The Mail on Sunday - Event - - FILM -

The Se­na­tor greatly. De­spite its moral white­wash­ing, it of­fers you that in­creas­ingly rare plea­sure – a Hol­ly­wood movie aimed at the ed­u­cated adult mar­ket.

If you’ve seen All The Pres­i­dent’s Men, Mark Felt (12)

might seem fa­mil­iar. Sub­ti­tled The Man Who Brought Down The White House, it tells the story of Water­gate from the per­spec­tive of its FBI source.

Played by Liam Nee­son (above), the tit­u­lar Mr Felt was the in­for­mant bet­ter known as ‘Deep Throat’. Nee­son does a good job through­out Peter Lan­des­man’s movie, which sticks with you thanks to Adam Kim­mel’s murky pho­tog­ra­phy and Daniel Pem­ber­ton’s moody score. But if you don’t know the ins and outs of Water­gate, you’ll need to get up to speed – the script never does a good enough job of telling you who’s who and what they’re about. As for the sub­plot about Felt’s miss­ing daugh­ter, I’m sure it was im­por­tant to him, but here it only com­pli­cates the story.

Christo­pher Bray

Egypt Sta­tion Capi­tol, out Fri

More than any other liv­ing soul, Paul McCart­ney has writ­ten songs that stand the test of time. But he wants you to hear his new stuff too. He wants it so badly that he’s will­ing to spend a whole day with James Cor­den.

Be­hind the bon­homie of McCart­ney’s Car­pool Karaoke, it wasn’t hard to de­tect the deal: sure, I’ll go to Liver­pool and do some Bea­tles songs, as long as you play my new sin­gle. And so Come On To Me has racked up 31mil­lion views on YouTube, as against 1.4 mil­lion for its lyric video. Even a liv­ing leg­end can do with a help­ing hand.

Sir Paul is 76 now. Will he still need us when he’s 84? On past form, he prob­a­bly will. He loves writ­ing songs and he longs to see them be­ing loved by the pub­lic.

Egypt Sta­tion, his first al­bum of new ma­te­rial for five years, could equally well be called Life In The Old Dog. Span­ning 57 min­utes and 16 tracks, it over­flows with en­ergy. Where Ed Sheeran wrote only one song by him­self on his last al­bum, and drafted in 21 co-au­thors, McCart­ney writes 15 alone and uses just the one co-au­thor.

He plays the bass and the pi­ano, as ever. And he pops up on acous­tic and elec­tric gui­tar, drums, bon­gos, har­mo­nium, har­mon­ica, harp­si­chord, syn­the­siser, tom­toms, Wurl­itzer, ‘Bren­nel gui­tar tape loops’, tri­an­gle, con­gas, hand­claps, foot stomps, ‘an­kle bells’ and ‘bird record­ing’. He even painted the sleeve.

If all this sounds a bit one­man-band-ish, he also de­ploys his tour­ing band, an orches­tra, a choir and the Mus­cle Shoals Horns (take them on tour, Paul). And the songs, like the in­stru­ments, demon­strate his as­ton­ish­ing range. He dishes up rock, pop and folk, dit­ties and di­a­tribes, lul­la­bies and ex­per­i­ments, songs about sex and songs about Trump, songs that could have been sung 100 years ago and songs that could only have come along to­day. One track, Fuh You, is a co-write with Ryan Ted­der, who co-wrote Bey­once’s Halo; the rest are co-pro­duced by Greg Kurstin, who co-wrote Adele’s Hello.

The re­sults are al­ways stim­u­lat­ing but not al­ways sat­is­fy­ing. McCart­ney, who once had sound­ing boards from heaven in John Len­non and Ge­orge Martin, is no great ed­i­tor of his own work. Back in the day, a few of these tracks would have been jet­ti­soned, to bob up again as

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