12/29/21
Starship Troopers (1997)
While he was certainly at the helm of worse movies -- in fact, his output between this and RoboCop: Total Recall, Basic Instinct, Showgirls -- this demonstrates the problem of director Paul Verhoeven even more for me. I'm not sure where Robert Heinlein's book played out as an extrapolation of the RoboCop world ends up: tongue-in-cheek, black comedy, a parody of high school jocks as the military (and co-ed at that), or the military as fascist state, or not a parody. The "bug" war -- the word is used relentlessly -- takes Aliens and the more implicit species melodrama and makes it balls out, but again, it's in some register between straight and ironic that seems to be neither. I can't put my finger on it, but it may just come down to that flat, bland, crisp look. Perhaps most of all Verhoeven movies, this one looks and feels like a middling TV show. The Rifftrax version improves the color.
Road House (1989)
Rifftrax takes their turn at this now cultified movie, i.e. legendary sappy. You can get into all the finer points, even how philosophical it all is because Patrick Swayze's main character Dalton says he has a degree in philosophy, but I can't get past how blow-dried all these badasses are.
Reign of Fire (2002)
The Rifftrax crew discusses whether Matthew McConaughey or Patrick Swayze is the most shirtless actor, but here Christian Bale makes his bid alongside the former. They also propose a drinking game: if every time McConaughey appears, you fail to prevent yourself from laughing, you take a drink. That might be the best way to watch this.
Thor (2011)
The first Thor movie didn't quite get the full extent of the goofiness involved in a Norse god of pre-medieval conception walking around in the modern world -- or at least the world of modern movies. Marvel refined that later, especially by Ragnarok and Avengers: Endgame, but here, making things not as interesting, there's still a strain of seriousness for Thor, Natalie Portman and especially some mid-century gas station by director Kenneth Branagh. Pour some Rifftrax on it, though, and it's much funnier. And funner.
Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny (1972)
So weirdly bad, it's loopy surreal. It's as if some old beatniks on drugs made a high school play in the 70s. You will wonder, where tf is the "ice cream" bunny (and why ice cream), especially as it's really about Jack and the beanstalk, but the very late appearance is worth it, as it's possibly the worst animal costume ever, even hazardous, and enjoyable for that. This is a Rifftrax live show, and if you can watch it that way, even better. That show includes some bizarre Christmas shorts, with monkeys and skunks, because, you know, Christmas. I happened to watch this the same day as Comfort and Joy. That would've made for a nice thematic set if this movie actually had anything to do with ice cream. Or Christmas.
The Matrix: Resurrections (2021)
This is worse than the rest (see here) because it's just another round of endless arbitrary flipping the frame, like playing with a sandbox boss who keeps changing the rules on you, and it turns out the whole thing is really about selling sunglasses. That's not just a crack. Go look it up on the real matrix.
Comfort and Joy (1984)
Despite the success of Local Hero the previous year, and the breadth of that movie, this is the peak of Bill Forsyth's sleepy, droll approach, from script to execution. It also just happens to be the best indirectly Christmas movie. The Christmas setting glides into shoplifting, an ambush jilting, a disk jockey job and then an ice cream war, and all the contrast there of seriousness about leisure, and ends up with a nice, quiet, counterpoint, background Christmas moment (also evoking so much experience for people outside the mainstream, whether they don't celebrate, are alone, or have to work), after having plumbed its theme by a detour. The touch is throughout, from the wannabee investigative journalist's chart on the wall, to spats over Kunzle cake and Bill Paterson's infectious moment of giddiness over the sweetness absurdity.
Touchez pas au grisbi (1954)
Along with Rififi and Bob le flambeur, this was a French crime film that served as precursor to the New Wave. Jacques Becker, who later (1960) directed the excellent Le Trou, shows here the same attention to character in dialogue and honor among thieves. It seems more static, talky, or maybe starchy, until a third act with coiled exchange of hostage and loot ("grisbi"), and ambush. Jean Gabin revived his career with this role, and Jeanne Moreau was on her way in hers.
Red Dawn (1984)
Self-consciousness, defensiveness, insecurity, paranoia, persecution complex, exaggeration of the threat of others, idea that everyone is out to get you -- are these traits of adolescence? Just juvenile? Even if you're an entire country acting this way? Don't let this movie bother you on that score. It's just a good, wholesome, overly dramatic, pop culture self-pity party. Rifftrax nails the ethos of this movie, the inappropriately cheap solemnity for the subject matter that, curiously enough, was appropriate for the times.
Ready Player One (2018)
I guess the shitpile of pop culture reference via video games had to come from someone, and I guess Spielberg had to direct it. Rifftrax provides sophisticated analysis of the subtle nuances of 80s reference that include non-80s references.
Point Break (1991)
For me the "serious" movies of director Kathryn Bigelow don't quite shake the dude camp tone of this. Poor Keanu gets utterly schooled by Patrick Swayze in drippy movie heavy acting (see Red Dawn, Road House). And the Rifftrax crew give it just the attention it deserves.
A Forbidden Orange (2021)
The story of the release of A Clockwork Orange in Spain, held up by the Franco regime, then by Kubrick himself, for four years, until a festival at the University of Valladolid broke the ground. Malcolm McDowell himself narrates, adding some of his personal history with the movie, but various participants and witnesses to the events give the context, of the repression and cultural exception of the university and festival, relate the events leading up to the showing, and provide the pertinent contrast of this controversial film about violence and power with actual despotism. Although A Clockwork Orange seems tamer today after all that's come after, it's also interesting to compare the huge response for that movie in that situation, the context of it, to a typical opening for a big film today, without censorship (the overt government kind, at any rate), and without the Internet to spread the buzz more.
12/20/21
Santa Claus (1959)
The legendary Mexican film about the devil taking on Santa, who has the help of Merlin, was given a Mystery Science Theater 3000 version and then a live Rifftrax one. The movie is not so much incompetent as baffling in its spurts and twists of imagination, whether that be its sets and costumes (Santa's reindeer are eerie giant windup toys), its bizarre taxonomy of the world's children, or the plot that seems convoluted and stagnant at once. The Movie Brains Special Research Team were mostly concerned with the color process, Eastmancolor via the cinematographic process Mexiscope. The film looks like it's black and white tinted with red, orange and light blue, and we couldn't determine whether this was a factor of the process itself or of aging.
Feeders 2: Slay Bells (1998)
For the real shot-on-video look, try the 90s, and this very homemade attempt at a Christmas and horror movie. It's even a sequel to a previous attempt, which it cannibalizes in large part because it couldn't be cheap enough. The hair and glasses and general look are so 80s, you wonder if the whole thing were made then and it only took them that long to release it, though I'm not sure what release would have been for this. But then a 90s LeBaron shows up, in the rehashed footage from the 1996 original, so it's just their style of dress. The -- dolls? models? kindergarten art? -- used for the aliens are so absurdly bad it's hard to believe it wasn't intended. And the conceit of having the aliens take on Santa makes it all the merrier, with a Santa so lousy and fake protesting he's the true one. Just the kind of thing for Rifftrax.
Aeon Flux (2005)
If insipid fashion people made a sci-fi movie. I say "if" so as not to be rude to fashion people. Obviously this was some other insipid people and not people who had any sense of fashion at all, let alone sci-fi. Or movies. MTV's got their stamp on it. I'm not kidding how dumb this is: Charlize Theron moving like a fake spider over a roof. This has a Rifftrax version, and though it's easy prey, they make it possible to sit through.
12/13/21
The Innocents (2021)
This tries to build up slowly to the supernatural, but even trying to be more naturalistic, it's not done as well as Let the Right One In. It doesn't take long for the gong style music score to ring more affected, too.
Midnight Cowboy (1969)
The X-rated Oscar best picture, the smell of old paperbacks, propaganda, grown-up fairytales. John Schlesinger made a pop movie of adult subject matter, turned up the floorboards on the grubby underworld in a jaunty delivery, and used montage to blend stream-of-consciousness, perspective characterization, and the flashiness of advertising tactics. It's grating in places -- the TV channel bombardment, the MONY sign -- but it's hard to argue with the excess of the depiction when it's also what's portrayed. This may be the best overall use of so many 60s cinematic devices, not to say gimmicks, because of this counterpoint fabric. Darling may be subtler observation, and Sunday Bloody Sunday more solemn, but this is iconic ("I'm walkin' here!"), a big fruity drink with a strong belt. It's even in the line of It's a Gift and Night of the Hunter as askant Americana.
Anon (2018)
The device of the characters' vision linked into computer interface obviously suggests it, as well as other things in the story, but the look and pace of this also make it feel like the son of Blade Runner, even more than the sequel to that. Lots of lamp angle shots of the characters staring, looking "inside" their own heads, even when they're in the same room, create an interesting turn on the monologue dialogue of our device and network proxy existence. There's also an interesting trope of first-person shooter games. But the police thriller plot runs into some routine conundrums particularly when hackers are conveniently more omnipotent than the omnipotent system. At least they don't show them typing real fast, since everyone does it with their nerves here. Amanda Seyfreid doesn't carry her part well, most evident at the punchline of the whole thing, which comes off badly, like a whole wrong key, even though it's a good point.
Clockwise (1986)
What is this saying about this character? Is he paying for his overbearing punctuality? Is he reverting to his laxity? Is this karma? The lesson that you can't control or even fight time or circumstance, the jungle or nature? It's not really saying any of this because it's not really putting together any sort of consistency of character, just conjuring up one mishap after another that it feels necessary to link to the real world in terms of consequences, so when the hapless headmaster as perfunctorily walks out of his conference into the hands of the police as he walked into the conference with his patchwork of an ill-gotten suit, it's not particularly comic (cf. the abrupt frame busting ending of Monty Python and the Holy Grail) nor moral. This is not Basil Fawlty, so it's not entertaining comeuppance, and it's not some clever, intricate domino effect of timetables or untimeliness.
One Night in Miami (2020)
Historical drama and re-enactment has what should be an obvious difficulty. As one extent, there's the line of amateurish or perhaps overly earnest or naive famous personage plays, like the thought game of who you would have as guests at a dinner. You know, dinner in some strange abstract place with no corners, heaven or Olympus or the Twilight Zone, with Jesus and Groucho Marx and Socrates and Nietzsche. Even if not sheer wish fulfillment or projection, there's still the problem of improvising for what people actually said or would say. Here, it's a night that brought together Muhammed Ali -- his fight against Sonny Liston that first made him champion -- Sam Cooke, Jim Brown and Malcolm X. The good part of these imaginary exercises, the purpose they can serve and how they can be creative, is something this movie bears out: the discussions, arguments these figures create in us over what they represent. They are avatars for themselves and for what they represent in us. And what works also even for the relation to the real is the way that we see figures in perspective: taking any one of these men alone, losing them behind everything they come to symbolize even for the good, may allow us to forget the contexts they were in, with others and even these four men with each other. There's at least a suggestion, an approximation, of that, here. The performances are good, especially by Kingsley Ben-Adir and Leslie Odom Jr., and this is directed by Regina King.
Mean Girls (2004)
This is more interesting than either The Night Before or Anna and the Apocalypse, though it's more stagey, and it's more of a stretch as a Christmas movie, even alternative. There are good bubble-busting instincts from Tina Fey as writer, but it still gets messagey.
Anna and the Apocalypse (2017)
If you put three wrongs together does it make a right? Four? How about teen angst, Christmas, zombies and as a musical? The idea is tempting enough, and of course spiking the xmas punch with something, so I guess it's A for effort, or perhaps concept, but after the initial sensation, it's just more of the same teen angst, kinda Christmas, zombie cliche stuff, declaimed with not hip pop.
The Night Before (2015)
Seth Rogen is more at home in the kind of comedy this wants to be and Michael Shannon is the surprise sly funny performance. But mostly the material is reaching for the last blowout hilarity and slathering on the requisite Christmas good feelings. Why does Joseph Gordon-Levitt always seem like he's not quite awake?
A Christmas Carol (1984)
If only Dickens knew how much humbug he begot. It's not enough that there are so many versions of this story, but that every Christmas movie and show and series episode repeats it, to some extent. Just as with the more recent, insular (and twisted) version, the "war on Christmas," where is all this anti-Christmas spirit when the channels are filled with Christmas stories protesting too much? As versions go, this one made for TV from 1984 is as fine and sturdy as you can find, with George C. Scott giving an honorably un-hammy performance as Scrooge, nicely setting up the contrast to his high spirits after his visitations, in a good cast that includes Frank Finlay, Edward Woodward, David Warner and Susannah York. Nevertheless, when I try to watch a version of this, no matter how faithful or adapted, I invariably start to drift. Is it only familiarity -- we know this story before we ever sit through it -- or is it that this Dickens is really such baldly schematic sentiment and, certainly in comparison to Bleak House or Oliver Twist, not anywhere near his dazzling heights of construction and invention and technique of depiction? Maybe it's not fair to compare the movie versions of A Christmas Carol to other Dickens books, but Dickens's writing in those places is more "cinematic" than most movie or TV versions of his work.
12/6/21
Final Destination (2000)
This starts out promising, has an interesting variation on typical slasher or kill count movies, and avoids some of the cliche pandering stuff. But it has goofy flights and jags of its own, the same kind of genre horror overconcentration on effect, adding or piling on rather than trusting the engine idea enough to create that or the audience enough to get it. The abstract force turning any surroundings into Rube Goldberg machines of disaster is also a good idea and variation, a merry trickster of accidents, but the comic effect of it, like the O.J. Simpson character jokes in The Naked Gun series, can't be avoided, so it might be better to bring down the teen melodramatic seriousness of the rest.
New Blood (1999)
Otherwise passably executed by a decent cast, the script for this, by Michael Hurst who also directed, very quickly gets ridiculously convoluted. If they had notched that up, it could've been parody or absurdist, like the plot twist version of the everyone standoff.
Lost Souls (2000)
Another slice of Exorcist/Omen nonsense. When you find out who is the antichrist, go tell him, then hang out with him right up to the second he transforms into that. There are statements to justify this for the Winona Ryder character, but I couldn't help thinking, pretty much all the time, which side is she on? They want some of that as specious manipulation. There's an exorcism scene, too, involving John Hurt, that tries to use cinematic abstraction rather than other props or gore or effects, which seems like a good idea for a moment, but then becomes more laughable, like handheld video for a cable TV ghost show. Otherwise it has interesting cinematography by Mauro Fiore, especially for its day.
The Last Duel (2021)
I wanted this to be a much better movie. The idea is good, the Rashomon structure, and the progression to the woman's bad rap in it all (and general plight of women). What's wrong with it? The script such as we have it, what made it to film, has uneven emphasis. There's so much put in the first "chapter" that it's rushed, has a whole different pace from the other parts. And some of the overlap doesn't seem pertinent, beyond just a bare change of perspective. It's certainly not the kind of bad of Gladiator, except for some early CG show-off moments (aerial vista type stuff as modern digital enhancement has an incongruous sense, like there are drones in medieval skies) and one really big problem: Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. What was Ridley Scott thinking? He didn't even cast them in his Alien prequels. Despite great effort by Damon, he's just not right for this part, and I don't know what they're doing with his medieval hockey flap. It's like Adam Driver is at a picnic with his poor relations. I don't know if this is based on any actual accounts, but the duel itself is used more for suspense and action than for rhetorical purposes.
Jerry and Tom (1998)
A clever and fun gangster comedy that lives up to the material you'd want for this cast: Joe Mantegna, Sam Rockwell, William H. Macy, Peter Riegert, Maury Chaykin, Charles Durning, and even Ted Danson. The script is a version of Rick Cleveland's play, done by him and probably not altered much, because the dialogue carries it all here, the relationships, the action, the drama and the humorous slant to that (among other things, the Mantegna character's botching of adages, however much he gets right about hit jobs). It's even a kind of parody of David Mamet dialogue, and sometimes sharper and more enjoyable for it. There's not really a caper, also a welcome change, just a series of scenes that work as a coming of age for a hitman. Good score by David Buchbinder, and good music selection as well.
Monolith (1993)
This is a cross of buddy cop and alien infiltration movies. Think Lethal Weapon, Predator 2, The Hidden, but with a manner more like The Vagrant. And maybe you have to add Diehard or even 2001: A Space Odyssey, since I'm not sure what "monolith" refers to, maybe a skyscraper they have an action sequence on or the alien bunker/ship/structure dealy. This is the carry-over of 80s movies into the 90s, manic and even more sheeny, except somehow fuzzier looking, too, kind of a ragged sheen. There are some spirited performances from Bill Paxton and Lindsay Frost. John Hurt is wasted as a too typical heavy, although Louis Gossett Jr. comes off well despite a fairly cliched police boss role. Oh, but there's really annoying music, an electric guitar squall punctuating everything, like leftover bits of solo practices.
12/1/21
Black Friday (2021)
It's an irresistible idea, even if easy enough. The Black Friday mob gets turned into zombies by an infection from a meteor. This is livelier and better executed than Rogue Hostage or Slaxx, also consumer store-themed horror parodies, even if there's not really much more original about it or many more good cracks. There is a humorous slant, just more situation and attitude and some of the action, not a lot of funny lines. Bruce Campbell is a producer and in it.
24 Hour Party People (2002)
The story of Tony Wilson and Factory Records, and thus of the Manchester scene in the 80s and 90s, is the best of director Michael Winterbottom and actor Steve Coogan's reflexive collaborations and one of the best portraits of the ethos of the late 70s and 80s set off by punk. What they manage is an approximation in form that's more evocative than anything like sets, costumes, production design, actors' renditions, though none of that is shy here. All the self-consciousness about the re-creation gives as well as portrays the DIY feeling of all that then. You didn't know what you were doing, you didn't know or understand the rules or how they applied, you just had to jump and do at some point, and this was the liberation from convention that also led to an outburst of inventiveness all over, cross-pollinating via New York and London, but also to and from many other places. This was the Manchester strain, and it included Factory's inaugural signing, Joy Division, later New Order, and this is also incidentally a portrait of them and Ian Curtis, all the better for being incidental, glancing. It's not credulous, fawning reverence. There's self-mocking also in the spirit of the place and time.
The Browning Version (1994)
This version of the Terence Rattigan play (there's also a 1951 movie) is written by Ronald Harwood and directed by Mike Figgis. The latter does well to keep to the pace of this drama in feelings and reactions, how it turns on small things like the gift of a book. A classics teacher, played by Albert Finney, at an English school is dealing with age, health, loss of his job and marriage, and perhaps for the first time seriously, whether anybody likes him for anything. This makes it not like the drama of infidelity it may seem, nor a classroom drama, nor an inspirational teacher story, and though there's a climactic speech at the end, even that has a humbling twist to it.
The Crossing Guard (1995)
There's a good idea, especially the ending, but getting from point A to B is meandering and actor exercise flourishes from Sean Penn the director, and director-y flourishes from Sean Penn the actor trying his hand at filmmaking, and plot curlicues from Sean Penn the writer that blow the punch of the ending. It's amateurish pushing, trying to make things more. Penn did better later with The Pledge when someone else wrote the script.
Damage (1992)
And if I thought The Lovers was bad for the love scenes, there's this by director Louis Malle. The coup de foudre sends Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche into a scandalous affair -- she's his son's girlfriend -- and they engage in some sort of mime or interpretative dancing. Everything that's appealing about Irons himself as well as for his character seems to go out the window and he turns into an effusive pushover. Maybe it's supposed to be the point that these are people whose lives are only a facade of being well mannered, appointed or in control, and when overcome with desire they are really helpless, irresponsible or overwrought, but their debauchery is so -- geez -- weirdly posh.
A Town Like Alice (1956)
Another movie about the pluck of the English during World War II, more particularly a group of women marched all over Malaysia by the Japanese. The performances are good, including by Virginia McKenna (of Born Free fame) and Peter Finch, and there's frankness about what they contend with and suffer, but there's also something crisp and dry about it, too assured, like a foregone conclusion. The framing scenes get a bit confusing, too, even for the movie's title. Why not a town like Hillman?
Rose Plays Julie (2019)
Though done with simmering drama rather than clamorous effects, and with a turnabout on a creepy perpetrator that may look more like a sympathetic portrait, it's still a thriller that pushes the mystery if not ambivalence of its frosty main character, played by Ann Skelly.
Bone Cage (2020)
The jumping in the story, which sometimes makes for quick-cut scenes, sometimes not, seems both an affectation and evasion. It feels like it's reaching rather than observing, including the whole vicious cycle of privation, of human economy and environmental destruction, the background of its attempt at not so much kitchen sink as hangout realism.
The Green Room (1978)
Francois Truffaut cast himself as the lead and this only adds to the position piece quality of the whole thing. He co-wrote the script, based on Henry James stories, so there already boiled it down to characters declaiming, stating themes. Then he filmed himself giving the speeches. The argument about memory v. forgetting, honoring the dead in living or vice versa, is a compelling one, even against our inclination, but I would rather have watched him talk about this or the books on film than try to play it as a scant, hurried melodrama.
Captain Correli's Mandolin (2001)
The story has an interesting historical situation, the occupation of a Greek island by Italians during World War II, and then the German army turning on them after the fall of Mussolini. Directer John Madden gives lots of epic flourishes to the romance, like Penelope Cruz walking down a battle-ravaged street while soldiers march by. Apparently so Cruz's accent wouldn't stand out so much -- she's playing a Greek -- they decided everyone else should do an accent, too. John Hurt manages to blend in passable hints with his own accent, rather like a Greek educated at Oxford, but Nicolas Cage's Italian accent is like something from a Saturday Night Live skit.
Spencer (2021)
While it attempts a psychological portrait, aiming for something more like Phantom Thread than a narrative of events (and if you think that's a stretch, the score here is also by Johnny Greenwood), it gets artsy and precious in a way that's posh and not contrasting. There's no Di dancing to Billy Joel or listening to Phil Collins, a detail that would provide shading in more than one way, but when it does break into "All I Need Is a Miracle" it's a warm highlighty moment on the outside of it all, though that's part of an ending that is a more canny gesture with a reference to Kentucky Fried Chicken. I'm not as impressed with Kristen Stewart's performance as lots of reviewers seem to be. I liked Emma Corrin in The Crown better.
Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021)
There's no pace to this, just commotion. Chalk it up to Andy Serkis, taking a turn at direction. The action and even the dialogue seem so skirted by the editing, it's as if we're expected to just know the shtick. But, alas, we do.
All the Little Animals (1998)
This is done just well enough by director Jeremy Thomas and by John Hurt and Christian Bale that its weird quaintness seems of the characters, a study of them, until a turn that, implausible or not, is just too thriller form to provide additional significance for them.
11/26/21
Up the Junction (1968)
A Chelsea girl crosses the bridge to Battersea, goes to work in a candy factory, and descends to the working class. The rich girl seems the added 60s idealistic conceit, to a book of short stories that was a series of sketches of London underclass life, but the movie does manage a good portrait of the times. With a quasi-documentary style, it's a slice of vernacular and accoutrements and even some poetic moments: the hair, the earrings, the makeup, the pub singing, shot teeming with great faces gabbing against crowded backgrounds. There's clever stuff, a nice switch-off with how the working girls judge the posh one when she buys some old furniture for her scruffy apartment. And even after some strains at theatrical tragedy, there's an interesting dialog that shows the crossed trajectories of class, in spite of themselves, another twist of greener grass. The Manfred Mann title song isn't as good as the Squeeze song.
Bergman Island (2021)
Film eats film. Two filmmakers go to vacation at a favorite vacation island of Ingmar Bergman while also working on their separate movie projects, express their various opinions of Bergman, struggle with inspiration separately and with each other, and then the woman tells her idea which we then cut to, movie within movie. It's patient, involving, but despite the interest even in frames and levels and positioning, it doesn't seem to come together, or even make something of not doing so. At one point in the story within the story, the woman character seems to be left out at a wedding party, and wanders off, and I felt the same way, like all this going on has nothing to do with me. Then when it started to interweave the parts in more interesting ways, there were two scenes that abruptly ended it with conflicting information.
Nine Days (2020)
The performances by this cast are good but that only augments the problem of this sort of thing: an underworld or afterlife or out-of-life tale. The flickering between symbolic, abstract and mundane can be uncanny, absurd as inspiration, a thought experiment or game, but it can also get arbitrary or confused in a silly or awkward way. Just when this seems more absurd, it gets rather earnest, and the message about enjoying life to the fullest and expressing that has the absurdity of even when you're not in it, which seems to be in spite of the more conventional sentiment.
Night and the City (1992)
Director Irwin Winkler does a Martin Scorsese impression, too heavy on the pop songs popping in to comment, but then settles down to follow an interesting script and performances by the whole cast. It's intriguing and fun how Richard Price updates the 1950 movie (both based on a novel), blending things in more, showing rather than declaring, for example with the way Robert De Niro's Henry Fabian reacts to Jessica Lange's character. He has as much misplaced drive and energy as misguided ambition.
Shang-Chi: The Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)
A good cast, especially Tony Leung, Simu Liu and Awkwafina, get washed out in the high gloss CG. In the fictional secret land where they have their overwrought climax, the colors are like the auto body paint version of Easter eggs, until everything is overtaken by a metallic slate that's apparently the color of storms of evil. The cross of martial arts and superheroes is interesting to make express, two different lines of imagining overcoming physical limitations, power(s) that skip over all that, but compounding their excesses, e.g. interminable tumbling on indefinitely progressing scaffolding, doesn't reduce the risk of monotony.
Wanted (2008)
As outrageous as the CG action is -- and this has some intentionally unreal, shall we say expressive CGI -- the bends and rolls and flips and twists and contortions of the plot are even more so. The pull the whole frame inside out from its bellybutton conceit, a la Matrix, is annoying the first time they do it, here.
Glen or Glenda (1953)
Ed Wood is famous -- notorious? -- for two legendary bad movies: Plan Nine from Outer Space and this. While Plan Nine certainly has its place in the a(n)nals of movies, for me it's actually quite boring after you get the idea and doesn't approach the true depths of uninspiration of Manos: Hands of Fate, the inadvertent transcendence into surrealism of Robot Monster or Rape of the Vampire, the pure enjoyment of clueless conceit of The Room, Fatal Findings or Samurai Cop, or this. This is Wood's true dismasterpiece. It contains so much right and so much wrong in so many ways. It was daring, ahead of its time and as much because of brazen unawareness. This was recently featured as a The Mads Are Back riffing event.
11/21/21
Because Bibi.
11/17/21
Walk the Dark Street (1956)
The Mads Are Back and streaming their own riff programs. The Mads refers to Mystery Science Theater 3000 characters Dr. Clayton Forrester and TV's Frank, played by Trace Beaulieu and Frank Conniff, who also co-wrote that show. For one presentation, they riffed this 50s B-movie with Chuck Connors and Don Ross that's a knockoff of The Most Dangerous Game. Here the hunter uses a ruse that his rifles -- Connors of The Rifleman fame, sure enough -- are rigged to work as cameras, but somehow his intended victim doesn't think what we do: yeah, right. This sets up gaping sequences of each man carrying a gun case through the vibrant scenery of residential, commercial and industrial Los Angeles. Gripping stuff, but tons of room for riffing.
Nukie (1987)
This is another bad ripoff of E.T., but crossed with The Gods Must Be Crazy. Unlike the other notorious ripoff of E.T., Mac and Me, this very quickly wears out its aghast curiosity and fun and becomes repetitious like a sickening dream. "America" is cried out with "Nukie" and "Miko" in such annoying voices so many times it's like aversion therapy.
Big Ass Spider (2013)
Clever and punchy execution, if not the best for the CG, though it's a predictable monster movie plot. The fine cast keeps it rolling, with Ray Wise and Patrick Bauchau among them.
Octaman (1971)
Here's another enjoyably bad movie, good for a laugh with almost every shot. The ridiculous rubber suit monster, supposed to be a cephalopod version of the creature from the Black Lagoon, was designed in part by Rick Baker, who became famous for his makeup later. Kerwin Mathews came down from his Sinbad heights (The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, 1958) to stretch out in this swamp, and Pier Angeli came to join him from co-starring with Paul Newman. The rest of the cast is marvelously ill-conceived and misplaced character actors, and that goes for their characters, too. There's a Rifftrax live show for this, and easy target though it is, they pile on more laughs, especially during two absurd search sequences where the movie has ripped you off for any plot at all.
The Lovers (1958)
After the cool drink of Elevator to the Gallows (Ascenseur pour l'échafaud), this seems dainty and posed, even for its subject matter (it provoked a famous obscenity trial in the United States). When the voiceover isn't laying it out -- and it's a tribute to the story that especially the concluding words just couldn't be done without -- the setup is schematic. It's like an inverted morality play. The more literal you take it, the less rhetorical, the more untenable it becomes: irresponsible, expedient, narrow, and not just because of impetuousness or morality or consequences, but because of the scope of the matter. Desire is not really the opposite of repression, since that only comes from another's, or another, desire. What happens after months or years, or the next day, or the next hour in the car? For me, the love scenes were worse than what they were supposed to contrast. Maybe it's just my perverse sense of desire as prospect, contrast, counterpoint, suspense, how it's built on object as absent, but the case for this ingenuous expression is made better by everything else that is so mannered in the woman's life, marriage and love affair. When they fall to it, it's more like a religious experience.
Night and the City (1950)
Between The Naked City and Rififi, Jules Dassin directed this strange mix of two-tone shoe Americans, London, fleecing joints and the wrestling racket. There's Richard Widmark, Gene Tierney and Hugh Marlowe, as the American dorm, Francis L. Sullivan from Oliver Twist and Herbert Lom even before The Ladykillers. And familiar movie strongman Mike Mazurki and famous from a bygone era wrestler Stanislaus Zbyszko. The London setting was not the result of Dassin's exile due to blacklisting. That would come during this production and why he would end up making movies in France and elsewhere. With noir and chiaroscuro tones in a somewhat different setting, it's an interesting underbelly portrait.
New Order: Education Entertainment Recreation (Live at Alexandra Palace) (2021)
The video record of the 2018 concert follows suit of the AV show New Order put on there, and director Mike Christie scattered camera operators throughout, then edited from all the points, with different rhythms, and sometimes flashing the images from the stage monitors dissolve ghostlike to the foreground. It's more than a fair exchange for not being there, quarantine or usual limitations. New Order, slightly reordered, spans their whole career, including Joy Division, with the numbers. The video contributions are especially great for "Blue Monday" and for their rendition of "Decades." Despite what they think of their own progression (Bernard Sumner here comments after doing "Ultraviolence" that the earlier version was "shyte"), like the bad rap for Movement given as much by them as anyone else, these guys created, with both Joy Division and early New Order, the first two albums and the early singles, an utterly distinct sound. The sensibility, of plainness and undertones in contrast, has never completely gone (cf. some of their latest, e.g. "Plastic," also performed here), but even tracing the arc by the order of the song list here (they conclude with "Love Will Tear Us Apart"), they didn't exactly top that achievement.
American Coup (2010)
This documentary about the U.S. led overthrow of the Iranian government in 1953 is the opposite problem of the sensational kind such as those made for cable channels. It's a wonky insider kind, with different qualities of image and sound, and one of the main talking heads has a sometimes annoying smirky way of lauding those responsible for the deviousness he's also detailed. Isn't history cute. It may not be the best way to tell it, but it's a story little told, and there's lots of pertinent information here, including about the formation of the CIA and President Truman's misgivings about it. At a time when these methods of influence are more widespread and even open, it's important -- well, useful, anyway -- to know the U.S.'s role in developing and propagating them, even when we were supposed to be respectable.
Old Henry (2021)
Sometimes it's a relief when something doesn't have grandiose ambitions, and this is a modest Western that doesn't try to be too ritual or eccentric. But it does have a twist dealing with a pretty big chunk of Western lore, and for that it feels like it may have been too modest, more like a sketch. It's easy to see the appeal of Tim Blake Nelson for a part like this, but writer and director Potsy Ponciroli relies on Nelson too much.
Marianne and Leonard: Words of Love (2019)
Sometimes virtuosity or even competence isn't relevant to worthiness or usefulness. Though this isn't an incompetent work, it's not really concerned with that so much as its subject, and this means it avoids a lot of cliches in modern documentaries. Made by Nick Broomfield, who was another lover of Marianne Ihlen, this is an interesting portrait of Leonard Cohen, somewhat as if Rainer Maria Rilke had made a documentary about Lou Andreas Salome that was really about Nietzsche. For me this serves as useful banalization of Cohen. It's not quite demystification. It's just good to see he spent time gadding, cadding, drugging and even monking about so I'm reminded he didn't exist in the airy realms of his songs, and his personal life didn't require my consumer approval. Most of the people who have survived for interviews here knew Cohen and have their own understanding and even grace to go with their frankness, and much like the recent Anthony Bourdain documentary (see here), even with the words of Cohen and Ihlen this is a portrait in the impressions of others.
11/11/21
Sharknado (2013)
I'm not sure if this started it, but it certainly upped the bid on the intentionally bad movie appropriation of the unintentionally bad cult movie fad. Now there are all kinds of levels of competent or clever spoof-like intentionally bad movies and then movies supposed to be intentionally, joke bad made by actually incompetent people, too. And a huge swath of this is around sharks. For the cottage industry, i.e. infestation, of any level of production, budget and capability, of movies, the only thing that rivals sharks as a subject is Christmas. Another movie that was given the Rifftrax live treatment.
Samurai Cop (1991)
This ranks up there with The Room as one of the most enjoyable bad movies. And it has more in common with The Room: excruciating sex scenes. Or sorta like sex. This movie also has its own conceit of brazenly not implied sex banter. More like outuendo. There's also a Rifftrax live version.
The Harder They Fall (2021)
In a patchwork of references, also to other Westerns of various registers, there's a great stroke about a white town that also recalls High Plains Drifter, and a plot twist with lots of dramatic effect. Either one of those would have been great as a larger plan, a more surreal approach to the whole or more drawn around that dramatic thread. Still, the great cast makes it worth the watch.
Traitor (2008)
By contrast to The Debt, this has a better script, but director Jeffrey Nachmanoff also tries to keep a slick action pace and trumps up a lot of scenes even though he shows a cooler hand in others. The similarity with The Debt is the thriller built on a political situation, in this case Islamic fundamentalist terrorism and means used against it. It's certainly not the boiling pot of the Homeland series, but again, the thriller approach doesn't make much time to stop and smell the flowers of metaphor. Despite that, Don Cheadle is commanding in the lead and this is the best role I've seen for Guy Pearce.
The Debt (2010)
Nietzsche said be careful when you fight monsters lest you become one. Twisting up Israeli methods with the Nazis they pursued certainly has broader implications, but I'm not sure that political thrillers do much more with meatier matters than play them out as expedience. In this case, an Israeli movie gets a makeover with Helen Mirren, Jessica Chastain (as the same character at different ages) Tom Wilkinson, Ciaran Hinds, Sam Worthington, Marton Csokas (as two pairs of younger/older characters who seemed to have got mixed up) and Jesper Christensen. The latter playing the war criminal gets inflated -- made broader and thinner -- to an action movie villain when director John Madden keeps everything near or at the boil.
11/2/21
Ice Cream Man (1995)
Ice cream runs more than blood in this bizarre blend of kiddie adventure and slasher movie. The snarl of subplots may bewilder more than any scare tactics frighten. Perhaps more bizarre, Clint Howard stars in a cast with Olivia Hussey, David Warner, David Naughton, Jan-Michael Vincent and Sandahl Bergman. This is also a Rifftrax entry.
Hobgoblins (1988)
If you want to see what was embarrassing as pretense in the 80s, this would serve as a good sampler. A low-rent version of low-rent versions of derivative late-coming trendiness, this features pink boy shorts, shiny dance leggings, odd accessories, sunglasses at night, a wannabe band with, as the Rifftrax crew aptly notes, each member looking like they came from a different really bad trendy band, and that's before you get to the rip-off of the title, which is of Gremlins. This was on Mystery Science Theater 3000, and is now a Rifftrax live version.
The Creature Walks Among Us (1956)
The Creature from the Black Lagoon spawned a sequel Revenge of the Creature that was also originally shot in 3D, but wasn't very good. This second sequel, though not shot in 3D, is more interesting, involving a transformation of the creature. The beauty and the beast thread of this series and other 50s sci-fi and monster movies is continued, as is the contrast of the beastliness brought out in the humans. (See further comments here.)
Let It Ride (1989)
If you can get past the screwball twitchiness, and the tangle of plot threads, there's an interesting cast, good cinematography, and a curious take on -- heroes? Identification or idolization? Chance? Risk? Saviors? Sacrificial lambs? You'd have to interpret for yourself, but the movie takes an interesting turn about the way others respond to the fortune of the main character.
The Departed (2006)
Like Casino, this is Scorsese on steroids, possibly even more so: the jumps, the musical flares more like his imitators. I feel sorry for Leonardo, having to act so hard all the time, making everyone else look comfortable. Folding the Whitey Bulger story into Infernal Affairs (Mou gaan dou, 2002) is a great idea, but this actually shunts the amazing part and drama of the real story (for that, see Black Mass and Whitey: United States of America v. James J. Bulger). This movie is somewhat fun, enough meat and touch to make it feel more substantial than Infernal Affaris, but that's also because it's a good dose of goofy in its own right, with everyone trying to do the Boston accent and jumping on each other. Jack Nicholson even gets in some more choice mugging (the scene with Nicholson and DiCaprio about the rat is the silliest in the movie). Any other pretension -- well, like the Oscar payback, which just goes to show how the Oscars are as impertinent as the Grammys now: awards aren't for art or cultural significance, only buzz of the biz (cf. Goodfellas, Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, Mean Streets, among others).
Punk in London (1977)
Monty Python made fun of the documentary craze of the late 60s and early 70s in a skit where eager young documentary crews seem to be prowling around looking for anything as a subject. Here, a German, Wolfgang Büld, gets a similar response to his sociological boy scout conceit: go film something else. He got the punk ethos that way, responding to the presumptions of his questions. Poly Styrene says she doesn't really like talking, that's why she writes songs. Fortunately there are two performances of X-Ray Spex recorded here and that's the best part of the movie. The ones who became better known and the ones who didn't are caught in the same backroom banality of the scene, and Büld does catch up more complexity in the various responses to punk in its short existence up to then, including those already pronouncing it passé.
10/26/21
Dune (2021)
I liked director Dennis Villeneuve for Prisoners, Sicario and especially Enemy, so when he was announced for the Blade Runner sequel I was excited. He's good in a way that is not flashy action spectacle, so I had hopes for something not quite that. Despite his tone and touch, however, Blade Runner 2049 couldn't overcome its script, and the movie was nice to look at but not much else. Same goes for another version of Dune. Despite all the complaints about David Lynch's version (see Dune), updating Frank Herbert's laborious messianic novel can't really get around the plot problems; it loses the dreamlike naive/creepy charm of Lynch (and Kenneth McMillan) even in that De Laurentiis gloss; and despite a promising cast (Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Javier Bardem, among others), it's not much else besides more sullen, and looking more like a dusky Lawrence of Arabia. Perhaps that's bearing out what influenced the novel.
No Time to Die (2021)
They finally got it right with Daniel Craig and it's over. This movie is so much better than typical Bond movies, especially the Craig ones, I kept thinking, this is not a Bond movie. To describe the plot, it would sound the same, has all the elements, but if the Craig Bond were ever a reboot, this was it. They reined in the hyperbolic action. Everything is smooth and deft, well-blended, even the action is tactical and dramatic. The threads of the plot are woven well, the humor is subtler, more integrated, less glaring. The references to the whole series of films throughout are even done better. And though it still falls in line with the Craig Bonds for getting heavy with private life, that's played more lightly and the way it -- ahem -- messes with the Bond line is refreshing formally even if heavy or disappointing for other reasons.
The Velvet Underground (2021)
Todd Haynes's split-screen approach is clever because he gets to try out different movies without making it any one of them and show lots more material. It's a style and not any one style at the same time. It's 60s-ish and something like a Warhol approach, but it's also functional. The movie is at its best when it weaves the strands of how the sound first came together, Lou Reed and John Cale's threads with the others. And there are lots of good bits, like a glimpse of Peter Falk apparently at Warhol's club, and Mary Waronov and Jonathan Richman talking for the movie. But the whole is tilted towards the Warhol stuff, even if understandably for Haynes. As much as Warhol, Delmore Schwartz and Cale contributed, even as Reed attests, by quantity and quality there is much more that happened after (there's not a lick of "What Goes On" in the movie, for just one example). And there are parts near the end that are much more like standard rock tribute recap.
No Man of God (2021)
It starts out with a pretty straightforward interview process following the more direct approach of FBI profiling, such as in the series Mindhunter, with good performances by Luke Kirby as Ted Bundy and Elijah Wood as FBI analyst Bill Hagmaier providing the tension, and director Amber Sealey keeping to that, adding extra expression with some well-done floating montages rather than trumping things up. But then a multiple interview montage gets cutesy in a way that feels too flip, and the last movement clangs the suspense of Bundy holding out, so that it's like two different movies. Part of what we've learned about Bundy from other things, including on camera and audio tape in documentaries, (and about others like John Wayne Gacy) is the even smarmy and pathetic extent of his passability, his schmoozing and playing to people. That makes something more toned down like this still seem overdone for the megalomaniac game of wits.
The Newspaperman: The Life and Times of Ben Bradlee (2017)
A larger context than Watergate or even The Washington Post, including his friendship and shenanigans with John F. Kennedy, sheds light on those most famous things about Ben Bradlee. The competent compilation features voice-over of Bradlee himself, reminds us of a time when journalism had a nobler purpose, and even shows how All the President's Men sought to honor that.
10/19/21
Halloween Kills (2021)
Teaches a brutal but valuable existential lesson that positive thinking will never overcome the desire for gratuitously violent killings. More and more characters are introduced who take the supernatural killer personally and make gutsy affirmations that sound like AOR lyrics as they increase their refrain to the point of literally chanting, "evil dies tonight." But clearly no one introduced can be anything but a victim, fodder for the engine of it all. Jamie Lee Curtis's character literally holds her guts in for the duration of the movie.
The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972)
"Whut wus thayut?" "You may not believe any of this story. And that's your privilege." A shaggy beast story that inspires real 70s travelogue montage and even songs with swanky Muzak orchestration from the backwoods folk. Sometimes it sounds like a 60s musical version of Swamp Thing. As well as the searing title song, there's the extra-sweetened folk sound of "Hey, Travis Crabtree." "What kina thang can pick up two hunerd pound hogs and walk off with them?" It's a well-made goofy movie. Despite excellent cinematography and composition with that, it's a dramatization and fake documentary style ghost story, with subjects pointing off in the shot while not looking at the camera, and the voiceover narrator distinctly lacking the regional twang of his character, just as other voice actors sound more New England.
Ocean's 11 (1960)
The swanky, casino circuit version of a drawing room play, with the Rat Pack nursing drinks and cigarettes, all but lounging around in their black socks. There's such a strange soap opera pretext for this for about the first half of the movie, and not much time left for the heist once they get to it, so that's reduced to some pretty silly stakeout stuff. The dialogue is supposed to be all snappy and tough, and rapid-fire, but is so leisurely even at that, it has a strange pitch, like the movie is sleepwalking.
Aparajito (1956)
The same limpid view tracks the characters from Pather Panchali as they move to the city. It's not as parable-like, if only circumstantially, but even that fits in with the motif of change and parting in life, as seen from the vantage of Apu, who now goes through education and another move of his own to continue it. Director Satyajit Ray's touch, like that of the music in these films, plaintive and lively at once, is as much the story as vice versa: the dramatic ambiguity of life taking us to and from others.
The Addams Family (1991)
Razzle-dazzle movie style of the era, off Spielberg and so many spectacles of the 80s. The humor of Charles Addams's cartoons isn't necessarily subtler -- its Halloween logic reversal of values simply preceded 60s TV or punk or the suburban version of the frank approach to gore in 80s movies or Tim Burton -- but its presentation is much drier in comic form than in boink-boink, racking movie conniptions. Raul Julia, Angelica Huston and Christopher Lloyd are thus unfortunately overdone by the presentation.
10/7/21
Carousel (1956)
Such a pervy mix of American culture, carnival barkers, dockside thugs, wife-beating, high-low mercenary racket, couched in hardy, perky Broadway terms, smart-aleck and squeaky at once. As a movie it's kind of static and boring, mostly people standing around talking, then singing, and it seems even more talking was added, until they're literally dancing on the roof. At one point Gordon MacRae is singing on a beach, and after some token movement shots, there's a long shot of him singing with the waves behind him. The lyrics have as much to do with all this as anything, so if there's not much to look at you can listen. Some seem to have inspired Monty Python: "The first time he kissed me the whiff from his clothes / Knocked me flat on the floor of the room / But now that I love him, my heart's in my nose / And fish is my fav'rite perfume!" Others are just -- well: "Stonecutters cut it in stone / Woodpeckers peck it on wood." This was a real nice clam bake.
Pather Panchali (1955)
Saying this is the perfect story or it's the perfect telling of a/the story just seems the right way to describe it, and also how those two go together. How the story is told (itself so much the way it's not, what is avoided) is so much what makes the story. Satyajit Ray's approach, his touch, his composition and composure, always seem to be this in-between, if not happy medium or perfect balance, of extremes, or between what he's doing and what he's not doing. It's not forced or declaimed, but is dramatized or performed as if observed, which is another way of saying it's not too pointed or too abstract, too generalized or too specific, too close or remote. And the amazing thing is that this was his first movie. It was all formed like that. Or so it seems, as Ray was influenced by Jean Renoir, even met him and worked with him on The River, and the production of Pather Panchali took many years to conceive and even complete. Like Orson Welles, perhaps Ray could only have diminishing returns after opening with such a bang, but he sustained this touch throughout his career. And at least Devi is certainly another great film.
Deadlock (1970)
The spaghetti Western goes German and gets updated to Mausers and machine guns. There's definitely a Good, Bad and Ugly vibe with Marquand Bohm, Anthony Dawson and Mario Adorf, but it's so boiled down to a gist there's not enough story to keep it going. The forestalling contrivances undercut the characters and the whole thing becomes annoyingly coy. The most notable thing about this movie is the music of Can (in the credits as "The Can"), but that is also so minimal it's not reason enough to watch the whole thing.
Free Guy (2021)
The best humor is in the background, the jokes strewn around like the Easter eggs of the video game environment, because they are not demonstrative in the way the direction of the action and performances are. The Ryan Reynolds act wears thin because of this, as do the machinations of the plot, and Taika Waititi is just wasted on a slopped-on jerk mogul character. The -- message? -- of this movie, of carrying respect for every -- one? -- to the non-player characters in computer games doesn't really play with the conundrums of representation the same way as Sausage Party, but it seems pretty dippy to think the movie is taking that seriously. On top of the ancient problem (see Plato) of using representation to tell us how evil representation is, do we really want to propose rescuing components of the representation? Does that mean if you draw a diagram of a victim to show a bullet entry, you're repeating the violence? But then isn't this movie also using these characters against their will for that purpose? Thus any sublimation or symbolic handling of violence can only be that violence? See what I mean about taking it seriously? Besides, forget hugging and kissing, and give me riding and shooting. Who wants a video game without guns or carjacking?
The Fabulous Baker Boys (1989)
It's not without conceit or contrivance: see the audition sequence. But it's mostly aimed in different directions, following different paths, in alleys and nooks not the usual pop movie sentiment. Two characters sneaking around the bathroom to look at each other's toiletries in spite of themselves is an example of more subtle observation for even the cute with the romance. And it sticks to its guns with both the tacks of the characters and the different relationships, including that of the brothers, played by Beau and Jeff Bridges with great twisty reflexive stuff for them.
Hollow Man (2000)
And here's an interesting contrast of flatness. Paul Verhoeven's shiny metal view, crisp and bare, gives an intensity, makes this bracing and bustly, as do the performances of Kevin Bacon (being particularly bitchy here), Elisabeth Shue, Josh Brolin and Kim Dickens, among others, but the story (screenplay by Andrew W. Marlowe) is so closed in, the delivery seems as confined as the plot, or the main character in it. The re-imagining of the invisible man is pretty much limited to rape. It's a slick bad movie.
10/5/21
Strange Invaders (1983)
Such a strange, fuzzy, echoey treatment by director Michael Laughlin (who co-wrote with Bill Condon), it seems to be remaking the worse versions of 1950s sci-fi on purpose, the legacy of It Conquered the World rather than The Thing from Another World (Kenneth Tobey is on hand here as the link to the latter). If you were going to try that, you couldn't pick three better actors to come off flatly than Paul Le Mat, Nancy Allen and Diana Scarwid. Le Mat's voice in these poorly recorded hallways and old buildings reaches a pitch of annoying I don't think I've experienced in a movie before. In this director's hands, it's not the charming underplay of Melvin and Howard.
The Card Counter (2021)
And if you want to take your gambling seriously, here's at least the serious part. Paul Schrader's low-key approach, like First Reformed before this, is admirable and welcome, and Oscar Isaac is always engaging, but the sparseness also leaves out something significant or dramatic about the gambling, a connection to the torture or guilt beyond a really too vague "redemption," or even a flourish. Despite the fine performance by Tiffany Haddish and the interesting effects of the light garden, especially from aerial shots, that's precisely the kind of moment we don't get for the gambling, or the expiation, or how those work together. And even the climax feels like a mechanical ending rather than a coming to bear.
Violation (2020)
If you want your revenge cold -- if not exactly clinical then something more like in excruciating practical detail -- not the hot of action movies or thrillers, then you might want to check this out. But be warned about appendages in not usually seen states. The way that co-writers and directors Dusty Mancinelli and Madeleine Sims-Fewer, the latter also playing the lead role, interject creeping skewed nature shots with the close quarters of the obsession suggests Repulsion, but the matter-of-fact presentation of the grisly is like Bone Tomahawk. The cut-up chronology works for the suspension of events, perhaps imaginary sane or insane, but also makes it confusing in not particularly useful ways at times.
9/22/21
Zola (2020)
If you didn't know this was based on a true story, you might find the different flourishes and tones part of a more general satirical view. If you know it's based on a true story, you might have more ambivalent feelings about the treatment of sex-trafficking, or forced prostitution. You might feel that the portrait itself does some of its own exploitation. If you know the Rolling Stone article, "Zola Tells All: The Real Story Behind the Greatest Stripper Saga Ever Tweeted," by David Kushner, or the actual Twitter thread by Aziah "Zola" King, then you know that so much of the frankness comes from these other accounts. Directed and co-written by Janicza Bravo, the movie does take liberties that turn it into more of a dark comedy thriller by the end. It has a retro look, like it was shot on film, and the hazy light goes with a twinkly space and slower pace and some turned out presentation, mostly to represent using mobile phones, but also other citation tactics like voiceover and a narrator shift to emphasize the different representations of the participants. The characterization has sharp moments, but is slack around the edges. The original music, by Mica Levi (who also did Under the Skin among others), gives it the sort of reverie counter to the pithiness that it doesn't hit as sharply otherwise.
Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
A just-so story has pretty hard chances, especially for something as well-worn as Star Wars. Witness the second trilogy. Even the way the third trilogy brought back Han Solo and Princess Leia was not particularly creative or inspiring. This movie tries to pack in a bunch of reference points to the backstory: how Han met Chewie, Lando Calrissian, their card game for the Millennium Falcon, the Kessel run, even a whole play on the shoot first lore that grew out of previous retrofits and fandom. By contrast Rogue One played characters and events alongside the main storyline, with some intersections, and it was fun to use your imagination with that. That's just where the disappointment can come in with filling in the backstory. Those parts make this movie seem smaller, as do its more laborious attempts at action adventure, like the train heist sequence. If you sort of ignore that, however, it's not so bad, maybe like decent series material.
Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2011)
Noticeably less B-movie in delivery than the first, this is a heavy production, slick approach (dare I say artsy?), meaning well -- well -- cranked up. It's directed by Neveldine/Taylor (Mark and Brian) who also did the Crank movies. Whether this is better than the first, however, is a matter of preference, depending on how you like your junk. There's so much action movie gloss -- special effects stunts, multiple camera angle assault, racking zoom -- it's like they try a different specious movie technique for each scene -- you may not notice the creaky plot, or even what's going on, or the Terminator 2 echo to it all, and if it seems to reverberate Nicolas Cage's acting, that comes at the expense of letting it stand out in a (relatively) quiet scene.
Malignant (2021)
I've never seen anything quite like it. Maybe from a vehicular accident of several hundred horror films, but not this. The plot keeps sprouting offshoots like some demon hybrid, until the main character's sister arrives at a Middle Earth style building on the Pacific Coast that is a museum for thriller film props, such as the wheelchair from Kiss of Death, while the main character stumbles into a jail for biker chick movie and blaxploitation characters. Despite the need to somehow raise constantly simmering horror effects to a boil, the director doesn't lose sight of stud wide angle shots of boss cars. It climaxes in a 1970s TV sound stage, but it all makes sense because it's written by Alice Cooper, whose name is misspelled "Akela."
9/15/21
Slaxx (2021)
Here's a great idea that just isn't done very well. Killer designer jeans attack a trendy chic clothing store staff. Unfortunately it's underworked and overplayed at the same time. By the time it reaches for a pitch of absurdity that would provide much more iconic play, it's just a climactic crescendo, and it drops that for even messagey airs that aren't so different from the object of the satire.
The Wrong Guy (1997)
In Kids in the Hall, Dave Foley had a character who couldn't say anything without sounding sarcastic. It may have been based on him. From his default wry expression to his specious coffee mug (which he carried from Kids in the Hall over to NewsRadio), Foley always seems to be commenting what's going on like it's a sitcom cliche, or displacing such cliches to show how goofy they are. This movie, written by Foley, David Anthony Higgins and Jay Kogen, and directed by David Steinberg, someone else born with a wry expression, is that whole Foley take on movie conventions, especially the mistaken identity plot, but the extra twist Foley gives it is about the susceptibility to just that, the expectations.
Silkwood (1983)
Apart from saying Oklahoma places in dialog and a couple of shots of Oklahoma highway signs, you wouldn't know this was the setting. What it does evoke is the sense of the times it was made, and this has a funny sort of analog evocation: the sense from the movies I watched when I was there then are associated with the place. The incidental way of encountering so much about the characters -- Silkwood and her boyfriend and her roommate, and all the things mixed together and lines crossed that would only defy programmatic expectations from another place or perhaps time, whatever political or social stripe -- is the finer point and touch, but then the way Silkwood is made a reluctant or shy activist seems counter to the brassiness shown of her elsewhere (and to other accounts of her; she may not have felt like an activist, but she wasn't shy about her reaction to what was going on). Despite the boldness of identifying Kerr-McGee (those of us who lived there during their heyday will remember the aura of respectability they had), the movie seems to have softened things in this respect, compromised as if to make it palatable or identifiable to others. And then the worst touch like this, even worse than a Dixie flag hung in their bedroom because self-consciously tailored, is "Amazing Grace," introduced in one scene "innocently" to set up for its use at the end. Even with the pertinence of some of the lyrics, and even if the shrewdness of the move itself weren't too shrill, the way it's dragged out a cappella is fucking annoying.
Deadhead Miles (1972)
This rare bird is an early (the first official credited) script by Terence Malick, but the movie was never given a theatrical release by Paramount. What videos of it exist were taken from rare TV appearances (you can find it in full on YouTube). It's similar to the other project that did see the light of day, Pocket Money, also in that it has an interesting cast, here led by Alan Arkin. As directed by Vernon Zimmerman, Arkin is playing his character so screwball it feels like a comedy in an empty room, especially if you compare to the delivery of Pocket Money, which is much more a character study of even the characters' farcical bents and turns.
Cold in July (2014)
The cast alone makes this tempting and interesting, the cross of Michael C. Hall, Sam Shepard and Don Johnson, who seem to come from three different spheres, which works for the encounter of their characters, and each one here is also tilted a bit or even troped from their other roles. It's particularly nice to see Hall as counter to his Dexter character, actually strained and vulnerable about things like violence and murder (and check out his white trash haircut). The story makes interesting turns that have lots of other ripples, too, but the ending, despite what it also contributes to that, still feels a bit of a letdown, resolving too much in the sort of literal-minded way the movie had previously avoided.
Together Together (2021)
This is a good idea from writer and director Nikole Beckwith, to show that relations, even relationships, are not only on expected paths or in privileged forms, and the extra shot to that, too, is showing us what we're often missing or not cultivating in our conventional relationships. And it's even clever to want to trace this on the form of romcoms, to broaden that scope, if not necessarily subvert it. Unfortunately, the risk of that is falling to the same risk of romcoms, the cutesy curly-Q stuff that can test your patience even when the whole thing isn't smug. But if you can make it through those moments, the stroke of the whole is more interesting.
Love and Death on Long Island (1997)
Droll doesn't even quite describe this, written and directed by Richard Kwietniowski. It's matter-of-fact in such a placid way, pretty much in the manner of the lead character, played by John Hurt. By the time we encounter the teen sex comedies (very 80s like) and the main premise, the citation and satire of those movies is as nonchalant as the comedy and drama of the frame. It's remarkable how this keeps all that together, doesn't, for example, just hang gags on a melodrama, or ruin satire with plot mechanics, but that's also because it's all done as observation and the surprising part is only because it's not the norm.
Jagged Edge (1984)
Part courtroom drama, part twisty thriller, directed by Richard Marquand (who also directed Return of the Jedi), this has Glenn Close on the other side, as victim rather than psycho killer, before Fatal Attraction. Close's composure keeps this from feeling too cliche even as the post-Alien and Halloween female victim/hero, and Jeff Bridges, Peter Coyote and Robert Loggia are also good in their roles. It's done broadly enough that it doesn't take itself for too much more than a thriller, but doesn't leap wildly into that either.
Cocaine Cowboys Reloaded (2014)
Filled out version of the 2006 documentary (extra interview footage), this keeps restless, tabloid crime show suspense music going, even though the interview segments are even longer. And there's some of the quick-cut, multiple camera placement, hopped up style that was trendy for a while in docs and interview shows that seems to suggest short attention spans or, well, being on cocaine. The story of the Miami that was built on drug trade (the Miami Vice era) is told by a group of drug-runners and members of various law enforcement agencies.
Other Music (2019)
Swan song for the New York City retail store of records, CDs and cassettes (and for a while MP3s on line) for all kinds of music not likely to be found at megastore Tower Records, which had an outlet right across the street. Music truffle hounds, rabbit hole divers, or just anyone who has tried to track down an obscure album will appreciate this record of the noble cause, and of course what noble cause isn't usually a lost one. (See The Booksellers for that version.) In all the discussion of the plight of this sort of retailer in the context of music sales, however, it's surprising to me that I recall hearing rent mentioned only once in passing, and as this is a tale of NYC, too, it's hard to imagine how this wouldn't be as big a factor as anything.
The Green Knight (2021)
The tale is odd and interesting in its own right and trying to get effect other than as CG action movie is a good idea. But the way this is provocative or arch is sometimes like Tarkovsky or Bela Tarr, sometimes like Lars von Trier or Lukas Moodyson, sometimes like Game of Thrones. The story doesn't get entirely lost, but it's hard to pay attention to it in this assortment of applied tropes.
9/8/21
Snake Eyes (2021)
Movies are based on comic books, video games, amusement park rides, so why not toys? Based on a G.I. Joe character, when this stops moving the camera so much to try to impress, it's more impressive with some of its look, at least in some night forest scenes. When it stopped labeling the locations with the giant words on the map effect, a la The Fast and the Furious, I got confused because one waterfront location looked like some U.S. Eastern Seaboard city, though I thought they were in Tokyo. But it didn't really matter, because they went back to fighting.
Playing God (2021)
It could be just my fault that I thought this would be more a comedy, but even with the serious vibes, it doesn't live up to, doesn't even really stick to, the premise of its title. Michael McKean is good, as usual, but he's the one wasted by that fact.
Contact (1997)
There's some interesting stuff here in this treatment, by James V. Hart and Michael Goldenberg, of Carl Sagan's novel, particularly the religious and populist reaction that seems uncomfortably prescient today, and all this through a more realistic approach to the way a SETI discovery would play out, rather than more typical science fiction. But there's also a Disney for grownups feel to so much of this, whether that's in the source or just the approach of director Robert Zemeckis. It's a bizarre hybrid of Cocoon, Silkwood and Used Cars.
Rob Roy (1995)
The script by Alan Sharp and the direction of Michael Caton-Jones (see also Scandal) are clever in literate and cinematic ways, construction that honors historical detail and sets up nice contrasts for drama, conflict, even action. But some things still come off looking like a Hallmark version of Highland clans. John Hurt and Tim Roth are at their best, here, giving more nuance and presence to the bad guys.
King Ralph (1991)
John Goodman shows his deftness and range, from boyishly meek to boisterous and spry, and Peter O'Toole is good for some cold hauteur (before the predictable heartwarming), and there's lots of good players in the cast, but there's just nothing very good for them in this script. There's nothing particularly bad, just nothing particularly good either. So little is made from the idea of such a grand clash, a common American becoming the king of England and the U.K., scarcely more than Disney-level rock 'n' roll hamming.
Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)
When this first came out -- or probably whenever one would see it the first time -- it was a refreshing switch even in Woody Allen's line of movies up to that time. The jittery closeness, even being smaller or toned down, made it work more with the intrigue and the bedroom gossip. On seeing it again (because the series Only Murders in the Building recalled it in so many ways), it does seem smaller, but not refreshing, and way too jittery. There aren't that many funny lines, even Allen quips. The ones he has aren't as sharp. That's perhaps in favor of the premise, the situation, the characters getting caught up in their busybodyish interest in a murder or a Double Indemnity plot, but even the delivery of all that, as typical Allen displacement for anxiety, marital, sexual or otherwise, is rushed. The whole naturalism with an Allen accent act, the jumble of groups of people talking over each other, all feinting and stammering their various reflexes, is sped up, double-time, as if slopped on or caked up more. The turns in the plot have an even more cardboard presentation, especially the climactic Lady from Shanghai sampling.
Summer of Soul (2021)
This is an impressive assemblage by Questlove (Ahmir Thompson) following so many threads and ripples, background, context, for the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, which was a free event held for six weeks in what was then Mount Morris Park in Harlem the same summer as Woodstock. While the latter got more attention, good or bad, this was arguably an even more significant collection of acts, especially as far as influence on music. Some 40 hours of videotape of the concert sat in a basement until Robert Fyvolent found out about it and acquired the rights from the original producer, Hal Tulchin. There's so much to cover, here, it could make a documentary series, but in a 2-hour feature Questlove has still managed to involve the background of the production, the disappearance of the project and its recovery, interviews with attendants and performers, the show's main promoter and MC, the context of Harlem, the park, events of the era and year, protest and civil rights movements, the mayor of New York City and his involvement, the reverberations of the obscuration of the event and the event nonetheless, background of the acts and performers, discussion of cultural implication, and more, all laced with the footage of the performances themselves. It's a blistering pace at times, but not pushy, showy or sloppy. And of course there's the performances: Stevie Wonder, Sly and the Family Stone, Nina Simone, B.B. King, The Staples Singers, Mahalia Jackson, Gladys Knight and The Pips, inter alia.
Tess (1979)
It's impeccably brought off, and that doesn't mean the opulence of big production epics or period dramas before or after it. It was part of the push for the natural light look (see most notably Days of Heaven), with lots of scenes shot at sunrise or sunset (Geoffrey Unsworth started as cinematographer for this but died during production; Ghislain Cloquet took over). The manners and tones are muted, rustic and pastoral, with rain and mud and bad teeth mixed into the palette, everything played at a circumspect distance. It has a rumpled beauty that way, and even the grit of the drama, the naturalist detail, is supple, not bombastic or lurid. But despite everything seeming to have the right touch, or maybe just not the wrong one, it's still sort of dull, uninteresting. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I think Nastassja Kinski's performance is like this, too. There are lots of bad things she is not doing, but there is some spark lacking to make her, even if not Thomas Hardy's West Country Earth mother, a working class heroine or a tragic figure for the plight of women, the way, e.g., Gillian Anderson is in The House of Mirth.
Scandal (1989)
Writer Michael Thomas and Director Michael Caton-Jones cast a hindsight on the Profumo scandal of 60s U.K. that is wry and sprightly about the libertinage which brought down the conservative-led government of the United Kingdom. Distance affords this, but then distance is also what's needed to avoid the two sides of the coin of this kind of scandal: repression and titillation. And thus the hypocrisy of morality, which is the view also presented here, though even that in a fairly glancing and graceful way. John Hurt's own brio as the ambiguously detached Stephen Ward and the bubbly slyness of Joanne Whalley and Bridget Fonda, in particular a scene where they mock heavy-handed eroticism, are the heights of the approach.
9/1/21
Single White Female (1992)
Director Barbet Schroeder does a better job than the script of angling into the intrigue of the relationship and the ambiguity of Jennifer Jason Leigh's character. But he can't really help where this goes, which is into some odd logistics that are too sensational for psychological pertinence, but too prosaic and drawn out to be interesting thriller.
Roger Corman's Frankenstein Unbound (1990)
Roger Corman's Knight Rider Back to the Future (No Such Thing (2001), which he stole from the future) Bride of Frankenstein. It has Corman's 60s movies choppy story mechanics but updated to the bland lighting and TV sets of the late 80s. John Hurt, Raul Julia, Bridget Fonda and Jason Patric try to class up the joint.
The Bengali Night (1988)
A more compelling oblique approach (as opposed to White Mischief, for example) slowly draws into a tangle and heats up. An interesting early lead for Hugh Grant has somewhat pithier material from Mircea Eliade's novel, and also features Soumitra Chatterjee of Satyajit Ray's World of Apu and Devi, and reportedly used some of Ray's production crew. There are some strange moments of cuts so abrupt they seem sloppy, but this takes things in stride and doesn't try to make the sort of lush of prestige period pieces.
The Plague Dogs (1982)
This outbids Watership Down as cartoons for grownups with morbid content. If nothing else, there's plenty of John Hurt's voice, so you can concentrate on the registers, as expressive a range as anything he does with his acting.
The Palindromists (2020)
In this documentary about a World Palindrome Competition, the statement for the case of forced locution is made as much as for the inventiveness of the word play. If you think rhyming in poetry is constricting, or even padding, try this on. Some pretty distinguished company has made some ingenious palindromes (Guy Debord, as one example), and there are some aficionados, such as "Weird Al" Yankovic, here, but this group of competitors is pretty select in taking this further.
White Mischief (1987)
So strangely detached, sparse, drafty, the characters are more like zombies than a comment on jaded wealthy libertines, and when they do finally snap into climactic action, it's bumbling and farcical, without that having been a clear tone. And what a cast to just have drifting around.
From the Hip (1987)
This is definitive 80s crafty shit. It goes up there with things like Ferris Bueller and St. Elmo's Fire for the extent of bizarrely spun confection of pop wish fulfillment movies became in the 80s. And it's all about yuppies having hearts of gold! That's not just a characterization, they call themselves that! It's so preconceived, overworked, tailored, massaged, fluffed up, that I resent it more for what it does well than what it does poorly. The latter stuff is just laughable, like the rooftop apartment of Judd Nelson and Elizabeth Perkins, with a menagerie of birds outside the picture windows: this is Snow White yuppies! But when the trial with John Hurt actually gets involved enough to seem like another movie, we're brought back to irreality by the grandest manipulation of all: triggering a killer in the courtroom to serve the truth and not just advocacy. That ideal is just too snug in this cake they're having and eating, too. Even the opening credits music is an amalgam of 80s movie music cliches: electronic twinkly keyboard, drum machine, more soulful keyboard, saxophone.
Jake Speed (1986)
To add to the self-conscious slasher movie, there was the self-conscious action hero movie, or a way to profess derivation of Raiders of the Lost Ark. The trick of the premise, that these heroes are really just scoundrels trying to write their own pulp novel, isn't a bad idea, but somehow the balance of what they do ends up being -- nothing. It's as if the writers of this, Wayne Crawford and director Andrew Lane, thought the joke, or at least device, of giving the lie to the hero could just stop at what they did not do. So we keep seeing them not do, waiting for them to do. They don't really write, they don't really say funny things or have any dialogue that makes fun of pulp novels in an interesting way, they don't really demonstrate any scoundrelly, underworld savvy, except in a minimal, token way, and even the way they inevitably escape everything isn't particularly skill, craftiness or luck, not in any interesting way. But mostly it's the two leads, Crawford himself, and Karen Kopins, who would make even interesting stuff fall flat. And having Dennis Christopher and John Hurt on hand doesn't make them look better.
The One and Only Dick Gregory (2021)
A survey of the life of Dick Gregory as comedian, activist, then even nutritionist and diet guru, this serves the purpose of introduction or view of this arc, if it doesn't give us more in depth of any part. As well as family and contemporaries, the interviews include those who've been influenced such as Chris Rock, Wanda Sykes and Dave Chapelle.
1984 (1984)
There's actually some interesting stuff done here with images and music, despite the fact this is like a music video stretched out feature length. It's interesting that the significant thing about George Orwell's target year is not totalitarian totality, but MTV music videos to bear out the tenor of this work. It's that kind of symbolism. Cf. The Wall. There's not really a need for allegory or projection when there are real examples at hand, and World War II had just passed when the novel was published. Even if it's the Gulag or communist bloc police states later on, or the function of any despot or their regime, of which there are always plenty of examples, as it's a tendency as banal as it is overarching. It doesn't have to take over the whole world, it can be any company or any household. Or perhaps to put it another way, you don't really need torturous symbolism to get the idea of torture. Terry Gilliam did it better with Brazil, where humor, even if black, or satire, seem as much urbane or more grownup as counterpoint.
Stillwater (2021)
About the time this starts to seem like just a craftier kind of sentimentality (from the director of Spotlight, which was one of the most refreshingly non-sensational dramatizations, certainly for an Oscar winner, in a long time), there is a turn of events that is indeed so cowboy-like (not just Oklahoma State Cowboy) that it's as hard to forgive the movie as it is for the woman in Marseilles (Camille Cottin) to forgive the Poke (Matt Damon) in it. The movie takes a less melodrama path after, even goes for something of a No Country for Old Men ending, but that's only the sort of comparison that makes this seem much less capable of its mixing.
Scent of a Woman [Profum di donna] (1974)
The source of the remake with Al Pacino, this is much more compelling in that bustly intent Italian manner (it's directed and co-written by Dino Risi) and works better, or seems to make more sense, or at least has a more workable ambiguity as old world or at least Italian. Vittorio Gasman has more the stature or carriage that suggests the aristocratic officer class, so he has the ambivalence of the kind of scoundrel that spans that history as well, and also the mixed sense of the swagger at his peak that has turned into contempt. As instrumental, if not more so, is Alessandro Momo. His boyish looks make him seem so young and he plays both the innocent deference and the jaded reactions so well that it emphasizes the boy-man line, whether the maturity of intelligence or degradation, and the implication of servant conflict in the military aide role. The ambiguity and ambivalence of the ending are also more acute. Along with whether Fausto's capitulation to his dependence is also the woman's servitude as her own ideal, is whether this is a particular slant of the film itself, an endorsement or citation of this ideal.
8/24/21
The Island of Dr. Moreau (1996)
From Charles Laughton and Bela Lugosi (The Island of Lost Souls, 1932), we go to Marlon Brando, David Thewlis and Val Kilmer. Brando is fun to watch and even Kilmer upping his ante on the mischief, in the part and with it (Kilmer gets to mock Brando at one point), but then curiously Thewlis, who's had his own run of waggery (see particularly Naked), has to play the straight man, rather like Edward Woodward in The Wicker Man. The beast getups lose their effect pretty quickly, because it's all about a slightly more guerrilla version of Lord of the Flies. The bit with Brando in a pope-mobile is out of bounds for the movie no matter how amusing it might be.
The Big Fix (1978)
A curious lark that makes reference to the protest movements of the 60s in a direct and indirect way, it would be hard not to call this popular art, despite its political intrigue and at least one dramatic punch, which director Jeremy Kagan sets up as shrewd counterpoint (a precursor to Burn After Reading). It's like other meditations on the undercurrents of culture of the era -- The Long Goodbye, The Parallax View, even Chinatown -- but it's a stranger mix of elements, including detective genre. While that's been given a dressing down in a somewhat different way than Altman's Elliott Gould Marlowe, the political intrigue is stiffer, more like melodrama, including some music in one climactic moment that's pretty conventional TV drama of the era. Richard Dreyfuss's character is more the incidental casualty, but there's a protest movement leader played by F. Murray Abraham who is an explicit case of sellout, an adman with a big L.A. spread. (The plot is somewhat contradictory about why he's so hard to find, but then he's not.) There's a moment when Dreyfuss watches some tapes of the old protest days, and it's brought back to him, and that's set up with all this, too, as a flush of what's been forgotten or lost. It's a workable contrast, if not ambivalence, even if it doesn't seem as shrewd or serious or good as Chinatown or The Conversation, or as directly eloquent about this very thing as Irma Vep. And even as, after a rather hasty revelation and resolution, Dreyfuss slouches off with his kids into the sunset of Kramer v. Kramer and Ordinary People.
The Running Man (1963)
Carol Reed (The Third Man, Odd Man Out, Our Man in Havana) directed this basic life insurance scam story, with Laurence Harvey, Lee Remick, and Alan Bates in one of the first movie roles that got him wide attention. The delivery is so pumped up, especially the performance of Harvey, that it's hard to take this seriously, but it's not doing anything special as camp or parody either. The twist with Bates provides some nifty little amorous subterfuge, and one really good scene from Remick where she does laugh at it all.
The Sailor from Gibraltar (1967)
This curiosity, which disappeared for a while and may still be hard to find, is a Tony Richardson movie made of a Marguerite Duras book. Richardson wrote the script along with Christopher Isherwood and Don Magner. Raoul Coutard, Godard's man, did the cinematography, and is reported to have been unhappy with what was being done to the story. And that is the matter. The jaunty, even if flippant style of Tom Jones or The Loved One certainly clashes with the sensibility of Duras. Whether that difference makes something better or not is a matter of taste, but if you've read any Duras, you can certainly get the idea that this is a different frame of mind. The story about the making of this movie may be even better or add more to it, as life imitated art. Richardson, who was in a relationship with Vanessa Redgrave, got involved with Jeanne Moreau, which is what's happening in the story with the two actresses' characters and Ian Bannen's. Moreau then also got involved with a local during shooting, and Richardson in turn had his own jealousy over that.
Before Winter Comes (1968)
This little ditty makes a nice bill with Castle Keep. David Niven, Topol and Anna Karina make a very interesting cast, and John Hurt in an early role keeps up with them. It has a scruffy quality that goes with its subject, a camp in Austria, divided by British and Soviet forces, processing refugees from the war, returning them to their various destinations, more or less desirable. That keeps it from the stately grandeur of things like Bridge on the River Kwai, with which it shares a war of nerves, though here between uneasy allies rather than prisoners and keepers. Sometimes, on the other hand, the story seems jumpy and less composed. The music gives the same sense, a great assemblage of local influences -- the camp has people from all over Europe and Topol has to serve as makeshift interpreter, as a kind of Jack of all languages and trades -- even some Anton Karas sounding zither music at one point, but then later some much more 60s movie dramatic flourishes that go against that grain.
Necessary Evil: Super-Villains of DC Comics (2013)
This is an interesting idea and topic, and has some interesting people discussing it, besides DC creators there's Clancy Brown, Kevin Conroy, Richard Donner, Guillermo del Toro, among others, and it's narrated by Christopher Lee. But it's rushed along, given such a pace with even the music and changing topics, that it's more like a pep rally.
Hamlet 2 (2008)
It's loopy enough that even its typical plot points are more like parodic flourishes, and the ending with the climactic production does manage to be ambiguously interesting, even a bit amazing, good or bad, a la The Producers.
Shut Up, Little Man: An Audio Misadventure (2011)
This is a documentary about the folk cassette or found audio phenomenon of the odd couple in San Francisco whose almost nightly drunken bawls, sometimes brawls, were such a crazy distillation of relationships as to be a surreal parody. The two men who lived next door and made the recordings, at first to get them back for the nuisance, possibly to give to the police, then more from fascination, created a cult following, first just by playing the recordings for others, then handing around copies, before the advent of the Internet. This was similar to the way the Okie phone calls (Park Grubbs), the Jerky Boys or even Daniel Johnston became known. The movie traces the progression of this, into broader, commercial distribution, comics, books, plays and movie projects, and the reaction of the two recorders to these various stages. It also shows their attempts to go back and meet the partially unwitting subjects, find out more about them, and even offer them money from the revenue. One of the questions that drives the fascination is why these two men lived together, still but even in the first place. One of them was gay and the other was blaringly homophobic, at least in their drunken outbursts. Some of the information they get for this movie adds to the bizarrely symbiotic love/hate, all the greater implication for relations in general, roommates, lovers, family or marriage.
Client 9 (2010)
Alex Gibney's version of the rise and fall of Eliot Spitzer feels like it was built on a lot of schmoozing, some of it even uncomfortably on camera with Kenneth Langone, Hank Greenberg, and especially Roger Stone. Of course there's the give-them-enough rope tactic, and a lot of what happened had to do with hearsay and who said what, but it's not as carefully constructed or reasoned as other works of Gibney's like No End in Sight or Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. It's nonetheless still relevant in light of the way Lameocrats are expected to pay the price, even if it's a hatchet job, and Repugnantscum get away with, well, yes, murder, but even rape, pedophilia rings and any kind of treasonous act.
The Hit (1984)
This little exercise, the second theatrical film for director Stephen Frears (after 1971's Gumshoe), is closer to Sexy Beast than The Limey in quality if not tone, thankfully, and a much better vehicle and performance for Terence Stamp than the latter. Stamp greets death, opens the door for him, is cheery to the point of flip, even helps him fix his car. And he steals the show -- perhaps keeps it -- from the likes of Tim Roth and John Hurt, who unfortunately isn't used well in his role. There's some good indirection to get across the direct approach of the Hurt hitman and his exultant goon Roth, but that doesn't keep some key scenes and the arc of the whole from seeming contrived in forbearance.
Partners (1982)
This is really too -- ahem -- limp to be anything, even offensive. It's probably for trying to avoid offense, playing it safe, that it's not really much of anything: not much of a cop drama, not much of an intrigue, not much of a comedy, not much of any kind of social statement, even as social comedy. It's good natured, and certainly bold enough to have used this setting at the time -- a police department is concerned with bad rep in and about the gay community -- though Cruising was before, to serve as a reference if not quite for a spoof. But even because John Hurt can so easily slip into intense states from passive ones, he's wasted here. Kenneth McMillan always makes things more interesting.
The Osterman Weekend (1983)
There's kind of a good idea here, about spying on everyone, that's prescient about our time now carrying cameras everywhere and being connected to networks all the time, and about everyone being on the make with everyone else. And if you take Pauline Kael's perspective of director Sam Peckinpah, this like The Killer Elite could be a metaphor for his relationship with movie executives and companies. But even with actors like Rutger Hauer, John Hurt, Craig T. Nelson, Dennis Hopper and Burt Lancaster, the focus of this as a weekend get-together, with the quite un-micro video equipment of the era, comes off forced as a plot even to get to metaphor, and sensational. A few trademark Peckinpah action sequences have the grand scheme of his flashback and forward mapped studies, but also editing that seems just sloppy and confused.
8/17/21
Night Crossing (1982)
"The climax of the film encourages such exuberance as to simplify the event and Night Crossing basks in pride and glory befitting a football game, not a social dilemma or political incident." Oooh, harsh from that young me. From the review originally published in The Oklahoma Daily in 1982, reprinted in Film / Script, which also includes much of my film comments posted on Fixion.
Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain (2021)
This is mostly a view of friends associated with Bourdain's shows and includes much footage from those and even what some of the shows covered, like the Massachusetts episode of Parts Unknown. (This also accounts for the Jonathan Richman song used for the title and used as the opening music.) It's very much their view, slant, supposition about what happened to Bourdain, and if it requires reminding that it's just that, it's also worthwhile for that, because it's also obviously heartfelt, interested even if pushy or busybodyish, but also unflinching, not just rosy, not just obsequious. The subject holds it own interest here, and if the makers of this movie don't do anything remarkable -- they follow the form of the shows -- they at least have the virtue of not getting too much in the way.
8/16/21
History of the World Part 1 (1981)
It's variety show sketch humor and not even up to that standard. It's about a quarter of a movie spoof of Rome, a quarter of one about the French revolution, a sketch about cavemen, a couple of other one-liner gags. It doesn't even really do the survey of history premise justice. The one interesting thing from Mel Brooks is how he plays Louis XVI, a kind of Bronx version of a swaggering swell that's a better offhand caricature than just about anything he's done.
The Lord of the Rings (1978)
Ralph Bakshi's attempt at an animated version of Tolkien's books was heavy on rotoscope process, including much more of the source film look for the bad guys, armies and battles, and some interesting background effects that may seem psychedelic or just rock concert-like today. The movie only gets about half way through the trilogy because there was a follow-up planned, but it never came off. Despite what fans of the Peter Jackson movies may think, how obsolete this may seem, Jackson has stated that he watched the film, liked it, and even got some ideas from it. There's a bit of the flavor of that quaint countryside and long travel you get from the books.
Cash Truck [Le Convoyeur] (2004)
Wrath of Man was based on this French film. It's good for both that they are different enough variations. The original is more down to earth about its protagonist, a white collar type who got caught in the crossfire and isn't already a major badass. So his own infiltration project has the drama of DIY, and works even better to stand for going to work in a new place and having to learn, fit in, etc. The French armored delivery company, which can't even afford the best armor on its trucks, is also being bought out by an American company, so going through transition pangs. And the eventual conflict is more realistic about effects.
The Gentlemen (2019)
Prior to Wrath of Man, which was lean by other measure as well, Guy Ritchie went in quite an opposite direction. This is all writerly indulgence, with all the tangled characters speechifying and phrasemaking and gobbing fancy and dirty words all over. It's Ritchie's Pulp Fiction, and Wrath of Man with it's chronology cutup and softer hand is his Jackie Brown. It's of course part of the fun here, and especially for Hugh Grant to deliver the frame of all this as a seedy tabloid reporter. But it's gratingly excessive, especially with Matthew McConaughey, and not despite but as much because of the reflexivity with Grant's character -- he's even peddling a screenplay in the deal -- smacks as preening for Ritchie. It's also of course drawing out for the bangs and twists, which would be welcome if not quite so coy. The multiple twists at the end are a groaner. One lands us right in The Long Good Friday and that point is worthwhile here, too, but not as well gained for the repetition. And then they flip that, too.
Real Genius (1985)
Val Kilmer, too, had to do his teen sex comedy duty as a young 80s up and comer (his breakout would come in Top Gun a year later). This movie is showing that "real" geniuses need to have healthy sophomoric pranks, frat type hazing and parties, and women stalking around like Playboy models in bikinis, like all American kids who are just real folk. And of course take out an evil government plot (a decent message about the dangers of technocracy gets sort of washed over by the presumptive hearts of gold of all the wild-oats real folk.) Revenge of the Nerds of the previous year was more clever about its title subject, and Top Secret that Kilmer was in the previous year was just more actual comedy.
The Saint (1997)
Val Kilmer and Elisabeth Shue breath some fresh air into espionage thrillers, if only because they're against the grain of action movie type. But the disguise and costume stuff with Kilmer is played broadly, like high school assembly sketches, and the romance between them so strangely, as if part of the same shtick but then serious, that it doesn't really change the register of the typical thriller mechanics. There's a glimpse of something here between the cheeky humor of Bond and pure parody, that could've been much more interesting. This is all the more curious as the series this was based on was actually a leaner, sometimes meaner, more interesting Roger Moore than he was as Bond.
Palo Alto (2013)
Though it wants to capture the shapelessness that life seems for these high-schoolers, it's pretty shapeless at doing that. What the script and approach take for slice of life or hangout naturalism often seems lack of crucial or pertinent observation. There are dramatic moments that seem like scenes have been skipped, as if the state of the characters is taken for granted. For this reason the most volatile character, played by Nat Wolff, is the most interesting, but by the time we get to something that seems like a development, it's the end of the movie. Gia Coppola directed and wrote, based on a book by James Franco.
The Wind in the Willows (1996)
Terry Jones's take on the kids' story -- he wrote and directed -- is amusing and abstract in that Pythonesque way enough to make this live action rendition not too prosaic in a movie way. Jones's direction keeps us skipping along, and then his own performance of Toad certainly opens up the strange flip and anarchic character of Toad to that kind of expression. While Jones's vocal characterization is very similar to David Jason's great turn in the 1983 stop-motion version, the difference is the way Jones makes himself and Toad physically. Suggestions of his Python characters, even Mr. Creosote, also make you realize how he, as a director, but also as part of Monty Python, knew how to make things -- conceive them, write them, act them, make them come across as -- cartoonish, and not just in some domesticated Mickey Mouse way, but like Daumier or illustrations of Rabelais. This is how and why Terry Gilliam was part of the fabric, too; the sensibility for the graphic art was not accessory.
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)
The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)
In The Lord of the Rings movies, the quaint little English countryside Middle Earth is missing. In The Hobbit "trilogy," it's been beat all to hell and stomped into the ground. Director Peter Jackson's first set of movies at least had an actual trilogy of books as a source, and the reverence for that was expressed rather as the Christ story was by The Greatest Story Every Told: by proportion of landscape. At least that gave us some remarkable scenery. The turn -- bent, move, ploy -- is obvious here immediately: the look. Even the soft focus effect, which makes faces look like a fuzzy version of airbrushed, is part of the very generalized and overbearing CG and post-production treatment. Sunsets are effusively goldener, nighttime is heavy gloss. Things look more properly Nordic, you know, like AOR album covers. And the infatuation with bridges over fathomless chasms they had to stretch to three movies' worth. It's colossal labyrinthine flavor-blasted Disneyesque amusement park ride action sequences while flogged by the soundtrack including the score. Jackson's King Kong may actually still be worse than this, but this is the same thing.
Watership Down (1978)
Animated anthropomorphism for grownups might have the extra benefit of not avoiding some of the harsher things that children stories or cartoons do, thus giving them expression, but playing it more seriously also emphasizes the strain of the metaphor. It's virtually impossible to avoid personification -- of anything, any "thing," things, forces, animals, and because we're also doing it with persons -- since it's impossible to avoid figure and figuration, but of course the other pole of that is the projection. It's not really plausibility (obviously that's suspended), nor quite properly logic, but just all the difference you notice (metaphor is making equal things which are not), the extension of application, or overdetermination. With actors like John Hurt, Ralph Richardson, Zero Mostel, Denholm Elliott, Nigel Hawthorne respecting the gravitas, the paradox is emphasized another way: as Nietzsche put it, to be as serious as a child at play.
8/11/21
The Shout (1978)
Co-written, with Michael Austin, from a story by Robert Graves, and directed by Jerzy Skolimowski, who also directed the excellent Moonlighting (1982), this on balance is muddled absurdity. Maybe that's an oxymoron, but it sometimes plays straight, and even shapeless, sometimes provocatively absurd, sometimes sharp, sometimes pretty nearly whacky. Alan Bates's character is such a stereotype of his wayward, dark lover it's a parody. It is a tale told by a madman, but about the time Skolimowski starts more keenly lacing things dreamlike -- a mysterious drawing is echoed in a later shot, a character in the story appears out of it in the framing segment -- we break back to the frame for a hasty clatter that's a sudden dramatic bang played like broad comedy. That sounds like it could be interesting, to describe it, but doesn't quite feel that way when watching it.
Willow (1988)
And if you want to suffer with Val Kilmer, you can watch this. George Lucas decided to do a Hobbity type thing, homage, ripoff. He got Ron Howard to direct it. It's where Kilmer met Joanne Whalley, or, well, officially, since he'd known her before. See Val. Kevin Pollak is in it, but you might not notice, because he's supposed to be even tinier than the little people, like Lilliput size -- OK, so Lucas is not just ripping off the Hobbit, but also Swift -- so he's only in long shots composited with others where he's out of proportion. There's some dogs dressed up like big rat-boar-dogs. There's lots of little people, the largest cast of them ever assembled up to that point. There's Tinkerbell and the good witch. Oh, wait, that's -- you get the idea.
8/9/21
Midnight Express (1978)
This was a cause célèbre of grown-up type intrigue, i.e. faddish thriller, of its day, written by Oliver Stone and directed by Alan Parker, and of course there's the Giorgio Moroder score, which probably did more for electronic music than it did for the movie. In case you wonder whether it's decent pathos and intrigue, or sensationalist and degrading of Turkey, there is one scene in particular, when the girlfriend comes to visit the prison very late on, that is so outright bad, almost embarrassing, but mostly humorously awful, that it might make you wonder about the judgment of anyone involved. It's like really bad movie bad, and it's also a Wiseau-like sex scene -- well, masturbation, anyway -- with the actress so horribly strained, water on her face for fake tears, and even Brad Davis's half crazy act is astonishingly dopey.
Little Malcolm and His Struggle Against the Eunuchs (1974)
This starts out like a comic version of La Maman et le putain, or perhaps a bit like Withnail and I, a portrait of gadabout underground types who cling to their déclassé status perhaps too much, or try to make it their aspiration. It's more of a comic declamation, perhaps a precursor or inspiration for My Own Private Idaho in their oratorical flourishes. But there's also a bit of Stalker in this, if less allegorical and more direct, about these men playing like children. And it does have a dramatic punchline, though that too shows a cowardly direction for the dangerous drift of their ideas. David Warner shows up looking like a relative of Stephen Merchant. George Harrison produced. John Hurt is the ringleader: "He could get out of bed. Four o'clock in the afternoon. Light up a fag and smoke it, just like that! What a man!"
10 Rillington Place (1971)
Long before the serial killer fad took hold as we have it in movies and TV shows today, there was this modest, unassuming, expert little study of John Christie and the man wrongfully accused of two of his murders, Timothy Evans. As good as Richard Attenborough is at all the bluff of his character (a major flaw with the serial killer fad since at least The Silence of the Lambs is contradicting their passability by trumping them up), John Hurt is an even more engrossing study of his character's complementary traits, and this is a portrait similar to The Master of a relationship between manipulator and manipulated. This may be Hurt's breakout performance. The mechanism of the character's kneejerk of esteem, from getting pushed into taking an apartment or bragging in a bar to being made an accessory and the absurd twists of lies to the police, is made painfully manifest by Hurt. This story is significant for the Evans character in how his case led to the abolition of the death penalty in the U.K., after the discovery of Christie's other victims.
A Man for All Seasons (1966)
This adaptation by Robert Bolt of his play, directed by Fred Zinneman, is a fine production that avoids the excesses of lots of period pieces of the time. It's smart without being pushy about it, which means also knowing how to be straightforward in the right measure with dramatization and production design as well as dialog. While it's posing historical, legal, religious and political matters often as reason problems, it couches this in the manner of the period its portraying, like reason exercises of the day, and more so in the manner of its main character Thomas More. Apart from music that follows suit by Georges Delerue, the greatest thing about it is the cast and use of them. Robert Shaw is a particularly good stroke as Henry VII, and the sequence of his visit to More's estate, from stepping in the mud to his mercurial conversation with More, is the peak of this showing as well as telling. The scene makes the movie more strikingly pertinent today, when after so much history to serve as lesson, we're back to petulant despots trying to make government an extension of their person, even in a country that supposedly separated law from the head of the government, let alone a monarch. This is also the start of a John Hurt tour I'm doing, and though this wasn't his first movie, it was his first role in a major one. His character Rich is instrumental, and Hurt shows himself quite worthy of the excellent company, including Paul Scofield and Leo McKern.
Lucky (2020)
The idea works for about the first 20 minutes, when it has active and interesting ambiguity. Is it real in the plot, is someone crazy, is it gaslighting, is it allegorical? But -- I'm trying not to give too much away -- what it starts to include in the loop makes it very hard to hold up without seeming really contrived, the more it's stretched out. In modern fare, between movies like Get Out, Us, or perhaps closer to this The Invisible Man, on the one hand, and Happy Death Day on the other, there's a whole slew of movies, "indies" mostly, that don't quite make it either as symbolic or just plain slasher or horror. There's a scene where they start to go off on a flourish, building up a bunch of questions by various emergency personnel and it almost breaks into a musical. They don't go far enough either way, but just get caught in the middle of things, like some hybrid tossed out from an experiment.
Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971)
This Hammer film pushing into the 70s doesn't have Peter Cushing or Christopher Lee, and it doesn't make much of the obvious exploitation of its title. It's a bait and switch, like carnival sideshows or many horror films of its day, leaving mostly to suggestion or subtext the Pandora's box it opens in the imagination. It does have Martine Beswick, as the female version, from two Bonds: From Russia with Love and Thunderball. There is a mirror scene, as the 1931 film version (see here) made a factor of the transformation, though it doesn't go quite subjective view for it, but enough to suggest the reaction to the transformation is to a woman for at least some male agency, the good doctor if not the viewer, and s/he/they do(es) look at and touch a breast to suggest the marvel. Steve Martin cracks the joke in L.A. Story that if he were a woman, "I'd just stay home and play with my breasts all day." But this movie doesn't play with the irresolvable twistiness or fuzziness of all that, the conundrum even of a male-centric view or male gaze, that a woman who acts even more lecherous, forthcoming towards a man is also sharing that persona gazing into the mirror to see the self as other, and thus man or men as the object(s) of desire. There is one interesting moment when Jekyll starts to talk, sounding like the woman, and reaches to touch the face of the man Hyde goes after. But they are playing it straight otherwise, or trying to, in that even as switching to a woman, the woman is only interested in men, as the man is in women.
Galveston (2018)
It doesn't go full tilt into caper or thriller, but it leans that way which makes it feel somewhere between that and its lowlife naturalism cast. There may be a story to tell, but it's not the kind of evocation of The Florida Project, even though it's not even the level of dramatic mechanics of No Sudden Move. The skip in time comes in as an epilogue, and makes you see the usefulness of flashback or a frame or just reordering. Obviously they wanted the suspense of the Ben Foster character's fate, but the formal shift makes it as much a shift in significance.
8/8/21
Jungle Cruise (2021)
Relentless hijinks with overblown when not outright bad CG (especially the jaguar), green screen scenes and golden glows are just what you want from another movie based on an amusement park ride. There's plenty of Pirates of the Caribbean-like baddies and preposterous action, so you'll know just what you're getting.
F9: The Fast Saga (2021)
The Fast and the Furious 9: because even the titles have to defy continuity as if that were physics or any sense whatsoever. About the time you think this is something strangely and perhaps boringly sedate even for somehow less hyperbolic action thrillers, suddenly there is a -- stunt? -- it's not even that anymore -- graphic depiction of an action in which a muscle car plays Tarzan across a great chasm (the preceding trick of another vehicle propelling itself up a falling, shattered rope suspension bridge pales, though it's no less physics defying). Back stories and brothers with parallel lives and dead characters are pulled out of nowhere, and they literally go into space. That pretty much jumps the submarine. They try to get more meta about this, too, even the camp or absurd sense or reputation, including their own remark about the submarine, but that actually plays pretty flat. You can decide whether that makes it better worse or worse better. And of course all this is about street racing and families, even pious what with crosses and prayer and all.
8/2/21
Jupiter Ascending (2015)
This movie may reveal Soylent Green as inspiration for The Matrix. It's The Matrix and Soylent Green and Dune and The Fifth Element, but well within the CG line of extravagance at the cost of contrast that ends up just being sheen.
Female Prisoner Scorpion Jailhouse 41 (1972)
What more or better or more interesting visual expression this has than the original, Female Prisoner 701 Scorpion, is still limited, sort of flourish or stream-of-consciousness cutaway moments, and doesn't overcome the register of the whole, which is pulpish overstatement. Even the plot has returned the woman protagonist to prison, for even worse abuse because of her escape attempt. So this movie is essentially dragging out and overworking the metaphor, however worthy it might be. And there are two more movies after this one.
Mary Reilly (1996)
It's hard to get past the premise, from the novel by Valerie Martin, especially as the movie augments the speciousness. But also because movie versions reversed the orientation of the story, mostly to get in the transformation scenes, and already added other characters like dance hall girls or prostitutes for this purpose. The character of Utterson in Robert Louis Stevenson's story, the observer or usher for the reader who encounters Hyde and only discovers the relation to Jekyll later, is minimized or eliminated altogether in film versions. In some ways, the Mary Reilly house servant is a switch for Utterson, and this version emphasizes sympathy for Jekyll over just the reaction to Hyde. But despite being nicely photographed, even the somber elegance of the setting (here Jekyll's laboratory seems to include a surgery theater, or perhaps his estate is also or adjoins a college) is just swank surroundings for some suspenseful shenanigans that culminate in a very bad literalization of the central metaphor: a very bad CG homunculus version of the divided person. Not even John Malkovich and Stephen Frears can get away with that.
King Corn (2007)
Curt Ellis and Ian Cheney are so low-key, unassuming, that they seem deferential, at least not imposing, and even sometimes feckless. But their journey through the production and distribution chain of corn is anything but innocent, although their approach makes it seem that the whole matter of agro-industry and the staple crop gone mad is just too big for anyone to ignore, meaning even the deleterious effects by those involved. The attitude is a kind of slouchy version of black humor, a shrugging fatalism. The microcosm is a man they talk to because of his license plate, "CORN FED," who asks them if they know what happens to corn-fed cattle, then proceeds to tell how it kills the cattle in six months in every major confinement feed lot -- while he chomps down a fast-food burger. It's a welcome contrast to those who might be smug or shrill in opposition, but it also has the value of making you miss or see the worth of clear opposition that doesn't come too late.
Who Are You, Charlie Brown (2021)
A homage that seems official or perhaps just promotional. It's from Imagine Documentaries (Brian Grazer and Ron Howard's company) and WildBrain Entertainment ("we are home to such brands as Peanuts"), and has for sample aficionado speakers Drew Barrymore and Al Roker. Make of that what you will. There are more qualified subjects, but what information on Schulz is mixed in with fond words and more animations hews to a convenient version of his life story.
7/26/21
Pig (2021)
The creeping pace and the tack away from anticipated outburst, especially in Nicolas Cage's performance, but also good performances by Alex Wolff and Adam Arkin, draw you along. But when you look back over it, it's more ridiculously incongruous, like the weird fight club in a hotel sub-basement, or just how Arkin's character heads some racket over the foodie world. It's an episode of Portlandia played as a serious thriller. Even at that, the great scene is when Cage tears down a chef in a faddish chichi restaurant, and not physically, but mentally. The climactic cathartic special meal made me laugh, but I really don't know if it was meant to.
Riders of Justice (2020)
A revenge action movie posing as a sleeper comedy, or vice versa. Computer nerds who are more realistic -- meaning not just action movie superhackers -- provide not only relief for the badass soldier, and comic relief, but they're part of another trick of showing him to be as much misfit in his way. The cleverness of this whole exercise is providing other responses to what happens in usual revenge plots, other routes to emotional issues, coping problems, accuracy and planning. It's a side route, or lots of them, to an action plot, but they also keep backing into it.
The Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard (2021)
It's better than the first one in the way it follows more comic flourishes than action ones. The best idea is almost a byproduct: mixing up various European and even other foreign actors for the nationality of their character: Germans sound Russian or Russians sound German, or something else sounds one of those or neither; Antonio Banderas is supposed to be Greek. That's a mostly inadvertent spoof on the kind of movies -- well, like this one. But then there is a scene where they have Salma Hayeks' character try a British accent, and when she drops it in a fit to curse in her native tongue, Ryan Reynolds says that's too Mexican, and then mariachi music plays over the ambiguously Eurotech club fight. So I guess they got the joke, too.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)
The Jekyll parts are a rather twitty melodrama about a marriage engagement, so when Hyde comes in, he injects some salt into it. It's like how Columbo had a much more conventional, stagey TV show opening that Peter Falk would puncture with his Casavettes improv naturalism for the shaggy dog act of the character. Despite the lurid make-up --- the initial transition sequences are impressive still, though later it gets into the more obvious dissolve that would become famous with the wolfman -- that makes the human/animal dichotomy more heavy-handed, Frederic March's skittish, leering, tight spring Hyde is fascinating, and as much different by manner as appearance (March won an Oscar for his performance). Director Rouben Mamoulian's inventiveness with the film process, various approaches and tricks and effects, most notably the subjective camera that seems meant to lead up to the mirror shots of Jekyll transforming to Hyde, so that the viewer is in that circuit of persona, doesn't always feel integrated, but applied, like he's toying with someone else's movie. He is necessarily, in a way -- the script -- but his Love Me Tonight of the following year would show this even more. It's a Whitman's sampler of technique rather than a composed work.
Tokyo Olympiad (1965)
Kon Ichikawa's documentary of the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo, commissioned by the Japanese government (Akira Kurosawa was the first choice, but was dismissed over disputes about control of the opening and closing ceremonies), didn't turn out to be the usual record of results or promotional uplift. This wasn't to everyone's liking, but what Ichikawa provided was something much better, that influenced even the approach to sports from then on. In the inevitable comparison to Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will, this is not aesthetic aggrandizement, but something like the grain of the individual drama in the large scale of the modern event. Set off against shots of crowds, in the opening ceremonies, for example, are details of individual reaction, and in the competitive action, telephoto shots give the expressions of the athletes, like a runner at the starting line rattling his lips in slow motion with a preparatory exhale, or the faces of shot putters hunching up before their launch. Besides the occasional music of the event itself, what's used on the soundtrack is a Japanese style of sparse sounds that punctuate the incidental sound.
The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005)
Making the main character not a complete dope but keeping the comic edge was a good turn, as a break from a major tendency if not cliche in movies and series (the American version of The Office started this same year), as much as anything toward the character itself. The way the perception of the virgin also boomerangs on the problems of the guys who think they're better off is also nice, if not entirely sneaky or subtle. But all the threads come to feel more like losing track rather than a nice ripple effect. The final flourish, the aftermath that carries into the credit sequence, is great and even has its own ripples of suggestion.
The Flaw (2011)
The wage stagnation that's really a drastic drop in income as more wealth accumulates in the hands of fewer, exactly the opposite of "trickle down" when all these rollbacks of New Deal checks began, that led to the real estate bubble as a prospect to increase income, that led to the debt bubble as a way to prey on those very investors, that led to the crash of 2008, might be something you'd want to know about so you could learn the lesson you didn't learn with the dotcom bust, or the Enron bust, or the S&L crisis, or the Penn Square Bank failure and the oil bust, or the stock market crash of 1929, but who cares when you can just dream of the next chance to ride the market. There certainly was no response to 2008 even approaching that to the Great Depression. This movie does a good job of connecting the dots and of showing how Alan Greenspan and at least one other talking head they got for the movie make sober assessment sound like gaslighting.
7/18/21
African Kung-Fu Nazis (2019)
The most audacious thing about this prospect for cult bad movie status -- and thus the best worst of it -- is the beginning, which is a newsreel intro setup, making a historical background to the premise that Hitler and Tojo didn't die, but ended up in Ghana! And the Blutfahne has become the imperial rising sun flag with a swastika in the middle! The intermixing and just mixing up here certainly offends enough deserving parties, along with toss-off slighting. It's an amateurish kung-fu movie, made by Ghanaians, with very funny (intentionally or not) low-key CG effects for gore, a soundtrack including a title song (see the video here, probably the more efficient experience), and even drone shots, to lend the cliched toney quality of even series and documentaries. Hitler is such a bad dude, he steals one guy's girlfriend. But he gets what he deserves, the climax also that of the ridiculous CG. At one point someone yells, "Exterminate Hitler!" There was also a scene where a guy gets his fingers cut off and it looks like Photoshop (that's in the video). But sometimes they used goop for blood, sometimes even chunky goop, and you can see all the work put into the makeup because of how it changes scene to scene, sometime shot to shot. In their homage / defiling of martial arts movie heritage there is a drunken master and not one but two training montage sequences, to which they also make the wonderful contribution of a supertitle day counter. The montage shows the same characters, place and clothes, but counts a month of days. That's where the line between intentional and inadvertent gets smudged completely and doesn't matter anymore.
The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976)
This distinguishes itself from the Inspector Clouseau series and even from other Blake Edwards comedies by taking flight into, if not quite surrealism, perhaps cartoonish absurdity. Clouseau was originally an adjunct character to the Sir Charles jewel thief of David Niven in The Pink Panther. Peter Sellers was the clown at a party, much like another Edwards movie that would make this its explicit premise, The Party, but the Clouseau character clashed with the swanky lounging like he was in the wrong genre. The character was more popular, so it was spinoff in the next installment, A Shot in the Dark. But the plot intrigue continued to be played seriously. In Strikes Again, it's all like the vantage or world of Clouseau, even Herbert Lom's Dreyfus taking on giddy heights of villainous madness. The clunkier or puffier slapstick takes it place in this, too, doesn't clang as badly, and plot, such as it is, is goofy progression with the gags. The culmination is a much more inspired bit of well-played scene comedy with laughing gas, where Sellers and Lom make it very difficult not to laugh with them.
Young Frankenstein (1974)
This is the best Mel Brooks movie, certainly in terms of moviemaking, the cinematography and production, but even this attention and composition give the comedy a resonance. The congenial non-tragedy turn of the monster line goes into a rather Shakespearean comedy ending with the pairing off, and the grainier cast to these bedroom scenes gives Madeline Kahn's bride of Frankenstein drag and the sex a dusky but happy coming out from the innuendo or subtext of monster movies. It's also the blind man scene with Gene Hackman that shows Bride of Frankenstein as much a source.
The Sixth Sense (1999)
Even at his best, M. Night Shyamalan can't get around that posey serious tone that makes horror movies overly dramatic. The attempt at being more drama than horror movie doesn't avoid that bad. There is a good idea, here, touching on all that's connected with ghosts, appearance, light, even movies themselves, the phantom the living already is (see the etymology of phantom, phenomenon, photo), but the horror suspense is a means to things other than such trifles.
Female Prisoner #701 Scorpion (1972)
While it's mainly manic and jittery in the manner of Japanese pop movies of the 60s and 70s, this women's prison and revenge movie based on a manga distinguishes itself with some flourishes that suggest A Page of Madness and Mizoguchi's Women of the Night, if not the composed subversion of Mishima's Black Lizard or the more composed consideration of women of Mizoguchi's own Osaka Elegy. Its most striking stroke is matching the Japanese flag to the virginal blood stain on the sheet.
7/11/21
Cruella (2021)
On approximately 20 minutes of Cruella: That clamorous Disney style, like trying to keep the attention of restless kids. Worst of all is the soundtrack, relentless triggers from the 60s, starting up then cutting off to the next one, the perpetual initial hit to make every scene like the entrance to a party. All this is really a kids movie for adults, infatuated with itself and annoying like that. And everything looks like Harry Potter, but I guess all Disney movies do now.
Black Widow (2021)
The "super" hero with the non-super powers apparently requires even more outrageous action effects. If you thought this might be something more subdued for the sake of spy-like intrigue, or in honor of the Avenger who sacrificed herself, or in the manner of Logan, or because of women and their subjugation perhaps signalled, if not exactly commented, in this kind of entertainment, don't get your hopes up or down. In between the world domination and universe domination schemes of the Avengers, Scarlett Johansson takes time off for a world-domination scheme of her own, and it's Avenger-level hyperbole with colossal CG construction-scapes, the action not even comic-book cartoonish so much as Fast and Furious movie-like .
Murder in the First (1995)
A scenery eating contest. Christian Slater chews the scenery. Gary Oldman is chewing the scenery. Kevin Bacon often appears to be literally eating the scenery. Director Marc Rocco is chewing and licking and frottaging the scenery. The cinematography is serving up the director's dinner. The scenery is eating the scenery.
7/5/21
A Quiet Place 2 (2020)
Unless you enjoy exercises in parallel action, this doesn't add anything to the original, and rather dilutes its main points by repeating them. A prequel story is teased at the beginning, and the ending suggests the overall solution, but if that's laying the bait for the next installment, then this is heading even more into apocalyptic series territory.
The Tomorrow War (2021)
Jurassic Park + Guardians of the Galaxy + Avengers: Endgame + Back to the Future + Independence Day + Edge of Tomorrow + Aliens + Starship Troopers + World War Z + Batman Begins + The Thing + -- you can keep playing if you want to.
No Sudden Move (2021)
A sneaky caper reveals a bigger picture, but after the scene that does that best, a hotel rendezvous that's lost its amorous spark, the rest doesn't quite live up to the ripple effect intrigue. But in this patient pace from director Stephen Soderbergh, the acting shines through, from Don Cheadle, Benicio Del Toro, Brendan Fraser, David Harbour, Kieran Culkin, Frankie Shaw, Ray Liotta and Jon Hamm, just to name the most particular. The whole cast is good. The score includes very Chinatown-like strokes, as if that score were sampled in bass-centered jazz themes.
Chattahoochee (1989)
More The Snake Pit than One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, this has good performances by Frances McDormand and Dennis Hopper, both of them against the grain of typical roles. Gary Oldman also does a decent job, though there are the histrionic outbursts that would become more familiar.
Batman Forever (1995)
Hamming up Batman villains Tex Avery style comes off a strain on an actor like Tommy Lee Jones. Jim Carrey made his career out it, so he'd seem to fit right in here. And so much for this movie: the general problem that it's much wa-wa about very little else. When you overpitch every line as if it's supposed to be clever, it apparently doesn't matter whether it is. And you stomp on it anyway. Most of the bad of Batman and Robin is already here. Somehow Joel Schumacher managed to make a more excessive follow-up. I think he was aiming at something like the 60s Batman movie and series, the camp of it, but boosting it all up, overproducing it, destroyed even that charm.
Rogue Hostage (2021)
Is it just the quarantine or is it just that anyone can make a shoot-from-the-hip indie nowadays? Just anyone means even a big-budget movie star like Tyrese Gibson, who produced this and got others like Michael Jai White and John Malkovich. About 95% of the movie is in a kind of rural general store that looks part auto-parts shop, part feed store, part warehouse, and the extent of the shaking of the video cameras to try to make it look real and intense only heightens the sense of amateurish location. I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than the 90s style faddish sense of intense.
The History of Future Folk (2012)
The extent of the dry dopey humor is only in a couple of scenes, like the first time the characters sing as a duo. Prior to that, for example the song at the opening, it's hard to tell if you'd be laughing with or at the earnestness. If you can tell you should be laughing. If you would laugh at all. Maybe it's a good idea to have the dopiness sneak up on you, but it really feels like this movie shifts in and out of blah romcom, indie sci-fi and a parody of something or other somewhere among those.
6/20/21
Streets of Fire (1984)
A roguish loner returns to an anachronistic city to rescue his ex-girlfriend from latex photograph developer Willem Dafoe. There's a lot of running in and out of diner and club entrances in a couple of blocks of the Chicago Loop. That's about as much plot as you get in a movie built on the principle of MTV music videos. You can catch young Bill Paxton and Fear's Lee Ving, too, but mostly everyone, even Rick Moranis, just acts bitchy. While this has music by Ry Cooder and includes Link Wray on the soundtrack and The Blasters actually in the movie performing their own music, the numbers written for the band in the story, that Diane Lane's character fronts, are anthemic pop like Pat Benatar, and those scenes look like a trailer for a stadium concert movie.
Seven Stages to Achieve Eternal Bliss (2018)
This follows a surrealist extrapolation, and the dream logic flourishes avoid being either too much plot or too much gag. There's a monologue that is a microcosm for this, a digression absurdity that mocks life stories and movie plots alike. Newcomers in L.A. encounter a suicide cult, and this is a meditation on susceptibility to enlightenment or salvation as escape, what really amounts to disaffection with life, that is a counter in tone to The Master. All the ghastliness and gravity are handled as the fleeting humor of the absurd, that drop of levity, as Nietzsche says, of death itself.
Catwoman (2004)
This movie plays like the product of one of those exploitation guidebooks for successful screenplays, the kind of reductive formula bullshit that hacks and quacks have been peddling as long as there is an excess of people wanting to "break in" to the movie business. If you used (stole) an already successful idea (the Catwoman thread of Batman Returns) and boiled it down into derivative, pandering, mechanical primes and quips, then delivered all that trumped up, overly smug, held and stretched out as if basking in the imagined reaction -- why, you'd have this. The way this movie imagines fluffing by a gal pal and the cat metaphor as literal application to behavior, it's no wonder they weren't embarrassed by their special effects.
The Killing of Sister George (1968)
The play and the movie are frank about the relationship between the women in a fairly sensitive way, and even about lesbian culture at the time. One sequence in a bar cites gawking, by way of an outsider character, after it's situated the two main characters (played by Beryl Reid and Susannah York) well in the scene, in more than one sense of the word, but is otherwise incidental and not a mock-up or caricature. In that respect, there's even some intimacy about the frankness. Another kind of idiosyncratic ceremony and some eerie and suspenseful flourish to a climactic encounter have rather broader psychological implications than reductive. What's lurid or outré about this is the behavior of the actress character (Reid's), both how far she goes in her reactions to being discontinued from the TV show, and in Robert Aldrich's direction, which has a pace that is a strange gawking of its own. Sequences are made up of shots as if the performers aren't in the same scene, with extra time as if waiting for audience reaction, and then in this same strange off-the-beat tempo, the characters shift registers wildly. George/Buckridge jumps to such a pitch of bitchiness it seems odd that other characters aren't surprised or don't react to it, then later they do.
6/14/21
Ned Beatty, Actor Known for ‘Network’ and ‘Deliverance,’ Dies at 83



See also: Nashville, Mikey and Nicky, Wise Blood, Homicide: Life on the Street (series).
6/13/21
Me You Madness (2021)
Me Talk You Forever One Day. It's as if Ayn Rand crossed Ferris Beuhler's Day Off with Eating Raoul. There are actually clever moments where this stumbles into almost not being an embarrassing vanity project. But then there's that dance, which is hard to ever forget. I don't know if she was aiming for Elaine on purpose. The obsession with the 80s, here, is the soundtrack as well as the fanboy horror film style self-consciousness and relentless gyrations, and some particular admiration envy of Atomic Blonde. Apart from the conspicuous derivation, not to say ripoff, of that other, in using Blue Monday, this makes an even greater offense in making it the title music, reducing it to just that, instrumental in more than one bad sense.
Benny Loves You (2019)
In a recent spate of fuzzy gore (see Willy's Wonderland, The Banana Splits Movie), this has a much more Brit humor approach (cf. The League of Gentleman series, Inside No. 9) which keeps the punch to the contrast of treacly and grisly. It's good to have a movie you can use as an antidote to Toy Story. For kids or grownups.
Mystery Team (2009)
If you think this is a kids' movie, from adds or references, then you're set up for it. The clever idea by the writers, most of whom are also the players, that provides a framework to avoid problems of plot and humor, is that high schoolers (played by even older actors) are still stuck in their childhood fantasy detective agency. Since the comment on not putting away childish things is obvious, they can concentrate on the contrasts and sly dopey gags that come from all the other things they haven't caught onto about being adults. And the cliche part about when they find out they're in way over their heads is really the drive of the whole thing. It's all the things kids' fare ignores when the kids are magically succeeding way over their heads.
The Cardinal (1963)
What this odd bird makes for epic proportion involves an American Catholic priest in mob burnings and beatings in Georgia as incidentally as Vaudeville dancehall, French Canada, Vienna and the Vatican. The inclusion of the dancehall number with Robert Morse is all the more part of the strange cultural bag since it turns out to be a dead end in the plot. Writer Robert Dozier and director Otto Preminger have a novelistic conceit, for all the sweep and intrigue, that's not very cinematic, and a cinematic conceit that's left mainly in the decorous montage of the opening credits. While Preminger, as usual, manages to avoid the programmatic demonstrations of message movies, he doesn't really integrate politics. He just makes that seem part of the exotic locales, in the line of the post card spectacles of the 50s and 60s, around the world in 80 clerical assignments.
The New Centurions (1972)
A Village Voice review of its day discussed this in terms of right-wing views of the police, along with Dirty Harry. Some 50 years after the civil rights movement, when cops are routinely killing blacks, and the U.S. government has been on the brink of overt fascism, that view of the movie seems ridiculous. Especially the way L.A. beat cops played by George C. Scott and Stacy Keach make such a civil affair out of rounding up black prostitutes, and the reactions by cop (Scott Wilson) and son (Hilly Hicks) to the shooting of a black man. Though it may not measure up to "progressive" or even "liberal" in all respects, there's a scene where Scott backhands a landlord rather than help him shake down illegal immigrants. The movie's main and best point, about the consumption of these men by their duty (Scott is the fate of Keach) gets lost in a run of events that is more dramatic than representative.
Eating Raoul (1982)
Although this is an underground classic, and was more provocative, even in its goofy way, when it came out, it's tame even as conscientiously amateurish or anti-artsy. It's not even trying to be as tasteless as, for example, John Waters. Star Trek fans may or may not know Robert Beltran played the title character.
6/6/21
SAS: Red Notice (2021)
I won't try to explain the plot, because I'm not sure I even got it and I'm not sure it matters, and if it did, I wouldn't want to give it away. But somehow, two special forces kind of badasses get set against each other, with lots of other folks dragged into it. It's a good thing one of them is Sam Heughan and the other is Ruby Rose, because they're both really good at voguing all this. When they head for their final showdown after lots of other explosive but inconsequential climaxes, there's another possibility that becomes so obvious as a joke it's incredible when they actually propose it. But then there is a closing credit sequence, somewhat like a mid or post-credit teaser, that strikes an entirely different James Bond like humor about the entire thing. So this movie that involved burning people in a Georgian village, hijacking a Chunnel train and exploding a gas pipeline as terrorist acts, was playing all that seriously -- unless you stay through the credits?
Lovers of the Arctic Circle (1998)
A meditation on love and even the confluence of the poetic terms used for that is one thing, but this is wound so tight there is no relief, in two senses of the word. Coincidence or fate come to seem rather suffocating, or at least annoyingly coy. The reunion was so obvious but dragged out I wanted to throw something at the movie, or turn it off, but it was Najwa Nimri that kept me watching. And when they had to make one more turn, I was almost glad for fate to be ill. I wanted that to be the moral: see where coincidence gets you, kids?
Torture Garden (1967)
This horror anthology movie is almost as cheap as the carnival sideshow it uses as a frame. But it's worth the ticket to see Burgess Meredith ham it up as a Penguin-like Dr. Diabolo, and especially in the final chapter to see Jack Palance out-fey Peter Cushing.
Oslo (2021)
The story of the unofficial meetings that led to the Oslo peace accords between Israel and the PLO in the 1990s is told a bit too decorously and with theatrical priming, despite some really good performances by those playing the negotiating parties.
Sour Grapes (2016)
Despite all the snobbery and preciousness about wine, the smugness and credulity, the comeuppance wrought by a geeky enthusiast who's another example of obsession, effort and art as fraud (see, e.g., Murder Among the Mormons), and the susceptibility that such "experts," wine (or whatever object commodity) or financial, have or create for bubbles and busts, the one shot in this movie that struck me as the absurdity of it all was of a huge tasting convention in what looks like a ballroom, with long tables lined with big bowls in which the tasters are spitting their wine. The value of wine, the push to accumulate, even if just the knowledge or experience of it, leads to exactly the opposite of what it's for.
Lust in the Dust (1984)
Paul Bartel (Death Race 2000, Eating Raoul) directed this dance of depravity in the desert. It doesn't do much to develop a Western plot or even parody, just hangs around in moderately Western outfit with Divine and Lainie Kazan slinging sloppy innuendo. Which ain't too bad for not bad enough. Kazan gets a rare chance to show more of her ample charms, especially for Geoffrey Lewis's bewildered look.
Wrath of Man (2021)
This is more of a surprise for Guy Ritchie than as a Jason Statham movie. It's lean, not hyperbolic, and uses cut-up and overlapping chronology like Jackie Brown to give us different perspectives, literally, but also different approaches to the characters, events, and story. As Dave Chapelle says, the idea takes you where it wants to go. You can sit in the back seat. If you push your ego and try to drive without the idea, you're not going anywhere. This movie has drive, and because of the idea about approaching the same place from different directions, converging paths, mapped out very well. The story keeps it terse, and Ritchie keeps it that way with the tone, pacing and editing. There's even a way he uses indirection here for a lot of the violence so that, not only does it leave aside gratuitous gore, but it keeps the pace dramatically -- makes another kind of expression of that, the expedience of all these people -- and formally. It's gripping, much more so than, for example Heat, which gets bogged down in its subplots and character backgrounds, and the cut-up also heightens the twists of moral sense of the characters, who's good, who's bad, what's honorable, what's selfish, noble, expedient, etc. It's actually a tight little parable about the trade-offs and compromises and confounding of all those, even for revenge stories.
Cape Fear (1962)
The Scorsese version (see Cape Fear 1991) implicated the lawyer more and made the wife and daughter characters much more complex. This modified the original's tidy, 50s paternalistic family scheme, where good attorney (Gregory Peck) didn't even defend Max Cady (Robert Mitchum), but actually witnessed a crime and turned him in, and the much more adjunct female characters that good daddy was protecting. But for all that sophistication, the latter version got rid of any subtlety about Cady. The original is more evocative of real sociopaths, and Mitchum is sinister in another way he's not even in Night of the Hunter. More worldly, let's say, with a more pointed threat to women, but for that he's not blown up into a literary device or conceit of diabolically manipulative proportions. You see how this is even the limits of the man, the compulsion, and the whole thread about the other woman he preys on, turned into a mistress of the lawyer in Scorsese's, is much more effective for being not part of the same manipulative scheme, and more suggestive. (This part in the Scorsese version has the most gratuitous violence; it's the brutality of the conception, there.) And this part manages to be a much more eloquent statement of the problem of violence against women.
5/30/21
Aquaslash (2019)
The conception of this movie reminds me of the joke about Sheepshagger John. You put one set of crossed blades in one giant water slide . . . This odd little Canadian entry doesn't do much more with its one idea than try to stir the pot with other things common to horror movies: sex, goofy drama by people who look too old to be teens, hammy character actors as ambiguously suspicious or villainous or dickish characters, scenes that may or may not have to do with anything else. The production and even most of the acting is just good enough not to be entirely amateurish, but that can't disguise the amateurishness of the concept, or if professional, that they learned the bait and switch of sub-B horror pics, though I don't know where they're selling this.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)
It's brassy delivery in a polished TV studio setting, not as inspired as Blazing Saddles or Young Frankenstein, but Mel Brooks, Richard Lewis, Tracey Ullman and Dave Chappelle are worth a few laughs, and there's a few more folks to see besides: Isaac Hayes, Mark Blankfield, Patrick Stewart, and some old hams like Dom DeLuise, Robert Ridgely and Avery Schreiber.
Army of the Dead (2021)
The dream sequence at the end of Zack Snyder's version of Justice League had a more interesting look than the rest of the sheeny CG overload of that movie. This whole movie has more that look and feel, but it only shows how that alone doesn't do the job. Nor can recombining various other pop lore (besides comic book superheroes), like Aliens, heist movies, the Fallout video games, and adding your own plot elements like the zombie alphas, make up for not having any really interesting conceptual elaboration of Las Vegas, culture and apocalypse. It's suggested in a credits sequence, but little more than some zombie Elvis impersonators, and then the movie drags out two and half hours of plot that is more setup for moments it already gives away. It's very easy nowadays to make movies look good and even sound good (and this is just another case of Snyder's weird music choices, because ordinary and rehash, not inventive) but it's not so easy to know how to really compose, in script and execution, and pace to make things interesting. Snyder just wants to add and stretch. And for that, too, it doesn't make up for knowing how to direct acting. Somehow Snyder gets a strangely muffled character out of Dave Bautista, the lead even of the ensemble. Compare the Guardians of the Galaxy movies for snap even with supporting performances.
Cape Fear (1991)
The original with Gregory Peck and Robert Mitchum is more plausible. Max Cady of Wesley Strick, Robert De Niro and Martin Scorsese's conception is an all-purpose bugaboo, a holy roller supervillain who somehow managed during a 14-year prison term to learn to read, gain supple knowledge of legal theory (and read law books, not the same thing), sophisticated literary theory and psychology, and become a keen observer of human behavior, as well as polish up all his James Bond-like burglary and combat skills. If it had been pitched a bit more symbolically, Cady might've been more like Anton Chigurh, an allegorical nightmare of bourgeois stability. Certainly the mechanics of this show how to set family and authorities alike off their presumptions and against each other, but it's a device designed precisely for all that. As a character it's over the top. But it also gets fine performances from just about everyone, Nick Nolte, Jessica Lange, Juliette Lewis most notably, Illeana Douglas, even De Niro in uncharacteristically trumping it up, and thanks to Scorsese's direction, much in the same rolling style of Goodfellas, and with Freddy Francis's photography, it's a more compelling kind of horror film for all the adult thriller stuff.
Big Trouble in Little China (1986)
Good-natured, but relentless bustle, a homage possibly to the theater in San Francisco North Beach that had on its marquis for years: "Chinese movie today." And for some reason San Francisco has subterranean levels that rival the sewers of Vienna and the catacombs of Paris. They run around in halls, corridors, tunnels, crawl spaces, and drop down holes to do it some more, Kurt Russel doing his John Wayne from Chicago act.
Castle Keep (1969)
Here's a curiosity that has resurfaced on streaming services and pay channels. During the Battle of the Bulge, an odd group of American soldiers end up in a Belgian castle but then figure it may be on the main route of a German attack. Based on a novel by William Eastlake that seems influenced by Catch-22, it's not quite as comical, absurd or surreal, but has a similar off-the-beaten path view. Sydney Pollack directed, Michel Legrand did the music (including a bizarre babada 60s number that seems particularly incongruous for a war movie), and it has Burt Lancaster, Peter Falk, Patrick O'Neal, Scott Wilson and Bruce Dern, among others waxing wistfully about, in the face of destruction, fine art and culture, damsels in distress, Volkswagens, whore houses and bakeries.
Cosmic Sin (2021)
Bruce Willis is shooting past Nicolas Cage aiming for Eric Roberts. Indie isn't really so much about producers anymore as distribution. While this formulaic, B-like attempt at a space thriller has at least one other not quite obscure name, Frank Grillo, and a cast of others not well known doing their darnedest, Willis is weirdly the most amateurish thing about the movie. His scenes look like they were shot entirely separately, and to back up that suspicion there's a credit for "Bruce Willis photo double," Eric Buarque. Even at that, his delivery is like a table reading by a granddad bullshitting about his acting days. The way movies are shot now, he may have literally phoned it in.
5/23/21
Requiem for a Heavyweight (1962)
The film version of Rod Serling's famous 1956 teleplay has Anthony Quinn, Julie Harris, Jackie Gleason, Mickey Rooney, and opens with a subjective camera sequence featuring young Muhammad Ali (as Cassius Clay). Serling's work ties the dramatic knot a bit too tight with all the expose elements. The crime ring stuff tends to mitigate the import and responsibility for others, including us, the spectators. Makes it too tidy, like a melodrama.
Minari (2020)
Writer and director Lee Isaac Chung lets the context and situation drive, doesn't force the comedy or drama, and has the right touch with the observation, not too sentimental or quirky, despite some eccentricities with the locals. A Korean family lands in rural Arkansas in the middle of the Reagan era and tries to live the bootstrap ideal. The trailer at the beginning recalls Stroszek, but despite their own adversities, this family's outlook isn't quite so grim, though chickens also feature.
Supernova (2020)
By contrast to the smoldering of Ammonite, the pace of Supernova is almost more leisurely than banal, like the pace and spaces of waiting to say things while hanging out. Out of this comes the sly humor of the characters, especially Tusker played by Stanley Tucci, and the build-up of their confrontation with each other over what they must confront nonetheless: the early onset dementia of Tusker. Whether partner or lover, friend or family, there's a vicious cycle of reaction when someone you don't want to lose may have feelings about going sooner, and this is an eloquent statement of that, and about love and loss besides.
Ammonite (2020)
It works at first like The Death of Louise XIV, fly on the wall style, and I wish it had stayed more like that. The cross into the florid romantic creates that curious paradox of closeness: it has a very modern sense of passion and sex, even if that modern sense is our own version of or derived from Romanticism of the 19th century (and I'm not talking about who does it but the way they do). These lovers seem to be projections of what we want their bursting through their repression to be. And a very significant matter, that even love's better idealizations and intentions can mistake the other, is just a sort of climactic moment, a plot turn. This is similar in subject to Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but that one is less florid and more deliberate in taking up matters, even among the characters.
The Nest (2020)
Here's one of those cases where the whole movie, from script up, isn't doing what it thinks it is, isn't really developing or dramatizing anything, but is just assumptions and a few assertions about the characters and their situation. It's so diffuse in its contrivance, it could be a Twilight Zone episode, or something surreal, but it's not pitched that way, more like trying to be a slow-burning mystery. Once all the characters are going off on their own paths, it gets so disconnected it doesn't make sense, especially a thread with a horse.
Shithouse (2020)
Affecting debut from writer / director / lead actor Cooper Raiff about getting over the college hump. The comedy and pathos come out of a gentler approach, not trying to be too wacky or quirky, and setting up the candid eruptions. There's a good dramatization of shifty behavior, and the fumbling of articulation, when you're not even sure of your own reactions, let alone someone else's. But in drawing the largest part around one weekend, the skip at the end to 2.5 years later seems too much like a feel-good epilogue, and like too much else about what happened wasn't covered.
Get on Up (2014)
Produced in large part by Mick Jagger (there's a bit in the movie about the not exactly mutual respect between Jagger and James Brown at first, but that's part of Jagger's homage), this is another case (see The United States vs. Billie Holiday) where they try to beat biopic by cut-up, and although it tries to give some sense of triggers or matches for the jumps, it can't get away from the dramatized anecdote feel, which makes you want to go read more to find out what's missing or other views, etc. And it's the same problem for dramatization of a famous personality's life: as great a job as Chadwick Boseman does -- I mean, James Brown.
The Expendables (2010)
This is a high concept movie about a special extra cockpit on the front end of a sea plane. You see, you have a guy crawl into the nose of the plane, and open up a hatch, then rise up out of it to sit biplane style, and from there he pulls the trigger on special machine guns that come out of the front of the plane. So while the pilot is flying, there's another guy sitting halfway out of the plane without a windshield firing machine guns. It's all very sophisticated technical stuff that could only have been specially rigged by some special ops type mercenaries who have lots of tattoos, which must help for the undercover stuff. But all this had to be painstakingly written in the screenplay, so it took someone with lots of special technical know-how and coordination and elbow grease to do this kind of thinking and writing.
Terms of Endearment (1983)
This movie does not hold up well, and the most glaring thing about it now is the music. How the hell did anyone ever get past that? It's like the music that gave birth to the Oxygen channel. And that's towards the sitcom conception of the whole thing, too, James Brooks. Even more than later things (As Good as It Gets), this has the Taxi-like screwball setup for the heart of gold stuff, but it's not really as bad in the manipulation with that as it is in the weird proportions with the parallel stories of the mother and daughter's amorous lives, and the imbalance of the daughter and her husband's infidelities.

See Film / Script for the Oklahoma Daily first run review.
5/16/21
The United States vs. Billie Holiday (2021)
There are some astonishing similarities with the story of Fred Hampton in Judas and the Black Messiah: the government campaign against Holiday, the FBI plant. But whereas that one showed the difficulty of biopic type dramatization, this one pitches full tilt into it. Andra Day's performance is great, but even that is hard to keep up with the way this jumps around.
Beast from Haunted Cave (1959)
With its sometimes florid, mostly smart-aleck dialog and its fuzzy beat movie vibe, this is more like a parlor farce with a B monster in it. The latter is kept to low-key suggestive which manages to be somewhat more creepy than just outright.
Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (2020)
There's an attempt to give this August Wilson play a more Lubitsch touch kind of rolling movie presentation at the beginning, but it falls into the more theatrical kind of rising and falling. For that, however, we get to see two great performances by Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman, the latter looking gaunt as he was sick during production, but acting as vibrant as we ever got to see him.
Lapsis (2020)
And then there's this (see Antidote). This is a well-made, only slightly projected allegory, ostensibly about tech, but more about the monopoly market it has brought back and what that does to labor -- and society in general, but because of that. Its cleverness about more modest means also makes it like a much better Black Mirror episode. The script, direction, and acting all stay closer to home, and trust the situation to drag you in as it does the characters taking on a work situation which seems unlike actual absurd job scams only because it's cast as some near future. The ending is a bit of a letdown, more quaint melodrama than Twilight Zone.
Antidote (2021)
A modest attempt at allegorical horror that has the benefit of not getting carried away with big movie effects (the ending has some pretty unsophisticated CG) allows the actors to shine even over the material.
The Place Beyond the Pines (2012)
A hinge story is interesting if for nothing else than it breaks the protagonist habit and allows a broader view, of even things like cause and effect. But the causality gets muddled when this goes into the third act about the two sons. The coincidental seems less like a social study and more like a dramatic conceit, and full-on heavy-handed. Besides good performances from Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper, Ben Mendelsohn, Mahershala Ali and Ray Liotta turn up and turn in smaller good ones.
Sound of Metal (2019)
Vaguely Buddhist or Stoic precepts in a Christian 12-step program framework, and even moral tales, may have some application. They may be useful counters, and it may be necessary as a regimen to have them be the largest structure, if not absolute. But apart from that horizon, or context, this can seem quite absolute as a moral tale, and overbearing. It's hard to tell, then, how much of it is the view of this portrait or those portrayed, that love and livelihood get swept aside as peremptorily as metal music. And that's the problem with the title. It doesn't mean an exploration so much as a demon or abused substance, especially against "stillness is the kingdom of God."
Judas and the Black Messiah (2021)
Daniel Kaluuya gives a fine performance as Fred Hampton, but the revelation here is LaKeith Stanfield. He feels more candid than typical dramatic acting, the vulnerability, the uneasy and precarious situation even with the posturing and bullshitting, and so much of it with his eyes. Then there is a clip of the real Bill O'Neal at the end and you can see how Stanfield has translated the source, and not just as a good imitation. The movie has the sort of hindsight reverence to its drama that doesn't necessarily do justice to its subject. Watch actual footage of Hampton, for example, and you can get an idea of how trumped up the whole characterization of him was by law enforcement and much of the press, his demonization by a supposedly free and good society. But if you don't know the story of the brutal raid and assassination of him otherwise, this is a telling of it.
5/9/21
The Banana Splits Movie (2019)
More animatronic homicidal mania. See Willy's Wonderland. This one doesn't have quite the comic aspiration or pitch of that one, including the funny displacement of wailing on big dolls, but goes for more "true" gore, at least in parts. The Banana Splits are robots, here (a change from their model, as opposed to the Chuck E. Cheese inspired contraptions in Wonderland) apparently to make it more palatable that they are murderers and when they get their kickass retribution (for anyone who would be old enough to remember the Banana Splits or care, I guess). It also lacks some of that movie's worse horror excesses, even of the reflexive variety, but that's also to say it plays things straight enough to be lackluster.
The Daytrippers (1996)
And this film shows Greg Mottola in a class with Alexander Payne and David O. Russell. It has an even better cast than Adventureland, but Mottola actually improved overall by then. Here there's an irresistible farce-like scheme that expands the social scope, a kind of satire of implication. A woman drags her family into checking on whether her husband is having an affair, and they keep crossing others and mixing up their various interests. It's a fine line between busybody and fellow feeling. The film breaks down at its climax to a series of more Cassavetes-like confrontations and loses the deftness of the indirection.
Adventureland (2009)
Teen sex comedies (especially in the 80s) and even coming-of-age stories are so many and so cliche, you forget there are stories about such things that can be told well. Greg Mottola's script is deft observation about post-college life, aspirations and adjustments, smarts and naivete, what the world gives you and takes from you and what you take from it, and about this in the 80s, and about the sort of pathetic locale you get sunk into but find affection for in a whole other way, in this case an amusement park. Mottola's direction is also right in tune. He doesn't play this wacky or soppy, and even his timing is right to this effect, the way he paces and how and when he cuts to another sequence. He uses Jesse Eisenberg and Kristen Stewart well (who have been hard to take in other things, more or less famous), and all the cast is in the same fabric, even Bill Hader, Kristen Wiig and Ryan Reynolds.
Wild Bill (1995)
A great cast, even John Hurt, is wasted in this movie that's bad in so many ways, just trying to be so many things. Piling in too much of the Western lore, it's pushy and clamorous, and as if its gropey telefoto outdoor shots and inexplicably shiny muddy streets and nighttime interiors (where'd they get all those overhead electrical lights, theater or no) weren't enough, there are flashback sequences done in some video looking black and white sort of negative effect, with lots of tilt, that can't help adding a home video feel to all of it.
The Wife (1995)
By contrast to What Happened Was, this adaptation by Tom Noonan of another of his own plays, doesn't work any better as a movie than it seems it would as a play. Like an actors' improv exercise, this drags out the inarticulateness of four characters beyond any dramatic pertinence. It's a great cast, with Wallace Shawn, Julie Haggerty, particularly Karen Young, and Noonan, but it's just too shapeless for anyone to come off well.
What Happened Was (1994)
Tom Noonan may be known to you as an actor in things like Manhunter, Robocop 2, Heat, Synechdoche New York, as well as TV shows. He also founded his own theater in the 80s and wrote plays, and produced and directed. Here he adapted one of his plays as a movie, and did a particularly nice job, from the opening shots, a view from a loft of the day passing in dissolve on a big, old building across the street. A woman comes home and before she has time to get settled, her guest arrives. It's a first meeting outside the office with a co-worker, someone she's admired. The evening traces the awkwardness of their trying to get to know each other, how to engage without being too pushy, how much to reveal, advances and retreats, till warming up they begin to outstrip each other's strengths and fears, eccentricities, revealing even deeper reasons for the difficulty. Noonan's play nicely follows the turns in the attention of the characters, which leaves the viewer in a position like either one of them, not having any anchor and trusting one's own reaction as little as the other, if perhaps by turns. His treatment of it here adds to that, following the nervous, haphazard encounter with the environment. There are great touches, such as when one of the characters seems to come strangely close to the camera, even out of focus. Calling attention to the film process makes it seem more intimate or candid, breaks even the movie theatricality. From the scandal and alienation of law firms and publishing to fear of our own imposture in a world that seems to demand worth rather than give it, this is pertinent again in the isolation of the quarantine.
Howard Zinn: A People's History of the United States (2016)
Not a film version of the book, but a resume of the author and the work in light of each other. The attempt at a somewhat glib, offhand manner doesn't always come off well, since we don't know who this narrator is, and it feels a bit pushy, as if they were concerned the viewers might not think it personal and pop enough.
My Octopus Teacher (2020)
A South African nature photographer recounts the story of his daily relationship with an octopus. While the bonding with animals doesn't go too far into the analysis of the problems of projection, it does cover the encounter with some of them. There are certainly lots of fascinating discoveries about behavior. What this manages as much along the way as directly is a reflection of the ephemeral.
Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974)
Michael Cimino's directorial debut (he wrote Magnum Force and Clint Eastwood gave him the gig on this; and his next movie was The Deer Hunter) already has the curiously spacy intentness, a more non-verbal articulation, cinematic more like nature documentaries, of how a group of men who can't really get along with anyone get along together. The weird energy, brought mostly by Jeff Bridges's unruly character and, in an even more surprisingly good performance, by George Kennedy's sociopath, teases the lines of machismo, and Eastwood does well to fade into this bunch as more the no name, quietly competent one, a la his spaghetti Westerns. And this does better without the grasping at big themes of The Deer Hunter or Heaven's Gate, by contrast, sneaks up on you from an action genre guise.
5/2/21
Breaking all the Rules (1985)
A pastier, low-rent, insufferably hammy version of Tim Matheson, and his buddy from My Three Sons spend all day at an amusement park date-raping two transgendered persons, and a genetic experiment to cross Bono with Michael Imperioli to produce Ratso Rizzo plays the villain in this movie that breaks all the rules of having the title of your movie mean anything.
Undercover Brother (2002)
Balances set piece gags with wilder and sillier flourishes. Sticks to its comedy punches and doesn't get too bogged down in plot. Eddie Griffin, Aunjanue Ellis and Dave Chappelle stand out in a curous cast that includes Chris Kattan, Denise Richards and Neil Patrick Harris as mayonnaise.
Brother from Another Planet (1984)
This is where the best and worst of John Sayles come together in the best way. Still from his early independent days -- as in editing himself on his kitchen table, not trendy film festival darlings -- this has the trappings for the more amateurish qualities, a modest enough little metaphor that makes even its slackness amiable, the artistic ambling can seem apt for the situation, and then it stumbles into moments of inspiration (like Fisher Stevens's magic tricks on the subway). The loftier idea is tethered to a B-movie premise (Sayles wrote scripts for Piranha, Alligator and The Howling) that keeps even the social and political angles modest and poignant, and not overworked or groping like Matewan, Limbo or even Eight Men Out.
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)
Into the 1970s we go with another Charles Schneer production of a Ray Harryhausen vehicle, with John Phillip Law, Caroline Munro, and Tom Baker, of Dr. Who fame, as the quite 70s version of transported Sinbad, love interest, and evil sorcerer villain. Some creatures the sorcerer uses as drone-like spies are similar to the harpies of Jason and the Argonauts; there's a great Kali statue that gets magically animated in the plot as Harryhausen does out of it (with a warm-up on a wooden figurehead); but the pièce de résistance and main event is the centaur and griffin showdown.
The Father (2020)
Based on his own play, the film version co-written (with Christopher Hampton) and directed by Florian Zeller allows an even shrewder way to play the trick of the perspective of the memory problems of the aging central character, played by Anthony Hopkins. This is an interesting turn on more cinematic realist depiction, so the theatricality, in that respect, is a contribution. But there's still the sort of theatricality that comes off excessive in a movie, some of the trumping up of sinister qualities to characters, and some of the rehashing and stretching of dramatic moments. Hard to put it another way, even if it's more accepted as theatrical conceit: showboating.
Body Brokers (2021)
This is The Big Short of the drug rehabilitation "industry," attempting the same kind of didactic and dramatic expose. It's decently written and directed by John Swab, perhaps best his touch with the acting, which allows Jack Klimer and Michael Kenneth Williams (Omar from The Wire), who have the largest parts, especially good performances, but all the parts are well done. The exceptions are where the plot pushes to a bigger dramatic effect, and a more explicit criminal and tragic turn really make the expo voiceover bit more incongruous. It becomes an extrapolation, the forced causality of a cautionary tale.
The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)
The first of the Ray Harryhausen myth movies used Sinbad as the pretext for stop motion marvels. Prior to this, Charles Shneer produced It Came from Beneath the Sea, Earth vs. The Flying Saucers and 20 Millions Miles to Earth, the sci-fi Harryhausen movies, and later would also produce Mysterious Island and The Valley of Gwangi, more freestyle variations. Kerwin Matthews, with his radio announcer delivery; Kathryn Grant, Bing Crosby's wife; and 50s child star Richard Eyer, who here sounds like a Munchkin, make for the goofiest translation of the Arab world. Torin Thatcher makes a suitably shifty villain. But the stars are the the cyclops, the snake woman, the Roc (two-headed variation) and the dragon.
Jason and the Argonauts (1963)
In between the two Sinbad movies, Greek myth served the same purpose to string Ray Harryhausen effects on, and this is the height of the Charles Schneer and Harryhausen productions. It has a highlight Bernard Hermann score (he did the earlier Sinbad movie, but not the later one), especially the music for the skeleton army, and that's one of the great Harryhausen sequences. Todd Armstrong and Nancy Kovack make the least clangy crossovers and there's even Niall MacGinnis and Honor Blackman as Zeus and Hera, starting the whole gods playing their games with the mortals idea picked up later in Clash of the Titans. The bronze giant is perhaps the most creepy of Harryhausen's reflexive "animation" sequences, where within the plot something inanimate is brought to life, or motion anyway, by some magic power.
4/25/21
Mortal Kombat (1995)
It has a mishmash production design, combination RPG board gamer and candle shop, Thai temples as if Photoshopped on sky, Pirates of the Caribbean ship on a TV studio dock, bad computer graphics and costume monster. It doesn't have the parlor cheapness of the arcade game, and seems more childishly bland than its suggestion of gore, but without the charm of a Harryhausen Sinbad movie. The fighting doesn't live up to the effects of the game or the choreography of martial arts movies. The most sophisticated thing about it at the time was its soundtrack.
Wander (2020)
It has some decent ideas and turns about a conspiracy theorist's fears dovetailing with reality, the self-fulfilling prophecy variety, but it's so overworked as quirky, elliptical, surreal, plush close video real, metaphysical thriller investigation, it's all conceit and delivery and no goods.
The Help (2011)
This is a Whitman's Sampler that has some attention to social and historical detail, some subtler observations as well as the glaring ones about racism's forms after slavery, lots of good performances from a fine cast, but mixed in with some showboating and melodramatic characterization, sculpted payback and backpatting and good-hearted moments that rather divert than honor the subject.
The Soft Skin (1964)
Skipping through the extra-marital affair of a bourgeois intellectual. Despite Andre Bazin's line of the fidelity of photography, mise en scene, and especially against the montage of the Soviets, Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard developed from the jump-cut their own various methods and styles of ellipsis, cut-up and even other frame-breaking techniques (in the latter case, more pointedly Brechtian). Discuss amongst yourselves.
The Courier (2020)
Earnest, well-appointed historical drama production about a British businessman used to get some of the biggest intelligence of the Cold War. This does well to focus on some of the less spectacular business of espionage, and does follow the course of events that did not suit the most melodramatic scheme, but it does some of its own trumping up, especially of the heroic sacrifice. Good performances from Benedict Cumberbatch, Jessie Buckley, but especially Merab Ninidze.
Test Pattern (2021)
An American version of I May Destroy You (I mean descriptively, not an adaptation), set in Austin, Texas, compares favorably to that series by not being so smug with the lifestyle stuff, but the comparison also shows the difficulty in selection and pacing in feature rather than series length. The time spent on the ordeal of a day trying to report and test, which does well for all that drama, is at the expense of setup of the main relationship, which is compressed somewhat more cutely, but more so at the expense of whatever other material might fill out reactions, implications, questions about the balance of this relationship. Without more about that, the boyfriend's dedication and self-sacrifice become as ambiguous rhetorically as dramatically. Is this another kind of manipulation, a jealous overcompensation or cross-empathy, or is he a PC white knight? Or is it just another example of ushering the plight of the marginal, or in current parlance and a worse extreme, mansplaining? (See the series Unbelievable for the best redress I know of to the problems of male perspective in all this, investigation and recounting, dramatically as well.) Regardless of that, the performances, mainly of Brittany Hall and Will Brill, and the directorial touch of Shatara Michelle Ford, make this more deft.
Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan (2020)
Julien Temple directs another round with Shane MacGowan (see 2001's If I Should Fall from Grace: The Shane MacGowan Story, among many other TV docs) and by craft or crafty neglect makes this a cut-up of folksy bio, lore and bullshit, Sunday sitdown and This Is Your Life, eulogy and blank stupor (of MacGowan's long marination), civic declamation and defamation. Johnny Depp is doing his darnedest to appear not just a chum of, but as pickled as MacGowan.
4/18/21
Nobody (2021)
The tradeoff and suspense about pushover v. armchair machismo, different levels of badass, talking v. doing, and the back story are what make this interesting, a better dramatic context for the action, and the first couple of action sequences have more touches like this, including vulnerability. Bob Odenkirk also shows how acting can make even action thrillers much more interesting, humorous and ironic touches to the glowering, exasperation and comeuppance. And to the thrill. But it does fall into more typical action fare at the end, even some goofy cheer stuff with Christopher Lloyd.
The Private Lives of Pippa Lee (2009)
This is like a parody of coming of age, midlife crisis indie movies. It even has a birth scene (see Goodbye Soviet Union). Except it's not funny. More surprising, or less, considering all those involved? Just check the credits.
Goodbye Soviet Union (2020)
Interesting for its subject situation, location in place and time: a Finnish subculture (Ingrian) in Estonia during the time of the already collapsing Soviet Union. It's cliched in the quirky coming of age way -- how many outrageous, ominous birth scenes have we seen. But it's not quite as heavy even on that, or as smug (maybe it just doesn't seem that way when not in the tones of my language). The recreation of costumes and sets, both the lagging styles of the communist block and the extravagant flashes of "the West," including punk, are given quite a colorful turn, rather than drab.
The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming (1966)
Though it seems in the vein of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, this is sharper in its parable structure, in the filmmaking (especially the opening with the Soviet sub), and in the point of its characterization. If taken more as a farcical dramatization than an outright comedy, a kind of social satire somewhat like the Ealing Studio movies, it won't be measured simply by jokes or gags. And its best point is showing how both sides are acting out of fear, weakness. Alan Arkin's performance in particular is cool and confident even with its humorous touches, and holds it all together. Perhaps more interesting is the parallax of hindsight, even the quaintness of the demontration of the larger frame of humanity. Imagine that now, even while having anyone too young try to imagine the context of the Cold War.
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963)
This is the movie that opened the Cinerama Dome in Los Angeles, see here. It's something like an attempt at a grand operatic peak of the zany, madcap humor (I still hear Terry Jones saying this in a pepperpot voice) of the 50s, but it's not really epic enough to live up to its three hours (various versions of it were more or less) and its Panavision widescreen. It has its moments -- Dick Shawn, Jonathan Winters tearing down a gas station, Terry-Thomas spieling about American infatuation with bosoms, Mickey Rooney parroting Jim Backus -- but stretches all of them out too much.
Tombstone (1993)
Now here's the way to do your overblown Western. (See Silverado.) This has some interesting twists of cultural flavor to expand on the period portrayed (not just anachronisms), and even the O.K. Corral is cast in a larger sweep that also includes the vendetta ride, but it's still a glossy pop spectacle of its day, conveying that more than the flavor of the American West.
Silverado (1985)
After writing The Return of the Jedi and writing and directing The Big Chill, Lawrence Kasdan wrote and directed this re- or unrevisionist Western to confirm his talent for stringing together lots of big pop movie ideas -- pandering plays or stabs -- without being able to make a good movie.
4/14/21 4/11/21
Love Eternal (1943)
The French title is L'Eternel retour, "the eternal return," and there's even a voiceover epigraph at the beginning referring to Nietzsche. But this version of the title is telling, perhaps more ways than intended. It's apparently just a dumb diversion in English, avoiding what someone thought wouldn't be understood in the title's reference. But this version of Jean Cocteau -- it's written by him, but directed by Jean Delannoy -- even more than Cocteau's own films (like Blood of a Poet or Beauty and the Beast) is more like amusing eccentric Victorian romance than surrealism or symbolic poetry. This is also supposed to be Cocteau's version of Tristan and Isolde, so for that reason, too, "eternal love" is more apt than the Eternal Return, and even what that epigraph makes of it is closer to Wagner than Nietzsche.
Black River (1957)
A sort of Japanese The Lower Depths for the post-war period, directed by Masaki Kobayashi. The communal slum under the American occupation is interesting, but the tone is sometimes just snazzy lurid more than ironic detachment or counterpoint, especially with the head gangster.
The Letter Room (2020)
This is a short (33 minutes) written and directed by Elvira Lind featuring a main performance by Oscar Isaac as a prison guard who gets promoted to the task of screening inmate correspondence, and who can't help crossing the line of privacy and interest. Feature length movies tend to work better as short stories than full or epic novels, which is to say there are management problems at 90 minutes or two hours. At a half hour the character setup stuff could've been reduced more for the sake of the main line of the story, but this also shows the bigger difficulty of the movie versus writing: its main action comes from reading letters and the reaction to that in the reader played by Isaac.
The Sterile Cuckoo (1969)
Something of an antidote to the 60s blessed fool, dropout and adult escapist fantasy type romantic comedies in that it dramatizes more the painful difficulties of fitting in, especially in the eccentric character played by Liza Minelli, a precursor to her Sally Bowles role in Cabaret. This is the directing debut for Alan Pakula and was written by Alvin Sargent (from a novel by John Nichols). The song montages are perhaps too much like those trendy movies, but the patient, gappy pace gives a feel of the characters echoing in the emptiness of the day, "Pookie" against all the anxiety of the social for her, and the last sequence of the movie uses this quite effectively, a douse of persistent banality to make it even more ambivalent and poignant than romantic strains.
4/4/21
Godzilla v. Kong (2021)
What's all these characters and subplots? Me want monkey fight lizard.
Paradise Now (2005)
A stroll through a day of Palestinian martyrdom. Not to make light, but the movie does have the not small virtue of playing straight, not grand, and really good performances in that vein for its two main characters from Kais Nashif and Ali Suliman. The way these two swap positions, and dispositions, is the best part of the drama and comment on the situation, revealed by the events and not merely schematic.
The Parallax View (1974)
A fashionable thriller of its day, somewhat like Klute -- same director, Alan Pakula, and cinematographer, Gordon Willis -- that gets good intrigue and feel mainly from its graphic plan, even though it doesn't really make sense and is just hanging on a Warren Commission and conspiracy bugaboo. But you can watch it as pure cinematography fashion, because it's from one of the best, with Willis even getting in some scenes that look like The Godfather movies. Detail study: Willis is famous for his use of darkness and contrast, and also getting richer colors with that. In Klute there's a great scene late on using the light from a window in a darker interior, and in this there's a shot where Warren Beatty is in the foreground, as the kind of right frame in the dark, then turns around and walks into the light coming from outside a door, which you don't know is there till Beatty's face catches it. It's a quick scene, and you could miss it, not showy, but just a great example of what Willis does, here for Pakula.
Color Me Kubrick (2005)
Lots of slouching fun with John Malkovich getting to play the bad impersonations of a con-man who pretended to be Stanley Kubrick for drinks, meals, pickups and other luxuries. Sometimes a little exercise like this takes care of all the rest. In The Object of Beauty, Malkovich gave a great performance of a kind of leisure class parasite, that was an acute observation with perhaps more dramatic weight. Here there's observation, but it's more obvious and just more outright fun. And it's also another kind of twist to watch the famous exploit those who exploit them. Check out the folks snuck into this cast, like Marisa Berenson, Honor Blackman and Richard E. Grant.
Children of a Lesser God (1986)
This is a very thick slice of message movie style declamation. The matter of deafness creates the necessity, if not justification for this, with one character, played by William Hurt, literally stating all the drama because that's how they decided to deal with translating sign language. Apparently this was affected as much by the perception that American audiences didn't like to read subtitles. There's also an electronic score by Michael Convertino that, while it avoids more love-story sentimental cliche, is more exotic and sober at once about the plaintive -- a bit more like a Blade Runner air -- becomes shrill in its own right. Despite all the attention for Marlee Matlin in all this it's William Hurt who surprisingly manages to come off well. This was right in line with Kiss of the Spider Woman and Broadcast News, where we got a much better range for Hurt than previously from Altered States, Body Heat and The Big Chill.
Wise Blood (1979)
This is a delectable adaptation of Flannery O'Connor, with John Huston directing and Brad Dourif making a perfect Hazel Motes in a great cast including Amy Wright, Harry Dean Stanton, Ned Beatty, William Hickey and Huston himself. Dan Shor actually does a great job too, giving even more of a squalid and pathetic quality. But apart from the endemic problem of dramatizing a book, Huston adds to the prosaic with some flourishes, in one case some jangly music that has a strident comic tone, feeling incongruous or tacked on. It's as if he's concerned to keep this from being too dark and weird, or that we wouldn't get the dark humor in the irony, where O'Connor, like Kafka, can be difficult for those who need the comic and serious distinct.
Bed and Board (1970)
In the Antoine Doinel series after The 400 Blows, the stages of life are shown with such a farcical elan and detachment as to approach surreal. Perhaps this is carrying on the perspective of the street urchin and reform school kid, who just can't see anything as serious or responsible, later love, marriage, jobs, family. But it also makes me think of a remark by Nietzsche, in Twilight of the Idols, with respect to the "struggle for survival" as he took Darwin's sense of it: "the total appearance of life is not the extremity, not starvation, but rather riches, profusion, even absurd squandering." Truffaut gives, in a way like no one else, this sense of life, even the drama of it, as leisure, play, floating or flying. But it also puts him in league with flight and play of Clair, the dash of Renoir, and the play with forms and ideas of Godard.
Up in the Air (2009)
Writer and director Jason Reitman (from Walter Kirn's novel) gives us a view of the U.S. that is more unflinchingly travel-circuit mid-management than I think we've ever seen in the movies: the generic offices, hotels, airlines and restaurants that represent also how much cheapening has been done for all but the very richest. The frankness of a point of view outside the family hard-sell that becomes the debt trap also works with this. It's similar to Alexander Payne or Miguel Arteta (see his Cedar Rapids), refreshingly unsentimental or unfluffed, in either a movie drama or message way, or even a show-offy debunking way. That is until it falls into that sort of darling, feel-good, moral scales stuff in two later movements.
Cyrus (2010)
Here's a nice little screw turner excellently showcasing John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei, Jonah Hill, and Catherine Keener. Just a reminder that there's plenty of drama, and excruciating comedy of the cathartic kind, in situations, to be got with patient discovery in script and direction, and with acting, before you get to bang cuts or CG, and with tennis shoes rather than a knife or a gun.
Fair Game (2010)
This dramatization of the events around Joe Wilson (Sean Penn) and Valerie Plame (Naomi Watts) is heavy on the handheld and the little zoom pushes, in that pushy "this is real and intense" way that had already become a TV show fad, and trying to keep things wound up as if not quite trusting us to get the sense of drama. But it's still a good reminder of what a previous Repugnantscum administration thought of "honor" and law and order before we somehow got even lower.
3/28/21
Day for Night (1973)
When the opening segment pulls back to reveal the action is the making of a movie, and in long takes where director Francois Truffaut playing the director within the movie takes care of lots of business while walking around the set in long tracking shots, it seems too artificial to be properly or pertinently reflexive. But this ode to movie-making is a lark and a farce in the tone of Truffaut's movies like Stolen Kisses and Bed & Board. It pays tribute to the same kinds of banality, but fluffed and spun up so they float and glide, and here including even that of the movie-making. From the soap opera on the set, it soars into montages with the regal and classical sounding chorale by Georges Delerue, including some formal jokes of the director in bed with his obsessive dreams, all the shit you put up with and the fun and art you make of it.

 
 
Triassic Hunt (2021)
This is the thinking stupid person's stupid bad movie. It's some kind of model for simultaneously boiling down and overworking a plot as one reveal machination after another, progressively more ridiculous, making a treatment out of that even as labored exposition, then putting that treamment into the mouths of the characters as the dialog, then making that the cheap bait and switch trick of the whole movie because you've basically got just a few CG keyframe segments of the same dinosaur that you plug into not very many scenes. So it's pretty much like a few GIFs with lots of exposition. And just move some desks askew in a brick building office to stand for vaguely military operation temporary command center, looking quite more cozy than the usual steamy, neon, industrial sci-fi set. Special notice goes to Michael Paré for giving a performance with more passion than either the story or his pay grade called for.
Godzilla v. SpaceGodzilla (1994)
I believe there's a riff that Mike Nelson and company do on either Mystery Science Theater or Rifftrax about making the word "space" a prefix for anything as the goofiest, baldest, specious pandering: space food, space juice, space phone, space pen, space friends. So you've got this, keeping at least one fad going 30 years on.
A Shock to the System (1990)
Here's a great role for and performance by Michael Caine that may have snuck by you like it did me. Written by Andrew Klavan, this is directed by Jan Egleson with a great touch in that it's expressive without trumping up, intent without pushing, letting the actors, especially Caine, but also Peter Riegert, Elizabeth McGovern and Swoozie Kurtz, have charateristic but also new flourishes, but composing all that to follow a story that has a sneaky progression. It's similar to Wakefield in the way that it sneaks you into the account and perspective of a character that otherwise is not quite reasonable or sane, but also casts light -- or perhaps darkness -- in more than one direction. Like that film too, it's an ingenious way of lacing parable into plot so that neither are overbearing.
Trees Lounge (1996)
Everyone in this movie is an interesting actor worth mentioning -- just read the cast -- the friends of Steve Buscemi society being the heritage of independent cinema (before that was just trendy "indie") from Cassavetes to Jarmusch. It takes a little less than half for the move to settle into something other than an actors' party Buscemi put on, and then it does have a nice deceptive story about how all the "real," good things in life haven't saved a local hanger-on from the drinking that would have been recourse for not having them. Chloe Sevigny stands out here, among these peers and among her own work.
52 Pickup (1986)
Director John Frankenheimer and cinematographer John Vacano keep this thick and rapt, and especially with the delectably loopy performances of John Glover, incongruously offhand, and Clarence Williams III, offhand wound up, despite the leaps in the script of Elmore Leonard and John Steppling. Leonard may have been able to make better transition in his novel, but the characters played by Roy Scheider and Ann-Margret seem to be missing steps between self-sacrificing and self-incriminating partial disclosure, panicked accusation, lone wolf revenge, and loyal teamwork. Leonard wants to keep things closer to the ground for the drama, but the leaps are more action impetus than human foible.
Frankenhooker (1990)
It has some good cracks and a general conscientiously trashy parody tone, but the standing around in the scene pace of low-rate 80s horror movies. Lead James Lorinz sports a pair of eyeglasses as large as any in the 80s. It's more an updating of The Brain that Woudn't Die than Frankenstein, and has some other savvy links like Louise Lasser and Shirley Stoler.
The Gauntlet (1977)
There's a pithier, more vulnerable quality throughout this than in the Dirty Harry sequels, and that makes a more interesting character for Clint Eastwood as well as others. But then it jumps into even more squirrelly stunts, like a brigade of police literally shooting a house down, or Clint bamboozling a biker gang. But that's a good reminder. How did this TV cowboy with his squirelly, 70s pandering humor, even more literally circusy with an orangutan, that he dragged into the 80s, get to be this Hollywood prestige director?
Twilight (1998)
Pretty goofy really, but still sort of fun to watch these folks -- check the cast -- and the showoff homes they used for sets. Nice cinematography, but the whole thing is showroom. And no matter how sexy Paul Newman might still be at 73, sultry noirish love scenes is stretching it.
3/25/21
Bertrand Tavernier is gone. Among other things, he gave us a great movie version of Jim Thompson's Pop. 1280, as Coup de torchon. (If you're using Chrome browser, you can use the Chrome translate tool for the article linked here.)

Mort de Bertrand Tavernier, inlassable cinéaste et amoureux vorace du septième art

3/21/21
The Dead Pool (1988)
Despite some liveliness from Patricia Clarkson, Liam Neeson (and check out the early Jim Carrey performance as a junkie rocker) and a plot about a pool for the death of celebrities, they can't bring the Dirty Harry act back to life.
Suddent Impact (1983)
Coincidentally, compare Promising Young Woman to this, where Dirty Harry is on the trail of a woman, played by Sondra Locke, who's tracking down the rapists of her and her sister. This was the Dirty Harry sequel directed by Clint Eastwood, but despite the twists to the main case, the Harry act, bitching matches with superiors and renegade action, is tired, just as the catchphrase was the first time it was repeated, which is in the movie. If you don't know what I'm referring to, I'm not going to repeat it.
Promising Young Woman (2020)
This works like a farce rather than a thriller. That's clever in its own right, and it's clever enough to keep it interesting when it starts to tip or sag into the kind of smug cutesiness of romcom. But the revenge fantasy also works best as a kind revenge on or redress of romcom, and that works out in several ways, including as sort of a three-act double change-up. There are also moments when the whimsy that elsewhere is quaint has a much grander leap in vision. What director Emerald Fennell (who played Camilla Parker Bowles in the series The Crown) gets best is the performances, with cool and subtle touches from the players across the board that keep it from becoming too preachy or schematic.
Psycho Goreman (2020)
Some children unearth a cosmic villain but also the gem to control him. This is low-key in the good way, good-natured with its punchy, anti-saccharine humor and low-tech gore. It also works well right now as a riff on characters like Thanos and Steppenwolf. The execution is aimed at the comic turns so it doesn't fall too much into the sort of plot its spoofing.
When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth (1970)
There should be a list for dumbest movies, not even necessarily really bad, just dumb. There needs to be that list at least for this, because this is one of the dumbest movies ever. The movie begins with bad pretentious poetry, the first line: "A time of beginnings." As if what's happening weren't dumb enough, they keep barking the same half dozen made-up caveman words over and over: neecha! Akoba! Akita! Madonna! And over and over, and they don't stop, all the way through the movie. If they made any sort of sense, corresponded to anything, why would you bother to find out? Since you can tell it's a dumb beach love triangle anyway, with Victoria Vetri the low-rate Raquel Welch. The bad teleology of the primal projection of chauvinistic sex cliches is the object of Caveman's parody, but even parody can't avoid the dumbness. Caveman humor. The stop motion effects, headed by Jim Danforth, are not bad, but this movie certainly does not offer any argument for even dramatic license to show humans existing at the time of the dinosaurs.
Black Sunday (1977)
What seems like it would be another 70s disaster movie is actually more like a spy intrigue. Directed by John Frankenheimer, the most compelling thing about this, apart from Bruce Dern's performance, is John Alonzo's cinemtography. Alonzo, whose most famous work is Chinatown, was a pioneer with handheld and natural lighting, and here it's more fascinating to watch how Alonzo copes with the way Frankenheimer maps out shots and keeps them looking good. Even for the climactic ending, where the blimp antics are as goofy as 70s disaster movies (and the photography can't help), the shooting during the actual Super Bowl X, with the Pittsburgh Steelers and Dallas Cowboys (featuring actual plays, and this one included three great catches by Lynn Swann including one of the most spectacular ever), with Robert Shaw and Fritz Weaver walking around on the field during the actual event, is more interesting.
You Don't Know Jack (2010)
Whether it's Roy Cohn, Phil Spector, Joe Paterno or Jimmy Hoffa, going back at least to Lowell Bergman in The Insider, Al Pacino has made a specialty of playing famous personages in mostly made for cable projects the last 20 years or so, and generally speaking, he's done better with this than some histrionic performances in the 90s (frequently parodied). Here it's Jack Kevorkian, and Pacino does a decent Midwest northern accent (with occasional NY slipping through), to go along with the feisty forthright, often humorous, manner. Barry Levinson directed, and there are some nice performances by Brenda Vaccaro, Danny Huston, Susan Sarandon and John Goodman. There's a spry spirit to this that may seem to some too flip for the subject matter, but this is also to the point about the way we deal with it.
3/14/21
From the Giant Unidentified Creature Response Task Force Headquarters:

If you want a shorthand way to comment on the movies, you can use the Headometer:

0 = Hybernating in a mountain or flown off to the far side of Jupiter.
  = One head paying attention, one using cell phone, one eating pedestrians.
    = Two heads paying attention, the other messing with cell phone.
      = Full attention.
  = Lightning beams!

Magnum Force (1973)
And Ted Post also directed this, which looks better, but doesn't look as good as the original, Dirty Harry. It doesn't have the visual sweep, but even where it tries to capture that, doesn't have the lurid quality or dramatic pace. And it steps right into silly implausibility to make the point about Harry, but then has a plot about a secret group of more outrageously vigilante police to make Harry look better. The idea of the police sub-order is interesting and of course would have pertinence up to today, but it's just action thriller purposes here.
Go Tell the Spartans (1978)
By contrast to Casualties of War, this late 70s Vietnam film that got lost among Coming Home, The Deer Hunter and Apocalypse Now, looks quite pedestrian -- it has a very TV look to it, like the M*A*S*H series, but even flatter, not even doing as much as that -- but has a more interesting script and better performances, especially from Burt Lancaster and Craig Wasson, and two interesting standouts in the smaller parts, Joe Unger and Jonathan Goldsmith (of the "most interesting man in the world" fame). Ted Post directed, and he did some TV, like Columbo, that looked better than this. It may have been a matter of budget.
Casualties of War (1989)
The photography looks good from the beginning, and Brian DePalma does lots of interesting things, a cross-section of a tunnel like an ant farm and deep-focus effects showing you what a character is not seeing, but the script and the acting, the latter because of DePalma, are so strident the dramatic effect dissipates as it's supposed to build. In other movies of DePalma's, there's a schlocky quality to this, but here it's as if he's going for a big Oscar-type movie effect, like another Platoon. Michael J. Fox has more of an excuse than Sean Penn. Fox is surprisingly good early on, as a naïve who's finding everything interesting and even exciting. But the more serious the dramatic demand gets, the more his panting and seething just don't carry it. Penn has moments where he's just chomping the scenery like his tobacco, an unusual extent and tone for him. But both of these fall to DePalma, for allowing if not calling for it.
Blood and Wine (1996)
The talent, here -- Bob Rafelson and his cast especially -- cannot save this (story by Rafelson, script by Nick Villiers and Alison Cross) from its dumbness. Turns and jumps in the plot are as implausible as they are convenient and contrived, so the characters don't really seem tangled in the web of fate that makes noir or thrillers compelling. And this leads to a climax on a dock that is unintentionally goofy, like a parody of the basic Greed or noir parable conclusion, with Jack Nicholson flopping around like a fish.
Baby It's You (1983)
John Sayles didn't produce this himself, and didn't get to edit it, so perhaps he's not to blame for the unevenness. The coming of age period story resembles lots of others during the high school years, but hits a more interesting stride in the college years. The groping around is certainly what the characters are going through, but the episodic pace remains more like high school hijinks. About the time something more interesting and poignant is made of it, it's the end. Good performance from Rosanna Arquette.
3/7/21
Mighty Joe Young (1949)
King Kong juniorette. Kong is scaled down, literally -- the gorilla, Joe Young, is about the scale of an elephant rather than two or three stories -- starts as the pet of a little girl, and wrecks a swank tropical night club in New York rather than a swath of the city. Willis O'Brien did the special effects again, with Rarry Harryhausen getting a first technician credit. It's the same team as Kong, Ernest Schoedsack and Merian Cooper. The stop motion gorilla and it's combination with live action, including lions, is what's interesting here. Those raised on CG may take it for granted, but this is still pretty impressive for what they devised and executed in their day, and of course set in motion.

And as a Ben Johnson double feature: Johnson's character is a cowhand who wants to get on board for a trip to Africa. Asked if he's from Texas, he retorts, "Oklahoma! We ride and rope there, too."
Bite the Bullet (1975)
A brassy adventure about a 700-mile horse race, with nod to the "modernized" Western because it's set at the turn of the 20th century (with motorbikes and after San Juan Hill, and some garb that looks too 1970s), but nod to the "classic" (i.e. spectacle of the 60s) Westerns with its pseudo-Copeland score (more a copy of The Big Country or The Magnificent Seven). The setup is all stagey cowboy movie stuff, except also to show how damned nice everyone is. But writer and director Richard Brooks didn't have much trust in the horse race being interesting, because all this other stuff keeps happening. Sometimes, though, this really suspenseful music is going on to let us know, well, that's what the race is.

Ben Johnson is in the movie. Born in Oklahoma, Johnson was a rodeo star, then a horse handler and stunt man for movies before he was put in front of the camera. When Ben Johnson's character says he wants to go back to Oklahoma, Jan Michael Vincent says, "I'd rather go to hell than Oklahoma."
8 Million Ways to Die (1986)
Hal Ashby directs a script by Oliver Stone and David Lee Henry that has or wants to have similarities to Scarface. The combination is a bizarre disjointed thing. The story includes preliminary episodes of cop Jeff Bridges's history and downfall, yanks him into the main movement confusedly, then spends lots of times on dialog scenes that are like actors' exercises, mostly between Bridges and Andy Garcia. Those are sort of interesting in their own right, but they don't make for the greatest pace or even suspense. When Rosanna Arquette is sitting in the back of a car waiting during one of these dialogs, the suspense is supposed to be building, but it's hard not to see her expression as, "what's taking so long?"
Thief (1981)
And keeping the safe-crack theme going, how about a double feature with Michael Mann's debut? Out of the gate, we get the Mann combo, played thick and intent -- the look and the way he looks are better -- but with a lot of script material that's just, well, dopey. James Caan's high class professional thief has all kinds of gritty 70s movie angst and humble origins behind his resentment, but his code of nobility and his machinations for it are like whore with a heart of gold shtick (and Willie Nelson thrown in for that, too). The movie is at its best, and like Riffifi, during the heist sequences. If it had stuck to that rapt approach and made the tarnished knight stuff more oblique, it would have been better, and in the end it falls into much more pedestrian revenge stuff.
Safe Men (1998)
How about Sam Rockwell, Steve Zahn, Mark Ruffalo and Paul Giamatti in one movie? And how about throwing in Peter Dinklage, Michael Lerner and Harvey Fierstein, too? This 1998 -- most of those folks relatively early on -- comedy written and directed by John Hamburg, is clever, fun and good-hearted, without being self-consciously quirky or pushing the caper or sentimental stuff too far. It spends the time on well-rounded character dialog scenes, but keeps the plot going with turns that don't strain plausibility, and with interesting digressions.
The Accountant of Auschwitz (2018)
The trial of Oskar Groening is significant because only now is German law coming around to accept extended prosecution of Nazi involvement in death camps and this may be the last trial simply because of the age of the perpetrators. This Canadian documentary is level-headed, not lurid, but the inclusion of Alan Dershowitz, next to those like Benjamin Ferencz, wrankled this American, especially as Dershowtiz is going on Fox News to offer the same kind of twisted arguments against comparing Trump to the Nazis that racists and Americans who carry Nazi flags are making. Apart from the flagrant creepy hypocrisy of that, what is the point of holding up the memory and lesson of the holocaust and World War II, if not precisely to prevent what we now have: people marching in the streets of the U.S. and a president supporting them and the autocratic subversion of any law.
Impromptu (1991)
A drawing room comedy about George Sand and Chopin, among other famous friends, that takes bustle for wit. Some good performers are wasted along with some not so good ones.
The League of Gentlemen Apocalypse (2005)
The inevitable movie from the The League of Gentleman series is a joke about the inevitable movie, as the creators -- four writers, three of them performers -- imagine being haunted, well stalked really, by their own characters who don't wish to be extinguished. And they have their cake and eat it, too, since they invent some new outrageous characters as well. But if you haven't checked out the series, here's a call for that, especially the first two of 1999 and 2000. This is humor heavily influenced by -- horror! The group of sketch artists ties all their characters (three of them playing most, Kids in the Hall style), to one imaginary far north English town. It's like a compendium of the worst types in Britain cast in lurid black parody tones. The sketch about the character who forces a joke to be told is the most brilliant stroke, perhaps the microcosm for the humor as terror as humor tack. Among other things, Mark Gatiss went on to write the Sherlock Holmes series with Benedict Cumberbatch, and Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton created Inside No. 9, which is one of the best series period.
The Ploughman's Lunch (1982)
Here's a film so sly you may think you're reading into it. But, yes, these are young opportunists in radio and newspaper in the UK at the time of the Falklands crisis and Thatcher in general, and although like a farce, it becomes difficult to tell who's playing whom and which reason is the ulterior -- Jonathan Pryce's lead seems to be using a woman to get a story, but the story to get the woman, and the woman doesn't really seem to care much either way -- the cool pace to the whole thing keeps it from being heavy-handed funny or sad. But this is also what makes it sneaky about drawing you in. Pryce and Tim Curry give great performances, and despite not being played so energetically, this movie has something that suggests the tone and shrewdness of observation of Withnail and I.
2/28/21
Willy's Wonderland (2021)
In Nicolas Cage's 300th offbeat B, underground or indie role this year, he plays an animatronicidal maniac who just happens to be unwittingly trapped for the owner of a Chuck E. Cheese type establishment which has been too literally preying on its consumer base. Perhaps even more interesting or novel: will Cage utter a single word? The displacement of the gore onto the furry suit or mechanical stand-ins, themselves for animatronics, is more clever and delectable for slasher movies, movies in general, than so much overworked "meta" stuff, and gets better mileage. The movie keeps enough clever quips and turns coming, and with decent timing, neither too hyper nor goopy, to overcome some more obvious slasher clichés and two really glaring exposition sequences. I think they may have been trying to make those a joke, too, but they weren't funny for that. The movie insists on completing the story of the amusement joint in a way you don't care about when things about the Cage character beg a bigger payoff.
Robocop 3 (1993)
Despite a script that retreads too much, there is considerably more spring in this second sequel. Director Fred Dekker's pace and timing are not just vastly better than 2, but even than the original in some cases, and this helps even the Nancy Allen character, which was pretty corny from the start. But this has a surprising cast that also rivals the original. Weller is gone but so was his drier style in the second. Robert John Burke does fine even with the way the character is muted a bit, more in line with the original, and then there's CCH Pounder, Rip Torn, Stephen Root, Daniel von Bargen (George's "whatever" boss in Seinfeld), Bradley Whitford (bringing the zing back to the corporate dick that Miguel Ferrer had), Jill Hennessy (making the least wooden and big-spectacled scientist friend), even Jeff Garlin in a bit role! Robert DoQui is also back along with Allen. This looks the cheapest of the three, in many places, but the acting and direction more than make up for that.
Robocop 2 (1990)
Irvin Kershner directed this but there's no evidence of the touch that made The Empire Strikes Back the best Star Wars movie. As with his out of the official line Bond film Never Say Never Again, this is shapeless and gappy, and Peter Weller's robocop joke is trumped up in the dead space of a ticky-tacky plot, as if holding for laughs in a quiet room. Frank Miller took over the writing, but while this presses the point further about corporate takeover -- and how absurdly prophetic this was for Detroit -- the satirical zip, even if black, of the original is just not there.
Reds (1981)
Played up and played out. Compare with Bugsy and Bulworth and even Dick Tracy and then back to Heaven Can Wait and Shampoo, and this fits into the context of Warren Beatty making anything else the background for romance. This is certainly the most ambitious and even accomplished in many ways, with touches that seem influenced by Woody Allen as much as John Reed, American society, the history of class struggle or even David Lean. The best stroke is the interviews, against black background, of more or less famous actual figures who lived in the times portrayed, and whose offhand comments show the contention of memory, history, legacy. There are sequences where the political discourse, all the research of Reed and other sources, gets compressed, minimized into montage sequences serving as part of the meet cute, yet others where Diane Keaton in a fit of pique rattles off what sounds like lines from a position paper.
Bad Company (1995)
This is the most unintentionally funny "big" movie thriller I've seen in a while. I'm not even sure why, but there were several scenes in this that made me burst out laughing, and the biggest was the climax where Ellen Barkin and Laurence Fishburne do each other but good. It's not the sustained goofiness of The Long Kiss Goodnight, and director Damian Harris even has a good, patient manner. But the story certainly has its goofiness and the production design is stupid chic. The characters work in a museum and live in installations, with solids on the sets and costumes so thick you could ink your stamp with them. It may be admirable for certain reasons, a black lead and interracial romance without ado, and good work for Fishburne and Barkin, but does this level of thriller really constitute social progress, let alone cultural? Barkin hasn't exactly matched the pace of Mickey Rourke's movie career, since they were in Diner together, both enormously promising, but she's had a similarly inverse proportion of project quality to renown.
The Good Shepherd (2006)
Ambitious project about the history of the CIA, and for Robert De Niro as director (of the movie, though he also plays the man behind the founding of the agency). The brooding, even dour tone, while ostensibly to do with the main character Edward Wilson (Matt Damon) and his icy bearing, becomes more inexplicable at nearly three hours, though the incessant piano music seems to be trying to make something more poignant out of it all. You may find yourself wanting Bourne to come crashing through a window.
Robocop (2014)
Since anything has to be remade, upgraded for effects if nothing else. Joel Kinnaman takes the Peter Weller role, and folks like Michael Keaton, Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Jackson, Jackie Earl Haley and Michael K. Williams lend if heft, but heavy is inevitably the problem. This has none of the charm of the original, and especially the parodic news and commercial bits have been turned into a strident, overbearing shtick with Jackson. Even if there is object and reason for this, it doesn't have the same deftness. This actually works off stuff from the previous Robocop sequels, as well, in the way it covers the extended manipulations of man and machine, but adds the projection of the robot technology into military operations.
Storm over Asia (1928)
Vsevolod Pudovkin's model of the slow build of turmoil to uprising (see his most famous film, Mother) is here set on the eastern reaches of the Central Asian part of the Russian/Soviet empire. Though Pudovkin tended to a slower pace relative to Eisenstein or Dziga Vertov, like the other Soviet directors his editing can still seem modern compared to other silent film of the era, and there are still lightning montages in places. Here, his composition gives a striking, confident presentation of the steppes and deserts, Mongolians and Buddhists, not only within shots but in their order, and a wry, incisive tone without matched sound or dialog.
The Snapper (1993)
Good-hearted effort from director Stephen Frears and his cast, especially Colm Meaney, if a bit too telelgraphed. It's more social comedy than kitchen sink, but salty enough to make the sweet go down.
2/21/21
The Return of Frank James (1940)
Much better than its predecessor, this was directed by Fritz Lang, and gets into the reputation and lore of Jesse James. The portrayal of the pulp press hyping James and stage shows milking Bob Ford prefigures The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid, The Assassination of Jesse James and even Unforgiven. And more the historical context of the James Gang with the Civil War politics of Missouri is covered in trial scenes. But the movie takes its own liberties with history, with brother Frank's going after Ford and their various encounters, including one that quite trumps the theater scene, and with what actually happened to Ford.
Irma La Douce (1963)
It's not just compared to other Billy Wilder that this seems, after a fairly promising opening, quaint and bottled up and stage bound, despite the pretense to worldliness, but just consider The Umbrellas of Cherbourg for the touch this isn't. And as with What a Way to Go, the resolution of respectability with marriage seems like a gross obviation, and in this case ghastly grandiose.
Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965)
Voluptuous women are badasses and muscle boys are sissies. Lines are screeched and honked and railed, delivered the same way they lurch in subject, position or rhetoric. The plot is nothing but pretexts for posing, in more than one sense. All the characters relay the garish groping prose of the voiceover narration like a chorus, even if they state incongruous or conflicting positions. Russ Meyer's burlesque is as jump-cut as it is lurid. It became a burlesque of even (and more fun than most ) porn, but though tamer relative to that, this is like the high jazz of the B movie.
The Border (1982)
Revisited. Review originally published in The Oklahoma Daily will be in forthcoming print version of movie writing.
The Informer (2019)
Creates intrigue and tightens the screws with the situation and good performances from Joel Kinnamen (back to the form of Easy Money, and not the silly series Altered Carbon), Ignacy Rybarczyk, Ana de Armas, Rosamund Pike, Clive Owen, Common, and especially Eugene Lipinski. This last, in the scene where his mob boss tells Kinnamen's character how it's going to be, does this best in blunt deadpan, setting up all the tension of the existential situation, i.e. the shit our man has got in over his head. Taking it all this seriously eventually comes to seem more silly, but at least it doesn't play like the overwrought "dark" that has become cliche.
Monster Hunter (2020)
Some of these shots were five seconds long. I fell asleep.
Kubrick by Kubrick (2020)
Originally aired on Arte in France (it's only 1 hour 13 minutes; it was entered in the Tribeca Film Festival that was cancelled due to the virus), this documentary is built around an audiotape interview with Stanley Kubrick conducted by French critic, writer and director Michel Ciment. Kubrick, who gave few interviews, is at ease enough with Ciment to say exactly why at the outset. Or at least that's what they lead with here. He also says quite plainly just why it's a trap for a director to talk about the work, or more precisely, to be expected to explain it or articulate it in another way. After all, the movie is already an articulation; that's the way he did it.
Saint Maud (2019)
Writer and director Rose Glass's tale of delusional descent reverses the allegorical positions of something like Rosemary's Baby, or really vast swaths of witch and vampire and superstitious horror fare, and serves as a view for the way religion and narcissism have come to a head, but despite fine performances from Marfydd Clark and Jennifer Ehle, while not quite the excess of modern horror fare, it's still pitched too much in that direction.
Love Liza (2002)
While this may be harder to watch after what happened to Philip Seymour Hoffman, it now has added significance for the same reason. And it's not just because of addiction, but also because of loss and mourning. The spiral involves the quirky as well as the morose, as an apparent interest in gas fumes leads to the world of remote controlled vehicles, with the Hoffman character's ulterior interest making an amusing contrast to the RC buffs.
The Kiss Before the Mirror (1933)
James Whale directed this story (script by William Anthony McGuire, from a play by Ladislaus Fodor) about jealousy apparently on the same sets as Frankenstein (it's supposed to be set in Vienna, but they appear to be in castles and dungeons), with some great perspective flourishes with mirrors and rotation around character pointing, but with that histrionic acting style of Colin Clive. Here the main agent is Frank Morgan of Wizard of Oz fame.
2/15/21
Happy New Year (1987)
Strange little remake of Claude Lelouch's 1973 film (La bonne année) with the kind of 80s production design that looks like a glossy hotel, and everyone is too primly appointed, even in their heavy disguise makeup. Peter Falk and Charles Durning are the main point of interest. But the main problem goes back to the original: swindle drama and romance don't prepare you for the drama of jealousy and acceptance this becomes, a leap in the third act.
The Killer Elite (1975)
Odd piece from Marc Norman and Stirling Silliphant, directed by Sam Peckinpah, about CIA contractors that also involves kung fu ninja battles, with James Caan and Robert Duvall. The tone, with intrigue among the higher ups, would be heavier than martial arts movies, but, interestingly presented though they are by Peckinpah, those scenes and Caan's training with his master make this just a revenge melodrama.
The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing (1973)
Bland like a TV movie, this makes an effort to show the plight of women in the old West to some more rugged extent, but it feels like it's only from a less violent sexist perspective of the 70s. Jack Warden stands out, though as particularly nasty.
The Sugarland Express (1974)
Around the same time as Badlands, Steven Speilberg made his first theatrical film release also based on a true story of a fugitive couple, with obvious nod to Bonnie and Clyde. With good performances by Goldie Hawn, William Atherton and Ben Johnson, and some ironic appearances by Texas locals, this has a proficient sprawl to the spectacle, and lots of ways with Vilmos Zsigmond to make things look richer than studio production (as Spielberg did with TV he worked on, too). But while it's certainly not the extended conception and elliptical method of Malick, it also doesn't have the sort of dramatic charge to the banality and spectacle of Dog Day Afternoon.
2/14/21
Meet the Censors (2020)
Shoot from the hip documentary about the uses of censorship in various countries, not to say regimes, throughout the world. The idea, or the basic question posed, is whether the attempt to stop provocation and incitation of hate crimes and fascist tactics in Western democracies due largely to the rise of social media can avoid the obvious autocratic uses of censorship itself. Unfortunately, the execution is the Norwegian filmmaker barging into hasty appointments, including one with the Ayatollah in Iran, with his fuzzy covered large interview mike in hand, but not much more of a plan. He doesn't get surprising responses. It's more his reaction, in voiceover, than anything else.
Stanley and Iris (1990)
Prosaic piece from director Martin Ritt, with low-key work from Robert De Niro and Jane Fonda (more of welcome surprise in her case) about illiteracy.
Ukraine: From Democracy to Chaos (2012)
Documentary that covers mostly from the orange revolution, though it doesn't go much beneath the surface of the news coverage. It doesn't cover the underlying strategy of Russia to influence foreign elections, though it does cover much of the events that were both cause and effect of this, including the Georgian conflict, and it doesn't cover the broader effects on Ukrainian society (see Donbass (2018) for a dramatization of the collapse). But it does give some broader historical context, from the beginnings of the Ukraine, and including the "holodomor," the orchestrated famine and starvation by Stalin.
2/12/21
What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (2018)
Decent survey of Kael, with a good collection of speakers, both Paulettes and beyond, though not any real detractors, a good balance of her pre-New Yorker days, without cliche movie soundtrack music, but with title comments imposing an almost fairytale moral order to the story. I would rather dig deeper into various parts, but this serves well for those who haven't encountered her as much.
2/9/21
The Royal Hunt of the Sun (1969)
For those of you who know Christopher Plummer only as Captain Von Trapp, there's a great range of roles to check out, in movies still, since we can't go back and see all his remarkable stage career (he's considered one of the greatest Shakespearean actors of the Western Hemisphere). And even if you have seen him as Commodus or Wellesley or in The Return of the Pink Panther or The New World or Knives Out, you may not have seen this most remarkable performance as the Incan demigod Atahuallpa. This is based on a Peter Shaffer play and resembles so many Robert Shaw projects and roles, especially Custer of the West, here Plummer playing opposite Shaw's Pizarro. It's a decent transplanting of the play, not quite the cinematic work of Aquirre Wrath of God, but something similar for the stage.
Powwow Highway (1989)
This is a decent depiction of Native Americans, though it never had wide release, did poorly at the box office, and doubtless remains obscure for most. In the manner of Withnail and I, another Handmade Films project, it's not feel-good or ennobling obviation, but more pithy about grievances, differences and foibles, and thus more articulate about circumstance and disposition. It even comments a mistier view versus a sober one. A Martinez and Gary Farmer are the leads, and Graham Green and Wes Studi have small roles before more well known ones.
Spaceballs (1987)
Apart from an early gag on passing spaceship shots, spoofing 2001 as much as Star Wars, the production design and gags have to be so tinny and brassy that it resembles more things like Hardware Wars, The Princess Bride and Blazing Saddles. The pokes at merchandizing, including video sales, give it more range.
2/7/21
Parents (1989)
Zany 50s comedy, horror film, and psychological perspective are brought together in a way that, fortunately, prevents it from being just any one of them. But there's still something modular about it, applied, and not twisted up and made whole the way it is with, say, David Lynch. Angelo Badalamenti has some pieces in the score here to make a link for the comparison. The primal scene is lust for the flesh in more than one way, but how this works best is as a burlesque nightmare for why someone becomes vegetarian. Bob Balaban, also actor and producer, is the director here, his theatrical release debut, and responsible for the interesting turn. Randy Quaid and Mary Beth Hurt are great as the giddy conspirators.
The Field (1990)
The tilt of the whole portrait here is what makes it interesting, a pitch of half-crazed eloquent banality. Richard Harris, Sean Bean and especially John Hurt get to show their chops. But when the climactic moment comes, the tragic level of the actions is played with the broadness of The Quiet Man, and it's hard to take that kind of contrast as workable counterpoint. Hurt never fails to amaze me.
The Molly Maguires (1970)
The literary script by Walter Bernstein gives attention to intricacies that typical movie melodramas do not, and of course the historical details here are not just typical history book stuff, let alone movies. Bernstein and director Martin Ritt were both blacklisted (they also worked on Woody Allen's The Front), so their view is liable to be different regardless of any political affiliation. But that same literary quality is sometimes stagey, overdone for some of the scenes or encounters.
Virus Shark (2021)
Backyard level of bad, sometimes entertaining for that. A school building unabashedly plays an undersea station, and the "special" effects are ridiculous CG and props, separately and as a mix. This is not the level of Sharknado movies, where even the actors seem to be in on the joke. It's hard to tell anymore how shrewd people are being -- or think they are -- about making bad movies, because even the levels of self-awareness mean drastically different quality.
The Return of the Fly (1959)
A sequel built for cashing in on what was already done, this adds a lot of intrigue junk, increases the size of the fly head, and makes the tiny hybrid like 50s Photoshop.
The Last Tycoon (1976)
Strange hash of a movie from the mid-70s, an adaptation of a Fitzgerald novel, with an all-star cast like a disaster movie of those days, but the look and feel of a TV movie. The first part of the movie jumps around so quickly it's like a recap of a mini-series. You can scarcely keep up with the appearances of the stars -- Robert De Niro, Jeanne Moreau, Tony Curtis, Robert Mitchum, Ray Milland -- all the small parts are stars, too; there's stars just standing around -- let alone the story. Towards the end, it slows down into scenes with more interesting development, notably the ones with De Niro, Jack Nicholson and Teresa Russell.
The Dissident (2020)
In the wake of the assassination of Jamal Khashoggi, this is an examination of the man, his development as an insider of the Saudi regime who became increasingly more sympathetic to reform and even revolutionary causes in the rest of the Arab world, then critical of the Saudi regime, the investigation of the events of the killing, and the state of the regime up to the killing and since, particularly the consolidation of power by Mohammed bin Salman. Particularly worthy are the interviews with Omar Abdulaziz, exiled dissident whose phone was hacked to get to Khashoggi; Kashoggi's wife Hatice Cengiz; and former Al Jazeera director Wadah Khanfar. All this is hampered, however, by one of the unfortunate cliches of modern documentaries: the music score. In this case, it's overbearing ominous and suspenseful music. Do we really need a score to tell us what the tone of all this is or should be?
The Whale (2011)
It's probably just my slant, but it seems Ryan Reynolds's softly smug narration is also giving the soft shoe. But if I say about what, that will be a spoiler. Or just what would you imagine the outcome of this situation would be if you don't already know? There is no absolute right or way in nature. It produces discord, traps, harm and terror as much as any harmony, but that also means that laissez-aller doesn't work just one way.
1/31/21
Backyard Blockbusters (2012)
You may have to take breaks for air, rewind, or slow down this documentary about fan films, because it's right in the backyard of the nerds and fanboys who made them, and they are hyped up, buzzed up and talking a mile a minute.
Synchronic (2019)
What starts out an intriguing idea about a drug falls too much into time-travel sci-fi goofiness, pretty much what Anthony Mackie's character says about Back to the Future. Jamie Dornan, of the series The Fall fame, plays the exposition friend.
The Fly II (1989)
The make-up artist of the Cronenberg version of The Fly, as well as Gremlins, Raiders of the Lost Ark and many others, directed this sequel. (His other direction effort was The Vagrant.) Eric Stoltz and Daphne Zuniga do a good job in the spirit of Goldlbum and Davis's pathos, despite having to carry on in sub-standard sets, especially a TV studio version of a fancy bachelor pad, and with some discard creatures that look like literal meat puppets, if wet fuzzy ones. John Getz's reprise of his role in the predecessor is like a parody, and he seems to have developed a mutant accent.
The Climb (2019)
It starts out like a smug little indie, and it has a kind of anti-comedy provocation tack throughout, but the accumulation of the segments also shows a cycle of abuse, self-destruction and co-dependency with the main characters, and the unjoke is on them. That works as counterpoint, too.
Freeway (1996)
Freeway is certainly a different kind of fairytale, strange, whimsical in its own way, but what it subverts even better is movie plots. It's satisfying in not following any path you might think any particular scene is setting up. It appears to be a teen social drama one moment, a thriller about a serial sex killer the next, but the girl is not going to be the innocent victim, and her path will not lead back to mano a mano, but a show of how justice is a fairytale in the real world. This also has a good score by Danny Elfman and an interesting collection of other music.
The Winner (1996)
Alex Cox directed this based on Wendy Riss's adaptation of her own play, and it was in part produced by star Rebecca De Mornay. But lots of other talent -- Vincent D'Onofrio, Michael Madsen, Billy Bob Thorton, to name a few -- is wasted, a case of a cocktail mix that ends up tasteless. Rather than the spark of tangent and incongruity in something like Alan Rudolph's Trouble in Mind, or Cox's own inspired degradation in Sid and Nancy, this is just shapeless. The idea of a winner in Vegas to show just how the others are losers is great, but in the manner of so many 90s interwoven lives movies, this collapses too quickly into a fish bowl.
Duck, You Sucker (1971)
Very much on the model of Eli Wallach and Clint Eastwood, Sergio Leone tried Rod Steiger and James Coburn in this one. Steiger gets to pull a great character dupe early, to show off acting in general and himself in particular. Coburn gets the sort of juicy role that even his 2nd rate spy Flint (Dean Martin was the 3rd rate) never quite provided, but insisting on having him do an Irish accent probably wasn't a good idea, since he doesn't well and just doesn't about half the time. Leone used duration like close-ups, which is to say over-used them, as if epic quality were measured by these alone. This one, unlike The Good, The Bad and the Ugly and Once upon a Time in the West, definitely suffers from the length.
1/24/21

Disrupted (2020)
Homegrown (San Francisco Bay area), indie -- not to say amateurish -- project is ambitious with its look and way too ambitious with its plot. That is, plots. There are some good lines and decent performances from unknowns, but heartfelt thrillers about homeless ex-cops and psychotic tech investors, trying too hard to be like every streaming series, let alone movie, now, don't make the wannabe quality better.

1/17/21

Runaway Train (1985)
This existential parable posing as an action movie is in the line of The Wages of Fear. It has an ephiphany moment as chillingly beautiful as the one in The Black Stallion. It's based on a screenplay by Akira Kurosawa and directed by Andrey Konchalovskiy (who worked with Tarkovsky among others). Along with great performances from Jon Voight, Eric Roberts and Rebecca De Mornay, and the typically great Kenneth McMillan in a smaller role, there's an appearance by Danny (as Daniel) Trejo in his second movie.

Nuns on the Run (1990)
The first scene sets up a great little context misdirection that the rest of the movie never lives up to. As with so many comedies -- usually American ones -- so much comic, parodic opportunity is sacrificed for plot mechanics. The wild leaps are for goofy contrivances, not for play of meaning or form.

Singin' in the Rain (1952)
The humor is often that hammy, corny kind of the 50s that forces its point, programmatic like the straw man tactics of advertising. And near the end there's a push towards the ballet pretensions, or statelier artsy airs, of An American in Paris. But it's still as lively and inventive with its overall composition as with choreography, in fact seems to make the former a matter of the latter, and this integrates the musical numbers well, making it more like Le Million, and achieves something of the relay deftness of Trouble in Paradise. It even resembles that with a marvelous show-biz montage about the advent of sound that is striking and even surreal graphically.

News of the World (2020)
Decent movie with interesting stuff about reading the news and speaking Kiowa, but, because it recalls them for various reasons, without the inspiration of Days of Heaven or the charm of the Coens' True Grit.

The Fourth Protocol (1987)
Michael Caine was a producer and, like his Harry Palmer movies, this has at least a pretense of being closer to home. Here it's of the more bookish kind of political intrigue rather than Bond fantasy. But smuggling parts for, putting together and setting off a nuclear device, as well as the other shenanigans around that, make this just a starchier spy movie. Pierce Brosnan is here between his IRA operative posing as gay pickup in The Long Good Friday and Bond, but via the Russian villain.

The End of the Storm (2020)
Documentary following Liverpool through their historic 2019-20 season that was almost trashed by the coronavirus. Manager Jurgen Klopp is the centerpiece. It's in the vein of lots of recent shows like the All or Nothing ones featuring Manchester City or Tottenham.

The Vast of Night (2019)
American Graffiti meets Close Encounters directed by Alan Rudolph. As exciting as this approach is, a fly on the wall view of 50s America that just happens to involve UFOs and maybe War of the Worlds, it seems anticlimactic in the second half. I'm not sure whether that's more because of expectations from action movies, or bogging down in a later interview.

Extreme Prejudice (1987)
This is a rehash of The Wild Bunch with a similarly interesting collection of actors: Nick Nolte, Powers Booth, Rip Torn, Michael Ironside, Clancy Brown, William Forsythe, Maria Conchita Alsonso. But there's more simmering than boiling, except for Nolte, who is at such a strangely serious pitch he's spoiling the fun.

1/16/21

Ghana movie posters. Views of movies you probably didn't have. Thanks, Ken.

https://www.rojakpot.com/ghana-movie-posters-comparison/

1/16/21

H.R. Giger did production design for Singin in the Rain before Alien.

1/10/21

Zerograd (1988).
Compare this late Soviet era surrealism with Cargo 200, which is about that period. This one tends more to fall from the absurd into the dry delivery, rather than going the other way to sneak up to it. But there are some really striking moments, such as the wax museum and the man served a cake that looks like his own head. The comment on suppression of culture may have been part of the opening up, glasnost, but the anticlimactic quality here may still have been a pressured ambiguity.

The Silence of the Hams (1994)
This is way thick ham. Ezio Greggio's Zucker movie impression is even broader -- if that's possible -- in his thick Italian accent. And the Silence of the Lambs parody, sorely needed, is only the MacGuffin for a Psycho parody. The leaps of silly absurdity defy any any sense of continuity, so what's the use. There are some laughs.

Murmur of the Heart (1971)
While it was sort of the point of the French New Wave to shuck off virtuosity or at least pomp or bloated prestige, still the works that came of it came can seem more or less deft or slack. This one seems the latter, kind of giddy in a slack way, too.

Jiu Jitsu (2020)
If you made every second of your movie on the principle of only the most overwrought action suspense gimmicks, you'd have something that looked -- and sounded -- like an action movie overdeveloped on steroids. And this. The "music" may be the worst part of it. Constant drums and airplane-taking-off-like crescendo sounds and staccato strings means nothing is suspenseful anymore. The whole thing is blown up and stupid, and doesn't even know how to be entertaining stupid. The bizarre switch-off from first-person to third-person in fight scenes is almost that, but it's not even worth mentioning that it's a Van Damme and Predator ripoff.

The Last Shift (2020)
Alexander Payne helped produce this work of Andrew Cohn, and while not quite the bittersweet social breadth of Payne, this is a nicely proportioned slice that doesn't take quite any of the cliched movie routes. The encounter of these different paths shows them, and us, pretty much just the shitty options we have, and that we're just as likely not to be the better for it.

Guilty by Suspicion (1991)
And compare (see What Just Happened below) this earlier role of Robert DeNiro as a movie maker, though this one is really more like The Front, except played straight. Too much more earnest, even melodramatically so at times. There are decent performances and cinematography, but there is also even more a drift away from the real contention of "freedom," whether of speech or anything, in the sort of comfortable respectability disturbed by demagoguery.

What Just Happened (2008)
Perhaps it was better to keep quiet after the louder bid of Wag the Dog, but this hand-biting job that passed through the party unnoticed has at least some entertaining stuff: Sean Penn and a dog, a poster with a dinosaur eye and a nine-figure number, Bruce Willis and a beard.

Looking for Richard (1996)
This manic, jumping approach to the subject is looking through the manner of Al Pacino.

Project of restoration of lost Melies films. (If you use the Chrome browser, you can translate linked article to English.)

«Le Mystère Méliès», sur Arte: comment l’œuvre du cinéaste, entièrement détruite, a été reconstituée

1/3/21

The Rental (2020)
Internal division clashes with outside invasion about as much in allegorical upshot as in plot logic, but since the movie goes for a Birds approach to the engine of it all anyway, you can't expect much in explanation. At least it works stylistically, the emotional subterfuge keeping the movie from full-blown slasher mode.

Cargo 200 (2007)
And then there's this kind of inspiration, in the vein of deadpan absurd more particularly Russian. Aleksey Balabanov gives a slice of life delivery in which the banal becomes uncomfortable and anxious, and that horrific and abject, without more ado. The Soviet era is portrayed with the kind of depravity and pathology we now know about financiers, college football staffs or the Catholic church, basically how any organization can become despotic from its own prestige, and Soviet government as well as post-Soviet. It becomes more contrived, thus more like provocation, despite the based on real events comment at the end.

The Rifleman (2019)
Competent, earnest, interesting subject, but not as inspired as Klimov's Come and See, which it resembles if from a somewhat different side.

30 Days of Night (2007)
Pretty much gets right down to business, but that makes the night that lasts a month seem less likely if only for counting the days. They might have made it a bit less a mismatch. The undead not discovering polar seasonal variations for centuries may be explained by their being more bestial, and speaking Klingon.

The Cigarette (1919)
Notable as an early film work of Germaine Dulac, this barely restored film doesn't seem to live up to her ideas of "pure" cinema at least for the fact that so much of it is titles, and most of those long blocks of text for lectures and letters.

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Entries by Greg Macon for the Facebook group Movie Brains, related to film comments on this website, Fixion. Text for movie comments © 2021 Greg Macon. Banner image from By the Law by Lev Kuleshov.