- Let's hope he slips up soon. - In one way I rather hope he doesn't. We haven't had a good juicy series of sex murders since Christie. And they're so good for the tourist trade. Foreigners somehow expect the squares of London to be fog-wreathed, full of hansom cabs and littered with ripped whores, don't you think?

Frenzy, Alfred Hitchcock (1972)

Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, John Lennon in A Hard Day's Night (Richard Lester, 1964) Cast: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Wilfred Brambell, Norman Rossington, John Junkin, Victor Spinetti, Anna Quayle, Deryck Guyler, Richard Vernon. Kenneth Haigh. Screenplay: Alun Owen. Cinematography: Gilbert Taylor. Art direction: Ray Simm.   Film editor: John Jympson. Musical director: George Martin.  In that post-Kennedy-assassination, Goldwater-haunted, Cold War summer of '64, watching John, Paul, George, and Ringo larking about at the movies allowed for a breath of optimism, a sense that youth could conquer the world. It didn't quite turn out that way. This is, of course, one of the great film musicals, packed with engaging songs. They may be more lightweight than the Beatles' later oeuvre, lifting the heart rather than stirring the imagination, but they're impossible to resist. It also slyly, cheekily makes its point about the generation the Beatles are trying to leave behind: the ineptly bullying managers, the fussy TV director, the marketing executive sure that he has a handle on What the Kids Want, the Blimpish man on the train who tells Ringo, "I fought the war for your sort." Ringo's reply: "I bet you're sorry you won." Celebrity is closing in on them, epitomized by the wonderfully elliptical dialogue in John's encounter with a woman who is sure that she recognizes him but then puts on her glasses and proclaims, "You don't look like him at all." John mutters, "She looks more like him than I do." Alun Owen's screenplay, written after hanging out with the Beatles, absorbing and borrowing their own jokes, was one of the two Oscar nominations the film received, along with George Martin's scoring. None of the songs were nominated. Neither were Richard Lester's direction, Gilbert Taylor's cinematography, or John Jympson's editing, all of which kept the film buoyant and fleet.

Kelly's Heroes (1970)

Kelly's Heroes by #BrianGHutton starring #ClintEastwood and #TellySavalas, "only go for this one if its familiarity is appealing to you",

BRIAN G. HUTTON Bil’s rating (out of 5): BB.5 USA/Yugoslavia, 1970. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Katzka-Loeb, Avala Film, The Warriors Company. Screenplay by Troy Kennedy-Martin. Cinematography by Gabriel Figueroa. Produced by Sidney Beckerman, Gabriel Katzka. Music by Lalo Schifrin. Production Design by John Barry. Costume Design by Anna Maria Feo. Film Editing by John Jympson. A platoon of American…

View On WordPress

Where is the Little shop of Horrors work print you edited?

Love it when someone asks a question that's super vague and confusing, and asks it anonymously so I can't even respond or ask for clarification Pretty sure John Jympson edited that one, mate Anyway here’s Wonderwall https://archive.org/details/@ocpmovie

[Kémek a Sasfészekben “Teljes Film-1968 [MAGYARUL] .Indavidea .Online

⚠ FILM LINK | ᐅ https://odeon21.com/hu/movie/11046/where-eagles-dare

1944-et írunk. Küszöbön áll a szövetségesek európai partraszállásának ideje, amikor egy kis angol-amerikai kommandót dobnak le a Bajor-Alpokban. Az angol Smith őrnagy (Richard Burton) és az amerikai Morris hadnagy (Clint Eastwood) csapatának parancsa világos: bejutni az alpesi erődbe, a Schloss Adlerbe, megkeresni a fogságba esett, fontos katonai titkok birtokában lévő célszemélyt, majd kimenekíteni onnan. Mindezt úgy, hogy közben nem bízhatsz senkiben. Csakhamar kiderül ugyanis, hogy a szövetségesek közül valaki áruló.

felszabadított: 1968-12-04 Runtime: 158 percek Műfaj: Akció, Kaland, Háborús Csillag: Richard Burton, Clint Eastwood, Mary Ure, Patrick Wymark, Michael Hordern Rendező: Arthur Ibbetson, Ron Goodwin, John Jympson, Jonathan Bates, Elliott Kastner

Film kulcsszó: Kémek a Sasfészekben bemutató Kémek a Sasfészekben elozetes Kémek a Sasfészekben film letöltés és ingyen sorozatok Kémek a Sasfészekben film online Kémek a Sasfészekben filmezek Kémek a Sasfészekben indavideo Kémek a Sasfészekben letöltés nélkül Kémek a Sasfészekben magyar elozetes Kémek a Sasfészekben magyar felirat Kémek a Sasfészekben magyar premier Kémek a Sasfészekben magyar szinkron Kémek a Sasfészekben megjelenés Kémek a Sasfészekben mozicsillag Kémek a Sasfészekben online film, online filmnézés Kémek a Sasfészekben online filmek Kémek a Sasfészekben online magyar Kémek a Sasfészekben online mozicsillag Kémek a Sasfészekben online teljes film magyarul Kémek a Sasfészekben port HU Kémek a Sasfészekben premier Kémek a Sasfészekben szereplok Kémek a Sasfészekben szereposztás Kémek a Sasfészekben teljes film magyarul indavideo Kémek a Sasfészekben teljes film magyarul letöltés Kémek a Sasfészekben teljes film magyarul mozicsillag Kémek a Sasfészekben teljes film magyarul online filmnézés Kémek a Sasfészekben teljes film online magyar szinkronnal Kémek a Sasfészekben youtube

If you watched Editing as Punctuation in Film, you may recall that at the end of Fail Safe (1964), Sidney Lumet represents an atomic bomb blast with a series of very rapid frame enlargements to freeze frames accompanied by appropriately abrupt and abrasive sound (gifs here). It's a terrific, harrowing, ingenious formal device that smashes the narrative to a complete halt. But another film topped it the following year.

When the A-bomb goes off at the end of The Bedford Incident (1965), director James B. Harris and editor John Jympson represent the enormity of the blast by simulating a burn-through of the celluloid in the projector. It's as if the event of the bomb's detonation is so horrendous, its annihilation so total, that it can only be represented by simulating the destruction of the medium itself. I've never seen a mainstream film do anything quite like it.

Jamie Lee Curtis and Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda (Charles Crichton, 1988). 

Cast: John Cleese, Jamie Lee Curtis, Kevin Kline, Michael Palin, Maria Aitken, Tom Georgeson, Patricia Hayes, Geoffrey Palmer, Cynthia Cleese. Screenplay: John Cleese, Charles Crichton. Cinematography: Alan Hume. Production design: Roger Murray-Leach. Film editing: John Jympson. Music: John Du Prez.

By all rights, A Fish Called Wanda shouldn't have worked: It's a blend of comic acting styles, from Monty Python to Hollywood to Broadway, under the direction of a septuagenarian best known for his work on that comparatively restrained classic of British postwar comedy, The Lavender Hill Mob (1951). It's vulgar and silly and hardly sensitive to social concerns -- it was denounced by disability rights advocates for the laughs derived from the Michael Palin character's stutter. And yet it remains one of the most successful screen comedies in history. It won Kevin Kline an Oscar for his performance as the dopey Übermensch Otto, and covered John Cleese, Palin, and Jamie Lee Curtis with glory -- especially Cleese, who not only wrote the screenplay (from a story he concocted with director Charles Crichton) but also reportedly did much of the directing for which Crichton got the Oscar nomination. The secret to its success is that it takes nothing seriously, especially the British and American national identity, but is so light-hearted in its offenses that they amuse rather than offend. It's full of little in-jokes, like calling the character played by Tom Georgeson "George Thomason," and naming Cleese's character Archie Leach without nodding to the fact that it was Cary Grant's real name. (That one may even be a double in-joke, since Grant himself ad-libbed a line about Archie Leach in Howard Hawks's 1941 screwball classic His Girl Friday.) Maybe it falls a little flat at the end, with the frantic business at Heathrow, but it would be hard to top what has gone before.

Anna Massey and Barry Foster in Frenzy (Alfred Hitchcock, 1972) Cast: Jon Finch, Barry Foster, Barbara Leigh-Hunt, Anna Massey, Alec McCowen, Vivien Merchant, Billie Whitelaw, Clive Swift, Bernard Cribbins, Jean Marsh. Screenplay: Anthony Shaffer, based on a novel by Arthur La Bern. Cinematography: Gilbert Taylor. Film editing: John Jympson Frenzy is so often called a "return to form" by critics commenting on Alfred Hitchcock's films that it's worth parsing that phrase a bit. What's generally meant is that after the triumph of Psycho (1960), Hitchcock's films seemed to decline in quality: To the critics of the day, The Birds (1963) felt like a gimmicky monster movie, Marnie (1964) an overdone, miscast psychological drama, Torn Curtain (1966) and Topaz (1969) attempts to cash in on the James Bond-era vogue for spy movies. Later generations of critics have found intelligent things to say about some of these films (though there are few ardent defenders of Torn Curtain and Topaz), largely because of their ability to see the Hitchcock oeuvre as a whole and to work in the revelations of the Hitchcock biographers about the director's obsessions and predilections. But Frenzy was for many mainstream critics what Roger Ebert called it: "the kind of thriller Hitchcock was making in the 1940s, filled with macabre details, incongruous humor, and the desperation of a man convicted of a crime he didn't commit." I would qualify that observation with the remark that Frenzy is the kind of film Hitchcock couldn't have made in the 1940s because of the Production Code's restrictions on nudity, sex outside of marriage, and excessive violence. Liberated from the Code, Frenzy is rated R. And I think Hitchcock's delighted rush into the new era of frankness in film may have had a destructive effect on his ability to maintain consistency of tone. A scene like the rape-murder of Brenda Blaney (Barbara Leigh-Hunt) belongs to a different kind of film than the domestic comedy of Inspector Oxford (Alec McCowen) and his gourmet-cook wife (Vivien Merchant), and there's something a little too obvious about the snap of Mrs. Oxford's bread stick as her husband is recounting how Rusk had to break Babs Milligan's (Anna Massey) fingers to retrieve his stickpin. There is no heart in the film, the way there was in films of the 1940s like Shadow of a Doubt (1943) or Notorious (1946), in which we could feel anxiety over the plight of the characters. Hitchcock does seem to want us to feel some real-world horror at Brenda's reciting Psalm 91 and trying to cover her bared breast as she's being raped, but even that invocation of sympathy feels out of place later, especially when Babs's corpse is treated for comedy when her feet keep finding their way into Rusk's face. And a "joke" like that of the man in the pub who quips "every cloud has a silver lining" on learning that the killer rapes his victims before strangling them should never have found its way onto film. There is much to admire in Frenzy: Hitchcock never did a more skillful scene than the one in which the camera follows Babs and Rusk (Barry Foster) up to the flat where we know she's going to die, and then silently retreats back down the stairs and across the busy street. McCowen and Merchant skillfully play the comedy of the husband and wife dinner table scenes -- the soupe aux poissons is particularly unappetizing. I especially like the bit in which Mrs. Oxford offers a drink to the sergeant who brings news of the case to the inspector: It's a new cocktail called a "margarita," she explains, made with what she pronounces "tekwila." The sergeant has to leave, however, so she swigs the drink he has abandoned and then, with a rather odd look on her face, hastily makes her exit. But too often in Frenzy what Hitchcock thinks is naughty is just nasty.

- Let's make love. - Well, if you absolutely insist...

A Fish Called Wanda, Charles Crichton (1988)