PLEASE DON'T EAT THE DAISIES

 In the late fifties and early sixties a lot of highly colored, widescreen Hollywood drivel passed themselves off as comedies though laughs were largely absent but perhaps the most dishonest of the lot was Charles Walters' "Please Don't Eat the Daisies", a 'comedy' in name only based on Jean Kerr's novel which, in turn, was largely about life with her husband, the drama critic Walter Kerr.

Here David Niven is the drama critic and Doris Day the wife who doesn't like what her husband is turning into. They also have four young boys who are so different from each other it's as if they had four different fathers; certainly none of them could be the progeny of Mr. Niven. This whimsy is meant to be heart-warming. (they even have a big cuddly dog and live, not too happily. in a New York apartment which is why they move to the country), but not a frame of it rings true. It's a one joke movie in which the joke isn't funny.

Day is good in that ingratiating, strident Doris Day way of hers but Niven is horribly miscast while talented supporting players like Spring Byington, Richard Haydn, Jack Weston, Patsy Kelly and, worst of all, Janis Paige, (they don't even give her a musical number), are totally wasted with most of the 'gags' revolving around the appalling children, (and keeping the baby locked in a cage is the most tasteless joke of all). Perhaps what's most unforgivable is that given Kerr's role as part of the Broadway elite this should be so flat, unfunny and false. I cringed throughout.

WELCOME TO HARD TIMES

 Could "Welcome to Hard Times" be the most bizarre western ever made? It's certainly the most bizarre western Burt Kennedy has ever been associated with, (he wrote and directed it). Unusually violent and clearly influenced by the Spaghetti Westerns and not dissimilar at times to Clint Eastwood's "Pale Rider" it's about crazed psychopath Aldo Ray's terrorizing and destruction of the small town of Hard Times. (well, more a couple of buildings calling itself a town), in which Henry Fonda is the mayor who refuses to stand up to him, (there doesn't appear to be a sheriff).

After Ray rides out, leaving very little behind but ashes, Fonda persuades the survivors to rebuild the town, welcoming any newcomers who come riding by and then...you don't have to be too smart to figure what's coming. It's certainly got a sterling cast; as well as Fonda and Ray there's Janice Rule, Janis Paige, Keenan Wynn, Lon Chaney Jr., Warren Oates and Fay Spain and Kennedy's screenplay, from E. L. Doctorow's first novel, is so off-the-wall it's impossible to dismiss it. In fact, if any western from the sixties, or indeed from any period, deserves a cult following it's this one. Is it any good? Of course not but you certainly won't see another one quite like it.

THE FLAVOUR OF GREEN TEA OVER RICE

 In post-war Japan a middle-aged couple's arranged marriage is in trouble. Made just before "Tokyo Story", Yasujiro Ozu's "The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice" is one of the director's least highly regarded works and yet this is as incisive a study of marriage as anything by Bergman or Albee, the only difference being that Ozu's characters are so much more gentle, more humane. Even as the wife, (Michiyo Kogure, superb), wishes her husband would just disappear there is none of the harshness we find in films and plays from the West. Ozu clearly has a deep affection for all the characters in his films.

The husband Mokichi, (an equally superb Shin Saburi), may be a bore to his wife for no reason other than he is a good, quiet man whose life is simple and unexciting yet neither is she a typical harridan , just a woman who could have had more and who has, not too unhappily, settled for what she sees as her lot.

There is a subplot involving the wife's niece, (Keiko Tsushhima, excellent), who is now rebelling against her own planned arranged marriage and once again Ozu seems very much on her side. Like so much of Ozu's work this is another study of the role of women in Japanese society, mature, often very funny and absolutely essential.

THE ETERNAL DAUGHTER

 Having made two films on the essence of cinema or at least on the filmmaker's craft, (her own), Joanna Hogg has now turned her attention to ... a ghost story albeit one without a conventional ghost. "The Eternal Daughter" is set in the kind of hotel that says very loudly either 'Downton Abbey' or 'The Haunting' and it's on the latter than Miss Hogg has decided to concentrate but being an art-house kind of director this is no "Scream"; rather it's closer in tone to the kind of ghost story or horror movie Chantal Akerman might have made in her best "Jeanne Dielman..." mode.

Tilda Swinton is the daughter and she's also her mother and they are staying in this stately pile together and they both seem to be cut from the same cloth but Swinton, who is at her very best here, isn't someone you would want to spend too much time with. For a start all the creaks and bangs and the things we usually associate with haunted houses all seem to start with her, at least with the daughter, (her mother is more amenable).

It appears that the hotel was once the mother's family home and Hogg's film is really a journey into the past, an attempt to reconnect that doesn't appear to be working. In both roles Swinton is superb, the daughter presumably yet another incarnation of Hogg herself and apart from a few minor characters, she's really the only person on screen. In dramatic terms nothing really happens and yet the film is haunting in its own pervasive way, proof that Swinton could hold our attention just reading the telephone book and that Hogg is a singular talent no matter what material she turns her hand to. Hopefully next time, however, she will make something a little more lively.

RIPLEY

 I didn't think it possible to improve on what I considered to be perfection but Steven Zallian's 8 part television series "Ripley" puts all previous screen 'Ripley's' in the shade. Adapted from Patricia Highsmith's novel "The Talented Mr. Riley" it has in Andrew Scott a Ripley not so much talented as lucky. Tom Ripley kills twice in the course of the series without really thinking too much about the consequences of his actions and once he decides to take over the identity of his first victim, Dickie Greenleaf, he seems to be living entirely on his wits as well as on Dickie's money, barely keeping one step ahead of the police.

Scott, one of our finest actors, is simply magnificent as Ripley, full of nervous charm and tightly controlled terror and there's terrific work, too, from Dakota Fanning as Dickie's girlfriend Marge, suspicious of Tom's motives from the start and from Maurizio Lombardi as the dogged Italian detective on Ripley's trail without actually knowing whose trail he's on.

The murders themselves, (the two take up almost all of two of the eight episodes), are messy and gripping in ways that murders seldom are on film and benefit considerably from being shot, 'Psycho-style', in perhaps the best black and white cinematography I've seen on any screen, large or small, certainly in recent times; the cinematographer is the great Robert Elswit. In fact I'm pretty sure I won't see anything better than this again in the coming twelve months. Oh, and it's also very funny in its grisly way and has the best 'performance' by a cat that I can remember seeing...ever.

LUMINOUS PROCURESS

 Clearly aimed, if aimed at anyone, then at a 'midnight matinee' audience turned on by experimental erotica, "Luminous Procuress", like "Pink Narcissus" which came out the same year, came and went in the blink of an eye only to be rediscovered decades later and heralded as something of a cult classic.

Plotless, dialogue free, except for some 'spoken' gibberish, and impossible to describe, this is a partly engaging though, more often than not, mostly boring piece of pop art that makes no real sense and, like so many films of its kind, is also highly pretentious; a home-movie accessible only to those involved and yet, in its wildly over-the-top fashion, it is also difficult to dismiss. Visually it's often remarkable and in the end, like other similar experimental pieces, perhaps best seen as an installation in a gallery rather than in a cinema.