ARTICLE: RADIO GA GA - TALK RADIO

The most penetrating aspects of the movies Talk Radio and Natural Born Killers, directed by Oliver Stone, reside in how well they touch upon the intimate effect broadcasting can have on its audience. Both prey on how easily the media entices people. Natural Born Killers, the tale of two homicidal maniacs, is presented in a schizophrenic style which liberally borrows from everything Television. From 50s sitcoms to 30-second cola adverts. The assault on the senses is bludgeoning, with the film frantically establishing the perverse nature of being drawn to toxic media. Subtle may not be the best word for Talk Radio, but it is less manic. However, this doesn’t stop the film from showcasing the seductiveness of entertainment media. Its lead performer, Barry, whose self-destructive tendencies shatter his personal life, unleashes hell on his angry yet captivated audience. Most of Barry’s listeners can’t seem to stand him. Many straight out despise him. All of them can’t wait to see what he says next.

Talk Radio is an overlooked movie in Stone's filmography. Even his duds get mentioned more often. I only recently saw a clickbait listicle bemoaning the age differences in Alexander (2004). However, Stone’s movies are usually larger in scale. Talk Radio is intimate and personal in ways many of Stone’s movies are not. Yet it pierces the skin of America now just as well as his more talked about features. One disturbing reason Talk Radio feels so relatable is how well it explores parasocial connections broadcasters have with their audience. Such audio broadcasting ingrains itself profoundly with its audience due to its immersive nature. In the same way, content creators in the current era can present themselves as authentic while hiding their problematic sides, Barry is a complicated ball of conflict. A presenter who holds an innate ability to feed the lonely and dangerous in the middle of the night, positioning himself as a know-it-all truth sayer to all the insomniacs who are comforted by his voice and their thoughts.

Based on both the off-Broadway play written and performed by lead performer Eric Bogosian, and the non-fiction book Talked to Death by Ted Savinar, Talk Radio is also based on the real-life death of Alan Berg, a liberal-leaning, Jewish, shock jock, murdered by a Neo-Nazi faction after recording an episode of his show. Whereas people viewed Berg as a humourist, with a tone that sounded like he was in on a joke, Eric’s Barry Champlain is a far more difficult creature. Someone who is not as easy to love. Champlain’s innate ability to entertain with his quick-wittedness enables him to ditch his suit-selling job to become a Talk Show radio host. Champlain’s confrontational style has his show receive well-wishers who love what he does, along with hostile callers, bigots and far-right extremists who phone in with threats and intimidation. His ability to trigger hostility from everyone is not just a defining element of Barry’s show but also helps dismantle most of his close relationships. His reckless behaviour causes rifts between himself and his crew. His ego and general hostility only help to ensure an uneasy relationship with Ellen (Ellen Green), his ex-wife. Unbelievably (or maybe not these days), Talk Radio starts with Champlain’s show on the cusp of being picked up nationally. This decision excites and aggravates the provocateur and soon bleeds into the emotional mixing bowl of Barry’s life.

The two films Oliver Stone directed before Talk Radio, Platoon (1986) and Wall Street (1987), were grand morality plays. The young protagonists found themselves being fought over by two opposing forces, with both films becoming a grander allegory for the soul of America. That may sound hyperbolic, but when were Oliver Stone movies above some grandstanding? Despite its smaller stage, Talk Radio is no different. However, this film plays out as if the battle for the country's spirit had been lost long ago. Cynicism drives the loose narrative as Champlain goads his listeners to lose their rag over their bigoted views, their loneliness, or anything. Both Barry and his devoted following gain a kick charge out of the on-air battles, with listeners furious with the DJ, but doing little to remove themselves from the firing line. Barry is no different, stoking himself up for these debates, finding himself wound up by the bigoted ignorance on display. As the grand conductor, Barry feels he can do whatever he wants on his show. But as the corporate sponsorship of national airplay looms large over his head, there’s a sinking feeling that Barry may have sold his soul to something more damning: Censorship.

Gene Siskel likened Barry to Taxi Driver’s Travis Buckle. Bitter, complicated, while harbouring a burning desire to do the right thing the wrong way. Barry sees his show as a platform for no-holds-barred free speech. He goads bigots and racists, runs rampant with his bitter misogyny and mocks those who are desperate and confessional. He sees no victims. If the audience wants to listen, then they are willing to call. If they want to call him, then the terms of engagement are with Barry. In real life, Alan Berg enjoyed stoking the fires to gain a reaction. But Berg, who battled alcoholism and seizures in his lifetime, was also someone who understood the absurdities that came with his ventures. Even if despised by his audience, Berg wanted them to think. To be unglued from their binary belief systems, even though he saw the folly. Barry goes to work every night, only ever seeing the void, and having it stare straight back at him. At one point, Barry fed up with a chuckling huckster who pretends to have real problems, invites the caller to the station on air as a guest. The airheaded buffoon, glad for the attention calls Barry’s bluff and comes in, contaminating the airwaves with inane, half-baked discourse. It’s one of the film's most potent moments. Highlighting that while free speech is something people fight for, not everyone is as intelligent as they are loud.

Alec Baldwin appears as the network head, Dan. He might be yet another of the contemptible corporate stooges that Baldwin loves to play. However, his big scene, where he pulls rank on Barry with a string of inflammatory comments, touches on themes found in Stone's Talk Radio and Natural Born Killers. Barry may feel he is a truth-teller.  A societal judge, jury and executioner for the masses. The crowd respond to him as if he were a holy preacher. But capitalism has already worked out how to market Barry. As much as Barry may not accept it, he’s being made to wake up and realise that he is considered mere entertainment fodder. Nothing more than a socio-political jester of sorts. In Natural Born Killers, this idea is folded over and baked into the ideal of Micky and Mallory Knox. A murderous couple whose story can have soda adverts slotted into breaks for the MTV generation. The horrific juxtaposition in Talk Radio is that what lies within the relationship between Barry and his audience is just as invasive, with an even more emotional intimacy. While he may be the commodified “voice of reason”, Barry’s words are designed to disrupt a caller’s core beliefs. Natural Born Killers has a Wikipedia page dedicated to so-called copycat killers. Talk Radio is based explicitly on the assassination of a media personality whose words and views were taken on board with a seriousness that people never believed they would be. Both of Stone’s films press a succulent question: when does our media consumption break down into actual derangement with people acting on words with extreme prejudice?

Despite being rarely talked about, Talk Radio features some compelling technical work. Managing to take a stage show with a limited cast and allowing buzz with the same energy as its protagonist. Talk Radio was made before the director began manipulating varied film stocks with more gusto. But the hyper-kinetic editing made more apparent in the likes of Natural Born Killers can be seen seeping through. Moments of the film feel fuelled by a cocaine binge in the editing room. It’s different to explain the “awake late” slightly strung-out feel that lingers in shots. Cinematographer Robert Richardson also shows his command of craft here. The combination of frantic cutting combines with a myriad of shots utilised to keep the frame interesting. From swirling cameras and split-diopters to figures reflected in windows, the film volleys an array of techniques and compositions that keep the eye alert in a film which is often just talking. In one of the few scenes in which we leave the confines of Barry's radio station to a basketball game, Stone restricts the scene to almost nothing but tight close-ups, making the surroundings even more suffocating than expected. Fans, well-wishers and hate listeners approach Barry with the DJ having no way of discerning who is friend or foe. When the action heads back to the station, the amount of space suddenly becomes startling.

This mixture of theme and form is not only staggering at times but surprising, in that Talk Radio isn’t talked about that much. Stone’s louder movies take up much of the spotlight, but Talk Radio was released at the same time that the likes of Howard Stern and Rush Limbaugh were becoming more prevalent, so it’s a little shocking that it feels a little forgotten. Three decades on Talk Radio still manages to be an absorbing watch. Managing to be both enticing and repulsive. It provides a disturbing reminder of the power of free speech, accountability and commodity. Its relevancy feels more potent in the era of unregulated podcasts and the internet. In a 2017 interview with The Guardian, Eric Bogosian mentions the rise and influence of Talk Radio:  

“The right then took it [Talk Radio] over, which wasn’t the case at the time. I was looking at someone who will pretty much say anything to get a rise out of his audience, which in turn increases his ratings. Look at Rush Limbaugh. He has described himself as an entertainer. At the same time, he’s messing with issues which are of the greatest importance to all of us. You’ve had a similar problem with Brexit: someone starts tossing this football around for fun and before you know it, they’ve changed policy.”

Watching Talk Radio now is especially chilling. As Barry hurtles towards self-destruction he screams “How deep into the muck we can immerse ourselves?!”. Slowly realising some of his self-righteous hypocrisy. Those who were tossing the football around have started to act.  As we become more siloed off by tech, and the effect of media has caused more rampant division, we now have an answer to the muck question. We can get deeper into the muck than you can imagine Barry. We can plunge into the depths.

Talk Radio is a difficult one to find. Although it may be on Apple TV. I watched it on a out of print Network distributed DVD.

Dug what you read? Buy me a Ko-fi.

Review: The Adventurers

Year: 1995

Director: Ringo Lam

Screenplay: Ringo Lam, Yip Kong-yam, Sandy Shaw

Starring: Andy Lau, Paul Chun, Rosamund Kwan

Synopsis is here

I went into Ringo Lam’s The Adventurers blind, obtaining the screener disc early without the time to do any due diligence. I had little idea as to what I was about to watch. I did view the trailer beforehand. A confounding, bite-sized chunk of schizophrenic tone switching. That's not particularly surprising for a film from the Far East. But it was no real help in providing much detail to what I was about to watch. Amusingly, after digesting the movie, I felt that the trailer was note-perfect. The Adventurers is a film that is all over the place. Yet, as the trailer suggests, it is also heaps of fun. Something that can’t be taken too seriously. Even with the film's notable geopolitics, it's too busy chasing plot strands like a dog discovering its tail. The film begins as a rather standard revenge plot, before turning into something unexpectedly melodramatic. In addition to this, the film itself is a medley of neo-noir aesthetics, Hong Kong action and soap opera-style drama. It’s not the best drop of Hong Kong cinema in the cinematic ocean. It is, however, a film that takes chances and feels fresh because of the creative choices made by the filmmakers.

The Adventurers’ title may sound like a forgotten 80s off-brand Amblin offering, but don’t let that fool you. Ringo Lam’s film doesn’t hold that sentimentality until later in the plot. At the start, The Adventurers is a blunt vengeance tale. It’s a calculated quest for Air Force Pilot Wai Lok-yan (Andy Lau), who hatches a plot to assassinate a former Arms dealer-now billionaire, Ray Lui (Paul Chun), who brutally murdered his parents when Yan was still a child. When the plan fails, Ray’s mistress, Mona (Rosamund Kwan), helps the injured Yan before sharing a brief intimate moment. Yan soon flees to the United States, and things take a turn. But to say anything would certainly spoil things.

What follows is a convoluted, action melodrama. One which provides future shocks for texts such as Infernal Affairs (2002), which Lau also stars in. Yan finds himself compromised by an identity he has chosen to embrace. Suddenly, the film skirts between humour, neo-noir aesthetics, sentimental drama and well-designed action. The Adventurers feel schizophrenic in tone. Broad humour sits next to explicit violence. The Adventurers wishes it could be more cynical but feels sanded down to keep its audience onside. The balance always holds a sense of unevenness.

However, you can see from the amount of plate juggling why Lam soon went to America after this movie. The airborne scenes alone seem to have whispers of Top Gun (1986), particularly at the beginning.  You can see the sensibilities and aesthetic that would carry over well across the pond. Despite taking a year to make, the storytelling in The Adventurers is highly economical. It manages to fit a lot of background and plot into its humble running time. In the Blu-Ray extras, Film Critic Gary Bettinson mentions Lam’s love of shooting on location. This trait probably appeals to any producer wanting to avoid expensive set builds. Lam’s bold colour schemes, canted angles and smoke-filled streets are also welcoming. As are the cast that may not have complex roles but deliver some enjoyable performances.

Eureka has provided Hong Kong completists with a good quality Blu-ray. The film's print has had decent transfer and clean-up. While the extras feature two up-to-date interviews. Film critic Gary Bettinson, as mentioned earlier, provides a good overall framing of Lam within the golden age of Hong Kong cinema in his interview. The second interview is with screenwriter Sandy Shaw, one of the three screenwriters on the film. A trailer rounds up a light but entertaining disc.

The Adventurers Blu-Ray is released on 28/04/2025

Dug what I write? Buy Me a Ko-fi!

Review: Chosen Family

Year: 2024 (UK Digital Release 2025)

Director: Heather Graham

Screenplay: Heather Graham

Starring: Heather Graham, John Brotherton, Andrea Savage, Michael Gross, Julie Halston, Thomas Lennon, Julia Stiles.

 Synopsis is here:

With films no longer being the centrepiece of media consumption, I was surprised that I now miss genres that I’ve usually been more dismissive of. Romantic comedies are one of those genres. Once a staple of the film calendar, rom-coms feel rarer these days, with many relegated to online streaming platforms.  Such films have not been completely eradicated. However, Google a list of recent romantic comedy titles and bear witness to rather deary, forgettable titles.

Enter Chosen Family; a frizzy but mostly harmless rom-com, with the main draw being Heather Graham operating as lead, writer and director of the whole shebang. The tone found in Chosen Family is what many would expect from its director. It’s a sugar bubble of a movie. Sweet and light but with not much else inside.  It’s never afraid to look a bit silly. However, this leads to problems in the third act when the narrative wants to say somewhat serious things. Late on, the film delivers a plot revelation which hits a bum note, asking the audience to take on board a deeply emotional incident in a movie that was at first far more invested with Graham performing an inappropriate dance-off with a child. Films like Chosen Family inadvertently highlight how much of a deft touch directors have with their material.

Chosen Family is well-intentioned in what it’s trying to do. Graham plays a people-pleasing yoga instructor, Ann. A woman whose romantic life is in the trash heap, while her family pepper her with their mini manipulations. Her solace lies with her friends who stand by her through thick and thin. Even when the group have suspicions that the handsome date they’ve picked for her (John Brotherton) may have a hidden flaw. For the most part, Chosen Family has all the markings of a live, laugh, love motivational slogan come to life.

What’s interesting is what Graham has taken from a storied career as an actress, with much of the film managing to have the vibe of her multi-episode stint as Dr Molly Clock on Scrubs. Chosen Family bounces along with a Sitcom energy, packing a truckload of typical plot points and dialogue that wouldn’t feel out of place in a 30-minute, 22-episode season of a show called “Something Breezy” or similar. The film’s form compounds the televisual aspect, with Graham using repetitive drone establishing shots and standardly blocked compositions as main visual decisions. Nothing is that bad, but not much is particularly striking. Although enough of it is passingly distracting.

It helps if the viewer still has one foot stuck in the early 00s. Chosen Family is a film in which Graham’s hapless yoga instructor is doing enough to live comfortably as a rather basic gym teacher (the film nearly always has her starting and finishing lessons but rarely having her do anything strenuous), yet seems astonished at the idea of broadening her appeal using social media. Not everyone can establish popularity on internet platforms, but Graham’s character is way out of the loop. So much so that the film uses the old “she accidentally posted too much on socials” as an inciting incident for the film. There’s a naivety here, as the world is now almost trained to post every little opinion of themselves with impunity. Graham’s character is only just past the ideal age for the social media platforms the film recognises. This makes Chosen Family feel behind the curve with certain things. Don’t believe me? The black landlord who urges Ann to go on socials is a great example.  There’s a tiredness in the stereotype that leans more towards a sort of innocence than any malice.

This weird innocence is part of Chosen Family’s charm.  Ann is an amalgamation of what I think of Graham in a few of the roles I’ve seen her in. Naïve, attractive, yet strangely passive and happy-go-lucky. She’s never been a go-to actress for heavy, poignant roles, which is why some of Chosen Family feels odd late on. But her on-screen presence is pleasant enough to watch, even though much of the film seems to involve Ann asking her friends, “What do I do now?”. A sizable chunk of Chosen Family stems from autobiographical strands of Graham’s life, so it is interesting to see how Ann is conceived as a character, even though a lot around her is half-baked.

It should be said, however, that Graham picks a seasoned cast of character actors who all have their appeal. She also has the guts to give certain plot strands on slightly more melancholic terms than expected, with the film’s obvious title being particularly on point. It’s also nice to see Julia Stiles in the role of Ann’s substance-abusing sister, despite being sidelined for long stretches of the movie. But this seems to be the case for much of Chosen Family. Graham scatters a broadly amusing variety of raw materials, but nothing fits together well enough to make anything solid.

Chosen Family is available on Digital Release from 21st April.

Dug what I write? Buy Me a Ko-fi!

 

 

 

HEIST HEIST BABY: DEN OF THIEVES

They shouldn't be calling this Temu Heat. It’s understandable as to why Den of Thieves gets mocked. Gerard Butler-led movies can be a mixed bag. Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson doesn’t scream must-see movie. The story feels derivative, and the director's lack of credits could easily be off-putting. The Blu-ray cover is ugly and uninviting. But no. They shouldn’t be calling this Temu heat. They shouldn’t be slandering the good name of this movie. 

With Den of Thieves 2 released earlier this year, I rewatched the original 2018. The first film is the reason for this mini-marathon of heist films.  Unlike the other movies I’ve written about this month, Den of Thieves barely sniffs at anything socioeconomic. However, like Face (1997) and Set it Off (1995), Den of Thieves is unironic in delivery and assured in its execution.

The assuredness starts from the first frames, giving the audience a statistic that is a delectable piece of glorious nonsense: 2400 times a year. 44 Times a Week. 9 Times a Day. Every 48 Minutes. A Bank is Robbed here. 

It’s an absurd, pretend factoid that gets you pumped for what you’re about to watch yet crumbles once you place any second of logical thought upon it. But there’s no time for rationality now. Den of Thieves follows through with an audacious camera shot, starting from the L.A. skyline before quietly swooping down to ground level. Filmmaking has become easier. It's saddening that such impressive camerawork doesn’t get the love it deserves. Listening to the Blu-Ray commentary, because I am old, I'm informed the shot is a helicopter shot that transitions to a drone shot that then shifts to a camera shot on a Russian arm. It’s seamless. If used in something a little more "high art,” there’d be no doubt that the shot would be fawned over by film students for years. It turns up however in a 2018 Gerard Butler heist flick. Occurring after a hilarious bunch of fake statistics. This opening is summed up in three words: Slick and dumb.

What Den of Thieves director Christian Gudegast has accomplished is no small feat. I mean slick and dumb as a compliment. There’s a lunkheaded elegance in what he’s created. This is hard to do. Constructing a large-scale crime movie which implies Machiavellian scheming and grand tragedy yet is silly enough to be boiled down to a bunch of toxic scumbags jousting with their appendages. The film taps into something primal. And manages to be disgracefully entertaining while doing so. There are no clear good or bad guys, just an unhinged clashing of brutes who wish to drag everyone into the dirt with them. It’s difficult to watch such despicable characters and yet have them remain engaging. To have you wonder how much damage they are willing to inflict on those around them.

Here's a smattering of plot. A group of ex-marines, led by Ray Merrimen, perform a hijacking of an armoured truck which leaves a substantial number of casualties. Detective Nick “Big Nick” O’Brian and his crack squad of deputies set out to investigate the case. At first, things don’t seem to add up. Why would this crew steal an empty truck? However, the plan soon materialises. It turns out that Merrimen is looking to rob the Federal Reserve Bank situated in downtown Los Angeles. It’s down to Big Nick and his team to stop Merrimen from performing a heist deemed “impossible”.

Den of Thieves is two and a half hours long. A running time anyone busy may baulk at. It’s not like we’re dealing with any heavy narrative here. Yet Christian Gudegast knows how to spin a yarn of noxious machismo. In between the crisply executed set pieces and solid performances, is a heist narrative that could be called Meathead’s Oceans 11.  Gudegast has a deft hand at not only building the characters but also framing them around the absurdity that the illogical elements of the narrative don’t matter. No one is likeable here, yet their stories are so engaging, there’s a perverse desire to watch them manoeuvre around each other. 

Comparisons to Heat (1995) are understandable, especially when considering the location, characters and aspects of the plot. However, thematically Den of Thieves would make a fascinating double bill with Gerard Johnson’s Hyena (2014). A British crime thriller which situates its characters in an equally grim, testosterone-fuelled world, where no one is “good”, and rooting for any character feels fruitless.  The only real sliver of politics seems to lie here. Merrimen’s crew, once a team of Marines, are now using the skills learned in warfare to steal money from their own country. This is done under the guise that “no one will see the bills” that they seize due to the intricate way the bills are removed from circulation. In the real world, this is nonsense. However, in this film's universe, it's a bit of poetic licence the audience should ignore to allow them to discover the unsubtle subtext of the American ex-military have yet again come home to an unjust and uninterested homeland and have to steal from the government to live.

 The film takes time to establish members of Merrimen’s team as pretty on-the-level family men despite their career in thievery. In comparison, Big Nick's complete wreck of a homelife is not unlike James Wood’s Lloyd Hopkins' in Cop (1988).  It would be easy to argue that the moral compass of either character has been tempered by principal magnets. Big Nick’s obsessive desire to catch Merrimen is less about it being the right thing to do, and more about being the only thing left in his life. He feels more interested in getting into his foe's head over being on the right side of the law. The concerning thing is that Merrimen is more than willing to match Nick’s rashness. 

This is my favourite Gerard Butler performance. As a performer, I find similarities to Jason Statham. They’re never cast for their range, although watching Butler in Dear Frankie (2004) is a good showcase of his ability to show sensitivity. The two actors both have a tactile ruggedness that often suits the roles they inhabit far better than they are given credit for. Big Nick is the perfect blend of rough, wide-eyed and reckless for Butler. A man seemingly designed to get under the skin of everyone he meets, but to disregard him seems equally as hazardous, and Nick wants to make sure you don’t ignore him. In turn, Pablo Schreiber is a superb foil as Nick’s adversary Merrimen. Bringing with him a quiet intensity. It’s more than a little pleasing to watch these two scummy peacocks’ posture at each other. Sometimes without a word being said. 

Despite its indulgent running time and ludicrous plotting, Den of Thieves is a solidly executed piece of gruff, gritty male thuggery. The film isn’t the balls-to-the-wall actioner that it was marketed to be, but this isn’t to say Gudegast doesn’t know his way around a violent shootout. The film’s finale is brutally effective. Some reviews have lambasted a supposedly needless earlier scene involving 50 Cent going full Bad Boys 2 on his daughter’s prom date. Yet Gudegast gives Jackson’s character a payoff that while it could have easily left on the cutting room floor, delivers a small moment of emotional significance that could have easily been lost. It’s no Val Kilmer and Ashley Judd, but then again, what is?  

Den of Thieves may have you question the freshness of Chinese food, security details and the reasonings behind hiring sex workers. Yet as the hare-brained scenarios get more fervent, the film is never dull. The centrepiece heist is an absurd plan, but I can’t say I didn’t have fun figuring it all out again on this latest watch. For all the film's frayed edges, the film builds to a satisfyingly silly finale. One which quenches the thirst for B-movie action, while delivering a finish which alters previous scenes upon watching a second time. Den of Thieves more than leans on its homages. But it never feels tacky while doing so. Nor does it have the self-seriousness which has derailed other crime movies released around a similar time. I’m looking at you Triple 9 (2016). I’m still upset that the star-studded crime thriller has seemingly landed John Hillcoat in director’s jail.

Den of Thieves has obtained a sequel, and there are talks that the now franchise will have two more entries in the pipeline. At the time of writing, I have yet to see Den of Thieves: Pantera. However, if Pantera is anything like its predecessor, I’m sure that the film is in more than capable hands. It just needs to maintain the tone—slick and dumb. 

REVIEW: A Touch of Love

Year: 1969

Director: Waris Hussein

Screenplay: Margaret Drabble

Starring: Sandy Dennis, Ian McKellan

 

Synopsis is here:

 

It’s always something when a film you know little about opens to be a small gem of a movie. I found A Touch of Love to be a stirring affair. From a technical point of view, there’s nothing remarkable about it. At first, the film struggles to find footing for 40 minutes of its running time. Suddenly the right gear is found, and things soon fall into place.  What could have been an upscaled kitchen sink drama becomes a touching and progressive feminist feature. It grows into a film with striking emotional earnestness, something unexpected from its pedestrian beginnings.

A Touch of Love starts disconcertingly. It opens with the lead protagonist Rosamund (Sandy Dennis), discovering she’s pregnant and making a hasty decision to terminate the pregnancy. A chance arrival of close friends derails her decision. When Rosamund decides almost on a whim to keep the child, the film becomes a mosaic. It leaps back and forth in time, giving background to Rosamund, the men in her life, and her family before leading to the occasion of her pregnancy: a one-night stand with a young news presenter (Ian McKellan in his film debut). With Rosamund’s decision to have the child, the film centres on her balancing the care for her child while trying to maintain her studies at the British Museum. The film soon finds focus, with Rosamund having to navigate a strange world of systems seemingly designed to work for those not in her unique situation.

Films depicting shifting cultural attitudes like Alfie (1966) and Darling (1965) may be more dynamic in their approach. Yet Sandy Dennis’s deceptively complex performance as Rosemond makes A Touch of Love worthy of a mention alongside the more infamous swinging sixties features.  1969 must have been a strange year for the actress, finding herself as the cornerstone of two distinctive flops. Dennis’ balance of brittle and fierce tenacity is the driving force that propels both A Touch of Love and Robert Altman’s That Cold Day in the Park. The latter film has her character slip into a murderous personality disorder through an apparent repressive family backstory. In A Touch of Love, Dennis’ Rosamund is a strongwilled, feminist character study. While her exterior exhibits the similar fragility of Altman’s film, Dennis ensures that Rosamund is a rather steely unknown quantity who only seems to allow us in when she wishes. She keeps her male acquaintances at a distance, staying non-committal to them as they never seem to give her what she desires. But she's willing to stand up against their behaviour when needed.  The inner conflict makes her brief relationship with George more intriguing as his coding marks him out as a closeted homosexual. The young McKellan plays George with all the charm you expect the then-young thespian would. And his charisma helps draw tension to their sometimes-awkward interactions while further marking out the changing cultural times.

Waris Hussein was already no stranger to cultural shifts. Hussein made his name as the first director of Doctor Who, turning down a lucrative overseas job with the BBC to work at their home office. Hussein was not only one of the first non-white directors at the BBC but also a gay Indian man. It’s of little shock that he’s in sync with the sensibilities of this issue-led drama. Hussein’s film is not one for technical flair. The camera knows where it needs to be placed, with very few visuals being particularly eye-catching.  But Hussein mines the actors well for confident, dramatic moments. Perhaps the most affecting sequence involves Rosamund battling out-of-touch nurses for the right to see her daughter after a potentially life-threatening operation. The menacing about the scene is the underlying thought of nurses doing their best to keep a single mother away from her child. Simply because they abhor her unconventional lifestyle. It’s never said outright, but something between the facial exchanges with the female staff seems to make the implication. Hussein ensures A Touch of Love thrives in its dramatic moments, even within the film’s more wayward beginnings.

Amicus Productions produced A Touch of Love. The company, more known for its cheap horror films than anything else, managed to ensure that the film made a profit by selling it to distributors for more than its cost. Later, producer Max Rosenberg claimed that A Touch of Love was the best film Amicus ever made. Despite its flaws, A Touch of Love shows that it is a text more ahead of its time than perhaps the then-present-day audience gives it credit for.  What appears to be a humdrum melodrama about a repressed wallflower blooms into a fascinating insight into a woman’s right to choose her path. A Touch of Love is a deceptive moniker for such a film. It has far more than a touch to express.

A Touch of Love is available on Blu-ray from 17th March.

Dug what I write? Buy Me a Ko-fi!