaccuracy to present moments of exhilarating exuberance and terrifying power that shatters the American Dream as conclusively as Cimino's epic Western, Heaven's Gate (1980), which was treated to a critical mauling, even though it is manifestly a much better film.

Some time in 1967, Russian-American buddies Robert De Niro, Christopher Walken and John Savage leave their steel mill in Clairton, Pennsylvania for the final time before they ship out to Vietnam. They meet up with co-workers John Cazale and Chuck Aspegren and tease Savage about his forthcoming shotgun wedding to Rutanya Alda, which is due to clash with the farewell hunting expedition that De Niro has planned. En route to George Dzundza's bar, Walken goads De Niro into racing a giant truck and keeps making reckless wagers on pool games and televised football matches before Savage's mother, Shirley Stoler, comes to drag him out for the nuptials that has been prepared at the Orthodox church and the nearby hall by Alda's bridesmaids, Mary Ann Haenel, Mady Kaplan, Amy Wright and Meryl Streep.

Savage has doubts he is the father of Alda's child, but Walken and Streep assist with the ceremony and everyone is invited to whoop it up at the reception. De Niro is besotted with Streep, but lacks the confidence to share his feelings and his clumsy bid to chat to her at the bar is interrupted by Cazale knocking girlfriend Haenel to the floor for flirting with bandleader Joe Grifasi. De Niro, Walken and Savage spot Green Beret Paul D'Amato drinking by himself and ask what it's like on the frontline, but he cannot describe the horrors they are soon to witness. Streep catches the bridal bouquet and Walken proposes to her. But he is scared by what lies ahead and, after De Niro runs naked after the wedding car, Walken makes him promise to bring his body home if he fails to survive.

The next morning, the five friends drive into the Allegheny Mountains to stalk deer. They are still drunk and try to sober up on junk food. But De Niro takes hunting seriously and insists on only using a single shot. He berates Cazale for forgetting to bring his equipment and Walken has to play peacemaker. But De Niro is soon focused on his mission and tracks a magnificent beast with a full set of antlers before felling it with one bullet. The camera lingers momentarily on the fear in the eye of the dying animal before it is lashed to De Niro's Cadillac and proudly shown off outside Dzundza's bar. He plays a mournful Chopin nocturne as the pals throwback the brews with a raucous abandon that gives way to the hideous thrum of helicopter blades that signals the start of the second act.

Two years have passed and De Niro is so appalled by the callous savagery of a Viet Cong soldier tossing a grenade into an underground shelter that he incinerates him with a flame-thrower. Dumbfounded, De Niro barely notices Walken and Savage as they enter the village as relief choppers circle overhead. But they fail to get out of the jungle and become prisoners of war in a bamboo pit that is half-submerged in filthy water. Periodically, one of the Americans is dragged upstairs to play Russian roulette for the amusement of the guards who bet on the outcome of each round.

The blood of the losers drips through the floorboards, but De Niro urges Savage to remain strong when they find themselves sitting opposite each other beneath a small picture of North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh. However, his hand shakes so much that he succeeds only in grazing his temple and he is deposited in a watery pit and left to drown. Spotting a way of turning the tables, De Niro persuades the guards to put three bullets in the chamber when he finds himself confronted by Walken. Surviving his own turn, De Niro pleads with Walken to hold his nerve and then turns the gun on the sadistic ringleader and grabs a rifle to begin picking off the others before they realise what is happening.

The traumatised Walken caves in the head of one of his tormentors with a rifle butt and De Niro has to pull him away to rescue Savage. They float downstream on a log, but Savage falls as he is being hauled into a helicopter and De Niro risks his own life to dive into the river and retrieve him. As his legs have been so badly smashed, Savage has to be carried for many miles through hostile terrain. But, eventually, De Niro finds a jeep to take him to a field hospital, while he takes his chances on the road with a desperate throng of defeated South Vietnamese soldiers and refugees.

Walken is safe in a US Army clinic in Saigon, but he is too shell-shocked to remember much about his past, let alone his recent ordeal. By night, he meanders the streets looking for his buddies and is bemused by the sordid brothels, massage parlours and strip clubs that have opened to keep the American troops amused. He staggers into a bar and is picked up by prostitute Nongnuj Timruang. However, on hearing her baby cry beside the bed in a dingy backroom, Walken fleas and wishes he was back home with Streep.

As he wanders in a daze, Walken hears gunshots and drifts down a back alley, where he finds Frenchman Pierre Segul taking bets on a game of Russian roulette. Impulsively, Walken grabs the gun off one of the players and squeezes the trigger against his temple. He then does the same to himself and the onlookers go wild with excitement. In their midst, De Niro recognises his friend, but is unable to reach him as Segul sweeps him away and promises to make him very rich.

Several months later, De Niro returns to Clairton. However, he cannot face the welcome that has been planned for him and checks into a motel on the edge of town and tries to come to terms with what he has been through. The following morning, he returns to his trailer and has an awkward conversation with Streep, who can't understand why Walken has never written to her. They take a stroll together and everyone is impressed by De Niro's smart dress uniform. He calls at the mill to find Cazale and Aspegren, who complain that life is as dull as ever, as they toast him in vodka at Dzundza's bar. De Niro asks about Savage and learns from Alda that he has struggled to settle and is convalescing at the Veterans Administration Hospital. De Niro tries to call him, but can't face the prospect of speaking to him.

Streep offers to cook for De Niro, but ends up sleeping with him at his motel. However, he feels guilty about Walken and lies inertly, as Streep tries to comfort him. Similarly, when he goes out hunting with Cazale, Aspegren and Dzundza, he cannot bring himself to shoot the buck in his crosshairs and bellows `okay?' into the air, as if hoping that his sudden understanding of the fragility of life might earn him some respite from his torment. As he arrives back at the cabin, he finds Cazale threatening Aspegren with his pistol and, losing his temper, De Niro grabs the weapon and loads a single bullet in the chamber. He spins the cylinder and and presses the trigger to teach the terrified Cazale the meaning of life and tosses the gun in a pond on his way back to town.

De Niro seeks out Streep and makes love to her in his trailer. He also finds the courage to phonr Savage and discovers that he lost both legs, as well as an arm, as the result of his ordeal. When he pays him a visit, Savage admits that he is content to hide away from Alda and her son and remain with others who can appreciate what he has endured. But, when he shows him the $100 bills stuffed in a drawer that keep arriving from Saigon, De Niro realises that Walken is still alive and he heads out to Asia to rescue him.

The city is close to capitulation and De Niro has to bribe Segul in order to find the den where Walken continues to play Russian roulette. Having witnessed one loser succumb to fate, De Niro begs Walken to leave before it is too late. But he doesn't recognise his old friend and it is only when De Niro pays to join the game and risks his own safety that a flicker returns to Walken's eye. De Niro notices the heroin needle marks in his arms and wonders what fresh hell he has been through since they last met. However, his journey proves fruitless, as Walken seizes the gun and shoots himself in the head, as he becomes the final victim of the one shot mantra.

De Niro returns 12,000 miles with Walken's corpse and Savage joins the mourners at the Orthodox church. They repair to Dzundza's bar, as TV reports discuss America's defeat after a long and divisive campaign. As he scrambles eggs in the kitchen, Dzundza begins humming `God Bless America' and Streep takes up the refrain. Slowly, the others start to join in and they raise their glasses in a toast to Walken and the other fallen heroes, as the picture ends on a freeze frame.

Unlike many of the features produced in Hollywood in the immediate aftermath of the Vietnam War, this three-hour epic avoids taking sides to present a stark snapshot of the effect that conflict can have on a close-knit community. But Cimino is much more successful at establishing the bond between the blue-collar buddies than he is at depicting their nightmare in the war zone and the lingering damage that this wreaks upon Walken's psyche. There is no denying that the roulette sequences are harrowing. However, they are also shamelessly contrived and manipulative, as Cimino coerces the audience into a visceral response to his arch symbol for the random brutality of warfare.

Lulled into creating a Method variation on one of John Wayne or Gary Cooper's stoic heroes, De Niro just about holds the scenario together. But his dignified display is overshadowed by the raw emoting that earned Walken an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. He is also upstaged by Streep, who creates a genuine character from her sketchily drawn caricature and her efforts to heal her own broken heart by committing herself to De Niro's recovery represent the most truthful and touchng aspect of the entire film.

The asides on patriotism, integration, brotherhood, the Military-Industrial Complex, the mindset of the conservative heartlands, the failures of American foreign policy and the media management of the war are all potentially fascinating, but Deric Washburn's screenplay is more interested in grand statements than big issues. Similarly, Cimino forever wants his direction to be noticed and, as a consequence, too many set-pieces feel staged for a camera rather than snatched from life. The metaphors are also hammered home, as though Cimino doesn't trust the audience to spot how deep and clever he is being. Nevertheless, the supporting performances are admirable, while Vilmos Zsigmond's photography, Ron Hobbs and Kim Swados's production design and Peter Zinner's editing are as impeccable as the Oscar-winning sound mix and the Stanley Myers score, with its haunting `Cavatina' theme.

Josef Mengele died the year after The Deer Hunter was released. It's remarkable that a war criminal as notorious as the `Angel of Death', who conducted genetic experiments at the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp, could have managed to remain at liberty for so long. But a clue as to why he was never captured is provided in Lucía Puenzo's Wakolda, an adaptation of her own 2011 novel that speculates on the extent to which German ex-patriate communities in Latin America helped protect prominent Nazis from facing justice for the atrocities they had committed on behalf of the Third Reich. Yet, while this is an intriguing premises, Puenzo seems uncertain how best to tell her tale or how much to trust the audience with its awful secret. Consequently, while this is every bit as thoughtful and meticulous as her respective studies of intersexuality and lesbianism in XXY (2007) and lesbianism in The Fish Child (2009), it lacks a sense of palpable menace and feels more like a grim fairytale than a Gothic à clef.

At a rest stop on the Desert Road in Patagonia, dapper stranger Àlex Brendemühl watches a group of children playing. He is taken by the diminutive and pale-skinned Florencia Bado and is surprised to discover that she is 12 years old when he returns her dropped doll, Wakolda. She cheerfully informs him that her father makes porcelain dolls and fits each one with a mechanical heart. Suitably intrigued, Brendemühl asks Diego Peretti if he can follow his car to the German-speaking community of Bariloche, where he is due to start work as a vet. Peretti nods begrudgingly, as he ushers sons Alan Daicz and Nicolas Marsella into the backseat. But pregnant wife Natalia Oreiro is rather more friendly, as she speaks to Brendemühl in his native tongue and reassures him that the 300km route belies its forbidding reputation.

Seeking shelter from a storm, the travellers are given beds for the night by a gnarled farmer and Oreiro informs Brendemühl that she is returning to her birthplace to re-open the lakeside hotel she has inherited from her recently deceased mother. As the others sleep, Bado notices Brendemühl patching up her doll and he is charmed by her frankness, as she reveals that she is not allowed to talk to strange men, but will make an exception in his case. Peretti calls her back to bed and fixes the newcomer with a stare and bids him a firm farewell at the gate to the hotel compound the following day.

Bado joins Daicz in rushing off to explore and housekeeper's daughter Abril Braunstein notes the furtiveness of the neighbours as they watch a hydroplane land on Lake Nahuel Huapi and taxi to a private jetty. Back at the hotel, Bado helps Peretti paint eyebrows on his latest doll and looks through some photographs of Oreiro as a girl. She thinks nothing of the fact that the pupils are giving the Nazi salute, but she is intimidated by the booming rendition of `Deutschland, Deutschland über alles' at her first assembly next day. Oreiro is pleased to discover old classmate Guillermo Pfening is now a teacher, but only Juani Martínez shows Bado any kindness, as she is teased mercilessly for being so small for her age.

A few days later, Brendemühl comes to the hotel and asks if he can pay in advance for a six-month stay. Pleased to have some income and glad to have a doctor around during the latter stages of her pregnancy, Oreiro readily agrees. She invites him to dine with the family and he describes his work experimenting with growth hormones for cattle. Perhaps hoping that he can do something about her own height, Bado follows Brendemühl to his office in town and allows him to take a blood sample and make an x-ray of her legs. She is also intrigued by his allusion to `Sonnenmenchen' and asks school librarian Elena Roger if there are any books she could consult to learn more about the concept of supermen.

Despite Pfening's romantic interest, Roger is something of an outsider and it becomes clear after she meets Brendemühl at a party to welcome him to Bariloche that she has her suspicions about his true identity. She captures him in the background as she takes pictures at the school and sends them to her Mossad handlers in a coded letter, in which she reports that she may have stumbled upon the infamous Angel of Death.

Oreiro has no such misgivings, however, and is grateful for the vitamin supplements that Brendemühl gives her when she feels rundown. Moreover, she is tempted by his offer to give Bado some injections that might encourage a growth spurt before she reaches puberty. She tries to coax Peretti into agreeing to the treatment, but he warns her away from Brendemühl and insists that Bado is perfect as she is. Yet she is tired of being bullied and tries to sweet talk her father into granting his permission. However, he refuses, even after Brendemühl offers the financial backing to enable him to mass produce his dolls.

Convinced her husband is simply being stubborn, Oreiro goes behind his back and Bado grows a couple of centimetres almost as soon as Brendemühl starts the course. Such is her gratitude that she steals the blueprints for Peretti's doll design and gives them to Brendemühl during a trip with Pfening to a ruined hideaway into the woods and she eavesdrops without comprehension as her teacher mourns the loss of the Führer. Meanwhile, Roger has taken some more pictures of Brendemühl and urges her superiors to capture him before he can make plans to escape.

During a party for Bado's 13th birthday, Brendemühl shows Peretti the prototype casing of his doll and he has to admit to being impressed. Brendemühl also spies on Bado through her bedroom door, as she has her first kiss with Martínez. But he reassures her when she begins to suffer pains in her limbs and develops a rash on her abdomen. Indeed, he recommends to Oreiro that they should double the dosage and, even though she no more understands the copious notes that Brendemühl keeps taking about her family than the inquisitive Bado does, she readily concurs.

A day or so later, Bado menstruates for the first time. But, as she emerges from the school cubicle, she is set upon by some Aryan bullies who accuse her of nosing into their affairs and Martínez is expelled for defending her. She cheers up slightly during a visit to the premises in Trelew that Brendemühl has equipped for the manufacture of Peretti's dolls and she looks on proudly as her father joins the female workforce in completing the first model off the production line.

On their return, however, Peretti discovers the rash on Bado's body and he orders Brendemühl to leave his house. Snow falls heavily that night and Oreiro goes into labour. One of the twins has breathing difficulties and Brendemühl sends Peretti and Bado to the neighbour's house to fetch nurse Ana Pauls and the apparatus he needs to help the infant survive the night. Peretti would rather take his chances and drive to the nearest hospital, but Oreiro pleads with him to trust Brendemühl's expertise, no matter what he might have done in the past.

Pauls informs Brendemühl that Adolf Eichmann has been arrested in Buenos Aires and urges him to take the hydroplane to Paraguay. However, his desire to help Oreiro (and his twisted fascination with twins) prompt him to tend to her before he flees. He also warns Roger, who has been snooping in his room after being summoned to the hotel to photograph the babies, that those who die unawares are invariably found with their eyes open. As Brendemühl heads to his plane, Peretti opens the gates to allow the Israeli agents on to his land. But they are unable to prevent their quarry from taking off and a closing caption not only reveals that Josef Mengele continued to practice medicine until he drowned at Bertioga in Brazil, but also that Roger was murdered the following day and was found in the woods with her eyes open.

This final detail makes no sense, as Roger would surely have left Bariloche with her Mossad colleagues once her cover had been blown. But there are a several slipshod flaws in Puenzo's slickly structured, but far from convincing screenplay. Why, for example, did Oreiro initially leave home and what prompted her to uproot a seemingly settled family in order to start a new life in a backwaters whose Fascist affiliation could hardly have come as a surprise given her childhood mementoes? Similarly, why did Mengele leave behind his incriminating notebooks when he had plenty of time to pack them before he fled?

A number of other issues are left frustratingly unresolved, such as identity of the hydroplane passengers holed up at the neighbour's house and the significance of the contents of the buried box whose unearthing results in Bado and Martínez being attacked. But it's the clumsiness of the doll symbolism that proves most enervating, as it helps undermine the otherwise perceptive insights into the extent to which the well-meaning duplicity of the family and the unquestioning loyalty of Brendemühl's compatriots anticipate the confusion, silence and complicity that allowed the Galtieri junta to disappear so many Argentine citizens between 1976-82.

The tone also proves problematic, as Puenzo vacillates between fable, thriller, melodrama and horror. Marcelo Chaves's production design seems to reinforce the fantasy aspect, as the hotel is a modern variation on a picture book castle, while Puenzo almost parodies the generic undercurrent by including a scene in which Bado clings to Brendemühl while watching a creepy monochrome chiller. The restraint of the performances (with Bado particularly excelling) certainly makes the action disconcerting. But, even though the urbane Brendemühl resists the histrionics exhibited by Gregory Peck in Franklin J. Schaffner's The Boys From Brazil (1978), his Mengele still comes across as something of a pantomime villain rather than the monster of historical record.

While avoiding outright Sopranos caricature, there's also a burlesque feel to the wiseguys on show in John Slattery's God's Pocket, an adaptation of a Pete Dexter novel that marks the Mad Men star's directorial debut. This was also one of the last films completed by Philip Seymour Hoffman before his unfortunate demise in February and it confirms the extent to which he will be missed by American independent cinema. But, while his palooking outsider lurches between crises with an appealing haplessness, Slattery and co-writer Alex Metcalf struggle to establish the geography or capture the enclavish atmosphere of the eponymous South Philadelphia neighbourhood in what appears to be the early 1980s.

In a voiceover accompanying footage of a fractious funeral, newspaper columnist Richard Jenkins explains that God's Pocket is a great place to live, providing you're a native. Serial loser Philip Seymour Hoffman has been accepted (albeit with reservations) because he is married to local beauty Christina Hendricks. But, no matter how hard he tries to fit in, he will never be accepted or accorded the latitude granted Hendricks's mouthy 22 year-old son, Caleb Landry Jones, who struts around the hospital building site where he is employed, flicking his switchblade and making racist remarks to veteran labourer, Arthur French.

Hoffman has struck a deal with florist John Turturro and crook Domenick Lombardozzi to steal a refrigerator meat container and flog the contents to butchers across the neighbourhood. As they drive, Hoffman enthuses about a horse running in an upcoming race and reveals how he hopes to cash in on its long odds. He flinches at the brutality Lombardozzi uses to persuade the driver to abandon his rig and gets teased by Turturro when he thinks he is going to be pulled over by a highway patrol.

But, just as Hoffman has a narrow escape, Jones gets what's coming to him, as French responds to the latest taunt by caving in his skull with a metal bar and all but the stuttering Jonathan Gordon agree to back foreman Glenn Fleshler's story that Jones was struck by a swinging winch hook. Meanwhile, Hoffman and Turturro have taken the meat back to the florist shop the latter runs with Joyce Van Patten and he asks his buddy for a loan to pay back the $20,000 he owes Lombardozzi. Hoffman readily agrees, but realises on getting home that he will need all his spare cash to pay for Jones's funeral.

Editor Christopher McCann is also seeking answers after his paper prints an inaccurate report of Jones's demise and he warns Jenkins that he will be fired unless he stops wasting his time boozing and sleeping with journalism graduates like Sophia Takal. As he laps up her hero worship, Hoffman receives the sympathy of the regulars at Peter Gerety's bar and he thanks them for the contribution they have made towards the funeral expenses. However, any hopes Hoffman might have had of cutting corners are scotched by undertaker Eddie Marsan, who cautions him against trying to fob Hendricks off with a cheap coffin for her only boy.

She is being consoled by Rebecca Kling and Molly Price, who have little time for Hoffman and berate him for sleeping in Jones's bed rather than on the sofa. He is grateful to Marsan, therefore, for dragging him upstairs to find a burial suit. But he reminds him that he will expect to be paid promptly for the mahogany casket. What's more, the inconsolable Hendricks suspects foul play and orders Hoffman to make some inquiries around the Pocket. Aware that his outsider status will preclude him from ascertaining the truth, Hoffman delegates this duty to Turturro, who, in turn, sub-contracts it to Lombardozzi, who promises to ask around.

Power cuts have prevented Turturro from preparing the stolen meat for sale, and, so, Hoffman is grateful to Bill Buell, Rebecca Kling and Prudence Wright Holmes for raising $1400 in a jar on the bar at the Hollywood. They also play up to Jenkins when he drops into the bar to get the lowdown on the Jones story, while cops Matthew Lawler and Danny Mastrogiorgio are so taken with Hendricks that they agree to pay a return visit to what she is convinced is the scene of a crime. Angry at being threatened by Fleshler, Gordon tries to tell the officers that a crime has been committed, but he takes so long blurting out his accusation that they lose patience with him and leave convinced there has been a tragic accident.

Fleshler is working late alone when Lombardozzi arrives on site with back-up Chris Cardona and Michael Kaycheck. However, Fleshler is anything but intimidated by them and gouges out an eye in staging an impressive rearguard with his shovel. Lombardozzi blames Turrurro for the incident, but he is too busy watching his horse beat Hoffman's surefire tip to care. Indeed, his winnings go some way to paying off his debt and he still has enough over to give to Hoffman, who has just blown the bar money in the hope of winning enough to pay for the entire funeral.

Marsan is unimpressed by Hoffman's sob story, however, and he tries to attack him before regaining his composure. As he goes to fetch a beer, Jenkins pays a call on Hendricks and is instantly smitten by her cascading tresses and curvaceous figure. He pats her hand while reassuring her that the paper will do the right thing by her child and uses a casual remark about Jones loving animals to invite Hendricks to see the plot of land he owns beside a lake. She accepts demurely, just as Hoffman gets turfed out of the funeral parlour in the rain and trips over the corpse that has been dumped unceremoniously in a back alley. Struggling through the puddles, Hoffman lugs Jones to his refrigerated meat van and dumps him inside. He gets home to see Jenkins and Hendricks coming downstairs. But, while he suspects nothing, he is overcome with a sense of inadequacy and rushes to the bathroom to throw up rather than tell his wife the awful truth.

The following morning, Hoffman gets a rollocking from Price, who warns him that he had better not mess up over the funeral. But his efforts to see some of the stolen beef are confounded by Jones's presence in the corner of the van and he finds himself left to his own devices after Van Patten guns down Lombardozzi and his oppo when they come to the shop seeking revenge on Turturro. As they flee to Florida, Jenkins drives Hendricks to a meadow outside the city and shows her the view they would have if he built their dream home. He asks how she would cope having a 60 year-old celebrity around and she lies back with him on the picnic rug.

Now desperate to raise funds, Hoffman goes to secondhand dealer Lenny Venito to cut a deal for his truck. As they chat in the office, Hoffman is horrified to see mechanic Michael Rogers take the vehicle for a test drive and runs after it in a frantic bid to prevent anyone from finding the deep-frozen Jones in the back. However, Rogers panics when he catches sight of Hoffman in the wing mirror and causes a crash at some traffic lights. The collision coincides with Jenkins and Hendricks reaching orgasm and all three lie on their backs gazing up at the clouds. But, as Jenkins tells Hendricks that he loves her, the cuckolded Hoffman slinks back to the garage to demand that Venito pays top dollar for the written-off van.

Relieved to hand over the full amount to the penitent Marsan (who promises to retrieve Jones from the morgue), Hoffman goes to the Hollywood for a drink. However, Bill Buell sidles over to inform him that his wife has slept with Jenkins and Hoffman tries to explain that the writer is merely helping he find out what happened to Jones. Tired of the gossiping deadbeats who prop up his bar, Gerety calls time and puts up the house lights. But, back home, Hoffman sits silently in the darkness, as Hendricks sneaks in from a rendezvous with Jenkins and he sits in the gloom unable to control a single facet of his existence.

Enraged by the report of Jones's second death, Hendricks hits Hoffman about the head with the morning newspaper. He tries to calm her down by telling her that having money problems is nothing to be ashamed of and she realises that he must have learned of her infidelity when he opines that everyone in the Pocket knows each other's business anyway. Jenkins says much the same thing in his column, as he credits the residents for struggling on in the face of overwhelming odds. He smiles from his car as Hoffman punches Marsan on the steps of the funeral home and moons over Hendricks, as she mourns her son.

However, she fails to return his calls and Jenkins wanders into the Hollywood just as French returns to work. Jenkins orders a beer, but Gerety suggests he should leave, as people are livid about his latest column. He tries to explain that he was paying them a compliment, but bruisers Michael Drayer and Eddie McGee are in no mood to listen and Gerety tells Hoffman not to interfere when he tries to come to Jenkins's defence. As the scuffle spills into the street, Hendricks comes to see what the fuss is about and the momentary distraction proves Jenkins's downfall, as he disappears under a blizzard of kicks and blows. His body is still lying in the middle of the road, long after everyone has melted away. But his fate remains a mystery, as the action closes with Hoffman laying low with Turturro and Van Patten in their new trailer in Florida, while he works out what to do next.

Better received in this country than the United States, this is a Runyonesque romp that owes its ring of authenticity to the fact that Dexter was once a Jenkins-style columnist on the Philadelphia Daily News. Indeed, he had his back and pelvis broken by the denizens of Devil's Pocket in 1981, when he was caught up in an attack on heavyweight boxer Tex Cobb. Quite how much autobiographical detail informs the Jenkins character is open to conjecture, but Dexter's self-depracatory himour seeps into every scene in this shruggingly generous paean to the pride and prejudice of insular blue-collar communities.

The performances are splendid and feel like a throwback to the post-Code American cinema of the early 1970s. Hoffman is particularly impressive as the sad sack incapable whose last good decision seems to have been marrying Hendricks. She also does well as the seeming innocent with the flinty heart of a Lady Macbeth and her scenes with the impeccable Jenkins are simultaneously sweet and seedy. Marsan and Turturro contribute knowing cameos, but every minor role (no matter how shorthanded) feels perfectly cast in order to catch the human spirt of the place. Yet, in spite of the excellence of Lance Acord's muted imagery and Roshelle Berliner's cosily shabby interiors, Slattery never quite nails what it is that distinguishes God's Pocket physically and sociologically from any other rundown suburb.

The pungent poignancy that pervades the action reinforces the sense of economic malaise that makes Hoffman's hardscrabble existence even more of a struggle. But it's his failure to find acceptance that seals his fate and the concept of acclimatisation recurs in Hong Khaou's debut feature, Lilting. This is a potentially charming drama that is not afraid to take its time and afford the audience the opportunity to linger on facial expressions during the lengthy passages of bilingual translation. But, for all the rhythmic assurance and thematic intensity that have earned this comparisons with both Andrew Haigh's Weekend (2011) and Ann Hui's A Simple Life (2012), there are too many lapses in characterisation and moments of clumsy melodramatic contrivance for this to be deemed an unqualified success.

Sixtysomething Cheng Pei-pei deeply resents the fact that son Andrew Leung has put her in an old people's home. When he comes to visit, she complains of being bored and alone and curses that her fellow residents can't tell the difference between Chinese and Japanese eyes. As his father was Franco-Cambodian, Leung jokes that he can't either and Cheng tuts at him fondly. However, she soon starts chiding him for forgetting to bring a CD he has long promised her and for taking the bus rather than getting a lift from housemate Ben Whishaw. Cheng dislikes Whishaw and blames him for stopping Leung from inviting her to live with him. But, just as she casually confesses that a man brings her flowers each day, Cheng is interrupted by a member of staff coming to change the bulb in her bedside lamp and, when the camera repositions itself, it becomes clear that the entire conversation with Leung has been happening in Cheng's head.

A few days later, Whishaw comes to see how Cheng is coping with her loss. She has no idea that he was Leung's lover and regards him only as the stranger who kept them apart. Admirer Peter Bowles follows as she strides indignantly away and tries to calm her down by dancing with her in her room. As she rests her head on his shoulder, Cheng tells him in Mandarin that she left her homeland because her husband promised her a better life. But, instead, they came to rely on charity shops and jumble sales, as her spouse's gambling addiction made her struggle all the more difficult.

As Bowles shrugs and wishes he could understand what she was saying, Cheng jokes bitterly that she would follow him anywhere where he could promise her clean water and free health care. However, she has drifted into another encounter with Leung, in which she laments that she has never felt at home in Britain and wishes he would take her away from this depressing room with its ghastly wallpaper. He tells her that Whishaw has gone and that she can move in with him soon. But she knows this is now an unfulfillable dream.

Rather than being the villain of the piece, Whishaw had actually wanted Cheng to live with Leung. But he had been too ashamed to come out to her and had deeply regretted putting her in sheltered accommodation in a moment of blind panic. Yet, he had also resented the fact that Whishaw tried to manipulate the situation in order to make Leung commit to him and there was always something of an undercurrent to their relationship. Nonetheless, Whishaw feels responsible for Cheng's well-being and, consequently, he hires Naomi Christie to interpret for her and Bowles so they can get to know each other properly and further their romance.

Although glad to be able to converse in her own tongue, Cheng is confused why Whishaw wants to help her and she quickly grows frustrated when he refuses to allow her to have her son's ashes. She also fails to see why she needs to make an appointment to come and look through Leung's things. But Whishaw refuses to let Christie translate when he snaps back that Leung was his life and he is relieved when Bowles arrives. Shuffling to the other side of the room, he leaves the couple to exchange awkward compliments, as though they were on a first date, and Bowles is surprised when Cheng asks if he is a gambler.

As they debrief in a café, Christie asks Whishaw why he is so keen for Cheng to move in with him when she is better off in the home with Bowles. The camera roves across the room and passes through time as Whishaw admonishes his boyfriend for planning to put his mother away. Leung protests that he would become suicidal if he was forced to live under the same roof and blames Whishaw for being his guilty gay secret. Yet, Cheng continues to make no attempt to hide her animosity when Whishaw accompanies Christie on a second visit and she makes him sit elsewhere while she comforts Bowles for the fact that he never gets to see his grandchildren. He invites her to dinner and gets flustered when Christie informs him that Cheng prefers Chinese cuisine when all he can cook is lasagne.

Cheng's attention wanders and she relives Leung's last visit, when he had also invited her to dinner and she had accepted and agreed to cook. When she returns from her reverie, she is back in her room and Whishaw is filling a fruit bowl. He sees a photo of Leung as a young boy and hands over his ashes with an apology for being so selfish. Cheng is moved and seems to sense his affection. But she soon returns to the topic of Leung abandoning her and she turns on Whishaw when he tries to explain that Leung was hoping to move to a bigger flat to accommodate them all. She gets even angrier when Christie takes it upon herself to suggest that she should move in with Whishaw and he blows his top with Christie for interfering in something that has nothing to do with her. He tries to apologise for upsetting Cheng and she watches him leave convinced that Christie is his girlfriend.

As they stroll by the canal, Christie tells Whishaw that Cheng and Bowles had argued about his habit of touching her. But they keep their dinner date and usher Whishaw and Christie out of the room once they have served the food. They drink wine in the kitchen and giggle crudely about Bowles being aroused under the table and Cheng wanting to devour him for dessert. However, the thought had crossed Bowles's mind and he tells Cheng he wishes he could rip her clothes off and take her across the table. But when Christie returns to the clear the plates, he asks if she has brought him any Viagra and gets cross when she uses a feeble excuse of a bat flying across the room to distract Cheng as she hands him the tablet.

Things don't go quite as well when Christie next visits the home, however. Cheng wishes to find out whether Bowles has any bad habits and he takes offence when she tells him to stop pinching her bottom. He accuses her of having garlic breath and she retaliates by insisting he smells of urine. Hurt and disappointed that Bowles is not the English gentleman she had supposed, Cheng stalks off and tells Christie not to bother coming again.

Unaware of the trouble in paradise, Whishaw thinks back to his last time in bed with Leung. He has plucked a hair out of his nipple and teased him when he asked if he would mind going for a long walk when Cheng comes to supper so he can finally tell her the truth about his sexuality. Brought back into the present by a knock at the door, Whishaw holds back the tears and the fact that he missed Leung sniffing his armpits, as he welcomes Cheng and Christie to his home. He had forgotten they were coming and asks Christie if she can tidy the kitchen while he nips upstairs to remove some incriminating items from Leung's room. However, Cheng disapproves of the fact he has moved into the bigger room so quickly and she asks to be alone.

Downstairs, Whishaw asks Christie if she knows anything about the sentimental Chinese song that Leung kept promising to find for his mother. She wanders in and compliments him on having a lovely home and he claims that Leung came up with most of the design ideas. Cheng notices that Whishaw fries bacon with chopsticks and asks if he had noticed that the bed still smelt of Leung. He fights the tears and tells Christie not to translate his response. But it is Cheng who cries when Whishaw presents her with the song she has longed to hear once more and she thanks him. She tells him she has broken up with Bowles because they are too different. But Whishaw accuses her of doing it to punish him and he says he has done everything he can to help her and yet she keeps rejecting him.

He accuses her of being stubborn and making everything that has happened his fault. Furthermore, he blames her for putting so much pressure on Leung that he felt he had no option but to put her in a home. Cheng is stung by his words and ignores him when he begs her not to break Bowles's heart. She huffs that she doesn't need Whishaw to be her therapist and tells him that he needs to come to terms with his own guilt. He damns Christie for not translating correctly and criticises Cheng for making insufficient effort to adapt to British life and for not being a good enough mother to realise the misery she was causing her son.

Seething with rage, Cheng storms out and Whishaw curses himself for making such a mess of things. Yet, a few days later, she comes to the house with Christie to collect Leung's belongings. She tells him she is still refusing to see Bowles and he asks Christie to break the news that Leung only kept her away because he was too scared to tell her that he was gay. He explains that they were together for four years and that he was going to tell her over supper - but he was killed by a careless motorist as he went to catch the bus outside the home. Whishaw wishes he had driven him, as he would still be alive. But Cheng urges him not to blame himself and apologises for fighting him for her son's affection. She reveals that Leung always felt guilty for not helping her become part of the wider community and she suggests it is something every parent and child must go through. Cheng hopes that her memories of Leung will not fade as quickly as the face of her husband and she confides that she likes to cry over her son, as it comforts her.

The camera slowly starts to pan as Whishaw and Christie and Cheng and Bowles dance slowly around the room. Whishaw and Cheng waltz into the frame and then Whishaw and Leung, as Cheng explains how Christmas Day is the most painful, as it feels as though the world has stopped and she feels gripped by the pain of having to carry on alone. She shrugs that tomorrow is another day and nothing can be changed and Whishaw smiles at her, as though they have finally understood each other for the first time.

Cosily blending conversation and recollection, this intricate record gracefully switches between low-key realism, subtle ethereality and gentle romantic and culture-clash comedy. Yet, while this is never anything less than intimate, delicate and delightful, it also contains a number of scenes that strain for effect, including the dinner party and the blazing row in which Christie extends a contrivedly inappropriate invitation and the saintly Whishaw loses his temper in a manner that feels entirely false. Indeed, there is something forced throughout about Whishaw's simperingly decent sincerity, while the complete absence of backstory means that his playful banter with the eminently resistible Leung rarely feels particularly tender.

Yet the Cambodian-born, London-based Hong Khaou judges the language barrier sequences impeccably, with the pauses as the characters try to gauge the tone of statements they don't understand or await a translation being almost Ozu-like in their precision. Cheng particularly understands the importance of stillness and silence and Whshaw, Leung and Bowles sometimes fall into the trap of over-playing in order to compensate for her stoic passivity. Ultimately, the homosexual and cultural subtexts turn out to be pseudo-Macguffins, as this is primarily a study of loss - of identity, autonomy and the self-worth that comes from a sense of usefulness that only being loved can bring - as much as it is an emotional tug-of-war between two strangers bound only by a coward who let them both down.

Although sparingly used, Stuart Earl's score perhaps edges the action a touch too close to mawkishness. But Urszula Pontikos's discreet lensing of production designer Miren Marañón's astute choice of wallpaper and soft furnishings and Mark Towns's careful editing keep viewers involved without making them feel like intruders upon a private grief that taints the climactic optimism with a deeply affecting melancholy, as Hong wisely avoids turning Whishaw into Cheng's surrogate son.

Rounding things off this week is the Korean provocateur Kim Ki-duk, who proves with Moebius that he is hardly mellowing with age. In some ways a companion piece to Pieta (2012) and recyling a number of earlier gambits and tropes, this is as gruelling as any of Kim's more infamously contentious pictures. But what sets it apart (besides 3 Iron, that is) is that its shocking action unfolds without a word of spoken dialogue.

It's crystal clear what is going on, however, as mother Lee Eun-woo has discovered that husband Cho Jae-hyun has been having an affair with a shopgirl (also played by Lee). While she berates him for his infidelity and even hurls a brick through the store window, teenage son Seo Young-ju concentrates on his comic collection and his passion for masturbation. However, he is denied that pleasure when Lee gets so frustrated with Cho that she takes out her fury on Seo and not only castrates him, but also consumes his penis. Unsurprisingly, the distraught woman flees into the night, leaving Cho to promise his son that he will look into organ transplants on the Internet after his secret is discovered and he is subjected to cruel mockery by his friends.

Cho even offers to emasculate himself, so that they can share the same experience. In the meantime, however, he teaches Seo how to reach orgasm through massaging his groin and inflicting wounds upon other body parts. Suitably inflamed, Seo joins in the gang rape of the mistress, which results in him being imprisoned and the grocer seducing the leader of her assailants and dismembering him. When Seo comes home, Cho offers his genitals in an act of atonement. Therefore, he only has himself to blame, when the mother also returns and Seo's new appendage makes him feel so attracted to her that he is powerless to resist incest.

Deprived of some of its more harrowing images after the Korean censor took exception to the version that showed at the Venice Film Festival, this still contains more than enough to appal. Played out to a barrage of moans and screams, the soundtrack is every bit as disturbing as the visuals, which have been shot and edited with meticulous care by a director who is, if nothing else, a master craftsman.

The performances are also meticulous and audacious, with Lee Eun-woo excelling in her teasing duel role. Indeed, it's not difficult to find grim humour in the antics of this resolutely unholy family. But there are more grimaces than grins, as Kim dares his audience to see where this outrageous saga will go next. And, in the process, he demonstrates that not only are the mother, father and son connected as one as in a Moebius strip, but so also are the viewers and the film-maker.