"Touch of Evil"

I went to see the reissue of Orson Welles' classic noir Touch of Evil last week, the1998 recut version.

It is one of my favourite films, and has been for years, though it must be a while since I had seen it, and longer still since I last saw it at the cinema.

I was very disappointed. It still looks great, of course, with superb photography, incredible lighting, and design. And Orson Welles exudes slime and corruption. It is an outstanding performance. Some of the dialogue is excellent

But the film didn't hang together well. Part of that was the change we have seen socially in the last fifty years: it was uncomfortable watching Charlton Heston made up as a Mexican. Of course, the racism inherent in the police force was part of the point, but the film seemed to reinforce rather than tackle it.

And I just didn't believe the characters would behave in the ways they did. Janet Leigh seemed determined to get herself into trouble. Wouldn't anyone in the police department think to mention that the motel was owned by Grandi before driving her there? (And you'd have thought that after her experience at the Grandi motel, she'd have known to avoid deserted country motels, but just a year later she was back, checking into the Bates' motel in Psycho...)

Vargas himself wouldn't have deserted his wife to chase American criminals, and he wouldn't have left his gun behind. The police too seemed to behave in ways that didn't make sense.

It is such a highly thought of film, and one that I had built up in its absence, that perhaps I couldn't help but be disappointed.

One of best things about the film was the score. There was music throughout, Henry Mancini at his jazzy best. Some really great jazz scoring.

"Amy".

On Monday I saw the documentary about Amy Winehouse, "Amy". It was an impressive piece of work - very sad and occasionally harrowing as the inevitable drew closer.

I had heard all the hits, of course, but I had always scoffed at the description of Winehouse as a jazz singer, thinking it part of the publicity machine. I was quickly shown to be wrong: in her early days, she had a true jazz sensibility, and an amazing jazz voice to go with it. She knew her stuff. And the rawness in her voice, the pain and vulnerability, were genuine rather than a production gimmick.

There has been a lot in the press about how some people, particularly her father, he husband and her manager, feel misrepresented. The film definitely takes a view, and it is one that doesn't necessarily show them in a good light. The film showed up the conflicts of interest many around her had.

It is if course only one version of her story, and one that had lots of gaps. Every so often, a new boyfriend would appear amongst the cast of friends and hangers on - and just as quickly disappear. I wanted to know more about them. Where did she met them, why did she go out with them, and what was their role in the story?

Her tattoos proliferated, a living art work. I wanted to know why she chose one design or another, what she was trying to say through the painting on her skin. I wanted to know what those around her thought as she extended the canvas.

Just as boyfriends came and went, her band was there the whole time, but we only heard from the pianist, Sam Beste - and he was pretty quiet on her problems until the very end. What about the rest of the guys? They toured with her, rehearsed and recorded. Didn't they think to help her, or were they, like everyone else, leaving it to someone else to clean up? And how did she get her band - how did she pick them, audition them? Her music, such a key part of the story - and used to great effect in the film, her lyrics providing much of the narrative - included much more than was represented on screen.

There were a couple of interviews, with a doctor and a drug counsellor, that made me feel uncomfortable, as if they were breaking confidentiality. I don't think the counsellor actually took her on as a client, and maybe the doctor talks in general terms as well, but it didn't quite feel right.

Many people tried to help her. Much to my surprise, Russell Brand - who had just a passing role - came out well, as did her closest friends and former manager. When they tried to help or intervene, she pushed them away, relying more on those who benefited by her performing more rather than looking after her interests.

I think those that came out worst from the film were the paparazzi and other tabloid journalists who staked out her home and dogged her every move. At the beginning of the film there was a now-standard warning - "this film contains flash photography..." That's an understatement. The barrage of flash guns that Winehouse had to face later in her career was terrifying. I don't know how anyone could cope with that much persistent interference in their life. Even after her death they hounded her, trying to get photographs a her body was placed in the ambulance. I wanted to know what some of those journalists felt, if they recognised that they had played a part in the tragedy.

Of course the documentary, and the audience, were also complicit. The film used much news footage, and many still photographs taken by the paparazzi.

It was a very well made film, using others voices to stitch together a whole - one version of the truth. But it raised so many more questions. It's a shame she's not around to answer them.