Dixiana. Luther Reed. 1930.

“You know, my slaves sing better than anybody else’s slaves… I think I’ll go down there and free a couple of the tenors now.”

That’s the opening line.

Well, it’s from 1930, and it’s among the first wave of talkies, and as such, it’s not a atypical mix of skits, stage performances and a romantic plot. It’s probably this kind of movie critics were talking about when they talked about talkies as a fad and real art would make a comeback with silent movies.

It’s pretty nonsensical, but the songs are OK, I guess. And there’s a couple of fun skits. And some not very fun skits at all.

Borderline. William A. Seiter. 1950.

I think this is from that public domain box set? Perhaps? The transfer quality is pretty good, though, so perhaps that’s wrong.

Anyway, this is a… comedy film noir with undercover agents and stuff. In “Mexico”. Well, OK, perhaps not a comedy, but not serious either.

I have to admit that I kinda lost track of where the plot was going because I was checking email and stuff, so perhaps this really is a brilliant movie?

So while it isn’t very engrossing, I do kinda like it. The performances are solid and the cinematography is appealing, if pretty standard. It’s just not… thrilling.

It’s workmanlike. It almost works, but it needed better dialogue and a sillier plot.

Murder on the Orient Express. Kenneth Branagh. 2017.

Oh, Branagh. Wherefort art thou no good any more.

I mean, we all loved him in the late 80s. Quirky entertaining movies and Henry V! Fun! But then the 90s happened and he never quite recovered. A major problem he had, of course, was that he took US money and had to use a bunch of famous American actors to hilariously disastrous effect, but he also just seemed to lose the fun of it all.

This movie certainly has the fun bit: The moustaches are magnificent. But other than that, it’s … so … standard. I mean, I love me some Standard Christie, and that’s what this is, but…

And, of course, this movie is plagued by big name actors hamming it up, too.

Oh, and then suddenly Poirot is an action here. Well, why not.