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T he word ‘favourite’ is thrown around so often. Favourite colour, animal, song, movie—it’s a term that can be applied to just about anything. It has also become meaningless. If somebody were to ask my favourite type of food right this second, I’d probably say Indian; ask again tomorrow and the answer could well be…

B illy really needs the bathroom. Having just stepped off a bus—and out of prison earlier today—he sprints around town looking for a place to piss, eventually arriving at a dance studio: he attempts to use the facilities there, but ends up in a brawl when a gay guy propositions him at the urinal. Moments later,…

N ighttime: a female figure looms precariously in the shadows. White-faced and fearsome, like a cross-dressed Michael Myers. “No. Wire. Hangers. EVERRR!” . . . It’s Joan Crawford, the darling of ‘golden age’ Hollywood—and, as brought to life by ’70s powerhouse Faye Dunaway, the mother of all movie monsters. Few performances have divided opinion as…

A short while ago, someone I follow on Twitter asked, “When’s the last time you saw a film where it felt like you were watching something utterly alien?” Instantly, the title that sprang to mind was Footprints on the Moon (Italian: Le orme), the mesmeric ’75 curio from Luigi The Fifth Cord Bazzoni. Has a…

W ith a direct sequel to John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) dropping in six months, now seems as good a time as any to chew over the tenth and most recent instalment in this unremitting franchise: 2009’s Halloween II, which itself is, uh, a direct sequel to Halloween. Rob Zombie’s Halloween, not Carpenter’s . . ….

W elcome, readers, to Trash to Tarkovsky, a blog that I’ll be using to channel my creative fire into two of the things I love most: writing and film. For me, the power of cinema reaches way beyond the surface of mere enjoyment. Movies can inspire us, shape us, even transform us—and show us a…