simon-118
Joined Sep 1999
Welcome to the new profile
We're still working on updating some profile features. To see the badges, ratings breakdowns, and polls for this profile, please go to the previous version.
Reviews56
simon-118's rating
I can't pretend otherwise, I've always loved this film and it's one of my guilty pleasures for a rainy afternoon, or more likely a night in with a few drinks.
It's astoundingly dreary looking: apart from Joan's soft focus entrance there is precious little opulence on display. The film is low-lit and rather seedy looking. The opening credits sequence remarkably switches from day to night and back again! But right from the start, when the incredibly beautiful Felicity departs after a night with Tony, and then the sequence of him dressing and going out to the sound of the irresistible theme tune (watch Oliver Tobias trying to say "you handsome bastard" tro himself as quietly as possible!), this is a classic quotealong movie. Some of the one liners are great: "they ask for comics and a bag of sweets you give 'em penthouse and amyl nitrate" and best of all "there are two sorts of women in this world. The first sort pick you up and screw you, the second sort pick your brains and screw you up." It's rubbish of course, but however good it may or may not be its about the disco scene and shagging so it will always be seen in that way.
Whatever happened to the director? Oliver Tobias is rather underused in the film it must be said: he doesn't have much to do and is rather overshadowed by super-bitch Fontaine. But the soundtrack is great, and the film is fun. And the scenes with Tony and his pals are the best in the movie. Those three deserved a series! But why does Ben return the video to Fontaine? Surely he'll need it as evidence?
It's astoundingly dreary looking: apart from Joan's soft focus entrance there is precious little opulence on display. The film is low-lit and rather seedy looking. The opening credits sequence remarkably switches from day to night and back again! But right from the start, when the incredibly beautiful Felicity departs after a night with Tony, and then the sequence of him dressing and going out to the sound of the irresistible theme tune (watch Oliver Tobias trying to say "you handsome bastard" tro himself as quietly as possible!), this is a classic quotealong movie. Some of the one liners are great: "they ask for comics and a bag of sweets you give 'em penthouse and amyl nitrate" and best of all "there are two sorts of women in this world. The first sort pick you up and screw you, the second sort pick your brains and screw you up." It's rubbish of course, but however good it may or may not be its about the disco scene and shagging so it will always be seen in that way.
Whatever happened to the director? Oliver Tobias is rather underused in the film it must be said: he doesn't have much to do and is rather overshadowed by super-bitch Fontaine. But the soundtrack is great, and the film is fun. And the scenes with Tony and his pals are the best in the movie. Those three deserved a series! But why does Ben return the video to Fontaine? Surely he'll need it as evidence?
Watching Holding On again, now it's finally appeared on DVD (albeit with a slightly edited end of part one, annoyingly) it has gone from being the best drama of the 90s to one that in many ways sums up all that was bad about the 90s.
It's a magnificent achievement, filled with incredible performances and poignant story lines, but there are one or two overall elements which for me slightly mar the end result.
Firstly, as with almost everything Marchant writes, the drama feels strangely cold. There is a serious lack of sympathy for any of the main characters: we feel for the more obvious targets such as Sally, Vicky and Tina, incidentally all beautiful young women whose world suddenly fall apart, but in particular the character of Claire is very difficult to warm to, as is Shaun. David Morrissey is clearly extremely talented and his descent into the depths is heartbreaking, but I didn't find it terribly believable that his ultra-scrupulous tax inspector would suddenly behave in such a manner, and Morrissey's performance in the early episodes is a little too Christopher Eccleston-like, rather too full of pomp and bluster.
Phil Daniels provides the weakest link in the saga as the character who holds it together. Not a great actor at the best of times, he is clearly here off the back of his success narrating Blur's Parklife, providing a ludicrous and grating voice-over which usually says absolutely nothing and shows all too clearly the risible influence of Britpop and Tarantino in its "profound words on trivial themes." Despite that, the closing monologue is brilliant and incredibly uplifting: therein lies another oddity about the series. It doesn't seem to make a single attempt to show the magic of London life, only its horror, and then after eight episodes of it suddenly ends telling us how, despite all this, it's a terrific place.
I was puzzled as to why we've not heard more from Fleur Mould who played Sally incidentally.
Despite these few nagging doubts, this is an incredible drama, and easily Marchant's best, especially in comparison with the equally unsympathetic but much less impressive Passer By. The camera work is brilliant throughout, Shergold fond of using single takes in the most technically demanding scenes. It does make me glad the 90s are over though: hearing songs like Design for Life in the background, and seeing a production so lacking in pity and so heavily influenced by Britpop makes me realise that, to me anyway, the 2000s are a better and more co-operative decade, with London in the grip of a more visible threat and yet strangely, feeling a nicer place too.
It's a magnificent achievement, filled with incredible performances and poignant story lines, but there are one or two overall elements which for me slightly mar the end result.
Firstly, as with almost everything Marchant writes, the drama feels strangely cold. There is a serious lack of sympathy for any of the main characters: we feel for the more obvious targets such as Sally, Vicky and Tina, incidentally all beautiful young women whose world suddenly fall apart, but in particular the character of Claire is very difficult to warm to, as is Shaun. David Morrissey is clearly extremely talented and his descent into the depths is heartbreaking, but I didn't find it terribly believable that his ultra-scrupulous tax inspector would suddenly behave in such a manner, and Morrissey's performance in the early episodes is a little too Christopher Eccleston-like, rather too full of pomp and bluster.
Phil Daniels provides the weakest link in the saga as the character who holds it together. Not a great actor at the best of times, he is clearly here off the back of his success narrating Blur's Parklife, providing a ludicrous and grating voice-over which usually says absolutely nothing and shows all too clearly the risible influence of Britpop and Tarantino in its "profound words on trivial themes." Despite that, the closing monologue is brilliant and incredibly uplifting: therein lies another oddity about the series. It doesn't seem to make a single attempt to show the magic of London life, only its horror, and then after eight episodes of it suddenly ends telling us how, despite all this, it's a terrific place.
I was puzzled as to why we've not heard more from Fleur Mould who played Sally incidentally.
Despite these few nagging doubts, this is an incredible drama, and easily Marchant's best, especially in comparison with the equally unsympathetic but much less impressive Passer By. The camera work is brilliant throughout, Shergold fond of using single takes in the most technically demanding scenes. It does make me glad the 90s are over though: hearing songs like Design for Life in the background, and seeing a production so lacking in pity and so heavily influenced by Britpop makes me realise that, to me anyway, the 2000s are a better and more co-operative decade, with London in the grip of a more visible threat and yet strangely, feeling a nicer place too.