Umney's Alley - The Movie Log for 2009

A Year in Film: 2009

2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | Essays/Reviews

What follows are my OCD attempts to list and rate every movie I watch in any given year. (I've done the same for my year's reading in the book log.) Given that I watch some relatively obscure films, I've set it up so that the film title links to the IMDb page for the film so you can get more information easily.

Starting in 2009, I began assigning out star ratings (out of five stars) to films I've watched. Five stars is equivalent to an A, 4½ to an A-/B+, four to a B, and so on.

12-26	Sherlock Holmes	A popcorn movie done right. The trailers worried me a little bit - the idea of making Holmes into some sort of action god seemed silly, and if the movie was a thin story with a lot of big explosions and whatnot, then why bother. Luckily, that's not the movie. It's a lot truer to the spirit of Doyle than you might expect - the movie is full of bizarre happenings anchored by science (well, semi-science) that Holmes deduces his way through. Are there action scenes? A few...but they're done with enough style and humor to make them enjoyable and in-character, not silly. And running through it all is Robert Downey Jr, who somewhere along the way has become one of the most consistently entertaining and enjoyable actors working today. His Holmes is an emotionally distant genius, one who hates the world around him (with the exception of Watson) because it's so dull - unless, that is, there's a sufficiently interesting case. Bringing derision, sarcasm, and perfect timing to the part, Downey is clearly having a blast, and I was right there with him. With Jude Law making Watson into a distinctive and unique sidekick, a really great soundtrack by Hans Zimmer, and a fun story, it's a really fun time at the movies.
12-21	The Happening	The best thing I can say about The Happening is that I didn't hate it as much as I hated Lady in the Water, but honestly I think I went in with such low expectations that even the awfulness of the film was just sad, not enraging. There was a period where I was pretty convinced that Shyamalan could be the next big thing - he mixed genre films with character studies in a superb way that reminded me of Stephen King at his best. Then his ego grew, the films started to decline...but even then, I think no one was prepared for just how awful The Happening really is. There is literally nothing good to say about it. From Wahlberg's performance as the worst teacher ever to the least dramatic spousal tension you could imagine, from the ludicrous "pass the pistol" scene to the unintentionally hilarious lion attack, from outrunning the wind to being saved by mood rings, The Happening is a remarkable serious of bad decisions all the way up the line, resulting in a film that never works and fails on every imaginable level. Even Shyamalan's usual excellent visual sense seems to be gone, leaving the film filled with ludicrous efforts to make trees and grass threatening. Having finally seen the movie, I still maintain that the premise isn't the problem - I legitimately feel that there's a great movie waiting to be made about the planet turning on us and turning people against themselves. But, oh Lord, is it never this film. With terrible acting, awful writing, pointless scenes, terrible effects (the much-touted R-rating reeks of being a last minute addition to drum up interest and attempt to make some money from what the studio knew would fail), incompetent staging, and an ending that just results in laughter, The Happening is a colossal failure in every imaginable way.
12-19	King of the Hill (1993)	There's a lot that I really admired about this forgotten piece from Steven Soderbergh, which details the coming of age of a young boy in 1930s St. Louis. The movie is filled with interesting characters, and there's no denying that Soderbergh creates a vivid and interesting world. Moreover, it's smart filmmaking - Soderbergh trusts his audience, and allows them to make the logical conclusions without spoon-feeding (say, about whether the adults in the story believe Aaron's tales). And while I knew the film was set during the Depression, I didn't know how bleak the film would be, and how refreshingly blunt it would be in its dealings with poverty and its effects. And yet, while I liked the film and thought it was well-made, it feels ultimately as though it's lacking...something. A purpose, maybe? Or maybe something just to make it truly linger? It's definitely not a bad film - it's well-made in every sense (as though I would expect less from Soderbergh). But ultimately I kind of understand why it's so forgotten - there's nothing here that's truly memorable or outstanding. It's a good film, but ultimately a somewhat disposable one.
12-18	Black Christmas (1974)	Ever since Black Christmas was announced as a midnight movie, my friend Ryan has been through-the-roof thrilled. "It's better than Halloween!", he enthused over and over again. Having finally seen it, I have to admit: he may be right. There's no denying it was a major influence on every slasher that followed, with the most notable being the killer point-of-view technique (here used to masterful effect). But if Black Christmas were only influential, and other films had done it better, there'd be nothing here. Instead, you have an absolutely intense and unsettling film, with as much time spent on psychological frights as more visceral ones (and even those are done sparingly and stylishly). And far from a disposable group of girls, the cast here creates interesting, entertaining characters - even when they're obviously tropes, they're done well. The only flaw in the movie - and I do mean the only one - is a climax that is more of a whimper than a bang...but it's immediately redeemed by a fantastic and effectively creepy final few moments. There's really so much to recommend here - the masterful technique, the easy use of humor, the nice use of a red herring, the disturbing use of voices, that brilliant shot of an eye, the smart decisions regarding the killer's identity - that even docking it a little for that weak finale pains me. If I got clever with fractions, this would be more like a 4.9 out of 5, but whatever the rating, make no mistake: this is a spectacular, unsettling, brilliant little horror film, and I'm very glad I got the chance to see it.
12-17	Bananas	More early silliness from Woody Allen. I don't think I'm ever going to enjoy Allen's early stuff as much as his mid-period, but that's less because of any faults of their own and more because that later work - Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, Manhattan, The Purple Rose of Cairo - is so transcendent and perfect. Bananas, by contrast, is essentially a joke delivery system. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that whatsoever, especially when the jokes are consistently funny (I can't deny a deep affection for a movie that gets equal mileage out of a fake beard and references to Russian cinema). But with the characters essentially existing as setups for a joke, there's less of the rich depth of humor that Allen would late be able to mine. I say all this, but I can't say that Bananas isn't very funny and very entertaining. From an assassination covered by sports broadcasters to a surreal set of demands by a new leader to a hilarious gag involving a telephoned henchman, Bananas definitely shows off Allen's knack for great jokes. I think I'm just spoiled by knowing what was to come.
12-17	Joy Ride	Sure, okay - you can't talk about Joy Ride (in which a pair of brothers and a young woman are terrorized by a truck driver after a prank gone wrong) without referencing Duel, and sure the plot sounds a little dumb. And yet, thanks to a smart script (co-written by J.J. Abrams) and slick direction from the always reliable John Dahl, Joy Ride is a pretty great b-movie thriller. There's nothing revolutionary or brilliant here - there's a lot of fakeouts that you'll probably anticipate, and there's more than a few leaps of logic. But Dahl also brings some great staging to the movie, milking every bit of tension out of the display of a CB radio or the countdown of doors on a hallway. On top of that, you have Walker, Sobieski, and Zahn, all of whom not only are clearly having some fun, but who get a chance to stretch their characters a little bit into something like real people instead of just thriller cliches. Add to that the stroke of genius in casting Ted Levine as the voice on the radio, and you've got a really fun time. It won't go down in history, but it's far more enjoyable and fun than I really expected.
12-17	Taken	The further I get from Taken, the less I like it and the more somewhat despicable I honestly find it to be. There's no denying that Neeson brings a great sense of badassery to the movie, but if you watch the movie, it ends up playing out like some neocon wet dream in which heroic Americans do whatever it takes to the subhuman cultures of the rest of the world to save their own. As I watched Neeson go to further and further extremes, I at first was intrigued: would the movie realize its own moral ambiguity? Would it question its own purpose? Sadly, it doesn't; the movie wants us to unironically enjoy Neeson as he kills, tortures, and even shoots innocents in his righteous quest. What would make the film fascinating is if there were any hint that it was a fantasy, that this was the wish of a man whose time had passed him by and who wanted to make everyone realize his relevance (and honestly, the last few scenes play out as if it were a fantasy). But the film just doesn't have that depth - instead, it's all about a slick revenge and an unstoppable American. It's fun, but it certainly doesn't sit on the stomach very well afterward.
12-15	The Hit	At first glance, The Hit sounds like a generic British gangster film: it's about a stool pigeon who's finally tracked down ten years later and is escorted back by two hitmen to face the music. What makes the movie so compelling and fascinating, though, is the way it neatly sidesteps expectations and becomes something wholly different and unique, taking its simple story and transforming into a meditation on death. The film is anchored by three knockout performances - while there's no denying Roth's fantastic turn as the inexperienced apprentice or Stamp's sardonic, oddly peaceful man on the way to his own funeral, it's far too easy to overlook John Hurt's stellar turn as the experienced Braddock. While Roth has the most "action" and dialogue, and Stamp is not only the film's focus but its most oddly compelling character, Hurt has almost no dialogue, acts out very little...and yet, his performance speaks volumes, giving his characters greater complexity and depth in a gesture than some actors could in a whole soliloquy. I don't think it's a flawless movie - the finale stumbles a bit, I think, even if it does set up a perfect ending to the film - but it's a fascinating one, and one whose nuances linger long after the movie ends.
12-12	Fantastic Mr. Fox	In which Wes Anderson turns to stop-motion animation and manages to keep every aspect of his style intact. Whether that's a good thing or not will probably depend on your feelings about Anderson - for instance, my wife, who despised The Life Aquatic, wasn't a huge fan of this either. Me? I had a lot of fun with it, as did my three-year-old son. While it lacks the complexity and power of Anderson's best movie (still Rushmore, even after four more films), Mr. Fox is a lot of fun to watch, filling its time with silly gags, nice one-liners, and a charmingly retro stop-animation that gives the film a texture and richness unlike much else I've seen in a long time. The story is far more Anderson than Dahl, but that didn't really bother me, and it was nice to see Anderson taking himself a little less seriously and even poking fun at himself a little bit too. It was a lot of fun, and although I didn't love it the way a lot of people did, I certainly had a good time with, and laughed a lot.
12-5	The Room	Did I go back again? Yes indeed. The crowd wasn't quite as good as the Friday night crowd, and the mid-movie football breaks less coordinated, but still a fun time on the whole.
12-4	The Room	A movie like The Room doesn't come around very often, and for that, I think we can all be a little grateful. Not since Ed Wood worked in cinema has such a perfect storm of wretched direction, terrible writing, hilariously bad acting, ridiculous music, absurd plotting, and simple incompetence on every level of the filmmaking process resulted in something as gleefully and richly awful as The Room. Is it any wonder that the film has inspired a Rocky Horror-like cult that embraces and ridicules it? What makes The Room truly stand out is the clearly personal nature of the film. There's little doubt that Tommy Wiseau, responsible for almost every aspect of the film, has poured his heart out on the screen, spinning his tale of a man wronged by a woman so heartless that she is more of a monster than a human being. And yet, it's that sincerity that makes the film so truly laughable. This is no condescending studio effort or failure by committee; this is the film that Wiseau wanted to make, just as Wood looked at Plan 9 and said, "Yeah, that's it!" So, is The Room every bit as bad as its reputation suggests? No - it's worse. And yet, I can't recommend it enough, provided you're seeing it in a theater with full audience participation. Between the wave of hurled spoons, feigned (or not) disgust, and the constant ridicule, it's one of the most entertaining and fun experiences I've had at a movie theater. But trust me: don't go for the film.
12-1	Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai	A movie that I really shouldn't like as much as I do, yet I find to be a masterpiece and one of my all-time favorite films. Click here for the full review.
11-23	The Prisoner (2009)	First, a disclaimer: no, I have not seen the original series, despite a lot of interest (I hope to get to check it out while it's still on AMC's website). But as I watched AMC's new miniseries unfold and thought about the negative reviews and reactions, I have to say that it made me kind of glad that I hadn't, because it allowed me to judge this for what it was instead of holding it against a beloved cult classic. And judged on its own merits, this new take on The Prisoner makes for pretty great television. There's no denying the sheer weirdness on display here; the show goes out of its way to edit scenes strangely and layer information in a manner that's extremely disorienting, often making the viewer feel a little at sea - and that says nothing about the gearshifts from episode to episode, which are even more jarring. And yet, anyone who thinks that it's all pointless weirdness needs to get to the compelling and dazzling finale, which explains everything in a way that's simultaneously logical (even expected) and completely jaw-dropping. To be sure, there are some questions left unanswered by the ending, but to me, they're all the more intriguing for the lack of explanation. More than that, though, the ending puts the entire series into a different kind of focus, one that not only brings about any number of thought-provoking questions, but even justifies the remake by making it far more about our contemporary world than we realized (there are major spoilers, but this essay explains far better than I can some of what makes the remake fascinating, and I strongly recommend it if you've watched it all). And hey, even if you hate the concept, you get to watch Ian McKellen walk away with the series, and that's no small joy. I really wish more people I knew watched it, because I'd love to talk about it, but the short version is that I walked in curious and finished it quite enthralled, and found the whole enterprise to be sadly underrated. It's thoughtful, strange entertainment, and really emphasizes how strong AMC's original series really are.
11-21	Road House	How do you rate a movie like Road House? On the one hand, it completely deserves a one-star rating for being one of the single stupidest movies I've ever seen. With a philosophy-studying bouncer, a female lead with barely human acting capabilities, a villain with his own monster truck, people ripping throats out with their bare hands...oh man, could that list go on forever. I don't even know that it's possible to list all of the absurd things in Road House, or how many times I cracked up at the sheer ridiculousness of the movie. But with all of that being said, I can't deny how completely entertaining the movie is. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate the "so bad it's good" theory of movies, but damned if Road House doesn't embody that philosophy. I laughed hilariously, loved the absurd fights, got a kick out of the scenery-chewing performances, giggled at the sort-of plot, and just generally had a blast. So how do you rate it? One star for being terrible, or five stars for being a blast? I split the difference in the end, but somehow it's like Schrodinger's Cat, managing to be both a one-star and a five-star film all at once. It's gleefully absurd, and although I don't think it's in on the joke, it's still pretty damn entertaining.
11-21	Antichrist	I'll be honest: I legitimately don't know what kind of rating to give Antichrist. I went in wanting to love it; I left it disappointed and letdown; I went home unable to stop thinking about it; my reading about it has made me think about it differently; then I come back to memories of parts of the film and find myself disappointed again. Here's the things I know I feel: I feel that Antichrist is Von Trier's single most beautiful film visually, and that the film's style is superb at evoking mood and unease. I feel that Defoe and Gainsbourg give everything they have here, and the weight of their confrontations is made palpable by the honesty and pain they bring to the roles. I feel that the film is being promoted with too much reliance on the final act instead of focusing on the psychological journey of the film. Apart from that, I just don't know. I left feeling as though I had watched Von Trier make a pretentious, absurd arthouse horror film more interested in shocking the audience or its own misogyny than making sense. But as I read and think, I find myself finding more and more depth and interpretations of the film that make me reassess scenes. But (again), I can't deny how absurd some of it is...then I read interviews with Von Trier and start seeing parts of it as intentional black comedy. In the end, I don't know. My original feeling on the film right afterward was that it was an interesting and compelling misfire, but the more distance I have, the more complex my feelings. I can say that I'm not an immediate fan of it like I was with most of the other Von Trier that I've seen, and I have no doubt that people will say that I'm only reassessing because it's so well-accepted that I'm trying to conform. Maybe so, or maybe their points are interesting. Here's the end conclusion, though: there's no doubt that Antichrist will get a reaction out of you, or that it's beautifully filmed, or that it's unlike much else you've seen. Beyond that...anything goes, and chaos reigns.
11-18	A Serious Man	In which the Coens take on nothing less than faith, religion, and why good people suffer, and do it by making the best film of the year. A Serious Man is pure Coens, from the phenomenal cinematography by Roger Deakins to the flawless sound design, but what's more remarkable is how personal this film seems - a rarity for the Coens. There's no doubt that the story - which involves a college professor whose life is starting to fall apart - is directly inspired by Job, but the Coens wear their Judaism on their sleeve (this is definitely the most Jewish film I've ever seen), their faith isn't as optimistic as Job's. If God exists in A Serious Man - and that's a question up for debate - He's a cruel master (not much different, unsurprisingly, from what people accuse the Coens of being to their characters often). And yet, even with such heavy themes, A Serious Man is completely hilarious throughout, even in its understated way. And it all builds up a to a stunning final shot which is sure to enrage some people; me? I was delighted with it. I've tried to avoid discussing the plot and execution as much as possible, because you should go into A Serious Man not knowing much; much of the joy (if that's the right word) of this film is immersing yourself in Marty's world and experiencing each fresh new hell along with him. But all I can say is that the year's best trailer has given way to the year's best film, and if it's taken me a long time to write about it, it's because it's lingered in my mind and left me pondering more than anything else I've seen this year.
11-17	Oldboy	Watching Oldboy when you know the ultimate destination of the plot is a bit of a revelation; while the film still plays out as pure cinema, the story feels much less like a revenge thriller and more like a truly haunting Greek tragedy. I won't deny that I loved the film the first time I saw it - it was exhilarating, filmed in a vibrant style, told well, and was just a great piece of work. But watching it with full knowledge of the twisted, horrific path to come allows you to really take in just how bleak and tragic the film is. While all three parts of the Vengeance Trilogy take on the idea of the aftermath of revenge, none of them capture as well as Oldboy does just how thrilling and invigorating the actual taking of the revenge can be. "It's good for your health," Dae-Su's mysterious captor tells him early on, and he's right; watching men invigorated by their terrible and dangerous pursuit only underlines the emptiness and shallowness of their lives, and the way that revenge has truly consumed them. The other joy, of course, is Park's incredible style; from the justly famous hammer fight to the sepia-toned flashback, Oldboy is one of those films that uses every tool at the director's disposal, and the effect is stunning. It's still not my favorite of the trilogy - Lady Vengeance holds that title - but a new viewing not only reminded me of why I enjoyed the film, but deepened my appreciation of it and made me realize more of its complexity and impact.
11-16	The House of the Devil	Look: I'm a horror fan, and I'm all about a movie that's more interesting in wringing the tension from a situation than providing cheap jump scares. The problem with House of the Devil isn't that it doesn't build tension; it's that it does nothing but. By the time you get to a real payoff (as opposed to a couple of frustratingly good scenes that immediately are ignored and never mentioned again), the movie's taken too long and killed most of your goodwill and interest. I had heard that the third act was pretty spectacular, but even if it was incredible, it would have been hard to have overcome my irritation at the film's mostly wasted running time and lack of anything resembling focus. Sadly, the ending isn't even that great; it's not awful, but it's pretty middling, and definitely not worth the hour-plus wait time to get there. I walked out of this really frustrated; there are moments here and there that really show some talent and affection for the genre, and there are even some genuinely unnerving scenes. But at a certain point you have to have some meat underneath all that sizzle, and when you find out how little meat there is to The House of the Devil, you're going to be more than a little frustrated. It's not truly awful - there's too much talent on display - but it's boring, and I think that's a far worse crime than being bad.
11-10	Battle Royale	There's no doubt that Battle Royale's virtues tend to be a little overhyped - a side effect, I would think, of the combined cult status of the film and its relatively difficult to find nature. Watching it today, I couldn't help but notice how clunky the film often is - the badly worked-in flashbacks, the bizarre plot turns in the third act - but I also couldn't help but remember how much fun it all is. Telling people that you're watching a movie where a bunch of Japanese school kids on an island are forced to hunt and kill each other gets a bad enough reaction, but when you try to tell them how absolutely hilarious it all is...well, people tend to find you a little sick. The thing is, though, is that the movie is hilarious. Playing out like some hellish combination of Dawson's Creek and Manhunt, Battle Royale veers from suspense to romance to teen drama to violence to black comedy effortlessly, and often shoves two or three into the same scene just for the humor of the juxtaposition. It doesn't hurt either that the film is relatively smart - the concept ends up working as satire on any number of levels, from the difficulties of entering the workplace to the pain of adolescence. In the end, it's just a really fun film - it's not a masterpiece, it's not flawless, but it's a hell of a good time to watch, especially with a good crowd.
11-8	Sleeper	When Sleeper works - that is, when it focuses on being a Buster Keaton-inspired burst of lunacy and physical comedy - it's right up there with the funniest stuff Woody Allen has ever done. With brilliant bits ranging from a fight with pudding to the reveal of a leader's fate, from a series of jetpack experiments to a great running gag involving a rocket launcher, Sleeper definitely shows off Allen's love of physical comedy, and it's no surprise to read that he debated making it as a silent film at one point. The film stumbles a little bit when it comes to the story - the revolution never quite makes entire sense, and the "relationship" with Keaton's character feels forced and arbitrary, only really coming to life in one long conversation as the two take time out from the movie and chat for a bit. But this is still Allen coming into his own, before he managed to meld drama and comedy so perfectly in Annie Hall, and as a comedy, Sleeper is completely hilarious. And although I would never ruin it, the voice of the computer ranks up there with one of my all-time favorite surprise cameos. Lots of fun, and a testament to Allen's physical skills.
11-8	Dancer in the Dark	Dancer in the Dark is one of those movies that I totally understand why people hate, but I found brilliant. There's no doubt that Von Trier constructs Dancer as a sort of throwback to silent film melodrama - even as someone who loved the film, I can't argue that a story about a woman who is losing her eyesight and trying to raise money for her child isn't a little ridiculous and button pushing. And, yes, like Breaking the Waves, Von Trier's plot seems to delight in taking a pure innocent and putting her through the wringer, pushing the audience to extreme places by means of the vicious and cruel world so clearly constructed by Von Trier. And yet, I can't deny the effectiveness of it all. Von Trier's staging is brilliant throughout - I loved the transitions from the bland, dreary everyday world to the dazzling musicals in her mind (a transition that reminded me of Pennies from Heaven, a superb, if hard to take, film); I found myself pulling for the character as each new cruel twist unfolded; and the final scene absolutely devastated me. Is Von Trier manipulating the audience, toying with them in an effort to get at their emotions? Without a doubt. And yet, far from the cheap sentimentality of so many bad Hollywood films, Von Trier's cinematic skills given Dancer a power that feels earned. By the end, I found myself drained, but moved - after so many "ironic" dramas or movies afraid to be about something genuine, Dancer in the Dark plunges into a story about a mother who would sacrifice everything for her son, a woman who loves musicals and hates her life, and a world with a malevolent and sadistic sense of fate, and makes it all work. It's not for all tastes, but I was blown away by it; even as haunting and brutal as it can be, it created a world I wish had gone on longer.
11-7	Ferris Bueller's Day Off	Who didn't love this movie growing up? The sad thing about Ferris Bueller is that the older I get (or maybe it's just the more times I see the movie), the less I like it. For my feelings in a microcosm, take the famous museum scene. Ferris, Cameron, and Skye wander the museum as thoughtful music plays. They ponder, they think, they take in the art, and Cameron gets lost in the pointillism of Seurat. It all seems great as you watch it, and you're struck by this moment of thoughtfulness. But take a look at the scene again: nothing is said here. Nothing of import is conveyed. The characters learn nothing, and the scene is never brought up again. It seems great, but it's ultimately a little meaningless. That's sort of my feelings on the whole movie: it all seems fun while you watch it, but the more you see it, the more you realize it's mostly coasting on charm and style. I won't deny that Broderick's performance is fantastic, and that there's a lot of humor in the movie. But ultimately it lacks much beyond being a live action cartoon - the stabs at drama are unearned, the characters shallow...look, I totally understand that it's a sentimental favorite. So do yourself a favor, and let it stay that way: don't keep re-watching it.
11-2	Bronson	Every so often, you get the chance to see a movie that uses every tool in its arsenal to its utmost advantage, creating something more fully movie-ish than a lot of other films. Bronson is one such film. If you've seen Chopper, you've seen a similar story - both are about notorious criminals with outsized personalities who become famous not just for their crimes but for their mystique. But whereas Chopper the film felt like a decent movie with a great lead performance, Bronson fires on every cylinder, immersing you inside the bizarre mind of Bronson as he puts on a play for an imaginary audience, engages in absurd theatrics, and genuinely entertains himself. Much has been said about Hardy's performance, and rightfully so - it's a tour de force acting job, sliding effortlessly from silent intimidation to pure showmanship, and it's to the film's credit that he creates a full realized character that still reminds, to some degree, unexplained. But this is Refn's film, all the way, and the pure style - from vibrant colors to long stretches of silence - that he brings to the table makes Bronson an unforgettable experience. As a subjective immersion inside the head of an unstable, artistically brilliant, brutally violent man, Bronson is a wild success; as a character study, even more so; but as a work of pure cinema, it's one of my favorite films of the year.
10-26	Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex (But Were Afraid To Ask)	A collection of seven sketches loosely based around questions from the best-selling 70s sex manual, Everything You Always Wanted To Know features Woody Allen at his goofiest, which can be pretty hilarious, if a little uneven. It's pretty much the nature of sketch comedy to be hit and miss, and while none of the skits here are complete bombs, a couple - most notably the medieval aphrodisiac and the Italian cinema riff - feel pretty close, whimpering out without more than a light chuckle at best. By contrast, when the film works - whether it's Gene Wilder's doctor in an unusual relationship, the 50s game show made wholly new, or the answer to the question "Are sex researchers ever right?", a question which makes the entire skit that follows absolutely hilarious - the movie is hilarious, showing Allen's skill at different tones, styles of humor, and originality. And, of course, there's that famous final sketch detailing all the various processes going on during intercourse - justly famous, because it's easily the funniest part of the film. I can't give an unqualified recommendation, but when the sketches work, it's pretty great.
10-18	Where the Wild Things Are	If you go into Where the Wild Things Are and expect a children's movie, you'll probably come out hating it a little. It's essentially plotless, following a young boy named Max who flees his house after a temper tantrum and imagines a time spent on an island of monsters, where he declares himself the king, before eventually returning home. You'll find it beautiful and imaginative, but you'll grumble about the lack of action or the meandering nature. But if you approach Where the Wild Things Are as a study of what it's like to be a child - the uncertain emotions, the fear of being abandoned by family as they grow, the joy of imagination and the fear when you mess up - then you'll find the movie to be thoughtful, intelligent, and beautiful. What makes Where the Wild Things Are so magnificent is the way it avoids family movie cliches - there's no big scene where the morals are explicitly stated, no one ever points out the way Max's interactions with the Wild Things mirror his emotional state or his past behavior, there's not a happy montage as Max changes. Instead, the movie simply watches, trusting the viewer to see beyond the surface and understand the growth and change that's happening. Moreover, the movie is intelligent in the way it presents Max, simply letting him be a child, but allowing the Wild Things to demonstrate and bring out differing aspects of his personality, his life, his history, and doing so with exceptional grace and subtlety. And the visuals - if you're thinking of seeing this, see it on the big screen, because Jonez's imagination has created something unlike anything else I've ever seen, making for a truly wondrous and magical experience. The Wild Things seem tactile and alive in a way I've not seen, and the world they inhabit is lovingly constructed and filled with life. This is going to be a polarizing film for people, but for myself, I loved it - it's rare to find a movie so committed to seeing the world as a child on their own terms, not talking down to them, and the joy, melancholy, and emotion of the film reminded me what it was like to be that age again. Give yourself over to it, and it's one of the most effective and wonderful films of the year.
10-16	Big Fan	The more I think back on Big Fan, the more I wonder if I'm not being too harsh on it as a result of the marketing. A lot of the reviews I've read comment on what a great dark comedy it is; maybe viewing it through that light, as opposed to the more dramatic tone cast by the trailer, would make me more inclined to like it. But in the end, that's a lot of my problem with Big Fan. It's not sure if it wants to be a drama, a comedy, a character study, or even (at times) a thriller, so it kind of mixes them all together. At moments, it works great - most of the scenes with Corrigan and Oswalt together are pretty great, and I really enjoyed the ongoing talk radio feud (which reminded me so much of flame wars on the Internet). And yet, frequently the movie goes in truly strange directions that it doesn't seem to know what to do with - the story of a beating just kind of fades away as the movie progresses, and a tense final buildup comes to a bizarre end that feels less like a true moment and more like the screenwriter winking and saying "Gotcha!" I walked away from Big Fan very disappointed - I like Oswalt a lot, and Siegel's screenplay for The Wrestler was brilliant, but Big Fan can't decide what it wants to be, and it ends up not doing any of its roles very well.
10-16	The Invention of Lying	I really love Ricky Gervais, and the sections of The Invention of Lying that bear his mark are undeniably hilarious, deeply satirical, and even oddly touching. It's a shame, then, that so much of the movie ends up feeling like Gervais's attempt to fit himself into the Hollywood formula, and it deadens the impact of so much of what he's attempting to do. That being said, I can't deny that Lying has a great premise - in a world where everyone tells the truth, no matter how blunt or hurtful, Gervais finds himself suddenly able to make things up - and his smart, incisive wit allows him to take on everything from common kindness to our relationship with religion, and does so without ever seeming condescending or smug, instead seeming thoughtful and, more importantly, really funny. But a lot of Lying is also about Gervais's attempt to win over Garner's character, a woman who likes Gervais but can't get past his looks - a major miscalculation in of itself, because it makes Garner come across as shallow and hateful, not endearing but flawed (admittedly, if we really lived in her world, it wouldn't be so bad). But more importantly, the studio money (I'm assuming) forced Gervais's hand, and as the film enters Act III, it loses its satirical edge and becomes an admittedly funny but far more generic romantic comedy. As a result, Lying is an odd bird - it feels like two wildly different movies shoved together, and the resulting hybrid doesn't always work. But for its ideas, a few hilarious scenes (Gervais's speech about pizza boxes is side-splitting), and a lot of thoughtful moments that left me thinking even after the movie ended, I still enjoyed the film, flaws and all. I'm just hoping that Gervais manages to find a way to put his vision on the screen in a purer sense next time.
10-15	Paranormal Activity	There is no way to write about Paranormal Activity without bringing up The Blair Witch Project (both are low-budget horror films which built a following via the web, both use the "found footage" idea as a framework, both take a minimalist approach to horror), but it's to the film's credit that the comparison doesn't diminish how solid Activity is. Whereas Blair Witch focused on our primal fear of nature and built a complex mythology, Activity instead works on slowly deconstructing the safety we find in our own homes, making the bedroom - our place of rest, our innermost sanctum - a place of danger and terror. I've read some people argue that Activity doesn't really do anything you haven't seen in any classic "haunted house" tale, and it's true. The plot here is simple, and lacks the intricate background of Blair Witch, but as Ebert always says, it's all in the telling, and Activity is perfectly paced, slowly building to more and more intensely horrifying scenes up until the climactic night. Here's the thing, though: much like Blair Witch, Activity takes a low-key approach to horror, eschewing cheap jump scares in favor of dread and letting your imagination work on you, and often creating more unease through something as simple as a character's standing up than any special effect. If you're looking for a "typical" horror movie, you'll hate Activity, but if you're up for something that works on your mind and lets your imagination do the work, and you have a good crowd (see this early, before the backlash begins), you'll be hard-pressed to find a creepier, more unnerving experience. I went home thoroughly creeped out, and it's been a long time since that happened. All in all, it's a hell of a film; although the last ten seconds are a bad choice (particularly when you read about the original ending before Steven Spielberg recommended a change), it's a minor misstep in an otherwise fantastic horror film.
10-15	Zombieland	Reading up on Zombieland, I've discovered that it was originally pitched as a TV series, something that came as no surprise to me given the amiably rambling, episodic nature of the movie. The title of Zombieland pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the movie: it's the apocalypse as amusement park, complete with some hilarious scenes and an unlikely group of friends. I can't argue that there's anything miraculous or special here (even though I do have a weakness for anyone who can blend genres together, and Zombieland manages to be part buddy film, part road movie, part comedy, part horror, and even a little of a love story), but neither can I deny that it's a lot of fun, and it's clear everyone involved is having a lot of fun in it (most notably the Big Cameo, which you should really try to avoid having spoiled, because it's pretty fantastic). With its fastidious rules to live by, gleeful sense of the macabre fun to be had from killing zombies, and a really fun performance by Woody Harrelson, Zombieland is easily one of the more enjoyably fun comedies I've seen in a while. It can't compare to Shaun of the Dead, but that's setting the bar awfully high, isn't it? It's essentially a big-screen zombie-killing video game, and taken on that level, it's a joy. Just don't expect a masterpiece.
10-13	Broadway Danny Rose	Sweet, charming effort from Woody Allen which is no doubt a minor work, but more than makes up for it with its humor and joyous nature. In telling the story of a theatrical agent and his bizarre experiences with his client's mistress, Allen gets to not only tell a hilarious story, but show a lot of love and affection for the Borscht belt comedians and acts that so often get taken for granted or mocked. Oh, sure, there's no doubt that Allen is having some fun with it all, but he does so in a loving way rather than a condescending one, and that makes all the difference. The whole thing is pretty absurd, involving everything from Jersey hitmen to a shaving cream spokesperson, but despite the silliness of it all, Allen still writes great characters, and it all builds to a perfect little final scene. I can definitely understand people who find this a minor work, but count me in with those who loved it; it's simple, but that in no way makes it less fun.
10-12	Appaloosa	The single most damning comment I can make about Appaloosa is how maddeningly generic it is. In the wake of everything from The Wild Bunch to The Proposition, the Western has been turned inside out and re-invented, so the idea of a classic-feeling Western should be appealing, especially with Mortensen, Harris, and Irons all starring. And yet, Appaloosa isn't sure if it wants to be classic or revisionist, and what's worse, it doesn't do either all that well. Appaloosa is one of those films that there's nothing really technically wrong with - the actors decent, the direction adequate, and the plot...well, okay, the plot is less than thrilling. The "evil rancher" is barely used, and that's a crime with someone like Irons; the main plot, about the relationship between Harris and Zellwegger, is pretty bad and comes across as being more than a little misogynistic. But even that never really gets to be bad enough to be truly hateful; it just sort of coasts along to an ending that, to paraphrase a great Ebert line, isn't just an insult to anticlimaxes, but also to climaxes and the idea of prefixes. In the end, it's been less than a day since I watched Appaloosa, and apart from one good exchange regarding a gunfight ("That was quick." "That's because we all knew how to shoot."), I remember almost nothing of note from the film. That says it all, I think.
10-11	Bamboozled	I've tended to like every Spike Lee movie I've seen, but even with that positive outlook towards his work, there's no way of getting around how deeply flawed Bamboozled is. There are any number of flaws to focus on: the ugly and distracting DV, the way Lee sets up flat satirical characters then attempts to elicit emotion for them, the ridiculous plot-spiraling of the third act, but if I had to pick one, it would have to be Damon Wayans' spectacularly ill-conceived Sidney Poitier accent. I understand Lee's point - that Wayans is desperately attempting to fit into the white corporate culture - but whether it's the accent or Wayans' inability to handle it, it's distracting, painful, and generally awful. And, yes, thematically the movie is a bit of a mess, feeling more like a collection of Lee's ideas than a cohesive unit. So why am I still recommending it? Because for all of its flaws, Bamboozled still brings up important ideas, and when the film works - the haunting application of the face paint, the not-so-subtle-but-effective final montage, the discussion with Paul Mooney - it packs a hell of a wallop. There's no way to watch the movie - which concerns a network executive so tired of demeaning portraits of black culture that he sarcastically pitches a modern minstrel show, which gets greenlit and becomes a massive hit - and miss Lee's point, but the lack of subtlety doesn't make the point any less valid. Moreover, although the minstrel show itself may be a little excessive, Lee makes the point well throughout, with his hilarious "urban" commercials and his commentary on gangsta rap culture. Like I said, I can't deny that the movie is a mess, and I can't even say that it's a successful film. What I can say is that it lingers and provokes, and while it may not always work, its thoughts and ideas go a long way toward redeeming the film. (If you're curious about the film, I highly recommend Nathan Rabin's re-assessment of the film; it's an excellent discussion about what it does right and wrong, and deals with the film better than I can in this short space.)
10-10	Ben-Hur (1959)	There's no denying that Ben-Hur is an incredible achievement of filmmaking. For over three and a half hours, Wyler immerses you in the Roman empire, and scene after scene is filled with rich detail, great acting, and a complex story about a Jewish Prince who becomes a slave and seeks his revenge on the friend who betrayed him. And yet, I found myself more impressed with the film than enjoying it. The Christian backdrop feels awkwardly shoehorned on until the very end, and while every second of the film is important in some way or another, the film still manages to somehow feel both bloated and weirdly elliptical (with seemingly important chunks of Heston's life waved away with a line of dialogue). Still, there's no denying that the film attains an incredible majesty during its best moments, and that the cast is uniformly great, especially Heston. But here's the thing: even if I hated every other second of the film, I'd be inclined to give out a five-star rating just for the chariot race alone, which is one of the most incredible sequences I've ever seen. From a technical perspective, it's jaw-dropping, but even ignoring that, it's exciting, riveting, and thrilling cinema that holds up today as one of the best action scenes I've seen. In the end, I don't dislike Ben-Hur; I can't deny that emotionally it left me cold, but as an achievement, it's a remarkable piece of work, so good that it redeems some of my problems with the heart of the movie.
10-10	Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs	I think I'm going to have to excuse myself from a numerical rating on this one. Why? Because on the one hand, I thought this was okay, but nothing special. I found the character design really ugly and off-putting, but I really enjoyed the kinetic energy of it all, the sheer energy and the imaginative way that it put together major setpieces. (Of course, I haven't seen any of the others, so a lot of the bad feelings might have come through if I'd seen this done before.) The plot was a little labored, and I got tired of the pop culture gags...and yet, going against all that was the fact that this was the first time we took Aidan out to an actual theater to see a movie, and I enjoyed the whole thing a ton just to see it through his eyes. Watching him laugh, cringe, and sit way up in his seat to pay attention made me enjoy the movie more than it deserved just for the joy of watching him get into movies the way that I know I do these days. So, I'm refraining from it - on a guess, the movie probably deserves about a 3 1/2 out of 5 or so, but I can't deny that I can't look at it as critically as I usually can.
10-10	The Brood	Early work from Cronenberg that takes a little while to gets going, but packs a wallop when it does. According to what I've read, Cronenberg wrote The Brood both as a response to his hatred of Kramer vs. Kramer and his own painful divorce, and the anger and bile about the subject is evident throughout the film, despite the fact that the central couple is separated, not actually divorced. But Cronenberg focuses on what it's like to be a solo father figure, and nails down the worry and pain of being a child whose parents are separating, and does both so well that you're willing to give the film long enough to get to the horror that you know is coming. Surprisingly, what comes is fairly sparse, and while it's intense in sections, it doesn't come close to the level of surreal terror of Cronenberg's later work until the last fifteen minutes. In its finale, however, The Brood finally draws all of its threads together, spinning together an intensely creepy scene, disturbing and horrific imagery, and the thematic threads that have been working throughout the film into one spectacular sequence, ending in a final shot that's not only appropriate for a horror film, but also as a logical conclusion of the movie's focus on divorce. It's not that the rest of the film is bad, but it never comes close to working as well as it does in that finale, and it's telling that Cronenberg's later work would be more successful at synthesizing his themes, imagery, and horror throughout and not just in spurts. Still, even as a drama of sorts, The Brood is compelling stuff, and that finale is definitely a glimpse at the mastery to come.
10-9	The Thing	There's no doubt that Halloween is apparently the John Carpenter film that makes it onto the canon, but I really feel like The Thing is in every way the superior film, both as horror film and simply as cinema. A masterpiece of dread, paranoia, and suspicion, The Thing is so perfectly structured that you could teach whole lessons about how the film uses narrative ellipses to build tension without drawing the viewer's attention, or how it uses jump scares honestly (no flying cats here) after building to them fairly, or how the film misdirects you into expecting a scare from one direction while building somewhere else entirely. If the film has a flaw, it's the lingering gore effects; for a film that works so hard at building unease and uncertainty, the lengthy focus on the effects removes some of that sense of the unknown. But that's a small trade, given how perfectly the rest of the film works on your nerves. What greater praise can I give than saying that on a second viewing, the film still works every bit as well, especially that blood test scene? Using the isolation and loneliness of its Arctic setting to the nth degree, and pitting intelligent, thoughtful men against each other instead of brainless teenagers, The Thing is definitely the best film John Carpenter has ever done, and one of the most essential horror films of all time.
10-9	The Hustler	The closest thing I can compare The Hustler to is last year's The Wrestler, a film about a man so obsessed with what he did that he lost track of who he was - if there ever was a boundary there to begin with. Rather than breaking down the line between performance and self, though, The Hustler focuses on the thrill of doing something great, and the way that the whole rest of your life can seem insignificant next to that. In another way, though, The Hustler is indeed an old-fashioned morality tale, as one review I read pointed out, except that the morality is filled with shades of gray. There's no doubt that George C. Scott (excellent, as always) represents the voice of darkness, but the appeal here is far more insidious and selfish than simple greed. It's about winning, and the exhilaration of breaking someone else and proving your superiority. The fact that The Hustler goes to such dark places all while never feeling like its sermonizing is a testament to its greatness. Every major performance is a knockout; Newman and Scott are superb, but when are they not? But Jackie Gleason brings a smooth minimalism to his Minnesota Fats, and Piper Laurie is riveting as a broken woman who finds herself involved with Newman. The Hustler is a masterpiece from opening to close, and if you're worried about watching a long movie about pool, don't be; it's less about the sport than about the obsession.
10-8	Point Blank	I got to see Point Blank about a year and a half ago as part of the Belcourt's noir festival, and I wasn't a big fan at the time, dismissing it as meandering and self-consciously arty. Over time, though, I've always felt that I owed it a second watch. When I saw it, I was tired, and I probably drifted in and out a little bit, and besides, I almost always try to watch something that seems to be widely embraced again to see if I've missed something. Man, did I. I have to blame my negative reaction on my fatigue, because on a second watch, there's nothing meandering about Point Blank, and the art touches give the film an eerie, discomfiting air that suits it perfectly. A simple revenge story, Point Blank tells the story of a man named Walker who is betrayed by his partner and his wife; now, he wants his money back. The plot is simple, but the movie is anything but, and it all starts with Lee Marvin as Walker. People comment to Walker frequently that they thought he was dead, and Marvin plays the role as if he might be, as if the betrayal cut him off from whatever humanity he had left. Ice cold and ruthless, Marvin's Walker is a haunting figure, and yet the film's odd editing gives a glimpse into his character that suggests there may be more guilt and regret than we realize. Then, of course, there are the villains; gone are the mobsters of the 30s, and in their place is a group more akin to a corporation. It's little touches like this that make Point Blank so great; while there's a brutal fatalism to the film, Boorman brings enough originality to the direction, Marvin brings enough to the character, and the story is fascinating enough to make the film unlike much else. So, what else can I say? I was really, really wrong, but I'm very glad I saw it again.
10-8	Mad Max	Analogy time, kids! Mad Max is to The Road Warrior as El Mariachi is to Desperado. In other words, it's a solid, entertaining low-budget effort that really can't compare to the scope, effectiveness, quality, or fun of its big budget followup. Watching the movies backwards probably isn't fair to Mad Max; I'll admit that I missed the more desolate, post-apocalyptic setting, and the bigger budget definitely made for more spectacular car chases. And yet, I still enjoyed Max quite a bit. Even with the low budget, Miller shows a flair for car chase scenes, and has some absolutely spectacular showdowns in the car. And while the plot kind of meanders along until about twenty minutes from the end, I like the way that the movie really avoids the questions of what happened to bring the world to this point, letting it remain in the mind of the viewer. Like I said at the beginning, I feel like this is Miller's El Mariachi - it shows a lot of promise, it's a lot of fun, but its main importance was giving its director a chance to play with bigger toys and budgets, and the results are more than worth the risk.
10-8	Platoon	I'm really surprised to find how much Platoon impressed me. For one thing, I tend to hate Oliver Stone; with a couple of exceptions (Born on the Fourth of July, the studio segments of Talk Radio), I find his direction obnoxious and overbearing, to say nothing of his writing. Secondly, while Platoon might have been the origin for so many Vietnam movie cliches, there's no escaping that I've seen these stories told over and over again in the years since then. And yet, Platoon works, and works magnificently. I can't deny the fact that Stone's real-life time in Vietnam has to be a factor here; even in the midst of stories whose ending we know, Stone fills them with rich characters who have lives beyond the progression of the plot. In fact, while the film has a broad plot outline, it's more a series of incidents that add up to a cumulative whole, something that gives the film a unique feeling and grounds the viewer more with the troops than with the historical setting. There are still a couple of thudding touches, most notably Sheen's narration, which tends to spell out themes that are already obvious, but even that is written well enough and cast as a window into the character that it doesn't really detract from the film. In the end, Platoon is the first Vietnam film made by a Vietnam veteran, and it shows: with its willingness to depict war and decisions taken therein without flinching, its desire to depict the war without heroes or villains, its interest in understanding the day-to-day life of a grunt rather than making a point, it set a high bar for Vietnam war films to follow - one that few films have really managed to touch.
10-7	Ghost Town	I have to be honest: there's not all that much about Ghost Town that's terribly original. I mean, a selfish man can see ghosts who need his help. Will he find kindness in his heart? Will his unlikely romance come to pass? And yet, I really enjoyed the film, and there's two main reasons for that. The first: Ricky Gervais. Gervais is one of those rare people who are simply intrinsically funny, and his put-upon, hateful character is flawless here, as Gervais reacts to situations with acid wit and discomfort. I have no idea how many of his lines are ad-libbed (I would guess a lot), but he has the uncanny ability and timing to make just about any scene laugh-out-loud funny. But the other thing Ghost Town has going for it is a willingness to engage in serious emotion. The conversations between Gervais and Leoni aren't just mindless rom-com conversations that sketch these people; they seem like genuine discussions between people who laugh at each other's jokes, and their chemistry and timing really makes the film work. More than that, though, when Gervais starts to undergo the inevitable "change for the better," the film doesn't just have him pull empty gestures; there's a sweetness to it all that surprised me, and in one case even moved me a little as I thought back about my assumptions about one character. It's a film that's better than it has any right to be, and that's due in no small part to a great cast (Gervais is the standout, but everyone does great here) and a winning storyline.
10-7	Hamlet 2	Near the end of Hamlet 2, the teacher tells one of his Tucson students, who's in New York, that he's in for a magical life, because wherever he goes, it'll be better than Tucson. It's a useful sentiment to remember, because no matter what else I see this year, it'll be better than Hamlet 2. Few genres are more painful to sit through when they fail than comedy - almost anything else becomes funny, but comedy just becomes awful, and that's what happens here. There's a great premise to Hamlet 2 - a failure of a drama teacher writes a bizarre sequel to Hamlet in order to work out his own issues and save a drama department - so it's all the more frustrating to see it wasted in this awful film. If the movie were ever funny, it would forgive a lot, but it substitutes randomness for punchlines and crudeness in place of actual jokes. The characters are awful and unappealing, the delivery awful, the performances shrill...it's an awful, awful movie that I wish I had listened to myself and bailed on halfway through.
10-6	The Thief of Bagdad	Old school epic fantasy that holds up incredibly well when the action's flowing. I'll admit to getting a little bored with the lackluster love story at the center of Thief - the characters were fairly flat, and mainly in love to drive the story. But when the story shifted focus to Sabu, or to any of the spectacular creations, I had a blast. I'm sure plenty of people will argue that the effects are dated because of the imperfections, but I really don't care; I think I loved them all the more for that, and would love to see this on a big screen somewhere. Just think about the monstrous genie or the flood on the big screen, where you can see all that detail - how awesome would that be? The story will be familiar to you, even if you've never seen it - Disney reworked the tale of a prince, a princess, a thief, an evil vizier, and a genie into Aladdin - but as with any great adventure film, this is all about the sights along the way, and Thief has some jawdroppers.
10-6	Hellboy II: The Golden Army	Unabashed fun, from opening to close. I fully admit that I'm a sucker for del Toro's films; there's something about his loving mix of fantasy and reality that I love, and reminds me of the best of Terry Gilliam's work. And while I liked Pan's Labyrinth, is it blasphemy to say that I actually enjoyed this more, even if it is slighter? The reason is because there's something joyous about watching del Toro's imagination explode, and from the surprising ending to a tree spirit fight to the wondrous denizens of the Troll Market, Hellboy II packs every frame with creatures that are truly a joy to behold. Of course, the movie wouldn't work without some great leads, and while the whole cast is a lot of fun, you couldn't have this movie without Perlman's great job as Hellboy himself, bringing the character to swaggering, cocky life. The plot, admittedly, is pretty standard summer movie stuff - an evil prince looking to take the Earth back for his people - but del Toro and Mignola give it enough richness and emotional heft to make it work, not only for plot purposes, but to make the characters' desires seem legitimate. It's really a great piece of summer filmmaking, and I really hate that it got overshadowed by The Dark Knight; I can't deny that Nolan's film is the better one, but it makes it no less of a crime that something this fun got forgotten.
10-6	The Strangers	The trailers for The Strangers make it look like a fairly generic to bad entry into the "torture porn" genre of horror, and yet a lot of the reviews of the film said that it couldn't be further from the genre. Turns out those people were right - it's almost 45 minutes into The Strangers before anyone other than our protagonists is seen on screen, and by that point, I was incredibly tense and unnerved. There are a lot of obvious Texas Chainsaw influences here, from the opening narration to the attempt to the low-key filming, but the best lesson The Strangers learned is to take your time. Rarely does the film indulge in cheap scares; instead, it uses sound to incredible effect (watching this in surround sound is a must) and frames shots in clever ways that build tension without feeling like the ridiculous "I can't see the killer because he's out of frame" of so many terrible movies. There's no doubt that the film loses a little steam towards the end, but it's definitely not a dealbreaker; the first hour of this film is all but a tutorial on how to do away with cheap scares and instead focus on the slow building of dread. I went in with fairly low hopes and was really surprised by how well done this was; the fact that this is a debut feature is pretty impressive, and I'm very curious to see where this writer/director goes from here.
10-5	Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)	From the very beginning, there's something just a little...off...about this film. From the way that shots linger just a little too long to the way that odd things seem to be happening in the background, there's an air of discomfort that originates pretty early in the film. For a while, it seems like the film's just badly made, but you soon start to realize how effectively it's made you uneasy and tense, before anything really starts to happen. Then, things do start to happen...and in comes the high-octane nightmare fuel. This version of Body Snatchers is pretty legendary, and I'm happy to say it didn't disappoint - in fact, I expected to enjoy it, but not for it to so deeply give me the creeps the way it did. There's no denying that the film has its flaws. It's overlong long, the pacing is odd...and yet, those flaws are pretty inextricable from the things that make the movie so great. For all the warts, it's a memorable and disturbing horror film, one that builds to some absolutely unforgettable scenes, even before the iconic final shot. And don't worry if you know that shot - I did, and the impact was no less. A fantastic horror film.
10-5	A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy	Falling right near the same period that gave us Hannah and Her Sisters, Manhattan, The Purple Rose of Cairo, and Zelig, A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy has almost no excuse to be as dull as it is. Objectively, there's nothing really wrong with the film; it's shot wonderfully, Allen's gift for dialogue and emotionally true plots holds up, and I like the sweetness of parts of the ending. And yet, ultimately, it just feels a little aimless, pointless, and empty. The characters never really soar the way they do in any of those other films, and while the plotting could set up a great comedy/drama about faithfulness, love, and sex, it's more just about some characters swapping around until they end up with whoever it is they end up with. Worst of all, it's just not that funny, and when your title promises a comedy, you really should deliver that. I can't think of major negatives about it, but there's nothing really positive to say about it either, other than "At least it wasn't as bad as Everyone Says I Love You."
10-5	What's Up, Tiger Lily?	Woody Allen's directorial debut (sort of), What's Up, Tiger Lily? is an actual Japanese spy movie re-edited and re-dubbed by Allen and friends (and then, to be fair, further reworked by the studio). There's no way to watch the movie and not think of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and that doesn't help Tiger Lily, whose hit-to-miss gag ratio is decidedly lower than even weak episodes of MST3k. There are moments of pure brilliance and silliness throughout, and while watching, I was actually pretty impressed with Allen's ability to essentially rewrite a story that accommodated all the footage. The problem, though, is that the film just doesn't hold together well. Some funny gags here and there can't make up for some really flat scenes and a sense of pacing that makes an 80-minute film drag on and on. It's not a complete waste of time, and I fully admit that there are some great bits here, but it's more interesting as a window into Allen or an inspiration for MST3k than as a film of its own.
10-5	Zelig	One review I've read described this as the thinking man's Forrest Gump, and in some ways that's true, even though I think this is closer to Being There than Gump. A fake documentary about the ultimate conformist, Zelig is the story of a man who adapts to match those around him - physically, mentally, emotionally, and in every way possible. The results are completely hilarious, as we see Zelig appearing with Hitler, Fitzgerald, Hoover, and just about anyone else of note from the 1920s and 30s. Of course, if the joke were nothing more than the "hey, he's with that guy" appeal, the movie wouldn't be as great as it is. But you can count on Allen to bring a smart, sly sensibility to it all, and the depth he gives the scenes are consistently hilarious and great to watch, and you have to love some of the social satire he manages to toss into the mix. And, hey, even if the movie weren't funny as hell and legitimately engaging, the technical aspects - with Allen and others being mixed seamlessly into stock footage - are fantastic, predating Gump by over a decade and looking every bit as good, if not a little better.
9-25	The Big Lebowski	What else can I say about The Big Lebowski can I say that I haven't said so many times before? Every time I watch this, it's like coming back to old friends again. From the abusive but loving Walter to the dopey but affable Donnie, from the larger-than-life Jesus to the screwball comedy feminism of Maude, The Big Lebowski is filled with some of the most memorable and endearing characters of any film I can remember. But striding through them all is Bridges' Dude, an old rebel whose drug-addled brain works far more sharply than you might expect, and whose laid-back, relaxed philosophy makes him, as the film's narrator says "the man, for his time and place". I've seen it more times than any other film, and I laugh harder every time I see it; I see new details and jokes, and find more joy in the performances. I really believe it's one of the most flawless and perfect films I've ever seen, and it's the rare movie I don't ever get tired of watching. A goofy mix of detective story, shaggy-dog tale, dumb humor, sharp writing, and brilliant acting, there's really nothing else like it, but when what I have is this good, I don't really need anything else like it.
9-25	Sherlock Jr.	At just under forty-five minutes, the length of Sherlock Jr. might fool you into thinking this is a minor work in Buster Keaton's career; instead, I found it to be one of his funniest and best works. The story of a projectionist who dabbles in detective work, Sherlock Jr. has a plot - more or less, Keaton gets accused of a theft he didn't commit, then dreams of solving the crime - but really, it's just an excuse to hang a collection of scenes on. But when the scenes are this brilliant, this clever, and this laugh-out-loud funny, who cares? Keaton's stony face and lack of reaction makes the gags even funnier, but there's no denying the jaw-dropping nature of some of what you see. Sure, everyone talks about the scene where Keaton enters the world of the film and is tossed around like Daffy in Duck Amuck, and with just reason - it's hilarious and brilliantly staged, and I can't even imagine how much work went into it. But how can you not talk about the billiards scene? Or the dive through a window? Or that hilarious final shot? Sherlock Jr. is pretty much flawless in every way, and I can't recommend it enough. It's free on Google Video, people! What are you waiting for?
9-24	Blackmail	Blackmail was Hitchcock's last foray into silent film/first foray into "talkies" (depending on the version you saw - this was the silent version), and I have to admit to a certain degree of trepidation about early Hitchcock. I know it's film-lover blasphemy to say it, but I'm not a giant fan of early Hitchcock - even the venerated The Lady Vanishes was too light and goofy for me. So it was a pleasant surprise to find Blackmail tense, unnerving, and surprisingly grim. More than that, it was a surprise to find how clever and intense Hitch could be even this early - from a brilliant breakfast table scene all about a knife to some great use of shadows, Blackmail weaves its spell well, creating not just tension over the plot but firmly immersing the viewer into the guilt-ridden conscience of its heroine. The story itself is simple - about a woman who commits an act out of desperation, but finds that it's not as secret as she thought - but this tale is all in the telling, and it's told brilliantly. (Added bonus: the Belcourt's screening was accompanied by live musical score by the Alloy Orchestra, who were brilliant - their work was never obtrusive, but complemented the film perfectly, adding the perfect mood to the whole work. If they perform alongside any films near you, I highly recommend seeing them.)
9-22	Network	I don't know that I've sat and watched Network since seeing it (and being blown away by it) in high school, and part of the joy of watching it today with my film club was seeing my students react the same way I did, all those years ago. As for me? The film's a little more uneven than I remember - it meanders a bit and feels a little unfocused - but when everything comes together, as it does in so many scenes (any of Beale's rants, Beatty's brilliant corporate cosmology sermon, the finale, the famous lovemaking scene)...man. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Network is one of those movies, like A Face in the Crowd or Ace in the Hole, whose scathing, satirical portrait of the media seems less and less satirical and more and more accurate as time passes. There's no way that I could watch Network today, for instance, and not think of Glenn Beck as I watched a dangerous and unstable man whip people up into a frenzy. And when the film gets focused and its teeth come out, it makes some hellacious points. Does the film wander around a little? Sure, but to its credit, none of the wandering is bad - it's just not as gripping and thrilling as the actual meat of the story. In a lot of ways, Network is the ultimate example of Hawks's "three good scenes and no bad ones" theory of what makes a good film, except that Network has a hell of a lot more than three good scenes in it. Still one of the essential film experiences, and one that tends to grow in the memory, as the lesser scenes fade and those incredible moments sear in.
9-19	The Informant!	It's difficult to explain what exactly makes The Informant! so great without ruining the fun of watching it. After all, I'm a sucker for genre-benders, but even knowing that shift is coming can ruin the enjoyment for some people. So let me just say that The Informant! is definitely a comedy, and a great one at that. Matt Damon puts in a fantastic performance, but the reaction shots of the people around him may be as brilliant as anything he does. Well, except for his voiceover, which may be the best use of voiceover ever in a film. Rather than exposition or a glimpse into the character, it's completely bizarre, off-topic ramblings that manage to be hilarious, unsettlingly weird, and even tense (especially as you get the sense that Damon is missing things he should really be paying attention to). But then, the film begins to become something very different, and a lot of pieces fall into place, and you realize that a lot of what you've thought about the film - its genre, its focus, and its point - may not be entirely accurate... I'll admit that I knew some, but not all, of the story behind the movie - I knew some of what Whitacre had done, and I knew what became of him. But none of that really matters, because this is all in the execution, and Soderbergh and Damon blow it out of the water. Very, very funny, surprisingly complex, and profoundly human, The Informant! is easily one of the best films of the year, if not the best, that I've seen so far.
9-15	Harry Potter and the Half- Blood Prince (IMAX)	As much as I would love to see Cuarón return to helming the series (or even better, Gilliam pick them up), I can't deny that David Yates has brought some of the best filming and direction to the series so far. His action sequences here are great, using silence to maximum effect and bringing a real sense of excitement and wonder to it all. And yet...maybe it's just me, but my attachment to the filmed versions of the Potter novels has never been strong, and the further into the series we get, the less and less I really care. The movies have always felt to me less like a movie and more like a collection of scenes loosely strung together, and even Yates's solid filming doesn't make that any less apparent. Some of the blame has to be laid at the feet of the script; when you have a family's house burn down, then immediately cut to one of the family members laughing and playing as if it never happened, you have some issues (to say nothing of the film's final conversation about death and the future interrupted by a two line laughing discussion of love). Really. there's nothing all that much wrong with the movie - in fact, I'd say it's one of the best of the series, despite the fanboy complaints about changes (strict adherence to the source material is what crippled this series, people). It's just that I can't find it any more than adequate in the end. I enjoyed it as a fan of the books, but even a few days later I'm having problems remembering anything of any importance about it. (Note: thanks to a power outage and the apparent fact that you can't rewind an IMAX film, I missed a good portion of the luck potion scenes, the one sequence everyone seemed to love, and the one section of the movie I was most interested in seeing. LAME.)
9-11	Saturday Night Fever	My friend Ryan has argued that Saturday Night Fever is a film famous for something it's really not, and having finally seen it, he's really dead-on. All I knew about Fever going in was what everyone really knows: the Bee Gees soundtrack, the Travolta dance sequence, the strut, the "don't touch the hair" family scene. So it was fascinating to watch a movie I assumed to be gloss and glam slowly turn into something far darker in tone and subject matter. In some bizarre way, Fever actually reminded me of the novel A Clockwork Orange, whose final chapter details Alex growing up and realizing how shallow his life has been. Similarly, Fever feels less like a celebration of dancing and teen life and more like the story of a young man who realizes how empty his life is and how much he hates it, from his family to his friends, and maybe even to himself. The films not flawless; as some reviewers point out, the priest character seems a little shoehorned in, and some scenes are nearly impossible to follow, be it from bad dialogue or awkward filming. And yet, its strong sense of time, place, and character really anchors it all, making it a painful and grim look at growing up and the costs we have to pay to do so. (A final note: apparently there are two cuts of this. I cannot imagine how badly neutered the PG cut of this film must be; I urge you, if you want to watch this, to see the original R-rated version.)
9-8	The King of Comedy	In a career with such masterpieces as Goodfellas and Taxi Driver, it's not really surprising that The King of Comedy has been so neglected, but it makes it no less of a shame. One of the most awkward films I've ever watched, The King of Comedy is essentially a more satirical, slightly more comedic take on Taxi Driver, with De Niro again playing a slightly deranged man who could be capable of just about anything. And yet, that's about where the similarities end, really. To be fair, anyone would notice the change in obsession target (from "freeing" women to becoming famous), but one of the most effective differences comes in De Niro's astonishing performance, which I honestly think ranks among his best. Gone is the swaggering, dangerous loner of Taxi Driver, and gone is the confidence of his mob films; in their place is an awkward, unlikable, socially inept man who's about as far from threatening as he could possibly be, which makes his eventual actions all the more surprising. To be fair, part of the reason Pupkin seems so harmless is because of Scorsese's brilliant immersion of the viewer into his world, as fantasy and reality blur so often that we sometimes lose track of which we're in, making the sudden crashes to reality (most notably that long, painful scene in Langford's house) all the more jarring and effective. And then there's that brilliant, ironic, savagely cynical ending... Anchored by some great performances (Jerry Lewis really does a hell of a job here, even if I think he's probably playing himself to a large degree), some virtuoso direction, and a compelling, funny, uncomfortable, cynical plot, The King of Comedy is a neglected masterpiece.
9-4	Z	There's no way for me to watch Z and not be reminded of The Wire - and that's an awfully good thing. Like The Wire, Z is anchored by a rage and anger at the status quo, but it explores this rage by means of complicated characters, intricate plotting, and the staples of a thriller. On the other hand, Z is far less ambiguous and complex than The Wire; while Simon and Burns's portrait of Baltimore was filled with moral shades of gray, the anger present in Z paints the government as evil and the pacifists as good, with little exception; then again, given the fact that Z was based on real events (an assassination of a peace protestor and the following sham of a trial) and was filmed so soon afterwards, it's a completely understandable difference. I went into Z expecting something more like a conventional thriller; rather, Z moves through three stages (the rally, the aftermath, the investigation), using each to spin a complex plot but also to sling some serious (and deserved) mud. It's raw, compelling stuff, and it all builds to an ending devastating in its simplicity and power. It's not without some flaws - the movie takes a little too long to get going, for one thing, and while I understand the drive to make the characters as generic as possible, the act of using descriptions as names, especially in something so complex, can make the plotting a little tough to follow, particularly if you're not up on your military rankings. All of that being said, Z is riveting, powerful stuff, and its style, intelligence, and raw emotion makes it a hell of a film.
8-31	They Live	If the second half of They Live was even half as good as the first half, this would be one for the ages; as it is, it deserves its cult following, but not much more than that. It's really frustrating watching They Live slowly deflate to what could charitably be called an anticlimax, because the setup and first half (maybe the first hour) is so great. I knew a lot about the film going in (like what exactly Piper sees through those glasses), but that didn't make the scene of revelation any less impressive - it's done so well, and with such a minimum of fanfare, that the impact really creeps up on you. It's not just the style, either; it's the keen (and funny) social satire Carpenter is bringing to the table with his tale. Add to that an apparently apocalyptic cult, Piper going on a killing spree (of sorts) and that great alley fight, and you have all the ingredients for one of Carpenter's best films. And then, it all; starts to fall apart. It's clear Carpenter didn't have much of an ending for the film, and try though he might to put it off, it has to end sometime. It's just a shame that it ends with such a whimper (and a lame joke), and that the film loses both its sense of fun and purpose as the end nears. I'm glad I saw it, and I loved parts of it; as a whole, though, it's disappointing.
8-29	Once Upon a Time in the West	Once Upon a Time in the West was my first exposure to Leone, a few years back, so it seems only fitting to close a month of Leone films with the one that I started with. Now that I've seen them all, I can't say that West is my favorite - how can I not go with The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly there? - but I still think it's Leone's best film, and the most complex one by a long shot. Leone is still in top form here when it comes to showdowns - it's hard to know if the opening sequence tops the final showdown, but it's close - but what makes West truly stick with you are the characters. With four main characters, West could easily afford to keep an enigmatic lead (and, to some degree, Bronson's Harmonica fills this role), but instead we get complex, fully realized characters, from Robards' good-natured criminal Cheyenne to Henry Fonda's coldly ambitious Frank (a hell of a performance, and a hell of a villain, especially from someone so known for being the noble hero). More than that, we get Leone's vision of the end of the West - while this isn't as bleak and brutal as Unforgiven, it's concerned with the realities and the end of the West in many of the same ways - the way the railroad changed everything, the way law and order gradually replaced the Darwinism of the west. And underneath everything, you have Morricone's epic themes, giving everything a beauty, menace, and power that Leone's visuals deserve. If you ever get the chance to see this on the big screen, take it - a film this epic deserves every inch of screen it gets.
8-28	Wild at Heart	When I first started to really get into Lynch a few years back and watched Wild at Heart for the first time, I wasn't a huge fan. So when it was announced as a midnight movie, I was pretty excited. Maybe a second viewing would clarify the cult status of this one. Sadly, the opposite was true - I liked this even less than last time this time around. There's so much that Lynch does well - surreal interludes, dreamlike tension, inexplicable terror - and yet, almost none of that pays off here. A lot of the blame, I think, has to go to Cage and Dern - not that they're terrible, but that their roles are too far over the top. Lynch works best with someone approaching a "straight man," for lack of a better term - someone who's as bewildered by what's happening as we are. (Think Watts in Mulholland Drive, or Pullman in Lost Highway.) Sailor and Lula, by contrast, are every bit as weird as everyone around them, so even when you get someone like Dafoe's insane criminal, they don't stand out like Blake in Highway or Hopper in Velvet. There are some moments I like, to be fair - I love the eerie and unsettling car crash scene with Sherilyn Fenn, and Jack Nance's bizarre cameo cracks me up. But, by and large, I just really don't like Wild at Heart. I often can't tell if I'm laughing at Lynch or with him, but I really think it's the former in this case.
8-28	I nglourious Basterds	Inglourious Basterds has been rumored and discussed for so long that I figured, if it ever did come out, that it couldn't possibly live up to the buildup. I take it all back, now: it was worth every second of the wait. Tarantino has said that he views Basterds as his spaghetti Western, but with WWII trappings, and there's no denying the Leone feel to so many of the scenes, from an excruciatingly tense tavern scene to a spectacular opening conversation. But there's no denying that this is a Tarantino film, through and through, and his dialogue sings as much as ever. Brad Pitt turns in the most gleefully entertaining performance, but it's Christophe Waltz who truly dominates the film as Hans Landa, the so-called "Jew-hunter" whose affability and pleasant face mask an insidious, cunning detective. The other joy, though, is that Tarantino begins the directorial maturing he began in Kill Bill, bringing an assured style to the happenings, most notably in the film's spectacular finale, a scene in a cinema which is easily the best single piece of film I've had the joy of watching this year. There's so much to unpack here - the inversion of expectations (this isn't the movie you think it is, especially if all you know is the trailer), the way Tarantino turns a mirror at the audience and their bloodlust, the discussion of cinema, the way that appearances and masquerades are such a compelling motif - and it's all in service of one of the most entertaining and enjoyable two-and-a-half hours I've had in the movies this year. Smart, funny, intense, terrifying, spectacular, hilarious, disturbing - Inglourious Basterds is all of that and more. Best film of the year so far, and it's not even close.
8-25	Ace in the Hole	The kickoff to Film Club this year, and it sets the bar really high. Billy Wilder is pretty well-known as a cynic, but even that reputation can't prepare you for just how vicious Ace in the Hole really is. And I'm not just talking about the leads - even though Douglas has rarely been so simultaneously charming and repellent, and Sterling creates perhaps the most selfish and frigid wife in recent memory. No, Wilder's bile here takes no prisoners - from the media to the people themselves, from the naive victims to the public officials. It's a breathtaking indictment of the media, with a prescient view of the way the public is ruled by their baser desires. Presaging everything from the OJ trial to Michael Jackson's death coverage, Ace in the Hole's biggest asset is the fact that it doesn't feel dated at all, despite the fact that it's nearly sixty years old. Perhaps Wilder's best film (and that's saying something, given his filmography), filled with crackling dialogue that would fit perfectly in classic noir, anchored by spellbinding performances, and packing one hell of a mean punch, Ace in the Hole is an absolute masterpiece.
8-25	The Last House on the Left (1972)	Craven's brutal and horrific take on Bergman's The Virgin Spring is deeply flawed, yet retains a hell of an impact. There's no doubt that the flaw has problems - the comic relief cops are horrible, the attempt to add levity to the film is deeply misguided, and what the hell is with the theme song? Yet, when the film really gets going, it goes. Once the car breaks down near the woods, Last House stops being a little cheesy and starts really unsettling and horrifying. It's a fascinating companion piece to The Virgin Spring - Bergman's film is so much a parable about God, redemption, and more that watching a version stripped of God and any moral compass leaves the film far more stark and horrifying. Bergman offers the possibility, no matter how remote, of redemption, of even a cruel God watching over everything; Craven offers no hope, and that freeze frame at the end really hammers that home. I can't "recommend" it, but if you're a serious student of horror films, you owe it to yourself to see it, even if it's unlikely you'll ever want to see it again.
8-22	Duck, You Sucker	One of Sergio Leone's more overlooked films, Duck, You Sucker (a.k.a. A Fistful of Dynamite) is probably my least favorite Leone to date, but that's less because it's bad and more because the others are so great. Sucker is mainly the tale of Juan Miranda, a Mexican bandit who finds himself getting involved with the Mexican revolution against his will, largely due to his relationship with John Mallory, a former IRA member. The result is easily Leone's funniest film, with Rod Steiger's Miranda a profane, low-class reluctant hero who's more interested in making money than any causes. Fascinatingly, while most films would push this sort of character into accepting ideals and becoming a better person, Sucker all but endorses Miranda's viewpoint. In one of the film's most telling sequences, Miranda says to Mallory: The people who read the books go to the people who can't read the books, the poor people, and say, "We have to have a change." So, the poor people make the change, ah? And then, the people who read the books, they all sit around the big polished tables, and they talk and talk and talk and eat and eat and eat, eh? But what has happened to the poor people? They're dead! It's a powerful statement, and one that lingers long after the film ends, especially given the climactic scenes. It's not a flawless film - it's overlong and unwieldy, and the flashbacks' use of slow motion is less effective than comic - but for all its warts, it still works magnificently well, with some truly astonishing action sequences (and explosions) and two captivating, gripping lead performances by Steiger and Coburn, whose friendship gives the film an unexpected emotional heft. A fascinating, neglected film.
8-20	Plan 9 from Outer Space (RiffTrax live event)	First, an explanatory note: RiffTrax is the followup project to Mystery Science Theater 3000, where a bizarre cast would mock and ridicule terrible movies. With the show ended, a bunch of the people behind it founded RiffTrax, recording MP3 files that you could download and watch with more current releases. But this week, the RiffTrax crew came to Nashville to the Belcourt and broadcast across the country, and the results were spectacular. Over the course of two hours, we got a short film (Flying Stewardesses), musical interludes by Jonathan Coulton, fake ads from Rich "LowTax" Kyanka, and best of all, a live riffing on the worst film of all time, Plan 9 From Outer Space. I've said my piece on Plan 9 before - suffice to say, it's every bit as bad as its reputation indicates. And as any fan of MST3k knows, the worse the movie, the funnier the experience. With some spectacular lines, physical jokes, and a really enthusiastic crowd, this was a blast of a night, and a major coup for the Belcourt. Sure, picking on Plan 9 is hitting some low-hanging fruit, but when you're swinging as hard as these guys were and knocking them out of the park, it's hard to complain too much. I laughed till I cried throughout, and I know I wasn't the only one. Here's hoping this happens again sometime soon, ideally back here - I'd love to go again.
8-17	Safety Last!	A classic film that I wish I liked this more than I did. It's odd how many people know the famous scene from this of Lloyd dangling from the hands of the giant clock, but know nothing about the film around it; I certainly would put myself in that category. The plot concerns a young man who goes to the city to make his fortune, but just can't do it; he comes up with a plan to bring customers to his store by having a friend scale the massive building. Needless to say, things don't go according to plan. Here's my problem with Safety Last! - it's not that it's not well-made, or even impressive. There's no way to watch the building scaling and not be impressed by the daring and ingenuity on display. The problem is that it's just not that funny, and really not that entertaining. Lloyd plays a perfectly fine everyman, but it's not that engaging of a persona; it's not the stoic befuddlement of Keaton or the mischievous charm of Chaplin, and the absence of someone like that leaves what feels like a major void. Again, it's certainly not bad, and it's a hell of a technical feat, but I really left it more admiring the accomplishments than the film itself.
8-15	The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly	I've now seen this twice, and somehow managed to have both viewings on a big screen. That's a pretty great track record. Last time, I liked it, but didn't love it; seeing it now, I wonder why I wasn't more thrilled with it. I think seeing more of Leone's work helps; knowing that what I'm getting is less directly plotted and more picaresque allows you to just give yourself over to the movie, enjoying its wanderings and its epic feel. The bridge sequence is a case in point; on my first viewing, I commented that it disrupted the flow of the film and went on too long. Watching it now, I completely disagree with both statements. Especially when watching the European cut of the film, it's apparent that Leone was moving into his fascinating with the "making of" America, as he'd toy with in Once Upon a Time in the West/in America, and The Good...'s usage of the Civil War isn't just intended as backdrop; it's both commentary on war and a way of putting into sharp relief the utter pointlessness of the quest for the Gold. But more than any of that, The Good... is a triumph of style. So much of the film is without dialogue, and yet it never drags; rather, it flies by, most notably in that stunning final showdown that offers a lesson in how to stretch tension. Anchored by three iconic performances, Morricone's spectacular music, more setpieces than I can count, and Leone's brilliant direction, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is an utter masterpiece.
8-14	In the Loop	Almost every review or discussion of this I've seen ends up referencing Dr. Strangelove, and it's not surprising. Like Strangelove, In the Loop takes a look at an unfunny, horrifying situation - here, the buildup to and declaration of the Iraq war - and dares to make a pitch-black comedy out of it. And, like Strangelove, it somehow works, mining laughs all the way to the bitter end. And yet, for all the laughs -and trust me, there are a lot of them - it's not the flawless success the earlier film was. There's no shortage of strengths to the movie: from the gleefully profane dialogue to some brilliant comic performances (most notably Capaldi's excoriating Scottish force of nature), but the biggest shortcoming is the lack of cohesion. I'm not familiar with the British show from which most of the cast and characters originated (The Thick of It), but the movie feels a lot like it was made by people more comfortable in sketch comedy than a plotted series; it's a series of brilliant scenes, but they frequently don't tie together all that well. Add to that the fact that the movie attempts to take a turn for the serious near the end that just doesn't work - the characters haven't merited a serious turn - and you have a couple of glaring flaws that hurt this. Still, it's frequently hilarious, and well worth watching, and maybe here's the most telling thing I could say: if these guys do another movie, I'm definitely there for it, warts and all.
8-11	Better Off Ted	Mixing gleeful absurdity and silliness with a less than flattering portrait of corporate culture, Better Off Ted has slowly become one of the funniest shows on television right now. I've raved on here enough times about "Racial Insensitivity," claiming it was the best episode to date, but the miraculous thing about Ted is the way the show just keeps getting better and better each week. While the characters aren't quite strong enough to successfully carry the occasional (and very infrequent) stabs at drama, they've become strong enough that the jokes can come as much from their personalities as the sharp, crisp dialogue. But it's really the deadpan reaction to absolute insanity that makes the show work - from desks in need of a shave to glowing squirrels, Better Off Ted has such a sense of absurdity and fun that I can't help but love it. Add to that brilliant dialogue, wonderful comic timing, and those flawless Veridian Dynamics commercials, and you have the funniest show on TV right now. I really urge you to check it out in reruns; trust me, it's absolutely great.
8-9	For a Few Dollars More	When I watched this for the first time, I commented that I thought I liked Fistful of Dollars a little more. Maybe it's just a second viewing, or the chance to see it on the big screen, but I finished a glorious (if red-shifted) print screening today feeling like this surpasses Fistful in every way, and sets the stage for the masterpiece of the trilogy - The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly - next week. The evolution in Leone's style is obvious here; eschewing the denser plotting of Fistful, Few Dollars More plays out on a more operatic scale, something which works well with Leone's epic-feeling films. The introduction of Van Cleef is key to the film's success, as he plays a bounty hunter with more complex motivations than we expect; Volonte is given even more to do here, playing the vicious and yet oddly haunted Indeo; and, of course, there's Clint Eastwood, playing the dryly hilarious, smart, quiet Man with No Name. The film is filled with great sequences, from the silent opening to the climactic final duel (anchored by Morricone's brilliant music), and watching it all on the big screen allows it to play as the Western epic it is. And yet, it's as if Leone and company saw this, and said to themselves, "How do we go even bigger?" Which leads to next week...
8-3	Persona	I've been watching a bit more Ingmar Bergman lately. For the longest time, his reputation put me off - The Seventh Seal has become so synonymous with pretentious art film that I just assumed that's what it was, instead of the rich, vibrant, even funny work that it is. So I haven't watched a lot yet - Wild Strawberries, The Seventh Seal, and The Virgin Spring - but all four I've seen were pretty accessible, understandable (if complex), and wonderful. Today, though, I watched Persona. Persona, weirdly, is pretty straightforward for a big chunk of its running time. It's the story of an actress who suddenly, for no clearly discernable reason, stops speaking. She's placed under the care of a novice nurse, and when they both retreat to a secluded cabin, their relationship evolves from doctor/patient to friends to something else. And yet, it's probably the most I've struggled with a Bergman film to date. Playing with themes of duality, self, soul, sexuality, the dichotomy between film and real life, dreams, and more, it's a fascinating film, and generally far less abstract than I expected, but no less difficult. From its surreal opening montage to the fourth-wall breaking finale, I found myself compelled but not quite sure what to make of it all. I'm refraining from giving it a star rating right now simply because I'm still taking it all in; there's no doubt that it's a fascinating, complex piece of work, but I need some time to unpack it.
8-2	A Fistful of Dollars	The first of the Belcourt's August Sergio Leone-western fest, A Fistful of Dollars is by far the weakest of the Man with No Name trilogy. With each successive film, Leone got more and more operatic (and, not coincidentally, less and less interested in plot), creating something more ambitious and spectacular with each successive entry. And yet, none of that makes Fistful any less awesome and enjoyable. An uncredited remake of Yojimbo, Fistful finds Eastwood's drifting hero caught between two rival factions in a town increasingly filled with dead men, and decided to play the two sides against each other. The plotting is a lot of fun, but the real joy here is Eastwood's performance; it's justly iconic, and leaves no doubt as to how the man became a star. Equal parts dry wit, coiled spring, vicious killer, self-interested loner, and concerned man, Eastwood creates a massively complex, fascinating character with a minimum of dialogue. Combine that with Morricone's score, those sweeping vistas (which looked stunning on this print), and some great setpieces, and it's a great time at the movies. Still, I'm even more excited for Few Dollars More and The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly...to say nothing of Once Upon a Time in the West.
7-31	Hausu	There is no possible way that a conventional review of Hausu would do it any justice. The best thing I can tell you is to go watch this clip (NWS for all sorts of insanity), and then understand this: you would think that seeing that clip in context, and with subtitles, might make it make a little more sense. Sure, it would still be weird, but less so. Here's the miraculous, bizarre thing about Hausu: having seen the film, that clip makes less sense than before. I know that that statement defies all logic, but so does basically everything else about Hausu. Ostensibly a tale about a haunted house, Hausu takes seven Japanese schoolgirls identified only by their primary (and only) characteristics (from "Kung-Fu" to "Gorgeous") and turns them loose in a film that feels as though someone gave Evil Dead 2-era Sam Raimi acid and told him to film what he saw. Even telling you that the film features dancing skeletons, man-eating pianos, disembodied legs, a laughing watermelon, and a singing cat really can't convey how truly bizarre this all is. And none of that has even touched on the filming style, containing irises, dropped frames, and other moves used with no conceivable sense of purpose or reason. Look: I know that, being the film geek among my friends, a lot of people think I watch "weird" movies. So take that into account when you read the following sentence: Hausu is easily the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life. Rating it on a conventional scale would be pointless; suffice to say, it's the type of film made for midnight films, and if it comes around you, you owe it to yourself to check it out.
7-25	Kings	Dazzling, smart, thoughtful, uninsulting, ambitious television...which, of course, meant that no one watched. Placing the story of Saul and David into a modern framework, Kings took on issues of power, sexuality, faith, religion, politics, and more, and did it all with beautiful, rich dialogue and a refusal to cater to an audience. While I admittedly started watching because of the inimitable Ian McShane (whose Saul is a compelling, magnetic figure, and a stunning performance) and great roles for people like Dylan Baker, Macaulay Culkin, and (in an all-too-brief supporting role) Brian Cox, it was more than satisfying to watch the rest of the cast catch up to the big hitters. It's ironic that so many religious people complain that not enough television caters to them, and then a show like Kings - which, apart from being based on the Bible, dealt with faith in an intelligent and thoughtful manner, and avoided facile platitudes - gets ignored. A crime, but I feel certain it's destined to build a cult following over the years thanks to DVD.
7-25	Little Big Man	It's rare that I get this frustrated with a film, but Little Big Man is completely infuriating for me. Every time I started to get back into it, to enjoy what it accomplished, it collapsed all over again, pulling me out of the film. My problem, I think, comes from the collision between two very different goals of the film. First and foremost, the film wants to be a slightly absurd tall tale about a man who (in the vein of Forrest Gump) leads a remarkable life filled with coincidences, famous people, and so forth. Fine - nothing inherently wrong with that. But when you combine it with an effort to create a revisionist, more "honest" take on the West, the two goals butt heads and cancel each other out. The broad comedy and coincidences fail because the film frequently becomes so realistic as to make them untenable, but the realism is undermined by all the exaggeration. I can see why so many people like it, and I recognize that the film just didn't work for me. But with so many wonderful scenes - most notably that haunting, silent title sequence - it's all the more frustrating to watch the film play with broad stereotypes (even while wanting to have more "real" portrayals of Indians) and hackneyed writing.
7-24	Shadows and Fog	Uneven Allen film that works more as a collection of entertaining interludes than as a cohesive whole. I was actually enjoying Shadows and Fog pretty well up until the maddening ending, which feels as though Allen got bored with the project and just wrapped it up as quickly as possible. It's a shame, because the lack of anything resembling closure or coherence at the end really casts a shadow (har har) over the rest of the film, which is pretty entertaining. At his best, Allen can create characters interesting enough that we're willing to just watch them talk, and whether discussing the nature of woman or the violence of death, Allen creates some wonderful dialogue here. But the fact that it never comes together - more to the point, the way it does come together and then is willfully torn apart again - is really frustrating, and undermines a lot of the goodwill the rest of the film creates.
7-24	Casino	Watching Casino less than a week after watching Goodfellas isn't exactly a fair move to the film, especially since it reunites Scorsese with the writer to tackle a story that spans many years in the life of a major crime outfit. Here's the thing, though: Casino is still really good, and has a unique feel to it that I really liked. However, what kills it are the characters. The cast of Goodfellas are fascinating, complex individuals; the characters of Casino are far less rich, and in the case of Stone, so one-note that it gets to be frustrating. Where the film really works is in its sweeping portrait of Vegas, watching as the city grew and evolved, and tying that to these violent men. It's a case where the setting and the world are far more involving than the characters and the plot. Still, when said characters and plot are directed by Scorsese and performed by De Niro, Pesci, and so on, it's hard to complain too much. In general, it's a solid, interesting film, but it can't live up to its predecessor.
7-23	Marty	Going into Marty, I really knew nothing about it other than the fact that it was a story about a middle-aged guy who meets a woman. Whatever I expected, it wasn't what I got - and that's a good thing. Marty is the clear ancestor of films like Before Sunset, movies that are willing to let their characters breathe and realize that you don't need gimmicks or absurd stories to drive a romance. Sometimes, simply listening to two people talking and being completely honest is enough, and in the case of Marty, it definitely is. There's no arguing how perfect Borgnine is for the part; a lesser actor would have played up the "poor, pitiful me" aspect more, or ignored it. Borgnine addresses it, makes it part of his life, but we also understand that he's a man who's adjusted to himself and is okay with who he is. It's an honest, sweet film that does little more than tell a story of two people who meet and fall in love. But it does it so well, with so much heart, that it's no wonder it's so loved.
7-22	It Happened One Night	After watching Bringing Up Baby, I commented that I wish the movie had either grounded Hepburn into reality or lost the romance plot entirely. Well, It Happened One Night takes the former route, grounding its characters a little more in something resembling reality, and while the result isn't as hilarious as Baby, the romance is infinitely more touching and the movie as a whole more effective. I honestly haven't seen much of Gable's work, but he runs away with the movie here, delivering great line after great line while never feeling like a construct of writers. And Colbert is absolutely adorable, managing to create a manic character who nonetheless feels like a real person. It's remarkable to read how much everyone in the film seemed to hate it while making it; none of that really comes through, and the film genuinely feels like it was a lot of fun to make. Baby may be the funnier film, but Night is definitely the better one, with a romance that genuinely worked for me.
7-22	In the Heat of the Night	Ultimately a piece very much of its time, In the Heat of the Night holds up as a compelling and interesting murder mystery, but not as much as a great film. It's not that the film is bad in any way; Steiger's performance is a lot of fun, bringing unexpected depth and thoughtfulness in a quiet way (the man says more with each smack of gum than a lot of actors say in whole speeches), and I was pleasantly surprised to find Poitier's character to have more depth and complexity than "noble black man". And yet, while I can appreciate the historic nature of the film, and the issues it took on, placing the film in a modern context robs it of some of that power, especially since similar ground has been covered so many times since. Of course, it also doesn't help that, despite how intriguing the case is, the ultimate resolution feels a little arbitrary. It's still a great police story, one with some great performances (and anything with Warren Oates can't be all bad), but its greatness comes more from the time it was made and less from the film itself.
7-21	Cool Hand Luke	Even going in, I expected that Cool Hand Luke would be anchored by a great performance by the late, great Paul Newman; what I didn't expect was how great the movie around Newman really was. Watching this, it's obvious what an inspiration this was for The Shawshank Redemption; it's also obvious how much better, more honest, and more affecting this is (and that's said as someone who really likes Shawshank). Part of it, it has to be said, revolves around the film's use of religious imagery; while it's obvious that Luke is frequently put into Christ images, the film's take on religion is far more complex and thoughtful, giving the film a depth beyond a simple story of rebellion against authority. Even so, though, the story is done magnificently, creating iconic "villains" like "the man with no eyes" and the warden. But really, it's Newman's movie, and it's doubtful anyone could have played the part the same way, creating a smirking rebel who manages to both be the untouchable hero and a deeply flawed human being. There's no doubt that the story comes close to formula sometimes, but it's elevated by its characterizations and the way it plays with themes far darker and more thoughtful than you'd expect from the genre.
7-21	Goodfellas	Let's get it out of the way: yes, somehow I had managed to go all of this time without actually seeing Goodfellas. At a certain point, it just became intimidating. How could it possibly live up to the hype, both by others and myself? Well, it didn't. It surpassed it in every way imaginable. I've always been a Scorsese fan, but rarely has his kinetic, musical style been so fully realized; whether sweeping into a club with Liotta and Bracco or slicing a day into increasingly staccato segments as paranoia spirals, Scorsese not only reflects the life and mind of his protagonists, but creates a film that lives in a way that not enough do. Moreover, though, Goodfellas is a fascinating exploration not only of the Mafia life, but also of its appeal, indicting the audience as much as Hill. The acting is superb throughout; I've never been a huge Liotta fan, but working with Scorsese brings out a career-best performance from him, to say nothing of Bracco as his conflicted wife, or De Niro and Pesci as his comrades in the life. I feel like I could go on and on about this movie, but given how late I am to the party, it almost feels pointless, despite the fact that it's pretty much brilliant from opening to close (god, how I loved the last line). In short, it's good enough that it will more than live up to your expectations, and you need to see it. Now.
7-20	McCabe & Mrs. Miller	My second viewing of this, and even if the film wasn't strong enough to merit a second viewing, the big screen really makes this one, allowing you to lose yourself in Altman's world. Of course, the film is strong enough to merit that second viewing; full of vibrant characters, a fascinating and complex view of the realities of the old West, and that stunning finale, it's probably the best Altman film I've seen, and generally a flawless piece of work. Watching it today, I realized how much Deadwood owes to this, not just for its view of the West through the working class, but in its willingness to acknowledge the Chinese workers, its focus on the coming of corporations and how they changed the West, and the way violence is dealt with in an unglamorous, brutal way. There's so much to take in from McCabe, but to try to dissect it is to rob it of its charms. Altman's films usually rise and fall based on their dialogue more than their "direction," but the combination of the dreamlike visuals and the haunting Cohen music (or, in the finale, the jarring lack of any noise) creates an effect unlike almost any other Western I've ever seen. It's a fantastic film, one whose world and characters linger long after the film itself has ended.
7-20	Bringing Up Baby	By all accounts the quintessential screwball comedy, I can't deny that Bringing Up Baby is completely hilarious as a comedy, and kept me laughing pretty hard throughout. And yet, something about the film rubbed me the wrong way. I keep coming back to Hepburn's character, who's the prototypical Manic Pixie Dream Girl; she has no personality or motivation of her own, apart from setting up wacky situations and acting in a completely insane pattern. There's nothing wrong with that from the point of view of a comedy - after all, isn't that basically what the Marx Brothers do so well? - but when you're trying to let your movie have a romantic relationship as well, it's problematic. Bringing Up Baby wants to live in a gleefully insane universe and yet have us care about the romantic relationship, and I just didn't buy it at all. What's worse, I found her really irritating early on, and only more so as the film progressed; at times, it reminded me unpleasantly of Meet the Parents, as we were forced to watch a character be humiliated and miserable for ostensibly humorous purposes. This is nowhere near as terrible as Meet the Parents - it's far too funny to even be considered - but the fact remains that Hepburn's character is so absurd and inconsistent that it got to be a little annoying. I say all of this, but I really did enjoy the film, and I laughed a lot at it. I just wish it had either tossed the romance or toned down Hepburn.
7-17	Teen Wolf	A deliriously stupid movie, I can't bring myself to hate Teen Wolf simply because it's so affable about its dumbness. The movie never really feels malicious or insulting with how dumb it is, unlike so many condescending high school movies. No, it just feels bizarrely insane and...well, to overuse the word: dumb. I almost hate to ruin the movie for anyone, because my friend Ryan was right; as we sat down, he told me "You may think that you know what this movie is about, but you're totally wrong." And he's right. I expected it to be a character trying to keep his affliction secret, lots of awkward misunderstandings - you know, standard fare. Well, that's not what I got; what I got was Hoosiers 2: This Time, There Are Werewolves! I can't possibly recommend it, apart from Jay Tarses's hilarious role as an apathetic coach; what I can say is that it made great midnight watching, and the crowd's goofy embrace of it all made it fun. To sum up: is it terrible? Definitely. But that didn't make it any less fun or likeable.
7-16	The African Queen	A while back, I watched Clint Eastwood's White Hunter Black Heart, a movie based on a thinly fictionalized account of the filming of The African Queen. In Clint's version, you kind of got the impression that the only reason Huston wanted to film The African Queen at all was to go hunting, and that the movie was a bit of an afterthought. It's a thought that I couldn't escape as I watched African Queen, because nothing in the movie really creates the impression that anyone cared all that much about it. Bogart and Hepburn basically carry the film with their considerable charms, but even so, the romance is never convincing, and given that it drives the whole film, that's a problem. I find it bizarre that Bogart won an award for this of all films; watching this right after Sierra Madre only emphasizes how great Bogart could be, and how comparatively bland he was here. There's some great footage here and there, and as I said, I enjoyed both Bogart and Hepburn. But two likeable leads do not a good movie make, and by the end of African Queen I was tired of the ridiculous plot, tired of amazing coincidences, and ready to move on to something else.
7-16	The Treasure of the Sierra Madre	The story of two down-on-their-luck Americans who decide to go gold prospecting, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre presages films like A Simple Plan by decades, and yet somehow manages to outdo a lot of them. A spectacularly nasty story of avarice, karma, temptation, and the inherently twisted sense of humor of the universe, Sierra Madre creates wholly fascinating characters and then begins to turn the screws, making the film's events all the more painful and fascinating for the way we empathize and connect with them. It's easy to see, from watching this, why Bogart was a star; his Fred C. Dobbs is an iconic creation, one whose ideals don't hold up for an instant in the real world, serving somehow as both protagonist and villain at the same time. Really, all three leads do spectacular jobs, with Walter Huston very nearly stealing the whole film as the older, more seasoned prospector. I really didn't know much about Treasure before watching it, other than its high reputation and the "badges" line; as I finished (and especially as I took in the brilliant ending), I not only understood the reputation, but hated myself for not seeing this sooner.
7-16	The Asphalt Jungle	Solid, gripping heist film that assuredly set the stage for so many more to come. According to the Turner Classic intro, this was the first heist film to be told entirely from the perspective of the criminals, giving it a neat edge that a lot of similar films didn't. The plot is typical for the genre - there's the caper, there's complications, egos start coming into play, things spiral out of control, etc., but it's all done with a great early-noir style and some nice dialogue that really keeps things moving. And, of course, there's the inimitable Sterling Hayden to enjoy, here playing a thuggish heavy with dreams of getting back to his family farm. You've seen movies like The Asphalt Jungle before, but even so, it's a lot of fun, with some great images, tense sequences, and fun characters. Well worth checking out.
7-15	The Last Wave	Opening with a freak hailstorm in the midst of a very blue-skied day, The Last Wave tips its hand early on that there's a hint of the unnatural to its story. What impresses, then, is the film's patience, taking its time as it builds to a stunner of a final minute that ties everything together in a single, wordless image. Of course, the eerie, uneasy atmosphere is brilliantly done, using some incredible imagery (my favorite, oddly, involved a car radio), but the film works on far more levels that simply of dread. Much like the recent (and, in my opinion, underrated) Knowing, Weir uses The Last Wave as a way of exploring the boundaries between belief and reality, and what happens as they collide. Of course, you could argue that it's the fascinating look into tribal aboriginal culture that gives Wave a unique flavor, but I think it's the intelligence and respect with which the subject is handled throughout. Still, what lingers in the mind, and what gives The Last Wave its staying power, is the patient, creeping dread established through so many surreal images, all the way up to that final moment. A great blend of horror and drama, and a film that I feel is pretty sadly overlooked by a lot of people.
7-15	The Stepford Wives (1975)	Even after watching the execrable remake (which remains one of the worst releases by a major studio I've had the displeasure of seeing), I've always been curious about the original Stepford Wives, and I was quite happy to find that it's every bit as deserving of its cult reputation as I hoped. One of my fascinations with the horror genre is the way that it so often can be used as horrific satire, a concept Stepford runs with. Even as weird and oddly unsettling as the film is, there's something fundamentally caustic and hilarious about the most horrifying thing in the world being a docile housekeeping wife right out of the 1950s. Of course, for some audiences, the true horror might be the "regular" women; how else do you describe the fact that the town's reputation for being perfect rests on the fact that its women "know their role"? Stepford's not always superb as a horror movie (although I love the atmosphere of the last fifteen minutes), but for the ideas it's toying with, the clever satire, and some great performances, I had a blast with it.
7-15	The Legend of Hell House	I try always to put aside the book when you're watching the adaptation and grade the film solely on its own merits. But when even the author, who adapted his book himself, complains about the watering down of his story, and when the film itself feels as tepid and light as this sometimes feels, you have to give in a little bit. Even without comparing it to Matheson's book, Hell House feels like a bit of a letdown, with too many scenes feeling like punches are being pulled and edges softened. Comparing it to the book makes it that much more apparent, but why bother, really? Apart from a neat score at points and a couple of solid, if unspectacular scenes, the movie just kind of plods along. Of course, it doesn't help that the watered-down film ends up being far closer to the original The Haunting than Matheson's work, and...well, in that comparison, Hell House comes up short. As horror films go, it's certainly not awful, but it is pretty average and forgettable.
7-13	The Trial (1962)	The first time I watched The Trial, back in college, I had just read the novel, and I was mainly struck with how faithful it was to the story - an impressive feat, given just how strange, seemingly meandering, and dream-like (nightmare-like?) the plot was. On a rewatch, though, I was able to better appreciate the mood Welles created here; with less memory of where the tale was going, the dread, paranoia, and surreal terror of it all was so much more impactful. One of the most stylish of all of Welles' films, The Trial really does feel like it had to have been an inspiration for a young David Lynch; it unfolds with the pace and connection of a nightmare, with scenes flowing one to the next in an almost, but not quite, unconnected fashion; with the normal rules of the world not seeming to apply; with mysterious figures, veiled accusations, and a sense that everything is just out of reach. The visual techniques here are stunning; I remembered shots like the long wooden tunnel surrounded by faces, but had forgotten that massive courtroom, or the giant doors coming from the court offices, or the massive and impersonal office in which Perkins works. Which brings me to Perkins himself, whose unease and discomfort is palpable (and, according to some reports, very real, brought on by fear of being exposed as homosexual), bringing a personal unease to the proceedings. If there's a weakness here, it's inherent in the material; the ending feels abrupt, but so did the novel. Like some sort of hellish Alice in Wonderland, but one based around paranoia and a shadowy government, there's little way to explain The Trial, but as a cinematic experience, it's a unique and unsettling one.
7-12	The Wild Bunch	The reputation of The Wild Bunch is so much centered around the violence of the film that it neglects what a great piece of storytelling it really is. Much like Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (which I loved), Peckinpah uses violence here as much as a window into the souls of his characters as for entertainment, creating a cast of characters for whom bloodshed is as much a way of life as breathing. The film's infamously said to have led John Wayne to claim that it single-handedly destroyed the myth of the West, and while I don't necessarily think that Peckinpah was intentionally subverting those traditions, there's no doubt that this isn't a West of heroes and outlaws; the opening scene clearly establishes the rules of this world, and our "heroes" are less good than simply not as bad as everyone else. And yet, much like Eastwood would do all those years later in Unforgiven, Peckinpah finds it fascinating to push these men into a moral corner to see what happens, and just like Eastwood, the result is a paroxysm of violence designed to rob the audience of as much vicarious joy as possible. It's really just a great piece of film; the cast is all top-notch, taking their characters and creating fully-realized people out of them, not just archetypes; by the time we get to the ending, we're invested in the fate of these men, no matter their actions. Filled with fantastic dialogue, intense action, and some great characters, The Wild Bunch is an absolute masterpiece, one that I'm glad I got to see on the big screen.
7-11	Macbeth (1948)	Let me get it out of the way first: I know I'm always the first to argue that the best adaptations aren't always rigidly faithful, but I'd be lying if I said my English major heart wasn't bothered by some of the major alterations Welles makes to Macbeth here - rearranging characters and deleting scenes is one thing, but adding speeches? And, yes, there's little doubt that this is one of those rushed pieces that Welles struggled to put together; the pacing is manic, with little time to breathe or luxuriate in the story or language, and the cast isn't solid enough to support the rushed time. And yet, I can't get out of my head the stunning, beautiful visuals Welles brings to bear here; from the brilliantly long shot during the murders that adds to the tension to the beautiful approach of Birnam Wood, from that magnificent closing shot (and I gotta say, even with my grumbles about changes, Welles' choice for last line is great) to the strong use of religious imagery - what Welles' Macbeth lacks in acting, it more than makes up for in themes, visuals, and ideas. It's all the more frustrating for its shortcomings, but still worth seeing, especially if you're a Welles fan.
7-11	The Stranger	With Welles in essentially gun-for-hire mode, The Stranger could have been forgettable fare, but Welles knack for beautiful visuals and an interesting story really make this a solid piece of work. It's said that Welles wanted Agnes Moorhead to play the agent, but it's hard to imagine anyone playing the part like Robinson, who brings the same certainty and determination that made him such a memorable part of Double Indemnity. But the casting is solid throughout, from the colorful locals to Young as the devoted wife, with Welles bringing a more subtle, nuanced take to the villain role than you'd expect. Actually, the most surprising thing to me is the blunt, forceful take on the Holocaust; in our day and age where any event takes years to process on film, having the film treat Nazis not as cartoon villains but as tools that created pure evil is fascinating. Combine all that with Welles's noir stylings and a great clocktower finale and you have a really solid thriller that, while maybe not one of Welles' passion projects, nonetheless is a respectable piece of his resume.
7-10	Moon	A character study with sci-fi trappings, Moon is the story of Sam Bell, an astronaut coming to the end of a 3-year stint working alone on a moon base. Ideally, that's about all you should know about the story before you go in, and I'd definitely recommend avoiding the trailer if you can help it. It's not that the plot is the driving force of Moon - in fact, one of the joys of the film is the way that the twists are underplayed, letting the plot develop organically rather than playing them for shocks. The film's almost a solo effort by Sam Rockwell, whose performance here is fantastic, bringing humor, weariness, and an ever-varying personality to a role essentially with no one to play off of but himself - unless you count Kevin Spacey's HAL-influenced role as the voice of the ship's computer, a performance that's actually got a lot of nuance and character to it, especially given the circumstances. A slow-paced, thoughtful film, Moon uses its setting and plot to explore not only Rockwell's character, but plays with bigger notions throughout, all while never insulting the audience's intelligence. It's one of the better sci-fi pieces I've seen in a long time, anchored by a quiet, thoughtful mood, a magnificent score by Clint Mansell, and Rockwell's great acting. It's a quiet little genre piece that's destined to find a sizeable cult following, one it deserves; if you get the chance to check it out, I'd highly recommend it.
7-10	Brüno	Sacha Baron Cohen's latest film takes the third character from Da Ali G Show and gives him the Borat treatment, tying together a series of candid interviews and outlandish appearances with the framework of something resembling a plot - in this case, Brüno's desire to become famous. The result is completely hilarious, as you might expect, although it's not for all tastes; if you didn't like Borat, you won't like this, and I suspect even a lot of Borat's fans are going to have issues with this one, given America's sensitivity and unease regarding issues of sexuality. I was a little worried about diminishing returns, but the effect was much less than I was afraid of; while there weren't any sequences on the level of the wrestling scene from the first film, Brüno more than makes up for it by being pretty consistently hilarious, awkward, and uncomfortable from the start. What's more, the targets here seem a little more deserving; while Borat sometimes went after people who were just trying to be welcoming, the "victims" in Brüno are generally mocked for their homophobia, intolerance, or their crazed desire to be famous. There are genuinely times during the film I'm shocked that Cohen made it out alive, and I'm not sure he has the ability to do another film like this, which is a shame; there's something invigorating about watching Cohen work, bringing out the worst in people and showing it to the world; scenes here like the overly enthusiastic parents willing to do anything to have their children become famous, the obliviously cheerful statements from a celebrity about human rights as she sits on human furniture, or the vapid PR firm unaware of where Darfur is, how to say it, or anything other than its trendiness...well, they all say quite a bit about our society, don't they?
7-10	The Lady from Shanghai	First things first: I'm really tired of my Dish Network movie info giving away the ending of movies. This is the third film I've had spoiled for me by it, and it's getting old. Apart from knowing the ending, though, The Lady from Shanghai is solidly good, but not great; how much of that is due to Welles' usual battles with studios is anybody's guess. As usual, there's some brilliant camerawork, including a stunning final act set in the midst of a carnival funhouse with what has to be the quintessential example of how to film a scene in a mirror maze. The plot is pure noir, with double-crosses, morally murky situations, and vicious, cold-hearted characters aplenty, and Welles brings his usual knack for characterization in his writing to bear. It's a fun film, even if the plot is never quite as clear as it thinks it is, and it's another one in the long list of "things I wish I could see the original version of".
7-9	Everyone Says I Love You	You know how I've spent a lot of my last few reviews commenting on how rich Allen's characters are? Well, on viewing a film of his from a couple of decades beyond the last ones: what the hell happened? Everyone Says I Love You is almost entirely populated by shrill, one-note jokes that don't function as people so much as wacky joke delivery machines, with no one coming out worse than Tim Roth, playing Allen's idea of a career criminal in what has to be the low point of the film. So, sure, are the musical numbers really fun and well made? Sure they are. And is the last number with Goldie Hawn and Allen really sweet and touching (the one exception to my lack of characterization complaint)? Yeah, it is. But between Lyonne's awful narration and acting, truly contrived and forced plots, and the slew of thin characterizations, even the joy of the numbers and the sweetness of that final scene could only do so much.
7-9	Interiors	Allen's first attempt to make an entirely humor-free film, Interiors emphasizes the character work that Allen does so well, but the lack of joy and fun really makes this one a bit of a chore. As usual, Allen tells a compelling tale of a family undergoing crisis, and the family here - from the perfectionist mother to the frustrated father, from the successful poet to the struggling youngest girl - are fully realized characters who we find ourselves empathizing with and even pitying, despite their mistakes and foibles. And yet, the film is a bit of a slog. One of the things that makes Manhattan such a masterpiece is the tinge of Allen's curmudgeonly cynicism. The famous joke from Annie Hall about the food being so terrible, and in such small portions? It's that simultaneous love of life and horror of it that makes Allen's film so much fun, and the dire seriousness of everything in Interiors makes it a bit hard to take. I can't say that it's a failed film, as it's beautifully shot and perfectly acted. But it's a tough watch, and having nothing but miserable characters in their horrible lives doesn't make for an ideal viewing experience.
7-9	Hannah and Her Sisters	Another spectacular success from Allen, Hannah and Her Sisters somewhat takes a series of vignettes (although they're a little more tied together than that implies) and spins the story of two years in a family of Hannah (duh) and her sisters (double duh). The result is a warm, funny tale of family, relationships, love, passion, and timing, all anchored by a lot of absolutely hilarious scenes. As usual, Allen creates characters who go on living far beyond the end of the film, from Michael Caine's confused Elliot to Dianne Weist's uncertain Holly. Watching the connections come and go is half the fun, but I can't review the film without bringing special attention to Allen's own subplot, about a TV writer who undergoes a crisis and struggle to find meaning. It's one of Allen's funniest storylines, all the more so because the laughs are so strongly derived from the character and less the easy gags; there's a scene with a Catholic priest that had me laughing at the first line, before Allen even entered the frame. But what really makes Hannah work is the heart and soul, as what seemed like a shaggy dog story finds a number of touching resolutions, with one set against the backdrop of a Marx brothers movie really touching a chord with me. (And that says nothing of the perfection of the final scene.) It's a wonderful, joyous film, and probably tied with Annie Hall as my favorite Allen film that I've seen to date.
7-8	Food, Inc.	Here's the ultimately frustrating thing about Food, Inc., a documentary about the mass-producing food industry and the problems therein: it's preaching to the converted. I don't deny that the film is a solid piece of work (albeit one-sided, to be sure) and argues its points well. There's little way to come away from the film and not be more concerned about our food and the way it gets to our plate. But I know that I, for one, didn't learn much new out of the film - little, in fact, that I hadn't already learned from Fast Food Nation and similar works. So, is there a lot of useful information here? Sure - but the people you need to convince, are they really seeing it? But here's my second, more frustrated point: the film does such a good job convincing you of the myriad issues, such a good job showing you just how pervasive and unstoppable the problems are, that you leave the film feeling rather helpless, despite a clear call for action by the end of the film. Sure, I can buy more organic products and whatnot, but if a woman whose two-year-old child was killed by inadequate food safety can't effect change, what chance do I have? Look: it's a well-made, fascinating, compelling case, and there's a lot of great information laid out here in a clear, well-argued form. I'm just not sure how much it's going to help, and that's a little disheartening.
7-8	Manhattan	The further I get from Manhattan, the more I like it. A blend between the relationship-driven story of Annie Hall and the serious work of something like Interiors, Manhattan is definitely the work of a more mature Allen. I've remarked before that one of my favorite things about Allen is his ability to create vivid, vibrant characters who feel like true people, and his work in that regard in Manhattan is incredible. What's more touching, I think, is his depiction of relationships - or, more accurately, the end of relationships and loss. I think I expected more of Allen's wit here, but what I got was something more honest and human, something that takes a long look at the passions and neuroses that drive us and finds not only something deeply human about it all, but even finds a way to laugh at it a little. And, of course, none of this mentions the spectacular cinematography, the way New York is such a character in the film, the Gershwin soundtrack... When I first saw the film, I liked it, but didn't love it; I missed the humor and joy of Annie Hall. But the more I look back, the more I realize that Allen's love of life is still there; it's just tempered by a more realistic, honest look at himself and the world around him, and there's something beautiful about that.
7-8	The Purple Rose of Cairo	An absolute joy of a film from Woody Allen, The Purple Rose of Cairo is the story of a Depression-era waitress who finds herself returning again and again to a Hollywood romance film, if only to get away from her miserable job, husband, and life for a while. Oddly, after a while, the characters start to notice her... The resulting film is part wonderful fantasy, part hilarious comedy, part heartfelt romance, and all it builds to a bittersweet ending that I loved and understood why Allen fought for. One of the things I love about Allen is his wonderful ability to create characters; the world he creates here, full of Hollywood archetypes, down on their luck prostitutes, studio executives, and more, never feels false or dishonest. Allen owns up to the tough times, and while he brings in a wonderful sense of joy and hope, no one could come out of the film saying he cheated. It's one of the best Allen films I've seen, and an absolute joy to watch, both as a film fan and a fan of Allen's comedy; if you've not seen it, I can't recommend it enough.
7-7	Public Enemies	It's no surprise to me that so many people are coming away frustrated with this, but I found myself enthralled and really pleased with it, and not just for Mann's always stunning talent at creating tense, thrilling, palpably dangerous action scenes. In many ways, this is a perfect companion piece to Soderbergh's Che, in that both films strip away dialogue and external characterization in favor of letting their subjects' actions speak for them. In some ways, the gambit pays off well, particularly when it comes to Depp's Dillinger, ably portrayed as a man of principles who finds his way of life ending. And while many found Bale to be cold and aloof in an underwritten role, the more I look back on it, the more subtlety and nuance I remember. There are things I would like to have seen pulled out more - the changing of the American notion of criminals from the noble bandit to the more global threat of narcotics and the mafia is a fascinating theme of the film that I wish was dealt with more explicitly - but in the end, I admire the film for bringing a lot to the table, even in quiet ways. I don't think it's a flawless success; I found the romance angle a little meandering and aimless, and the film as a whole could use some tightening and focus. But in general, I was captivated by it all. In many ways, it's a historic counterpart to Mann's Heat, as two men from opposite sides of the law find themselves coming to their end, pushed along by their sense of duty and self. It's all the more engaging to me for the way Mann keeps the subtext (and his characters) so quiet about everything that's going on.
7-7	Fast, Cheap, & Out of Control	A strange sort of documentary, Errol Morris's film follows four different subjects - a robot designer, an expert on mole rats, a topiary gardener, and a wild animal trainer - in more or less equal time, sliding from one to the next and back again as he sees fit. One review I read opined that the editing was less based on film tradition and more on musical rhythm, an argument I think holds some water. It's a fascinating piece of work in many ways, and if you can give yourself over to the way Morris just flutters from subject to subject, it somehow works. But at a certain point, I found myself frustrated with the style. The constant calliope music got grating, the footage of circuses or old films felt less atmospheric and more like padding, and every time I would get interested in a conversational thread, Morris would veer off again. It's a fascinating experiment, and I can't say that I hated it, because I found myself too intrigued by the people. But in the end, I like Morris's work more when he's focused a little more - for instance, in Mr. Death or The Fog of War.
7-5	Kung Fu Panda	A surprisingly widely-liked Dreamworks animation film, I went into Kung Fu Panda with relatively low expectations, but I was mostly pleasantly surprised. The opening five minutes were a pure joy - a wonderful, Samurai Jack-like animation style with Jack Black's endearingly goofy narration. Then, it turned out to only be a dream...and the rest of the movie started. And, to be fair, the rest of the movie is entertaining and fun...but it doesn't live up to those opening five minutes. Panda is pretty lacking in the character department; the characters are workable to a point, but feel more than a little flat; what personality they get is largely from the solid voice work, especially the inimitable Ian McShane as the villain. And yet, Panda is a visual treat throughout, boasting some truly stunning animation. The kung fu fights themselves are a joy, with long, fluid takes (I know, I know, it's animated, but you get the idea) and a fluidity of motion that I truly enjoyed. Did it fall apart a little at the end with the heavy-handed message and a character whose sudden transformation I couldn't quite buy? Yeah...but until then, it's a lot of fun, and easily the most enjoyable (and least smarmy) of any of Dreamworks' animated fare so far.
7-5	Reaper	I really enjoyed Reaper, but I'm not surprised that it's gone; in fact, my only real surprise is that we got a second season. The show's biggest charm - its affable slacker spirit - was its biggest weakness, as storylines fell to the side unnoticed and continuity sometimes felt forgotten. On its own, that wouldn't be so bad, but the show's habit of of finding its groove towards the end of each season and building an interesting mythology just teased viewers by being capable of so much more. And yet, none of that really bothered me, because it was so much fun to watch. I could probably have watched a whole series about nothing but Labine, Gonzalez, and Harrison hanging out because of the joy they brought, and the actors' charisma and sense of joy really held the show through some bizarre plotlines. But no review of the show is complete without mention of Ray Wise, the single biggest reason I'm sad the show failed. As Satan, Wise made the show worth watching with less than five minutes of acting each week. Effortlessly sliding from terrifying to hilarious, from likable to horrible, Wise's Satan was a fantastic comic creation, one that probably was better than the show deserved. The saddest thing about Reaper being gone is that I'll never get to watch Wise shilling BoTox injections, or eulogizing a monkey, or opining that he is "The Dark Lord of Asses". It's destined to be a cult favorite for years, and while I'm going to miss it, I can't say that I don't understand why. But I really enjoyed it while it was on.
7-4	The Magnificent Seven	Going into The Magnificent Seven, I have to say that despite all the praise and affection people tend to give this, I was still wary. I mean, no matter how much you assure me that a Western remake of Seven Samurai is really great, it's still a Western remake of Seven Samurai, right? Well, it turns out that I'm not the only big fan of the original; so were the filmmakers. The Magnificent Seven takes dialogue and even shots from the original, but puts them into their new context effortlessly and seamlessly. And even with my worries, I found myself having a great time. If there's a weakness to the film, it's the filling of the Mifune role with someone who can't hold their own; putting a no-name actor against the likes of Coburn, Bronson, Brynner, Wallach, and McQueen, and giving him the most iconic part? Bad decision, and Buchholz just doesn't have the charisma or talent to make the part work for him. But with so many other icons bringing their A-games, and so much fun to be had elsewhere, Buchholz weakens the film, but doesn't tank it. The result is a blast to watch, anchored by Bernstein's instantly recognizable score and Sturges's solid direction. Add to that the subtle undercurrent about the ever-changing West and you have yourself a classic of the genre that deserves its status.
6-28	Comanche Station	Comanche Station was the second half of a Boetticher double feature (the first being Ride Lonesome), and I can't imagine a more unfair way to watch it. First of all, watching Station and Lonesome back to back only emphasizes how similar the two movies really are. And I'm not just not talking about the plots, though they're nearly identical; I'm also (maybe more so) referring to the dialogue, which is largely repeated in both films, often line for line. But the bigger problem is that Comanche feels like a warm-up for Lonesome (ironic, given that it came after). The personal dynamics aren't as interesting; the motivations behind Scott aren't as complex; the finale not as riveting; and so forth. It's not that it's a bad movie, but it's a lot slower, a lot less tight, and nowhere near as solid as Lonesome. Had I watched it before Lonesome or on its own, I'd probably like it more, but as it is, it comes across as a bit of a pale retread, no matter the order in which the films were made.
6-28	Ride Lonesome	My first exposure to the works of Budd Boetticher, and I came away quite impressed. There's no doubt that Boetticher worked within a narrow formula (a fact that became even more clear after the second half of the double feature), but Ride Lonesome makes the best of that formula, letting its characters breathe to some degree and bringing enough interesting morality to play to keep things novel. There are some weaknesses, to be sure; the female character is one-dimensional at best, and the friendly animosity between Scott and Roberts doesn't always feel convincing. Still, the visuals are magnificent, emphasizing the insignificance of the men against the massive West, and it all builds to a really great finale (and a great final image). It's a testament to Boetticher's talent that something so formulaic can have so much life and interest to it.
6-17	Taxi to the Dark Side	It's been a long time since a film made me this enraged, this sick to my stomach, this horrified, but Taxi to the Dark Side did all that, leaving me drained and a little ashamed of some of our leaders. Beginning with the story of an unjustly imprisoned Afghan taxi driver who was killed while in American custody, Taxi expands to take a long, unflinching look at both the wave of prisoner abuse in military prisons and the issue of torture (I refuse to use the euphemism "enhanced interrogation techniques"). The result is, to put it mildly, a difficult watch; Gibney spares the viewer nothing in his tale of the effect of abuse, from the psychological to the physical, and I can't say that some of the images and words will leave me easily. More chilling (and infuriating) is the tracing of the origins of such techniques all the way up the command chain; there's little there I wasn't aware of, but seeing morality and American ideals cast aside so easily, no matter how noble the intentions, is a sickening thing that filled me with rage. Taxi to the Dark Side isn't an easy watch, but it's an important one, and one that I wish I could force anyone who tries to justify torture or who whines about "human rights activists" to watch.
6-17	In the Valley of Elah	Haggis's reputation for an absolute lack of subtlety definitely hurts In the Valley of Elah, but he's nicely balanced out by low key performances all around, most notably by Tommy Lee Jones. The story at the core of Valley is a fascinating one, and I loved the way that the movie discussed the effects of the war without ever feeling the need to connect every single dot. Unfortunately, there's a few places - most notably with the sexist cops, but also in the final image - where Haggis's heavy hand is all too apparent. Luckily, though, it seems like his more thudding impulses are held in check, maybe by virtue of Tommy Lee Jones, who brings more depth to his character with a stare than Haggis can in any amount of dialogue. It's a solid piece of work, and one I found more interesting and solid than I expected, but it can't measure up to the greats of "the war and its effects" genre.
6-16	Cassandra's Dream	Going into Cassandra's Dream, the main complaint I heard was that it felt like Allen was simply remaking Match Point, and to a much lesser effect. Oddly, while I didn't like the movie, it's not for that reason; in fact, I found the murder story here far more compelling for its focus on family and for the moral discussions around it. (They don't compare to the similar plot in Crimes and Misdemeanors, but that's beside the point.) The bigger problem is that Allen loses track of his characters whenever he gets away from the central thread. The parents are never quite convincing as Cockney middle/lower class; the girlfriends wander in and out and seem to have their personalities shift as the plot needs; the uncle's mercurial mood shifts feel more dictated than organic. And then, there's the ending, which feels abrupt, implausible, and undermines all the time we've spent to that point, especially when compared (sorry) to the superior and more thematically interesting ending of Match Point. It's a shame, because I loved watching McGregor and Farrell play off of each other as they debated and discussed; unfortunately, their performances aren't enough to keep this from feeling like a pretty big misfire, as a whole.
6-16	The Grapes of Wrath	A spectacular piece of filmmaking that not only captures a period in our history that most would like to forget, but managed to do it as the history was unfolding, and did so honestly and brutally. I can't imagine the effect this had coming out as the Depression was still ongoing, but it's not surprising that the production had to operate under code names and more for fear of reprisals. Grapes is unabashedly left-wing, but as Ebert says in his Great Movies review, "It's a message movie, but not a recruiting poster." In other words, while there's no escaping the point that the movie is trying to make, it sets the story first, letting the characters, situations, and environments dictate the tale, not the politics. There are too many unforgettable moments to mention, from the near-riot at the camp to the former preacher's message, but nothing may stick with me in this time of economic unrest like the conversation with the bank agent who explains how little people figure into the process anymore. And, sure, the movie falls into speeches a couple of times, but it earns those speeches, and they're delivered with such passion and low-key intensity by the stellar cast that they work in spite of themselves. I'll admit that I was a little reluctant about this going in, but now that I've seen it, consider me a convert; it's an incredible piece of work, and one of the quintessential American movies.
6-15	The Big Sky	The Belcourt, the local independent and classic theater, mentioned in their advertising for this how rare it was, especially to have in a print. Having seen it, I think I understand why. The Big Sky is an almost spectacularly dull film; it's as if it goes out of its way to avoid scenes in which anything interesting happens (at one point, it starts into an action sequence only to cut away to a scene of men cooking), and constantly reminds us of the slow flow of time. Coming from an arthouse director, this might work, but coming from someone like Hawks, who's a blockbuster man, the result is just interminable, especially at 140 minutes long. There's some interesting bits here, especially with the many different languages spoken - it's nice to see a classic Western that lets the French speak in their own language, let alone the Native Americans. And, yes, there's a more realistic, less good/evil take on the relationship with the Native Americans. But none of that makes up for a film that drags on and on, ultimately feeling like it goes nowhere and takes the dullest route to get there.
6-15	The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean	A fun, entertaining little Western that feels more like a pile of scenes than anything quite cogent and whole. There's a lot of fun to be had in Roy Bean, most of it courtesy of Newman's charismatic, joyous performance. With scenes ranging from an argument with a bear to a slightly less-than-heroic showdown with an albino killer, Newman has a lot to do here, and the film really only works because we like him so much. But ultimately, as things progress, the film feels less and less like a coherent work. Ebert, as usual, is right about a lot here, but he's dead on about Bean being a bit of an empty character. Newman brings whatever personality and character there is to the man, and as the film progresses and attempts to become something more elegiac, it never quite works as the flaws become more and more obvious. It's still a fun time, and completely hilarious in several parts, but it ultimately collapses as it reveals all the gaps in its script and concept.
6-13	Pushing Daisies	One of my favorite shows in recent memory, Pushing Daisies was probably doomed from the start, but I loved it while it lasted. It's hard to explain a show that worked so much because of its style; although the premise (a piemaker who can raise the dead, but with consequences and rules) was unique, the show's style was even more so. Narrated by the voice of the Harry Potter audiobooks, written with alliteration, puns, and wordplay aplenty, filled with colorful and dazzling landscapes, Daisies looked and felt like nothing else on TV. There are those who complained that it was too whimsical and twee, but those people overlook Chi McBride's brilliant supporting turn, which kept the show grounded with cynical humor and a gleeful willingness to play the realist. Funny, magical, clever, and an all-around joy, I'm pretty bummed that I won't be seeing anything like this on TV again anytime soon, but I loved that I got to see it while it lasted.
6-12	The Hangover	One of the funniest studio releases in a long time, The Hangover combines a great premise with some dead-on casting to really create a comedic gem. I've read a couple of reviews that claim that the premise (friends awake after a bachelor party unable to remember the night before or find the groom) sucks the comedy out of the film, something I don't understand at all; the more absurd the aftereffects of the party got, the harder I laughed. The idea allows the filmmakers to teeter between absurdity and realism, and have fun playing the two against each other. Of course, none of this would work without the right leads, and the main actors really nail their parts. Ed Helms is being a little underrated in my opinion for his work as the semi-straight man to all the mayhem; to be fair, though, he's being overlooked in favor of Zach Galifianakis, whose scene-stealing term as the slightly off Alan should make him a star. It's a really hilarious movie that manages to toy with raunch without being lost in it, and which keeps on becoming funnier and funnier until the brilliant end credits. Definitely for mature audiences, but it's absolutely side-splitting.
6-12	Double Indemnity	While I saw Indemnity not a year ago, I saw it during a noir festival, which meant that a) I was already a little overloaded with noir, and b) I was exhausted when I saw it, and felt that I needed to watch it again to take it all in. I'm so, so glad I did. Watching it so shortly after Postman was instructive; although the plots are similar, Indemnity blows Postman out of the water. A lot of this is because Wilder realized that noir ultimately is all about style; you can have a grim story, but what people loved was the shadows, the darkness, and the willingness to have truly anti-heroic characters, all of which get delivered in spades here. And, of course, there's the dialogue. Chandler and Wilder may have hated each other, but their work together here is brilliant, leading to some of the best and most memorable noir dialogue of all time. Combine all that with three stunning lead performances (everyone always talks about MacMurray and Stanwyck, and with good reason, but it's Robinson who steals to the movie for me) and you have one of the all-time great films.
6-12	Witness for the Prosecution	I last watched Prosecution back in college for a film class; I remembered little about it except that I loved it. A rewatch reminded me that it's not just good; it's a brilliant, magnificent little film. Listening to Robert Osborne's introduction really illuminates how great Wilder's work is here; his opening up of the original story is effortless and feels as though it was intended from the beginning. And the casting - I cannot imagine this movie without Charles Laughton, who more than walks away with it all. The plot is twisty in unexpected ways (I remembered part of the ending, but was surprised by another), the acting is all superb, but most of all, the film is witty and hilarious, keeping the stakes high while entertaining throughout. It's a must watch film, and even in the great career of Wilder, this is one of my favorite works he's done.
6-11	Two Thousand Maniacs!	Okay - I've officially had two doses of Lewis (this and Blood Feast), and I think I'm done. I can't deny that there's a sense of maniacal fun and glee to the proceedings, or that Lewis's plots are original in some goofy way. And I can't even claim that he's not living up to everything an exploitation film should be - from the tawdry sex appeal to the gore. But it's the lack of talent, most notably in the acting field, that kills his work for me. The result ends up feeling like some sub-par Troma release, and that's not a good thing, in my book. I can understand Lewis's cult following, and I can understand his influence, but more than likely, I've learned what I needed to, and I can close the book here.
6-11	The Savages	Reading all the critical adoration of this is a little expected, honestly, but all the reviews that talk about how hilarious it is? That's a little weird. There's nothing technically wrong with The Savages, which details two siblings who have to come together to deal with their aging father and his decline into dementia, but there's not much really great about it, either. People say how funny it is, and how honest the comedy is; to me, there's an undercurrent of things that seem like they could be funny if the film around them weren't so bleak. All the actors do a great job - do you expect anything else from Hoffman and Linney? - and the story is well-told, but I ultimately couldn't muster much enthusiasm for anything about the film. Technically sound, but I couldn't bring myself to care, and that's a dealbreaker.
6-11	Forgetting Sarah Marshall	I haven't had a whole lot of exposure to Jason Segel (Freaks and Geeks is still in my to-watch pile), but between this and I Love You, Man, I can see him becoming a great comedy player, even if he'll never be the stereotypical Hollywood star. (Then again, Seth Rogen has proved me wrong here, too.) Sarah Marshall manages to be adult without being raunchy, honest without being sappy, and best of all, genuinely funny and hilarious throughout. It's nicely character-driven humor, anchored by a bunch of great performances and some absolutely stellar scenes. Segel brings a shaggy-dog affability to the main role, and the heart and soul he brings to it all makes this a real winner. Very funny, very enjoyable.
6-10	The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)	I'll be honest: although I have issues with both versions of the film, I greatly prefer this to the more famous version with Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day. Gone is the bloat of the later version; pared down to a lean 75 minutes, this version moves like a rocket. It's also a lot funnier; there's something quintessentially (stereotypically, some would say) British about early Hitchcock work, where the killers and conspirators are incredibly polite, even with those who are coming after them; in fact, the laid back approach to the final showdown is pretty hilarious on its own, whether its intended to be or not. The one advantage the later version has is the growth in Hitchcock's talent for building suspense, but given that he's done it better in other films, I'll gladly take this as a light but enjoyable little thriller that brings a lot of humor and fun to the proceedings.
6-10	The Naked City	A great police procedural that laid the groundwork for Law and Order and its ilk. The film is touted as being in a documentary style, and while that might have been true compared to the films being made at the time, the actual camerawork isn't that novel. What is novel about The Naked City is, in fact, two things. First, it's shot on location, a novelty for the time that gives the film a depth and life that so many other films of the time never had, essentially making it as much about New York as in it. The second, and more interesting to me, is the willingness to give you a fairly realistic take on a murder case - well, until the requisite big ending. But with slow progress, false leads, crazy confessions, and more, this is much closer to the accounts we see today than anything else I've seen from the time. Filled with interesting characters, a nice pace, and a true sense of time and place, The Naked City is a fascinating film, all the more so for how ahead of its time it seems.
6-10	The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)	It's not fair to do this to Postman, but it just can't compare to Double Indemnity. Yes, I know that Postman is an earlier Cain work; yes, I know it's unfair to stack it up against one of the giants of the noir genre. But when the plots are similar, the characters similar, how can you not? And there's just no way that Postman even comes close to Indemnity for iconic characters, crackling dialogue, stunning direction, or anything of the sort. Taken on its own, Postman isn't bad, but it feels meandering and long, and several times feels as though it's just drifting along with no point in mind. There are some great performances - loved Cronyn as the lawyer - but in the end, while I liked it, and loved some scenes, I just can't say that I loved it as a whole. Decent noir, but nowhere near the heights the genre (or even the same author) could attain.
6-9	Two-Lane Blacktop	I'm kind of surprised to find myself liking Two-Lane Blacktop as much as I am. It's an exceedingly odd film, one whose plot is almost entirely told in subtext, according to the director. As I watched, I almost felt like I was watching a racing film's version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, about characters who struggle to define themselves when they're not caught up in the race. After all, this is a film without named characters (in the credits, they are given names like "The Driver," "The Girl," and "The Mechanic") in which a race is proposed and yet never really driven with any serious intent of winning, and in which only one of our four main characters ever really says much, and most of it is lies. And yet, for all of that, Two-Lane Blacktop is fascinating, creating a world that seems like a lost cause in which these characters, much like Fonda and Hopper in Easy Rider, go looking for something that they not only might never find, but may never have existed in the first place.
6-9	Easy Rider	I'm pondering writing up a much longer piece on Easy Rider, given how affected I was by it, but the short version is that I was blown away by this. I expected something lighter, more easygoing. Instead of a celebration of the sixties, though, I got a eulogy for it. Instead of two heroic men traveling across the country, sticking it to the Establishment, I got two men trying to revel but failing, trying to capture the American Dream all while missing it entirely. Populated by interesting characters and fascinating scenes, Easy Rider recalled for me Hunter S. Thompson's brilliant piece in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas where he talked about looking back and seeing the high-water mark of the sixties. Easy Rider was a big inspiration for HST, and it shows in that piece; both admired so much of what the sixties tried to accomplish, yet bravely faced up to the reality of the dying of a dream.
6-8	The Searchers	I have to admit that when I first walked out of the theater, I was pretty disappointed by The Searchers. The further I get from it, though, and the more I think on it, the more inclined I am towards it. Nothing has done as much to change my opinion as reading Ebert's insightful Great Movies entry for it, but I have to also credit my friend Ryan, who got me to look at The Searchers not as some profound meditation on racism inherent in so much of the Western genre, but as a studio Western that managed to smuggle in some thoughtful ideas. It helps, too, that Ebert is willing to acknowledge that the film has some deep flaws, most notably in the recurring use of broad comic relief that a) isn't all that funny and b) destroys your immersion in the ongoing story with Wayne. Add to that some weird pacing and too many plot threads that go nowhere (most notably the trading post operator), and I can say that I'll probably never find The Searchers to be the masterpiece that a lot of people do. Yet I respect the way that so much of the story is done through subtext, the way that Wayne brings a very complex role to a simplistic story, and the willingness to take on issues that so many Westerns stayed away from. No, I can't buy into it as a masterpiece - I found it too flawed for that - but I can admire its intentions and respect the massive amount of influence it wields over so many brilliant filmmakers.
6-8	Predator	Over the years, I've seen bits and pieces of Predator, but never the whole thing. It's probably for the best; the testosterone I picked up vicariously through this film made me just want to run around and arm wrestle people. Utterly ridiculous and over-the-top, the fact that Predator still works as a movie should be a shocker, but it's not. The cast is all clearly having a blast, and the action is so far over-the-top as to become a joy all over again. Whether spending three minutes mowing down an entire rain forest or blowing up a guerrilla camp to ostensibly rescue anyone who survived the devastation, the ridiculously masculine cast and director McTiernan are having so much fun that you can't help but enjoy it with them. But what really makes Predator work is its sly slide into something darker and more visceral, as the guns slowly get put aside and wits and survival come out. It's really a great action film, and the last thirty minutes are about as intense and compelling as anything I've ever seen Arnold do. Predator really holds up well, and it's a hell of a fun time.
6-8	Doomsday	One of the complaints that people so often level against Quentin Tarantino is that his films are nothing more than cobbled-together homages, done with no sense of greater purpose than "Remember that other movie? Wasn't it awesome?" It's a claim that I fervently disagree with (how anyone could see Kill Bill and not see how the homages come together into something far greater than the sum of their parts is beyond me), and as proof, I offer you Doomsday, which is exactly the sort of film people complain about QT making. Doomsday is helmed by Neil Marshall, whose two earlier films (Dog Soldiers and The Descent) I loved, which made this all the more disappointing. It's packed with homages to films ranging from The Road Warrior to The Warriors to A Clockwork Orange, but the nods exist as nothing more, and are often so randomly tossed together that the resulting film feels incoherent and nonsensical. I can't say that it wasn't a fun watch, because it was, but it makes little to no sense, feels like a bunch of short films tossed into a blender, can't decide if it wants to be tongue-in-cheek or not, and ultimately just feels like a mess. It's fun enough, but it's not all that good, especially coming from someone who seems far too talented to make something like this.
5-31	Breaking Bad	Discussion of this season will no doubt center around the last few minutes for a long time, and I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. So let me simply say this: the first season of Breaking Bad was a fascinating concept anchored by a stellar lead performance by Cranston. The second season, though, was a quantum leap forward, as everyone caught up to Cranston and brought the show to a whole new level. Darker, more ethically murky, with more incredible episodes, the show has become must-see television for me, and has become the best show currently on TV, no questions asked. Cranston is giving the best performance on television right now, and each episode makes Walter White more compelling, more heartbreaking, and more horrifying. The whole season builds up to a spectacular final episode that ties together brilliant acting, brutal drama...and a final image that's going to leave people debating for a while, I think. (My take: initial disappointment has turned to appreciation and love of it, although more for the thematic depth it brings and less for the actual event. Also, would have liked it more without the show building it up.) This season has been a revelation, and I can't wait for season three to get here.
5-31	Trouble the Water	As I began watching Trouble the Water, I found myself transported back to 2005, watching the bungling, horrific response to Katrina, and I found myself stunned all over again that anyone could still support Bush in the wake of it all - a feeling I still hold today. The documentary itself is magnificent for its first half, as we get a survivor's view of Katrina. There's something compelling about the way it all unfolds, and its ground zero sense of the event makes for powerful viewing. The movie's second half is less focused and less cohesive, following Scott and Kim as they attempt to rebuild and survive afterwards. In the end, I didn't find Trouble the Water as effective or emotional as Lee's When the Levees Broke, but it still makes for a fascinating companion piece, bringing a more personal sense of the events to Lee's more global view.
5-31	Black Sheep (2006)	Watching this right after Drag Me to Hell? Not a good idea, as it makes the already disappointing Black Sheep look even weaker in comparison. Black Sheep has a great premise - mutated killer sheep - and there are moments of scattered brilliance with this. But as a whole, the movie feels unremarkable and forgettable. For every great shot of sheep herds with ominous music, there's a dozen generic sheep attacks, and despite the impressive looking creature design, it's not enough to deal with bland characters and an overall lack of fun. Really, this needs someone willing to push it to extremes - a Raimi or a Jackson - and while there's promise here, it's not enough to make it fully succeed.
5-29	Drag Me to Hell	Oh, the trailers for this looked so, so bad. Another generic PG-13 horror romp? Please. And yet, the name Sam Raimi in that director's credit...could it be a return to form? Oh, yes. Seemingly kicking back against the studio-enforced mediocrity of Spiderman 3, Raimi makes a glorious return to his Evil Dead 2 roots here, bringing a ghoulish sense of humor, a gleeful anarchic style, and a willingness to both creep out his audience and let them have a good time. It's not a flawless film - it takes a little bit to get going, and there are some dead patches - but once it hits it stride, it delivers scene after scene of splattery, slapstick, horrific fun, and does so with style, grace, and a sense of joy that was entirely absent from some of Raimi's more recent work. It's hard to tell you how much of a good time I had here, and what fun it was seeing it with an audience who probably didn't know what they were getting into; listening to the reactions as the fluid spewed and the mayhem played out was half the fun. (And what fluids and mayhem! I guess this is technically PG-13, but it's certainly pushing the limits - there are parts that I can't believe he got away with.) Don't let the trailers fool you; this is a return to Raimi the cult hero, and you owe it to yourself to go and have a blast watching this, especially with a good crowd.
5-29	Up	As I found myself entranced by Up, it occurred to me that there are two things, more than anything else, that set Pixar apart from all American competitors. One is their willingness to engage genuine, heartfelt emotion; unlike so many other modern family films (say, modern Disney), Pixar is willing to go to genuinely upsetting and human places. After all, Up ultimately becomes a film, in some ways, about dealing and coping with the loss of a loved one, and finding a way to move on. The fact that the film manages to deal with this in a genuinely powerful way (I would be lying if I said I didn't tear up a couple of times) all while maintaining a consistently hilarious, joyous adventure tale is just a testament to their skill. And the second thing? Their commitment to artistic beauty. Pixar is willing to have shots of nothing but the worlds they've created, and unlike just about anything Dreamworks or their ilk have produced, the worlds merit that study. Up creates a beautiful paradise land whose depths keep offering up more stunning visuals, and the studio's classy use of 3D never feels like a cheap cash-in, instead giving depth into the world, making the cinema screen feel more like a window than a movie. The movie is an absolute joy, as usual; it may not oust Wall-E or Monsters Inc. as my favorite Pixar, but that in no way makes it less entertaining, funny, moving, and joyous to watch. No one makes movies with more heart and sense of joy than Pixar, and Up is no different.
5-28	Barton Fink	No matter how many masterpieces the Coens turn out, there's something about Barton Fink that makes it stick with me more than maybe anything else they've done. Fink is by far the Coens' strangest work; a first half that feels episodic and disconnected suddenly comes into a sharp focus when the film transforms halfway through into something else entirely. That gearshift makes the film hard to write about; even knowing that there's a change ruins some of the fun, much less knowing exactly what happens and why. It all leads up, though, to one of my all-time favorite film climaxes, where...well, I'd say I don't want to spoil you, but thankfully the damn DVD menu gives a big chunk of it away. Regardless, Fink is a surreal nightmare of a film, and one of the Coens' most fascinating and analysis-worthy works; equal parts Hollywood satire, character study, actor showcase, drama, social commentary, and psychological horror (watching it always makes me wish the Coens would do a full-out horror film), there aren't a whole lot of movies like Fink, and that's a shame. One final note: although Lerner's the one who got the Oscar nomination for his performance (and it's a nomination he deserves for that magnificent piece of work), I still feel that Goodman's work here is magnificent and unfairly overlooked; there's layers of nuance and depth here that keep revealing themselves on multiple viewings.
5-23	Anvil! The Story of Anvil	If you threw This is Spinal Tap and American Movie into a blender, you'd get Anvil!, a documentary about a Canadian metal band who never achieved the success they probably should have. What Anvil! lacks as a documentary, it more than makes up for with its endearing subjects. The movie lacks some focus - again, I hate to bring it up, but comparing this to American Movie is instructive; both have similar plots, but the tightness, pacing, and control of American Movie blows Anvil! out of the water. And yet, I found myself enjoying and involved in the movie because of Lips and Reiner, and the portrait of their friendship. Their honesty, likable natures, and pure joy that they bring to the stage can't help but appeal, and despite myself I found myself feeling for every setback and overjoyed by every burst of good luck. It really is a wonderful little film, more because of the lives it documents than any technical prowess, but if you liked either of the films I mentioned, you'll love this. And I can't recommend enough that if they come to your town along with the film, go see them; they performed about a half dozen songs after the movie, and it really was a pretty great performance. Kind of like Coven with American Movie, seeing the movie and not seeing them afterward would almost feel incomplete.
5-23	Star Trek (2009)	To set the context for you: I'm a casual Trek fan. I grew up enjoying TNG when it was on, but wouldn't go out of my way to watch it. I've seen most of the movies, and enjoyed them, but I couldn't tell you much about them at this point in my life. And, as a casual fan, I can say this with confidence: the new Trek is a complete blast. Is it missing some of the headier, more philosophical underpinnings of the best Trek work? Definitely. But what it brings to the table is a sense of joy and fun that the series has been missing for a long time. The plot is complicated, but presents a clever way to reboot the series but keep the die-hards satisfied, and allows Abrams and company to bring a new set of ideas and themes to the table. The end result is really just a fun time at the movie theater. Some great visuals, solid performances (particularly Quinto, who nails Spock, and Pegg, who brings a great sense of fun to the whole thing), and great action add up to a really enjoyable film. It's nothing ground-breaking, and as reboots go, it can't measure up to Nolan's incredible work on Batman, but it's a great piece of entertainment, and makes me excited to see where these guys will go next.
5-22	Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure	When's the last time you saw Bill & Ted? If you're like me, it had been years. So when it was announced as a midnight movie, I was stoked. I remembered loving the film, and finding it an endearingly dopey little piece of fun. I should have left my memories alone on this one. Bill & Ted is really a remarkably terrible piece of filmmaking. It makes almost no sense whatsoever, and I don't mean in the fun way that time travel doesn't make sense - I mean in the "this is absolutely incoherent" sense. The humor feels condescending, like a studio executive trying to "be hip with the young people". In the end, I sat in the theater and really, really wished I'd just let this live in my memory instead of trying to rewatch it. It joins The Lost Boys as movies I remember being a lot better than they were, but in the end only remind us how prevalent an influence cocaine had in the eighties.
5-21	Son of Rambow	Son of Rambow is one of those movies that's so, so much more than the sum of its parts. The story is pure formula: the outcast kid, the bully, the way they bond and become friends - you could fill in most of the gaps. The direction is fun; there's a heavy Anderson and Gondry influence, to be sure, but it gets the job done. And the acting is all solid, but nothing brilliant. And yet, somehow, all of this adds up to a joyous, wonderful little piece of film that just makes me happy to watch it. There's a lot of heart and soul in Son of Rambow, and you can't discount the impact that has on something like that. What should be a generic coming-of-age film instead becomes a love letter to films, a loving portrait of a friendship, and something deeply hilarious and touching. I have no idea how it all comes together so perfectly, but it does. Trying to understand why it works for me is probably hopeless, but I can say that I watch it with a big grin on my face every time, and it leaves me a lot happier when I'm done. A joy of a film, and a reminder of why I love movies.
5-16	I Bury the Living	Back in high school, I remember reading about this movie in Stephen King's Danse Macabre, a non-fiction discussion of the horror genre. He mentioned the concept - that a man becomes convinced that his placement of black pins onto a graveyard map leads to people's deaths - and said that once the main character switched to white pins, the movie became...well, I think the phrase he used was "a piece of shit". Turns out, King was pretty dead on, except that this was never that good to begin with. It really is a neat concept, but even at 75 minutes this feels long and bloated - more like an episode of The Twilight Zone than a movie - and the mediocre acting and writing don't help things. There are a couple of nicely done scenes, but the plot just keeps getting worse and worse, and the final revelations are absolutely ludicrous. Still, at least my curiosity is finally assuaged.
5-16	Sabrina (1954)	About ten minutes into this movie, my friend Ryan mumbled a curse at Billy Wilder; when I asked him why, he replied "Because he's too fucking good." That about sums it up, doesn't it? Sabrina probably has no right to work - it's pure fantasy wish-fulfillment, and should be too treacly and sappy for it to come together. But when you mix some great casting with Wilder's trademark cynicism, the film manages to have its cake and eat it too. Wilder's bitter worldview grounds the movie and keeps it from floating away, but at the same time makes the requisite happy ending work because it acknowledges the realities of the situation. It really is a wonderful romantic comedy - though it's not the equal of The Apartment - and a joy for any film lover. It's funny, sweet, thoughtful, and still manages to be light and airy, and it all looks deceptively simple in the hands of Wilder.
5-15	Feast	A fun little B-level monster movie that plays out like a more extreme and brutal version of Tremors. I don't know that it ever lives up to the first few minutes, as each character gets a freeze frame complete with name, occupation, fun facts, and life expectancy, but the whole movie generally has a nicely skewed way of approaching things that keeps things pretty entertaining. Feast definitely knows the genre well, and likes toying with it, playing with archetypes and cliches and exploding them in clever ways. The low budget shows through, especially in the use of shaky-cam to hide effects, but it's not a dealbreaker, and the sense of humor and the genuine sense of "we're not playing by the rules" really make this a lot of fun. I definitely understand why it's getting a cult following.
5-12	Fringe	Let's get it out of the way: yes, this is a show about a division of the FBI that investigates paranormal events, and the episodes vacillate between monsters-of-the-week and an overarching storyline. It's no secret that Fringe is working the X-Files formula. But a) I liked that formula, and am glad to see it back. But more than that, b) Fringe has really found its own unique, strange style, and become its own show. Anna Torv has developed into a more solid actress, and Joshua Jackson's character is becoming more interesting (especially in light of some developments in the finale). But the show really works around John Noble's gleefully deranged Walter Bishop, an oddly sympathetic mad scientist who not only brings out some of the best lines, but a lot of the show's heart. I started watching it out of idle curiosity, but the show's really hooked me in. It's got a great sense of how to mix the two types of episodes nicely, and it succeeds strongly in both types, creating some astonishing setpieces (the showdown on the rooftop lined with suicides near the end of the season still gives me chills to think about) and some truly memorable insanity (trust me, the season built to something that I can't tell if it's batshit insane or brilliant, or maybe a little of each). I've really come to enjoy it, and I'm glad it's found a rhythm; I'm eager to see where we go from here. It may be an X-Files descendant, but it's doing the formula proud.
5-7	Coven	There's almost no way to screen American Movie without screening Coven afterward, and I think it's the best way to watch it. Why? Because it's always a bit of a revelation to see that Coven is shockingly not really that bad. Yes, Mark's dialogue can come out a little hammy, and the plot doesn't work all that well, but there's no denying that he has a nice eye for shots. More than that, though, is the sense of heart and soul poured into even this, a way to pay the bills. Watching Coven after American Movie shows just how much of Mark is in the story - from the scenes of a struggling writer raging against the life he finds himself in to a series of "helpful" interventions, this is every bit as much a reflection of Mark as something like Marnie was of Hitchcock, and it makes the movie all the more interesting.
5-7	American Movie	One of my all-time favorite movies, a rewatch of American Movie with film club reminded me not only how side-splittingly funny it is, but how deeply melancholy and touching it also manages to be. I've never agreed with those who think that the film is exploiting or laughing at Mark and Mike; I've always read it as though the director is laughing with them and seeing himself in them. (Exhibit A: he brings them to Sundance and gets them to screen Coven there.) There's no doubt that we laugh at the things that happen, but I don't think that Mark finds some of them any less funny. But what's more important is the way the film captures Mark's tenacity, his dedication, and the sense of this person trapped in a life he often can't stand. As much as we remember the humor, there are some quietly devastating scenes, and there's no way to watch the movie and not feel bad for Mark sometimes. But, by the end, as he's screening his movie, you can't help but be excited for him, either. There really aren't many movies, let alone documentaries, like American Movie, and that's more the shame for us. For me, there are few movies that so accurately capture not only what it's like to truly love film, but to capture both the joy and agony of chasing a dream.
5-3	Number Seventeen	From what I've read, Hitchcock wasn't really all that excited about being put onto this movie, one of his earlier works. That lack of interest shows. Even at barely over an hour, this is a bit of a drag, and mainly of interest for people curious about watching Hitchcock develop his talent. You can see him playing with tone here and experimenting with some long takes, but the directorial flourishes can't really make this story any more interesting. The plot frequently makes no sense, and the characters never really feel fleshed out or believable at all. Only really recommended for completists.
5-2	Blood Feast	So, this is Herschell Gordon Lewis, huh? I'm not sure what I expected out of Lewis's work, but I don't think I was prepared for how amateurish this whole thing was. Seriously, there's a lot of filmmaking here that's on MST3K level or worse. And, honestly, between Lewis's hilariously bad score and dialogue that would be an insult to the word laughable, I can't say that I loved this. But the more I read up on it, and trying to view it more as a piece of splatter exploitation than a straight-up horror movie, the more forgiving I am of its faults. It's aware, I think, of how absurd it is, and it's clear that they're having fun making it; despite the high gore factor, the film never really feels mean or grim. I can't wholeheartedly endorse it - there's just too much technical ineptness. But I can say that, taken for what it is, it's fun, and definitely important from a cult cinema perspective. I'm interested to see later Lewis work to see if/how he evolved (I have Two Thousand Maniacs! on the DVR right now).
4-29	Close Encounters of the Third Kind	I've been attempting to see this for a long time, and now that I finally have, I can't help but wonder if my anticipation worked against me, because while I liked this a lot, I didn't love it the way that so many do (though I wonder if my opinion would change if I saw it on a big screen). It feels a lot like Spielberg tried to do a more commercial and character-driven version of 2001, but whereas that film is far more narratively structured than a first glance reveals, Close Encounters feels as though it's missing a focus or idea to hold it all together. There are some brilliant scenes, and Spielberg does some amazing visual work here, letting so many of his beautiful images pass without dialogue. But it all ultimately feels a little empty and frustratingly aimless. While I loved the beauty and silence of the climax, it feels less like a proper ending and more just as though they ran out of things to say. It's an interesting journey with lots of great moments, but it feels as though it needs some tightening and focus to truly achieve greatness.
4-29	Unknown	One of the dumbest movies I've ever made myself watch, Unknown takes a neat, if gimmicky premise - five men awake in a warehouse with no memory of how they got there - and plays it out in a way that would make Donald Kaufman roll his eyes in disgust. Having a dumb story doesn't disqualify you from making a fun movie - I was hoping, really, that this might turn out to be in the same vein as Identity, which takes a patently absurd tale but crafts such a great thriller that it's hard to complain about the plausibility. Instead, Unknown piles on the cliches, casts a slew of interesting actors in worthless parts, and crafts a story only remarkable for seemingly reveling in its own idiocy, culminating in a laughably bad final twist. My only real question at the end of this: how is it that this guy and this movie attract such a great set of names, while someone with real talent and vision - say, Gilliam - continues to struggle? Hollywood, I may never understand you.
4-24	The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)	Anyone who knows me knows that I consider the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre one of the all-time great horror films. Despite the sleaze and cheese of the title, the film itself is far from some B-rate slasher film; rather, it's an intense and unnerving experiment in dread, and one of the most gut-wrenching, intense film-going experiences of my life. It's practically a textbook on how to build fear and dread in an audience. Far from the slew of pale imitations, there are no jump scares here, no cheap thrills; the film builds an everyday world, immerses us in mundane conversations, and then shatters the placid, average day at the most unexpected time. What follows from there builds pace perfectly, and unfolds with all the chilling logic of a nightmare. It would be instructive, I think, to compare this to its pathetic remake, which piled on the Gothic imagery to such a degree as to lose effectiveness; here, the world is just off enough to unsettle, which only adds to our unease. I say all of this as prelude to this: seeing this at a midnight screening at the Belcourt with a packed crowd, on a grainy 35mm print...I have never seen this film this way before, and it may never live up to this experience again. Between being immersed in the details, feeling other people respond, and the curious way that the grain and film damage added to the atmosphere, rather than detracting...it all added up to not only one of the best theatrical experiences of my life, but the most unsettling and horrifying viewing of this film I've ever had. If you get the chance to see this on a big screen with a crowd, I cannot emphasize this enough: do it. It raises an already horrifying film to new levels, something I may not have been prepared for, but am so, so glad I did.
4-23	Dr. Strangelove	Watching Dr. Strangelove with my film club is a unique experience. Here's a look into the Cold War mindset - a world almost entirely unknown to them - done in such a deadpan style as to almost seem like its not in on the joke. Watching the film, I realized how much it's like that old urban legend about the frog in the boiling water. After all, the first 20-30 minutes of the film are nearly laugh-free, easing us into this world so gradually that we don't realize the absurdity and ridiculousness until it's upon us. By the end, we find ourselves watching a Nazi scientist being strangled by his own arm, and it seems completely organic. How that happens is a miracle of directorial control and pacing, and it's part of what makes Strangelove such a brilliant film. Of course, even with Sellers's gleeful anarchism, the other key role in the film is Scott, who really runs away with it -- all the more impressive given Sellers's trio of genius roles, Pickens' dedicated Major Kong, and Hayden's paranoid Ripper. And yet, it all works, and what seems at first horrific and unthinkable, by the film's end, is ridiculed, all the way to the Apocalypse. How this got made, how this got okayed, in the heart of the Cold War, in the wake of the Cuban Missile Crisis, I may never understand. But its genius, its side-splitting humor, and its incredible performances are timeless; its the rare film that improves with each and every viewing.
4-20	Scotland, PA	A rewatch with my English class as a pairing with Macbeth. While I enjoy Scotland, PA greatly, there's no denying that it works better as a companion piece to the play than on its own. As the play winds on, the movie feels as though it's forcing itself to follow the story rather than organically doing so, and some of the late act maneuvers (especially those involving Banco) feel more required than necessary. Still, the humor really works, and as a teaching tool, it's a marvelous way to get students into the play from another direction.
4-16	Fargo	A modern classic whose greatness is more assured every time I see it. Funny and brilliantly filmed, but also quietly moving. See here for my review.
4-10	Observe and Report	Don't, don't, don't judge this one on the trailers; what's being marketed as a generic wacky Seth Rogen comedy is something far darker and stranger. The touchstone that keeps getting brought up is Taxi Driver, but after hearing Hill mention that The King of Comedy was a major influence, I can't help but see that too. Observe and Report follows a deluded mall security officer who longs to be something more, and follows him so far into his own head that it becomes questionable what's real in the film and what's not. The result doesn't always work - some of the supporting cast doesn't really work, most notably Anna Farris, who plays her part far too broadly for the film, and some of the tonal shifts are more jarring than effective. But I can't deny a sense of exhilaration, much like I did with Knowing, of seeing something truly different and unique, and by and large, it works. While the humor is definitely pitch black, it doesn't make some of the lines and scenes any less funny, and the tonal shifts, especially some near the end, create some truly strange reactions. I don't think it's flawless by any means, but I admire what Hill is attempting to do here, and I have to say that I liked it, although I wonder how people expecting another happy Rogen flick are going to react when they find themselves in some nightmarishly dark territory.
4-9	Unforgiven	This finally got screened for film club, and the reaction was great. It was interesting to experience it through my students' eyes for the first time, but for me, it was a chance to see if the movie was as excellent as I remember it being. Oh, it definitely is. There's no doubt that Unforgiven needs Eastwood to work - not just for the iconic baggage he brings to the role, and not just for his understated but effective direction, but for his performance. It's remarkable how weak and old Eastwood looks for much of the film, and yet as the climax nears, the physical transformation is subtle but unmistakable. Unforgiven works on every level its got: as a character-driven drama, as a revisionist (and slightly feminist) Western, as a thriller, and more. Filled with complex and decidedly unheroic characters, and a true sense of the price of violence, Unforgiven is far more than just a Western, and far more than just Eastwood's best film. It's a masterpiece in every frame, and it doesn't matter how many times you see it, the climax will never be any less powerful.
4-8	Be Kind Rewind	The trailers and concept had me all excited; then the tepid reviews and blah reactions really dampened my fire for this. So it's a pleasant surprise to find myself in the minority that really liked this a lot. I'd compare it to Son of Rambow, not just because of the similar ideas, but that both films work and succeed based on their big hearts and love of film. It's not a flawless movie, and you wish that it spent more time on its "Sweded" films than a story, but its warmth and clear sense of joy and fun really make it work. It's an ode to film from a filmmaker with a wonderful imagination, and watching him work here is really a quiet little joy. It's not a modern classic, but it's a rich, funny little movie that deserved a better reaction than the one it got, and I think time will be kind to it.
4-6	The Sting	I'm a sucker for con movies, so why it took me so long to see this one is anybody's guess. But what a joy it is to watch. The scheme is complicated, but not too much so - a lifetime of con movies made one of the big reveals a little obvious, but that's no fault of the film - but the joy here is watching it all come together. There's a scale here I haven't seen much, especially in setting up some of the bigger cons, and watching professionals at work just makes for a fun movie. Combine that with the whole cast - yes, Redford and Newman's effortless charisma carries the film, but the supporting cast is uniformly great - and the nostalgic but never sappy 1930s setting and you have just a joyous, wonderful film. I had a blast watching it, and loved its easy charm, quick wit, and most of all, its sense of fun.
4-5	Hard Candy	I'm a little divided on this one, to be quite honest. From a technical perspective, it's remarkably well-done; the direction is effectively claustrophobic, and builds tension masterfully. And I can't say enough good things about Page and Wilson, who basically are the film; the play between the two of them works largely due to their acting chops. But that's the problem a little bit, isn't it? A lot of people said that it was fascinating to watch the sympathies slide back and forth, but the film never really brought the ambiguity needed for my sympathies to shift. In fact, it seemed pretty obvious where the film was going pretty early on (well, at least with regard to guilt and innocence). That being said, the mind games are fascinating...but they don't really hold up outside of the film's vacuum. While you're watching it, it's a tense, unsettling psychodrama; after it ends, you start realizing that a lot of the pieces don't fit as well as you'd like them to. I dug it pretty well as an experience, but I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by it. It's a great concept, good filmmaking, and solid acting that all deserve a script with a few more shades of gray.
4-1	Life on Mars (US)	I've been holding off on reviewing this to let my anger over the ending pass some, because I would probably be harsher on this than it deserves. Even setting aside my issues with the final episode, this probably wouldn't deserve much more than a C on the whole; for every magnificent moment, for every perfect use of music, there was another hamfisted wacky-"haven't times changed" joke or another terrible use of the score. And every time I'd begin to get into the characters or the story, the writers would find a way to squander my goodwill. In the end, if it weren't for the last ten minutes, Life on Mars would go down as little more than a great concept that only occasionally paid off; with that infamous ending, though, the writers managed to take what interest I had in the show and stomp on it, rewarding my faithfulness with a big middle finger, and single-handedly making me like the rest of the series less for knowing the ending. All in all, there were some scattered moments of greatness, but I'll ultimately remember the show for wasting a great concept and for its horrible, horrible ending. (Well, that and the admittedly awesome song choices. I did get a great music playlist out of it, which is something.)
3-28	Monsters Vs. Aliens (IMAX 3D)	A big, goofy mix of Looney Tunes and B-movie, I think my friend Adam and I enjoyed Monsters more than most of the people in the theater - at the very least, we laughed a lot harder than other people. It's nothing brilliant, and sure, big chunks don't always work - there's not enough of Colbert as the president, and Sutherland's character doesn't ever really manage to fully come to life. But the rest has such a goofy charm and a willingness to just be silly that I had a great time, and I have to say that it's nice to see a Dreamworks movie make references that go back more than just a year or two (no Smashmouth here, thank God). As for the 3D, it's sharp at times, other times pointless - in other words, it's about what you'd expect. In general, I had a blast; it's not my favorite slapstick kid's movie (The Emperor's New Groove holds that title quite securely), but I had a good time.
3-27	I Love You, Man	Really, I Love You, Man is a fairly forced comedy that has to work really hard to convince you that it's even close to believable. So why did I like it so much? It's all in the casting, sometimes, and I Love You, Man basically lives and dies with Paul Rudd and Jason Segel. Rudd and Segel both bring so much charisma, comic timing, and personality to the film that their characters are more interesting and involving than the script really merits, and they somehow make it all really work and coalesce into something genuinely funny. Reading afterward that this was written by the man who wrote the ridiculously overrated Meet the Parents wasn't surprising - too often, the film wants to fall back on contrivances or obvious jokes. But Rudd and Segel - and, to be fair, the rest of the cast, which includes people like Thomas Lennon, Larry Wiltmore, and Jon Favreau - are smart enough and canny enough to make the film work far more than it deserves. It's not great, and it lags a little until Rudd and Segel team up, but the results are enjoyable enough and funny enough that I can't help but give it a highly amused B. Like Ebert says, it's all about how it goes about itself.
3-26	For a Few Dollars More	Am I the only person who was kind of shocked that the Man Without a Name actually has a name? (Or maybe two or three?) That aside, Few Dollars More adds another main player to Clint's life, an action Leone would repeat in The Good..., even going so far as to keep Van Cleef on board, although as a different character. Here, Van Cleef plays a bounty hunter whose motivations are far more complex than they first appear, adding a more emotional dimension to the film than Fistful. Still, the joy here is watching Clint play his games, pitting people against each other and demonstrating why he's not a man to trifle with. I actually think I liked Fistful a little more, but that doesn't mean I didn't love this - the situation here is more complicated and interesting, and as always, Leone creates a West so iconic that it's largely replaced the reality. And I can't finish this review without mentioning Morricone's score, which attains perfection in the theme that accompanies a locket - it's a perfect mix of action, tragedy, and violence, which nicely sums up the films.
3-25	Taking Chance	Much like United 93, Taking Chance takes a very political issue - in this case, the current Iraq War - and takes a decidedly apolitical stance on it, narrowing its focus only to the human cost involved with the project. And, also much like United 93, the results are devastating. I'd be fundamentally dishonest if I didn't admit that this absolutely wrecked me for much of its short running time; its tale of a senior Marine escorting the body of a boy killed in action home to his family is a simple one, and yet powerful. To the film's considerable credit, there's not a lot of dialogue here. The film works mainly through quiet images, ranging from watching the body be processed to watching two Marines arriving at the family's home in the middle of the night to deliver the news. Never anything less than respectful, Taking Chance never feels manipulative, to me, nor does it feel mawkish; rather, it ends up quietly driving home the sacrifice made by so many, and makes the viewer more aware of the humanity behind the face of the war. It's an absolutely heartbreaking film, and much like United 93, it affected me deeply. I don't know that I'd be able to watch it again, but I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to anyone - in fact, in some ways, I think these two films should be required viewing for a lot of people, especially politicians in charge of it all.
3-25	Tigerland	If nothing else, Tigerland at least gives a purpose to the execrable Batman and Robin; without its failure on every imaginable level, Schumacher wouldn't have made this, easily his best work. Stripped down of camera work and flash, Schumacher turns out to have a knack for getting good performances, and he manages to do something he's failed at in almost every other movie: tell a character-driven story that works more through subtlety and understatement than didactic and expository dialogue. There's no doubt that some of the supporting characters in Tigerland become a bit flat, and a few really seem to work more as plot devices than people, but the film's central character, a quiet rebel played by a then-unknown Colin Farrell, really anchors the film and drives it into interesting territory. If the supporting characters only exist to flesh out his rebellion, that's okay; the acting is solid enough that they work and are never dull, and the stylish, understated camera work provides a nice feel for the movie. It's a decidedly unique Vietnam movie (after all, it never leaves American shores), and by and large, quite successful.
3-24	Talk to Me	For its first half or so, Talk to Me really works, largely thanks to a charismatic, fun performance by Cheadle that helps to belie the sense that we're teetering on the edge of pure biopic formula. Sadly, that's exactly what happens; by the time the film hits its second hour, it's purely by-the-numbers, and becomes the worst thing a movie can be: just dull. Connecting these two halves is a section of film dealing with the aftermath of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., a section of film that affected me deeply and soared emotionally in a way that the rest of the film leaves you completely unprepared for. It's a stunning segment, one that explores emotions honestly, and captures the times of the film magnificently, and it's a shame that the film never really lives up to that series of scenes. In the end, it's a glimpse at a fascinating figure shoved into a standard Hollywood biopic. It introduced me to Petey Greene, and made me curious about him, so that's something, but it's a shame the film isn't as interesting as its subject.
3-24	The Caveman's Valentine	The Caveman's Valentine is one of those movies that creates a great lead character and an interesting world, but struggles to keep its plot interesting. Unfortunately, when your movie is, at its core, a murder mystery, the plot is a pretty major part of the film. Samuel L. Jackson reminds me how great he can be when someone lets him actually, you know, act, and his portrayal of a presumably schizophrenic homeless man (well, as he points out several times, he's not exactly homeless - he lives in a cave) is riveting stuff, and Lemmons does a nice job immersing ourselves into his fractured, unreal world. Unfortunately, the world around him never quite stands up on its own, and several scenes are just laughably bad, including the bizarre leaps of logic required to make the ending work. That being said, I enjoyed Jackson's character and some of the visual style; the movie around it is just disappointing and unworthy of its central conceit.
3-23	Gremlins 2: The New Batch	Reading an entry in the A.V. Club's New Cult Canon about Gremlins 2 made me want to rewatch it; I remembered enjoying it when I was younger, but I was curious what I'd think now. Frankly, as a movie buff, I absolutely loved it; every frame is so packed with in-jokes and cinematic nods that I couldn't help but enjoy the sheer geekery of it all. But even apart from that aspect, Gremlins 2 is a gleeful burst of anarchy that's probably as close as you'll ever come to seeing a live-action Looney Tunes cartoon. It's packed with gags ranging from the sublime to the incredibly silly, and much like classic Zucker Brothers works, they're so dense that if one fails, another will pop up to fill its place. It's a pretty fantastic little film, if only for the sheer maniacal glee with which Dante dismantles his franchise, the idea of sequels, and anything close to resembling a narrative film.
3-23	The Ruins	I've opined at length about how much I love the novel The Ruins; if you don't want to read my original thoughts, suffice to say that I think it's one of the best horror novels of recent memory, and one of the most intense things I've read. Apart from a slightly more upbeat ending, the movie pretty much retains all the plot of the book, but somehow fails on almost every level to make it memorable, unsettling, or even involving. What results isn't a bad film, but in many ways, it's something far worse: it's a boring one. There's more to say, but in reading up on the movie, I found this A.V. Club column, which compares the book to the film, and pretty much makes every point I would want to say about the movie. So go read that instead. In short, though, the film is pretty instantly forgettable.
3-22	Flight of the Conchords	Sigh. All good things come to an end, and the end of the second season of Conchords certainly seems to give credence to the rumors of this being the end of the show. It's a shame, really; there's been nothing quite like Conchords on TV, with its quietly deadpan sense of humor, its absurd silliness mixed with lively characters, and the fantastic music. I'm pretty excited that I got turned onto the band through the show - their first CD stays in pretty heavy rotation on my iPod, and some of the new songs this season are just fantastic - but I'm going to miss the unique and offbeat sense of humor they brought to the show. Hopefully it comes back once the boys feel refreshed, but in the meantime, I'm content that we got two seasons that were just spectacularly weird and funny.
3-20	Knowing	Watching a bizarre set of reviews come in really intrigued about Knowing, in that what seemed to be a disposable thriller was getting reviews suggesting that it was something far stranger. Oh, is it ever - and I loved that about it. Knowing is the rare thriller with ambition, drive, and thoughtfulness underneath its gloss; whereas most apocalyptic thrillers are content to just excite, Knowing plays with philosophy, religion, belief, doubt, and the nature of the universe, all while spinning a great yarn. Is it flawless? Definitely not. There are some plot jumps, and a few times we just follow along on faith, and while some of the CGI is spectacular, other parts aren't as much - there's a shot of a moose that just...well, it's something. But the flaws, to me, aren't deal-breakers. Knowing did something not enough films do - it does the unexpected. For the last thirty minutes of the movie, I had no idea where we were going...and that's exciting stuff. It's a little insane, a little ambitious, and maybe a little out of left field. But I can't fault a movie for stretching to take on more than the average film, and I found its ambition and thoughtfulness exciting. You may not like it when you see it, but its daring and uniqueness make it well worth checking out.
3-20	Annie Hall	Another rewatch, another movie I loved even more than I remembered. There's a playfulness here that Allen seems to have outgrown, which is sad; as funny as the dialogue is, what makes Annie Hall really soar is the asides, the breaking of the fourth-wall, the new styles (animated scenes, fractured and observed flashbacks, etc.), and the sheer joy of the whole film. But beyond that, Annie Hall works because it's an honest, true story. The relationship here feels like a genuine one; as quirky as Annie is, she never becomes some stereotypical Manic Pixie Dream Girl - she maintains a depth, a personality, and a reality all her own, beyond what the narrator needs. When the relationship works, we're happy and right with them; as it falters, we feel the pain more genuinely. It's a romantic movie that works because of the time it spends with its characters and in its world; it's that honesty and self-criticism that separates it from films like L.A. Story, which have the fun but no soul. It's a wonderful, funny, touching, beautiful film, and just a joy on every single level.
3-19	Suspicion	The only Grant/Hitchcock collaboration I hadn't seen, and...well, it's a mixed bag. Hitch is clearly having a lot of fun here, and it's great to watch Grant playing against type as the shady, suspicious type. I wish, though, that Hitch had made this later in his career, when he had the cachet to be able to put the ending he wanted on the film; as it is, it feels like the film builds to a logical conclusion and then pulls its last punch. The ending is satisfying in a lot of ways, but reading about the original ending makes you realize how much richer the film would have been with it. Still, it's a lot of fun, and has some great scenes, as well as a great Grant performance; it just doesn't really ever become as good or as great as you'd like it to. Far from bad, mind you, but not upper-tier Hitchcock work.
3-19	Frenzy	Hitchcock's penultimate movie doesn't get discussed as much as his earlier work, and I was a little wary that it followed up Torn Curtain, one of Hitch's worst films. I shouldn't have worried; by the time Frenzy ended, I'm fairly comfortable in saying that it's one of his strongest, and his most overlooked, works (something I'm apparently not alone in feeling). There's no doubt that it's nastier and grimmer than Hitch's early work, especially when it comes to the killer, whose psychosis and sexually-driven madness is far more explicit than Psycho. But the plot here is fascinating; Hitch was a master of the "wrong man" sort of story, but rarely has it been played so well as this, where we see the net woven so tightly, and so suspensefully, but are powerless to stop it. It's dynamite stuff, and keeps going in unexpected directions, which is a nice treat - by the time we hit the third act, the film kept surprising me with the directions it would take. Add to that strong performances, a willingness to let his hero be less than heroic, some black comedy, and more, and you have a superb thriller that not only actually thrills, but demonstrates some outstanding technical prowess. (The potato truck scene is a minor masterpiece, but the best shot is the famous long one from the door into the street - it's absolutely devastating in context.) Oh, and there's not enough praise in the world for the film's last line, which is brilliant.
3-18	Notorious	One of those Hitchcock films that deserves every bit of acclaim that it gets thrust upon it, Notorious is a rare feat - it juggles a romance, a tense spy thriller, drama, and more, and does it all really, really well. What's more, it never does any of its elements poorly, and indeed plays them against each other to create more emotion, suspense, and tension as the film needs it. It's a great concept for a film, and there's no doubt that the bizarre relationship between Grant and Bergman anchors the film; however, Rains is every bit as important - he takes what could have been a simple villain role and makes it into something far more sympathetic and ultimately tragic, so much so that at times, he earns more sympathy than Grant or Bergman. It's filmed spectacularly - my favorite shot has to be that long one from the ceiling down to Bergman's hand - and staged with as much expertise as you'd ever expect from Hitchcock, with the wine cellar scene being a textbook example of how to build tension perfectly. Juggling a multifaceted relationship, questions of identity, complex characters, and more, Notorious is a deserved classic, and one of the best films I've seen, period, to say nothing of being among Hitchcock's best films.
3-18	Gaslight	Maybe it's because my Dish Network info gave too much away about the film, or maybe it's just that the movie doesn't do a good job of being anything less than obvious, but I found this dissatisfying at first, and then ultimately tedious. The explanation for the film's events is obvious way too quickly into the movie, and the events that take place aren't surreal or claustrophobic enough to really end up creating the desired atmosphere. Admittedly, the final "why" is pretty neat and unexpected, but it didn't make me any less bored with the rest of the film. It's a great concept, and in the right hands - the obvious choice, of course, would be Hitchcock - it could have been really something. But between pedestrian execution and a script that doesn't play it close enough to the chest, I was let down, especially given all the praise this has earned over the years.
3-17	A Face in the Crowd	I started this because I couldn't sleep, and planned on watching a bit before I fell asleep...but that never even came close to happening. What a stellar film in so many ways, but let's start with the obvious. Andy Griffith is a revelation here; especially for those of us who know him primarily from his wholesome TV image, watching Griffith's loud, vicious, amoral manipulator is compelling stuff, to say nothing of his sheer magnetism. But the movie as a whole is absolutely riveting, and so far ahead of its time, that it's not really any surprise that it flopped. Its depiction of a "common man" spokesman who becomes intoxicated with power might seem alarmist at the time, but for modern viewers, echoes of anyone from Limbaugh to G.W. can't help but be seen. The cast is uniformly excellent; although it's Griffith's film through and through, it wouldn't work without Neal's conflicted heroine and Walter Matthau's early role as the film's angry, bitter conscience. The natural comparison is to Network, but it falls much closer in line with Wilder's Ace in the Hole, another vicious, angry satire of the media that seems less extreme and more visionary every day. A must see for any film fan, A Face in the Crowd is a sadly neglected and overlooked gem, from its simple opening to its stellar final confrontation.
3-17	The Lady Vanishes	Reading some discussion of this after the fact has made me appreciate it more, but I still don't find this to be the early Hitchcock masterpiece that a lot of people do. To be fair, once the titular lady actually disappears in the film, the movie becomes fascinating...but there's a lot of heavy lifting before that happens, including a lengthy 24-minute sequence at the beginning in which nothing of any actual importance happens. Compared to the tight, taut plotting of something like North by Northwest, Lady Vanishes just takes forever to get going, and the light-hearted atmosphere, while fun, robs the film of some of the suspense. There's a lot of neat undercurrents about English isolationism and such in the movie, and the actual plot is pretty fascinating and well-done. Ultimately, though, while I enjoyed it, I still wouldn't put it as high up as a lot of people do; it's not even my favorite early Hitchcock that I've seen (Sabotage, by far, blew this out of the water).
3-17	North by Northwest	The last time I saw North by Northwest, I was a child on vacation, and my father told me to watch it, saying I would love it, and he was right. It's been so long, though, that a chance to rewatch it seemed in order, since I remembered next to nothing about the film. It's definitely Hitch at the peak of his powers, and it's one of his most entertaining films. The plot wastes no time in getting going, and Grant plays perfectly the put-upon hero thrust into a situation he doesn't understand. Jumping from setpiece to setpiece, there's no shortage of legendary bits here - as much as the plane sequence is justly remembered, I had forgotten just how wonderful the final Mt. Rushmore sequence is. To me, it lacks the power and unsettling side of Hitch's best work (Vertigo and Rear Window, for my money), but that in no way impugns how sheerly entertaining the whole thing is.
3-13	Boogie Nights	It's been a great day for rewatching films. I haven't seen Boogie Nights in a very long time, maybe since it first came out on DVD; I remember liking, but not loving it. Seeing it now, whether because of a pristine big-screen print or just being older and more appreciative, I was absolutely blown away. Boogie Nights is a remarkable film, all the more so because it's only Anderson's second effort - the amount of confidence and technical prowess on display here is stunning, and even more so when the film transforms halfway through into something far darker and grimmer. The performances throughout are magnificent, from Reynolds as a paternal director to Hoffman's pathetic obsessed hanger-on to Wahlberg as the rising star, but it's Anderson's direction that makes this work. Filled with sweeping camera work and brilliant scene after brilliant scene, Anderson charts both the optimism of the 70s and the stark realities of the 80s, and does so mesmerizingly, humorously, and intensely. (Seriously, that Alfred Molina scene ranks right up there as one of the tensest and hardest scenes I've ever sat through.) A defining movie of the 90s, and a magnificent big-screen experience.
3-13	Bad Lieutenant	I've always felt that I owed this another watch after my dismissal of it after a first viewing; after watching The Virgin Spring, another story of doubt, faith, and redemption seemed appropriate, so I tried again. I don't know if I was simply unprepared the first time I watched the film for how unpleasant and nasty it was, or if I'm more patient now, or if it simply helped to know what I was getting into, but whatever the case, I was far, far more impressed with this on my second viewing. It's still an unpleasant watch at many points, and far from easy, but I'm more affected this time by watching Keitel's struggle for redemption, and blown away by his meltdown in the church. And my earlier complaints about the ending being "out of nowhere" seem unfounded; I don't know if I wasn't paying attention, but both his actions and the final shot are set up clearly in the film and pay off well. In short, I was wrong about the film. On this viewing, what I thought was a pointlessly nasty film became something far more profound: a meditation on sin, failings, redemption, and the difficulties in faith. (Ironically, it's one of films I feel deals with religion in an honest way.)
3-13	The Virgin Spring	I'm still a little bit of a Bergman neophyte, but what I'm starting to realize is that although the man's films are not as forbidding and difficult as I thought, that in no way means that they're not complex, thoughtful, and powerful. Ostensibly a simple revenge story, The Virgin Spring sets itself at a time when Sweden was teetering between paganism and Christianity, a fact that plays into the story in a variety of ways. Spring feels like it takes a bit to get going, but when you take the film as a whole, it's obvious how carefully Bergman has been setting the stage for his finale, a powerful sequence that inspires as many questions and fears as it might ever answer. It's an angry film, and I admire it all the more for the way it demands answers of a God who may or may not even be listening; the passion, the doubt, and the willingness to ask the questions make the film an experience that left me with much to mull over. I'm still curious to see what Craven did with this, and I'm sure it's a solid horror film, but Spring is something far richer - and, in some ways, more unsettling.
3-6	The Godfather: Part II	I may be in a minority, but you can count me among those who find Part II to be the more fascinating and better of the first two Godfather films. From the play between past and present to Pacino's galvanizing performance, from the opening gala to the haunting final shot, Part II makes the original film look like a barrel of laughs, but it also packs a more devastating emotional punch. Of course, that punch wouldn't work without the original film, but treated as a pair, watching Michael's rise (fall?) from his sister's wedding to the flawless final shot of Part II is as compelling and gripping a moral journey as has ever been captured on film. It's a film that's alive in a way few films are, with more thought put into fleeting gestures, glances, and deliveries than the entirety of some other films. Filled with incredible performances, an incredible directorial style (with some of the best tracking shots I've ever seen), and a complex and satisfying story, The Godfather: Part II doesn't just earn its classic status; it surpasses it in almost every way. (And seeing it on the big screen, with the mostly wonderful Coppola restoration? Cinematic bliss.)
3-6	Watchmen (IMAX)	It's going to be hard for me to evaluate this on its own merits. In the end, I'm a huge fan of the graphic novel, so I have to judge this as a fan of the material. And, as a fan of the book, I was absolutely thrilled with this. It's not flawless - Carla Gugino is pretty terrible in a thankfully brief role, and while I don't actually mind the change to the ending, the film rushes it a little bit too much, not allowing everything to sink in. But those are generally minor, especially when stacked against the film's considerable strengths. The performances are generally good, with Akerman bringing up the rear with adequacy. The male parts are generally strong (particularly Crudup, who brings a HAL-like sensibility to Dr. M), but no one on the screen compares to Haley, who is Rorschach, in every sense of the word, and elevates his scenes to a new level. The soundtrack is getting dumped on by some people, but I loved it; from the opening sequence to the funeral, from an arctic approach to the absolutely incredible opening credits, I loved the music, both as a callback to the novel and as mood-setting. (And, seriously, enough good can't be said about the opening credits - check out the first image when you see it, as it's a great nod to comic book fans everywhere). In the end, it works the vast majority of the time; at its best, it soars, and brings the comic to life in a way I never expected it'd be able to. I can't say whether you'll like the movie if you're not a fan. But if you are a fan, this is the comic, on the big screen. And watching it come to life is pretty damn great.
3-5	Memento	Nothing frustrates me more than hearing someone dismiss Memento as a gimmick film, and a fresh viewing after so long reminds me why. Yes, the film is mainly known for the fact that it's told backwards. But calling the film a "gimmick" implies that the technique is used for its own sake, or for cheap thrills; instead, the result is that you're placed firmly in Leonard's shoes, experiencing the events with no idea of those that led up to them. But forget all that for a moment, and realize that in addition to its fascinating chronology, Memento is a gripping, twisty thriller, a meditation on loss and revenge, and a fascinating exploration of memory, all while providing some truly stunning scenes. A lot of films have great twist endings, but it's rare to have one that inspires as much discussion, thought, and philosophy as this one does. An outstanding film that too often gets overlooked as pure technique, Memento is masterful work, especially when you realize that it's only Nolan's second film. If you haven't seen it, don't learn anything more; just go and see it.
2-28	The Godfather	I've seen The Godfather at least twice before, but how could I pass up a chance to see the Coppola Restoration on the big screen? And, oh, do I ever not regret it. The film holds up as well as it ever has; it never sags for a second of its nearly three-hour run time, is flawlessly acted throughout, and builds to one of the most unforgettable climaxes of all time in the form of the baptism sequence. And the Restoration really is all I hoped it would be and more; the shadows are richer, the detail sharper, and the sound more spectacular and impactful (again, there's a moment in the baptism sequence that absolutely powerhouse in the new sound mix, and if you've seen the movie, you know what it is). A classic that deserves its place, The Godfather is less a celebration of the Mafia lifestyle and more a bleak, grim film about the way we all struggle against our own nature. From its perfect opening lines to that haunting final shot, it's a bona fide masterpiece. (And what does it say about Coppola that this is his weakest film from the 70s? What a streak.) Even more excited now about Part II next week.
2-24	Shoot the Piano Player	My third exposure to Truffaut (after 400 Blows and Jules and Jim), and another reminder that I really need to dig into more of his work. A breezy, funny, thoughtful, vaguely noir piece, Shoot the Piano Player has just enough plot to keep it moving, enough tension to keep you watching, and enough humor to make it entertaining. It's a little loose, even at 83 minutes, but I liked that about it - the way it followed conversations to their interesting conclusions, the way it let the characters breathe, not enslaving them to a plot, and the way Truffaut toyed with the norms of cinema, especially the cutaway gag that puts Family Guy to shame (all the more effective for its out-of-nowhere nature). I really enjoyed this a lot, and definitely need to dig into more Truffaut. Recommendations?
2-21	Doubt	A strong, thoughtful film that succeeds not only as an acting showcase, but also as an examination of the nature of doubt and faith. The cast is uniformly excellent, but if you need a reminder of why Streep is a legend, or Hoffman is one of the new greats, or that Adams is one to watch, then come see it, but prepare to be blown away by Viola Davis's brief but unforgettable scene in the film. The film leaves much unresolved, but what did or didn't happen is never the point; the point is the way that each of these characters find their faith tested by the events of the film, and how they react. The story is compelling enough, but this is first and foremost a film about its incredible, searing performances, and the final confrontation between Streep and Hoffman is show-stopping stuff. Highly recommended for those who like their films thoughtful and intelligent.
2-19	Harold and Maude	A second viewing made me more attuned to the flaws of this than on my first watch, but I still like it a good deal. There's no doubt that Maude is a bit of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but the combination of her age and a quick glimpse at her arm add depth to her character, much in the same way that hints about Harold's father add depth to his. Unlike Anderson's work, the characters don't really bring enough of that depth to the table, and they end up remaining more flat than they really should. The film still works, though, coasting on the odd chemistry between the two, their entertaining performances, and the film's gleeful sense of absurd humor. I don't like it as much as the work it inspired, but there's a lot to enjoy here, and some wonderful scenes, even as its flaws become more evident.
2-17	A Fistful of Dollars	If there was ever a question of how Eastwood earned his legendary status, watching the Man With No Name films is more than able to settle that. Combine Leone's masterful direction and Morricone's unforgettable scores with Eastwood's iconic performances, and you're sure to be in for entertainment on every level. I've only ever seen The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, so it's nice to finally be able to catch up with the other two pieces of the trilogy. An uncredited remake of Yojimbo, Fistful is a hell of a motion picture, with Eastwood playing both sides against each other for reasons murky. Playing fast and loose with morality and expectations, and showing a rare fascinating with the impact of violence, Fistful deserves its reputation, and deserved to become the hit it became. Onward to A Few Dollars More, and then I'll just have to see about re-watching The Good... (although how do you compare to seeing it on the big screen?)
2-16	Thriller: A Cruel Picture	One of the most infamous revenge exploitation pictures, Thriller (honestly, I like the title They Call Her One-Eye! better) is not only more engaging than I expected, but more interesting, too. Notorious for its sexual content (which, admittedly, is a lot worse than I expected), Thriller also works as a great little grindhouse revenge picture, anchored by a great lead actress. Lindberg's not only stunningly gorgeous, but her mute victim becomes an icon in its own right, something all the more remarkable for playing the part without dialogue. The film becomes more than a tad incoherent by the second half; for long sections, I wasn't really sure who was being fought or why, exactly. That being said, the film's certainly worth seeing for any true cult movie fan. It's not for all tastes, and it's a good deal rougher than many people will be able to handle. But as a revenge picture that not only provides the catharsis of revenge but subtly undermines the effectiveness of it, Thriller works far better than you might expect. For those who can handle it, it's a fascinating piece.
2-16	Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1982)	Having seen the Burton version, I've wanted to see the complete play for some time, and on finally getting around to it, I was quite impressed. (Turns out it's not quite the entire play, as Turpin's "Mea Culpa" is cut - it's well worth finding on YouTube if you haven't seen it, as it adds a whole new dimension to his character.) It's obvious how much inspiration Depp pulls from Hearn's performance, as he brings intensity and a lust for revenge to the character, but he's more than matched by Lansbury's a-little-too-endearing Mrs. Lovett (which fits the character to a T). This didn't actually make me hate the Burton version the way I've been told it might; if anything, it made me like it a bit more. That being said, there's aspects of the entire show that the Burton film loses, and while I understand some of them, like cutting "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd," I can't help but love them in the play, and wish he'd found a natural way to work them in. If I have a gripe with this one, it's Johanna, who is remarkably awful, in my view; I'm sure I may be corrected on it, but neither her singing nor her acting comes anywhere close to the rest of the cast. Otherwise, a fine rendition.
2-14	Coraline (Digital 3-D)	At its best, animation can transport you to worlds like no other, and can create moments of true "movie magic." Pixar, of course, are masters of this, but Coraline will go down as one of the great pieces of stunning movie art. I can't recommend the 3-D enough - it's not the gimmicky swirl of Beowulf or Polar Express - rather, it just adds depth and vibrancy to the already stunning visuals. Combining Gaiman's boundless imagination with Selick's talent for unique worlds, Coraline looks like nothing you've ever seen before. Nominally a fairy tale for children, Coraline is definitely going to be far too dark for some, and too surreal for others. But for me, who loves Gaiman's work, I was enraptured for the entire running time, and as the film came to a climax, there are moments that absolutely floored me. Funny, charming, but above all else magical, Coraline is the first great movie of the year, and it sets the bar quite high. Trust me - go see it, and go see it on the big screen.
2-13	Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter	By most accounts, this is the best of the Friday the 13th series, a fact that makes me think that the rest of these films must be truly something horrible to behold. A series of gory kills tied together by something approximating human speech and something resembling acting, I can't imagine enjoying this had it not been for the midnight movie crowd, who appreciated the cheese and mocked the rest. This was not appreciated by all in attendance, but I give you one heckler's response: "Well, I guess we did ruin the ambience of the 'harpoon to the dick' scene, a staple of modern cinema." Really, this is an awful movie on almost every imaginable level - so bad, in fact, that I think I liked Sleepaway Camp more, for at least having an absolutely awesome ending.
2-12	Rushmore	There are very few perfect films in the world, but every time I watch Rushmore, I'm reminded how effortlessly flawless it really is. I've enjoyed all of Anderson's work, but nothing he's done has compared to the stripped-down perfection of Rushmore. One of my students today remarked that every single scene in the film serves a purpose; he's right, but more than that is how understated the film is, and how so much rich subtext and character development happens in the silences and between scenes. Look, for instance, at the scene where Max leaps the fence to take the plant...well, to where? It's obvious, really, but the film doesn't tell us, or even show us; rather, it trusts us to fill in the gaps. I could go on and on about the movie - about how Bill Murray has never been better in a film, about how Anderson packs his frame with content, about the sublime and wonderful humor, about some of the devastating lines and scenes, about how some parts make me want to weep and others make me ineffably happy - and someday I'll probably write that essay. In the meantime, I'll leave it at this: it's a wonderful film, and easily in my top five favorite movies of all time.
2-11	The Magnificent Ambersons	Given all the controversy that's attracted to the editing of Ambersons over the years, one thinks that a new viewer would be pretty prepared for the jarring, inappropriately happy ending that's been tacked onto this, but words can't really express just how horrible an ending it really is. And, the more you read about the original film, the more disheartening the loss of what could have been is. But, none of that really takes into account just how good what we have really is. Yes, it's a flawed work due mostly to the changes, but there are stunning moments throughout, glimpses of Welles' visual prowess, and a few sequences of uncommon power (the montage of the town at the end is incredible). Yes, watching it can be depressing for the knowledge of what might have been, but to focus entirely on that is to miss what is there, and what is there is still a stunning achievement.
2-10	Mighty Peking Man	The kind of movie that's just made for midnight screenings or the MST3k treatment, Mighty Peking Man is pretty tedious when watched on your own in the daylight. I've established before that I'm not a fan of the "so bad it's good" school of movies, and while there's no doubt that this is pretty amazingly bad, it's not transcendently bad enough to be memorable, and not really insane enough to justify the cheese. It's just dull and mediocre, apart from a surreal sequence involving a courtship and a ridiculously relaxed jaguar that wouldn't be out of place in Airplane!. In the end, it's worse than bad - it's dull, and that's the worst crime a film can commit. Maybe seeing it in the right circumstances would help, but I can't say that I'm itching to do so.
2-9	King Kong (1933)	Before watching this, I kind of expected to enjoy it on a historic level, but to have to grin and bear it through the dated effects. Here's the nice thing about Kong: it hasn't aged too badly at all, apart from some regrettable racial stereotyping. The effects are pure stop-motion, but they work far more admirably than you might expect them to, and really add up to some stellar scenes (the T-rex fight is pretty awesome). Not only is Kong a great action movie, it's a wonderful little attack on vanity and Hollywood directors, and packs in just enough subtext to make the film resonate on more than just a "yay, adventure" level. Of course, when the adventure is this enjoyable, who cares? No, Kong definitely deserves its iconic status on a historical level, but it holds up wonderfully to this day as a great little adventure film and a masterful use of effects.
2-8	Waltz with Bashir	I admit that I was a little wary of this going in. It seemed to me to be a gimmicky film that people were embracing for being unique. I mean, an animated documentary? Is there any point to that other than to say "Hey, that's neat." Thankfully, Waltz has a lot more on its mind than simply looking stunning; in fact, it became obvious relatively soon in that, far from being a gimmicky hook, Folman's use of animation not only serves the film well, but gives it even more impact. The film details Folman's efforts to remember his role in the Israeli-Lebanon war, specifically a infamous massacre of Palestinians that he may or may not have been involved with. What makes Waltz so effective is the way it moves beyond simply depicting the war and becomes something more - a moral inquiry into the massacre, an effort to understand where responsibility stops and starts, and whether Folman himself may be a far worse person that he may be ready to admit. The film builds to a stunning last two minutes, one that drained the air out of the room and left the audience with a final frame that will linger for far, far longer than any of us would like. Don't let the animated style turn you off; Waltz is a fascinating look not only at war, but at memory, guilt, responsibility, and more, and it's handled with intelligence and grace.
1-31	Inkheart	Inoffensive but forgettable fantasy fare. An overqualified cast, including Helen Mirren, Jim Broadbent, Andy Serkis, Paul Bettany, and even Jennifer Connelly, really doesn't do much to elevate this to anything truly memorable, but it's decent enough and never outright bad. The premise - that there are people who can read aloud so well that characters are removed from their books - is neat, but ultimately it feels like a generic version of Jasper Fforde's Tuesday Next series without even a quarter as much imagination or fun. This'll play on ABC Family by the end of the year, and it'll fit in fine there.
1-30	RoboCop	Midnight movie. You know, here's the dirty little secret of RoboCop: it really doesn't make any sense at all. That, however, in no way undercuts the sheer entertainment value of the film. Made with Verhoeven's typical sense of restraint (read: none), RoboCop throws everything it can at the screen in what amounts to a collection of excesses. Mixing satire, a cop movie, violence, religious imagery, a dash of philosophy, and black humor, RoboCop is flawed in a lot of ways, but it's a complete blast to watch. And watching it with an enthusiastic crowd and some beer? Hard to find a better way to enjoy it.
1-28	Day of the Dead (1985)	Maybe watching this back-to-back with Dawn wasn't the greatest idea, or maybe this is just the first evidence of Romero's decline into mediocrity, hitting a devastating nadir with the criminally over-seen Diary of the Dead. Either way, Day of the Dead was a bit of a disappointment. I knew just from hearing discussions over it for some time that it drew some strongly mixed reactions, but for some reason, I thought most of the issues came with the character of Bub, a zombie who may be something more. For me, Bub remains one of the more interesting aspects of the film...something I can't say for the supporting cast of shrill, unlikable human characters, most notably the Army captain who apparently has a PhD in cheesy, terrible 80s bad guy acting. I certainly didn't hate the movie - there's a lot interesting here under the hood, and Romero sure knew how to stage a zombie attack, you can't deny that. No, in parts it's quite fun, and if you could take it on its own, it's be a flawed but enjoyable work. But coming after the one-two punch of Night and Dawn, there's no way that Day comes out as anything but a disappointment.
1-28	Dawn of the Dead (1978)	It's been years since I first watched this, and I don't know what's changed, but I absolutely loved this, something I don't remember doing the first time. (I suspect I may have seen the longer cut the first time, which seems like it would be too long.) As an apocalyptic zombie film, Dawn delivers in spades, focusing on the way hope dies and people turn on each other. And, yes, of course there's plenty of zombie mayhem throughout, capped off by ever-increasing gore. But what really sets apart Dawn is the way that Romero weaves in his satirical points relatively gently, something he'd soon start failing at. Dawn isn't just tense and unnerving; it's frequently hilarious, in a pitch black way, and even provides an intriguing little human drama in the midst of the apocalypse. Mixing strong character work, human and zombie interaction/violence, a knack for both humor and tension, Dawn may be the best of Romero's zombie films (though Night will always be my favorite.)
1-25	The Wrestler	In which Aronofsky trades his technical show-off side for a stripped-down character study, and succeeds wildly. There's plenty familiar here in this tale of a washed-up pro wrestler, most notably shades of Raging Bull, but none of that matters when the tale is told with this much heart and soul. Much of this, of course, can be chalked up to Rourke's justly acclaimed acting, bringing The Ram to life, warts and all, in a virtuoso performance. But it's as much due to the way the film lives in the minutiae of professional wrestling, bringing the backstage world to life just as much as the matches and the rest of the world. Add into this an unjustly overlooked Tomei performance and a powerhouse final act, and you end up with what goes down as one of my top films of the year. It's a simple tale, but unsentimental and all the more powerful for the way it plays straight with the audience all the way to the end. It's a stunning piece of work, and I can't recommend it enough to anyone.
1-24	Revolutionary Road	A handsomely made film that I wish I liked more. From a technical perspective, this is masterful work; Mendes and Deakins combine to make some stunning images, including one near the end of the film that really should have been the last shot - the impact would have been wonderful. And the acting is strong, I suppose...if the characters were written better. I love a lot of the ideas that are being toyed with here, but the script is preachy and talky to a fault, coming off more like a speech-filled play than a naturalistic film. That being said, I do have to single out Michael Shannon's brief but devastating role in the film; although he's in it less than ten minutes, he runs away with the film, bringing in a visceral punch to a film that needs a brutal dose of reality. It's a shame, really, that he doesn't have a chance against the Ledger juggernaut in the Best Supporting category - between this and the underrated Bug, Shannon's star should be rising more quickly, and the Oscar would benefit him a lot more than it will Ledger.
1-24	Twilight	Here's the best thing about being dragged to see this by my wife: even she ended up not liking it. From a filmmaking perspective, it's pretty dismal - the acting is mediocre at best, the music (by the usually great Carter Burwell) is horrible, and the less said about Robert Pattinson, the better (seriously, this is the new teen heartthrob? The man looks like he has all the personality of granite). But the story of Twilight is the real kicker, especially when compared to the magnificent Let the Right One In - both are tales of humans who meet vampires, but where Let the Right One In is filled with subtext, disturbing undercurrents, and a thoughtful take on the implications of such a meeting, Twilight sanitizes vampires to the point of being...well, a marketable teen girl book. To be fair, my wife says the movie didn't do the book justice; I may read it at some point to see, but I can't say this made it enticing.
1-23	Che: Guerilla	Screened in the Roadshow version (both parts together with intermission), and was more than blown away. Personally, I can't imagine Che as two shorter films, as it's clear that Soderbergh has set up the two halves as mirror images to each other: one a successful revolution, the other not. In fact, one of the few weaknesses of the film is that the second half is a little long, but I understand the reason for the length - it's just that watching a failed revolution fall apart for two hours isn't quite as exciting as watching a successful revolution for two hours. That being said, the film is never dull - it's hard to think of a four hour movie that's this solid and gripping throughout. Really, not enough credit is being given to Soderbergh's direction of the battle scenes, which attain a visceral impact I haven't seen in a long time. It's unlike anything Soderbergh's done before, but he shows himself as a hell of a war director. I don't feel that Che is a political film; I think it does its best to portray Che as a political animal, but doesn't come down on one side or the other. If a viewer only saw part one, I could see them thinking that the film was very pro-Communist/anti-America, but seeing the whole thing makes clear that it's less about the politics and more about how Che was driven by them, often to destructive extremes. In a way, the film fits in more with United 93 and the way it tried to strip away future knowledge and judgment from the event, choosing instead to portray the moment from its present. Very impressive on almost every level, and well worth seeing for any serious film student. (As a side note: I had read before how much of a big deal it was that Soderbergh filmed this with the Red camera, but that didn't mean much to me - until I saw the film. Che is one of sharpest, clearest films I've ever seen on a big screen - the level of detail, particularly in the jungle shots in The Argentine, is frequently stunning.)
1-23	Che: The Argentine
1-22	Night of the Living Dead	This week's film club screening was one of the all-time great horror films, and the reaction was just what I hoped for. The cheese-tastic trailer really set the mood, and the kids started off giggling and enjoying it, but as anyone who's seen the film knows, Night goes far beyond what anyone expects it to, and by the film's ending, the entire club was in stunned silence. There are few horror films that hold up as well as Night, and no matter how many times I've seen it, I find myself shocked every time the film transitions from its B-movie first reel to its bleak, horrific climax. From its classic opening to its unforgettable ending, Night deserves its spot in the canon, and no matter how bad some of the later films get (I'm looking at you, Diary), you'll never be able to deny that Romero, at one time, was a master of the horror film. A superb piece of filmmaking, and a powerhouse experience.
1-19	Peeping Tom	For the longest time, I put off watching this thanks to, of all things, my horror film class in college. We covered this class a bit in discussion, and it always sounded a bit dry and academic to me. How incredibly wrong I was. It's no wonder that Peeping Tom bombed when it came out - even today, the way it turns the blame back on the audience makes for an uncomfortable viewing experience, to say nothing of the disturbing and twisted psyche at the core of the tale. Add into that the cameo by the director and his family - more specifically, the role that he chooses for himself - and you have a dense, complex tale that may lend itself well to academic analysis, but is never dry - in fact, as visceral horror films go, it's a classic of the genre. (A sacrilegious thought - I think this is actually a more interesting and complex tale than Psycho, which came out the same year - the only advantage I give to the Hitchcock film is Perkins' indelible performance.) (As a postscript, click here for a much longer write-up I gave the film a couple of months later.)
1-19	Eyes Without a Face	An odd little French film that never really found its audience. It's too arty to be a true horror film, but it's far too grim (and occasionally bloody) to ever succeed with the snooty art crowd of the time. This weird division has given it a cult following over time, and rightfully so...and yet, it also keeps the film from being entirely successful. To be sure, I loved the eerie mood, and the occasional bursts of blood were all the more effective for their rarity. It's just that, in the end, the film's not entirely sure what it wants to be. And, hey, I'm okay with that - I liked it a lot, and found some of the visuals (particularly the mask used in the film) to be striking and unsettling. In the end, though, it sticks more as a strange little experiment than anything truly classic. (In a lot of ways, it would make a nice double feature with Carnival of Souls, another film that struggled between art and horror, although I didn't like this nearly as much as Carnival.)
1-16	The Public Enemy	Classic gangster film that has some great moments, but is really memorable for Cagney's star-making turn. As a film, it's a pretty standard gangster rise-to-power film, complete with some heavy-handed morality to make sure that the audience knows that, no matter how awesome these guys are, we're not supposed to approve. There's some surprising frankness here, and some potent action scenes, and all of it adds up to a pretty solid movie. But it's Cagney who gives it its iconic status, and rightfully so; there are echoes of his performance in McDowell's turn in Clockwork Orange, with its mix of gleeful sadism and pure selfishness. Looking forward to White Heat soon.
1-16	The Karate Kid	A midnight movie at the Belcourt. This would have been a very different screening had the print's volume not been low and muddy. What resulted was an affectionate ribbing and mocking by all members of the audience, but in an appreciative manner. It was one of the most enjoyable audience experiences I've ever had, but left me pretty much unable to accurately rate the movie. But seriously, come on - it's the freaking Karate Kid. What kind of rating do you need? It's awesome, and cheesy, and fun, and everything you remember it to be. It holds up, in its own way, and it's still enjoyable on its own merits. But the audience participation made this a really fun time out.
1-16	Paranoid Park	Gus Van Sant's second acclaimed film in 2008 is probably the more interestingly made and personal of the two, but I honestly didn't respond to it as well as I did the more averagely-made Milk. Park does a superb job capturing the aimless teenage skater lifestyle; really, this is the kind of movie Larry Clark wishes he was making, but never really succeeds at from what I've sat through. Park's biggest downfall is Van Sant's leisurely pacing; like many of his recent films, plot here takes a backseat to mood and character. It works well, by and large, but it didn't hit me the way Milk did, for whatever reason.
1-15	Repo! The Genetic Opera	I get harassed a lot by my friend Ryan for the way I tend to find something, no matter how minor, to praise about almost any film. So, for Repo!, it seems only fit that I praise the one thing I liked about it: at least it finally ended. Look, I'm sure that if I were in junior high or so, I would adore this. And I'm equally sure that this is exactly the vision and idea that everyone involved wanted to make, so I guess they deserve credit for getting their ideas into screen. But the end result is pretty much a disastrous mess. The setting never makes any sense, much less the plot; the lyrics don't teeter on self-parody so much as leap headlong, and the less said about the film's "narrator," the better. It's destined to be a cult classic, I think, but it feels like a film that tried to be a cult classic rather than letting that organically happen, and that makes all the difference in the world.
1-15	Carnival of Souls	This week's film club selection was a classic cult horror film, one that I worried might be too slow and odd for my kids to get into. I should really quit underestimating my kids, though, as they seemed to really enjoy the film because of its oddness and unique feel. It had been a long time since I had seen it myself, and my first exposure to the Criterion version, which is a revelation - my previous viewings had been on bad VHS tapes, and the crystal clear image and pristine sound really allow you to revel in the dreamlike feel and unique visuals. But, as my kids said, it's the uniqueness of the film that makes it so memorable. Focusing on establishing a dreamlike mood and eschewing effects and jump scares, Carnival of Souls is a clear precursor for the films of David Lynch, among others. More arthouse than drive-in, but more horror film than drama, Carnival of Souls has become a cult classic over time, and rewatching it only reinforced how much more exposure it really deserves. You've never seen anything quite like it, and its eerie mood and striking visuals will stick with you for a long time afterward.
1-14	Sundance 2008 Shorts Program	A mostly middling selection of shorts from Sundance, largely characterized by an irritating smugness and a confusion between ambiguity and pointlessness. That being said, there were a few highlights, none more enjoyable than Yours Truly, a animated noir of sorts that ought to find a home in The Animation Show collections. (You can see an excerpt here, but I've been unable to locate the entire thing online.) Another favorite of mine was Spider, which is essentially a sick little joke in short film form - the punchline is well worth the ten minutes, so see it here. Finally, Fact Checker's Unit (watch it here) was a burst of kinetic and weird fun that left me quite entertained, flaws and all, as a pair of magazine fact checkers try to discover the truth about a Very Special Guest Star's bedtime routine. The others ranged from decent to dull; I don't begrudge the time I spent there, but I've seen far more interesting collections than this one.
1-13	Cars	Kind of half watched this with Aidan while laying on the couch and finishing up the book Let the Right One In. I like this less than I remember, but I still can't dump on it too much - even if it is the weakest Pixar film, it's still quite enjoyable. Also, it looks pretty amazing on Blu Ray. However, I'd also like to point out that watching a movie that features both George Carlin and Paul Newman is a lot sadder now than it was last year.
1-11	Frost/Nixon	A solid effort from Ron Howard that becomes far more gripping and superb as it enters its closing act. For the first bit, I was a little wary of what I was getting into; it seemed like Howard had worked his magic on the film, stripping it of nuance and subtlety in an effort to hit the cheap seats. That complaint holds up for a while, but as the film progresses, and we get into the interviews themselves, and as Langella and Sheen's performances take center stage, the film becomes more and more galvanizing, culminating in a fascinating showdown between the two men. The credit should probably go to the actors and the script more than Howard, but that's a lot of credit, and it's earned, particularly by Langella, who moves beyond mimicry into a fully realized, thoughtful, and ultimately (gasp!) sympathetic portrayal. Overall, it's merely good, but the closing half hour on its own is pretty superb.
1-11	Hallucinations of a Deranged Mind	My first exposure to cult film icon Coffin Joe, and...man, I don't even have an opinion. First of all, it's hard to judge anything based off of this film, which by all accounts is more of a compilation of scenes from the other films in the series, ranging from favorite scenes to ones cut or censored out. The end result is more than a little incoherent, but the plot is hardly the point here. Filled with nightmarish and horrible imagery, Hallucinations in some ways reminds me of Vampyr, which I watched recently, in that both films are far less concerned with anything about story, instead choosing to focus on mood and unsettling images. Hallucinations worked better for me, simply because the visuals were so much more surreal and disturbing - this is definitely not for the squeamish. I'm still curious to see a "true" Coffin Joe film, but knowing what I'm getting into, I'll be better prepared...
1-10	Gran Torino	Flaws and all, there's no way that I can deny how much I enjoyed this and even found it quietly effective and moving. Much, if not all, of the credit has to go to Eastwood, not only for his solid direction but also for his great performance - I really can't think of another living actor who could have played the part here and made the film palatable, much less entertaining. Eastwood fascinates me; few film icons confront their age and mortality as directly as Eastwood, and even in an admittedly minor film like this, I found more interesting thoughts about aging and society than in the whole of Benjamin Button. I won't deny that the film has flaws - some of the supporting cast is weak, and the plot is formula to a fault at points - but Eastwood has a knack for creating nuanced characters out of mundane stories, and his work here pays off in spades, particularly with an ending that would make a perfect capstone to Eastwood's acting career if he's serious about ending it this time.
1-10	Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father	Documentaries have always been the possible exception to Ebert's movie rule ("A movie is not about what it is about; it is about how it goes about it") - with a compelling enough story, it's hard not to make a fascinating film, and Dear Zachary has an unforgettable tale to tell. The direction here is passable at best, amateur at worst; although the director has amassed a mountain of clips, he too often uses them to match a little too on-the-nose, and sometimes overplays his dramatic hand, at one point emphasizing a new development with a red tint and spiraling camerawork. That being said, it doesn't affect the power this story has - in telling the tale of a murdered friend through the eyes of those who knew and loved him, Dear Zachary ends up telling a far more compelling, heart-breaking, powerful, and ultimately infuriating story about justice and the way the system too often fails us. Look past the filmmaking flaws, and you'll find a story that will haunt you in a way that few movies have. Powerful stuff, and one that left me drained and teary-eyed by the time it was done.
1-8	Timecrimes	A slick, fun little time travel movie that promises a fun career ahead for its newcomer director. I have some small grumbles, with the movie, particularly with the second act, which ends up creating a closed loop with no real entry point, but in the end, that feels like a less than major complaint, considering how enjoyable the movie was, and how satisfying it delivered all of the goods we've come to expect from time travel films: the cohesion of little details, the filling in of pieces, the occasional shocks, and an admittedly great ending. With a mostly tight plot and some scenes that range from tense to entertaining, Timecrimes a solidly fun film and well worth seeing, even if it's nothing truly great or groundbreaking.
1-7	True Blood	An uncharacteristically weak and disappointing series from HBO. How could I not be excited by the new show from the man who brought me Six Feet Under? And for a bit, it seemed like True Blood might be entertaining trash TV - not up to HBO standards, but still fun. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that it wasn't even going to be much fun; rather, it became populated with flat, uninteresting characters who never developed, some barely serviceable acting, and dialogue that frequently became laughable. A couple of memorable and strong turns by Stephen Root and Lizzy Caplan showed that the show was capable of interesting characters, but only chose to underuse them in essentially cameo roles. By the time the final episode rolled around with a hilariously bad reveal involving a cassette tape, I pretty much decided I was done, no matter how many seasons come.
1-5	Vampyr	I like to think of myself as a pretty savvy film fan, but I have to say that I'm in a minority on this one. Renowned for its mood, visuals, and atmosphere, what everyone neglects to mention about Vampyr is that it doesn't make any damn sense whatsoever. I won't deny that there are some neat shots here and there, and that the emphasis on mood over plot could make for an effective horror movie, but Vampyr just never worked for me. I found myself more irritated at the incoherent story than intrigued by the visuals - of course, it didn't help watching a terrible copy whose subtitles often obscured much of the screen. Vampyr will probably end up on my list of films that I should give another shot to, but after one viewing, I can't say that I'm all that interested in trying again.
1-3	Back to the Future	I hadn't seen Back to the Future in a really long time, so watching it again was a bit of a revelation. Sure, I remembered enjoying it as a kid, but I forgot just how much fun the whole thing is. More to the point, though, watching it as a film lover is a nice treat - from a script construction point of view, it's a marvelously tight script that efficiently, nicely tells a story while never feeling heavy with exposition or foreshadowing, despite the fact that it has plenty of both. Sure, there are some heavy-handed cheap ironies (I will never really be able to enjoy the Chuck Berry gag), but for all of those, there are some great moments handled in a perfect manner. Combine that with so many winning performances (most notably Lloyd, who has some hilarious facial expressions), and you have a fun time at the movies.
1-3	The Curious Case of Benjamin Button	Despite being one of Fincher's most controlled and assured directorial works, Benjamin Button is ultimately his most unsatisfying and unsuccessful film. The blame can't really be laid at anything being technically wrong with the film. The visuals are stunning, the direction solid and engaging, and the performances are uniformly strong. Ultimately, what sinks Button is a script that has no idea what to do with an interesting concept, and too many choices made for no reason other than to be there. Most damaging is the fact that the film's concept - that Button is born old and ages backward - is ultimately irrelevant to the story, which would change in almost no way whatsoever if he lived forward. There are other distracting choices - a lengthy sidebar about fate, a frame story that jars you out of the film, and a recurring use of Hurricane Katrina that feels arbitrary to the point of trivializing the event - that add up to a film that's frustrating. There are moments of greatness, and some magnificent scenes, even moving ones, but they're scattered, hurt by the film's lack of focus and clear theme. It's a magnificently made film, but ultimately an empty piece of work.
1-2	Milk	Objectively, Milk may not be the best film of 2008 (in my opinion, Wall•E still has that honor), but it may be the most important, and oddly, despite being set in the 1970's, the most relevant to our time. It's a better-than-average biopic, anchored by some outstanding performances (everyone is praising Penn, but it's Brolin who really stuck with me, with an oddly haunting performance as Dan White, Milk's eventual assassin) and a keen sense of time and place that so few such pictures manage to get. And, yes, Van Sant is definitely the man to direct this - it's clear that he had a vision, and he imparts it well, creating a vibrant, rich feel to the setting. But what makes Milk truly powerful is the fact that it's impossible to watch the film and not think of the nation's shameful passing of Proposition 8 so recently, and be reminded that as far as we've come, in many ways we haven't come far at all. (I wrote a lot more about the movie in a thoughts entry, for the curious.)

e-mail me at
clydeumney@gmail.com

page updated:
January 6, 2012