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A Year in Film: 2011 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. |
| 12-30 | The
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)  |
I liked the Swedish version of Dragon Tattoo well enough, but I couldn't help but feel that the adaptation was lacking, feeling a lot less cinematic than the story deserved and more like a rote, by-the-numbers retelling without much style or personality (with the notable exception of Noomi Rapace, whose portrayal of Lisbeth was the best thing about the original films). So it's a bit of a joy to see David Fincher take on the source material, creating a rich, stylish film that absolutely moves, creating a cold, icy world to reflect the creepy story at the movie's core. More than that, Fincher tends to ably navigate the dense plotting and exposition that bogs down the novel's first section, covering it nicely while still keeping the movie moving at a breakneck pace. (He doesn't fare as well at the film's conclusion, which goes on for far too long after the movie "ends"...and then still keeps going.) But he's equally matched by the strong performances across the board, ranging from Daniel Craig bringing a nicely intelligent world-weariness to Blomkvist to Christopher Plummer as the elderly, bemused patriarch who draws Craig into the mystery that anchors the movie. But the movie succeeds or fails based off of Mara as the titular girl, and she acquits herself masterfully, creating a character whose anti-social tendencies and anger mask a sharp intelligence and a desire for some kind of human connection. Apart from the aforementioned stumbling in the final unraveling, Fincher's Dragon Tattoo is a fantastic thriller, and while it might not have the depth or complexity of, say, Se7en, it's still a stylish, exciting, visceral thriller that stands head and shoulders above so much of what passes for entries in the genre these days. |
| 12-28 | Sherlock
Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)  |
When the first Sherlock Holmes came out a couple of years ago, it had the questionable advantage of having low to no expectations. Giving the hyper-stylized Guy Ritchie directorial reigns over a character who worked mainly in his mind was an odd choice to begin with, and that doesn't even factor in the period staging that would be required. But Ritchie had a secret weapon in the forms of Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law, both of whom brought their characters to vivid life while also creating an interesting enough relationship to make the film work even through its rougher patches. The sequel, then, was destined for a tougher reception from the get-go, since everyone's expectations were higher; thus, it's probably not a huge surprise that I found Game of Shadows lacking in comparison to its predecessor. But it's not just about the expectations - it's more about the sense that while the first film just let everyone be, this one feels like everyone is trying much, much harder, and the film suffers for it. Ritchie returns to his kinetic, flashy style, which never fits the movie well; Downey seems forced into wacky costumes more regularly; and the fun homoerotic subtext of the first film is drug out into endless gay panic jokes. And yet, even with the flaws, Downey and Law remain charismatic, charming, and fun, and the film still has some great tricks up its sleeve (my favorite: a nice variation on the pre-fight visualization technique). Add to that a small part for Stephen Fry and you have a fun enough time at the movies. The flaws are definitely a lot more evident, but there's still an enjoyable movie underneath them. |
| 12-25 | Kung
Fu Panda (2003)  |
What with Aidan getting the Kung Fu Panda movies for Christmas, we ended up rewatching this one together as a group, and I have to say, I liked this both more and less than I did on a first watch. I feel like I may have undersold the beautiful, fluid animation of the film on a first watch; while I still think the opening dream sequence is one of the more gorgeous sequences of the film, I really undersold how beautifully crafted the martial arts sequences really are, giving the film both a flow that makes them standout and clearly displaying a respect for the training and the methods in use. At the same time, I forgot how heavily the film leaned on slapstick and fat jokes to make itself work; scarcely a moment goes by without Po having to eat, or being stuck somewhere, and so on and so forth. I really think the sequel is by far the superior film; the characters are better drawn, the action better staged, and the jokes more organically funny rather than feeling like wacky fat jokes. But there's still a lot of heart and soul here, and a care in the animation that DreamWorks hadn't been showing to this point. And if nothing else, there's a ridiculously overqualified voice cast, ranging from Ian McShane to Jackie Chan, from Seth Rogen to Dustin Hoffman, and all of them play their parts wonderfully. I may like the sequel more, but this is still a fun little movie that definitely foreshadowed a new burst of quality from DreamWorks. |
| 12-24 | Forbidden
Planet (1956) |
At first glance, Forbidden Planet might look like generic 1950's-era B-movie sci-fi. There's a few hilariously low-budget moments, some ACTING that, to put it mildly, lacks some nuance, and so forth. But as you get into it, you start to see that Forbidden Planet is a lot more interesting than a first impression might indicate. Part of that comes as you start to see how well the movie uses animation to stretch its effects; the use of hand-drawn work to create the monstrous creatures that attack our heroes is a particularly great use of the technique, and one that makes the film stand out from the crowd. But more than that are the ideas at work here; Forbidden Planet is famously based on Shakespeare's The Tempest, but the ideas at play here are more complex and interesting than that, ultimately becoming a fascinating way of exploring some of the characters who inhabit the film, revealing a lot more depth than you might expect. Forbidden Planet has a way of sneaking up on you; what seems at first like pure pulp ends up showing a lot more imagination and complexity than other films of the era, and by the time you finish, it's not hard to see why Forbidden Planet is so highly regarded by fans of the genre. A surprising treat that I may have to watch again, knowing what I know now about the film. |
| 12-23 | Gremlins
(1983) |
This may end up qualifying as filmic blasphemy, but on rewatching the original Gremlins as a midnight movie, I have to say it: I like Gremlins well enough, but the sequel is pretty much better on every level. That's not to say that Gremlins isn't a lot of fun, especially in the third act as it embraces its insanity more fully, but the fact is that it takes a long time for it all to get going, and you end up spending quite a bit of time on plot threads that never matter again. But as the Mogwai mutate into their more malicious and dangerous forms, the movie starts to show its macabre sense of humor a little more, and as it gets darker and more gleefully silly, it gets to be more and more fun to watch. After all, there are plenty of critter invasion movies, but how many that climax with the monsters settling in for a singalong with Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, or that feature monsters in drag giving advice to others that are playing intense poker games? In the end, though, the sequel embraces the insanity more fully, starting off over-the-top and only escalating from there, and the payoffs it delivers are all the more dementedly entertaining for it. But even so, Gremlins is a lot of fun; even if the pacing is pretty terrible, it's too gleefully ghoulish not to enjoy a lot of the fun it offers. |
| 12-23 | You
Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger (2010)  |
I tend to be a Woody Allen fan, and I've even enjoyed quite a few of his late-era works. So take that all into account when I say that You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger just plain sucks. I'm stealing a thought from the AV Club's review here, but you can't help but feel that the film's opening lines, which refer back to Macbeth's thoughts on life being full of sound and fury but signifying nothing end up referring less to the difficulties faced by the film's characters and more end up referring to how meaningless and pointless the film is. Revolving around a series of failed and/or failing marriages, Stranger follows its cast as they contemplate and sometimes commit infidelities and struggle to find meaning and purpose to their lives. The result feels like it's being pitched as a dark or ironic comedy, but it fails to be funny, fails to be involving, and fails to generate any sort of interest in the characters. By the end, the film feels equal parts condescending, misanthropic, and bored, none of which makes watching it an enjoyable activity. Stranger has to rank among the worst Allen films I've seen, and the fact that Allen is certainly capable of better work these days makes it all the more disappointing |
| 12-22 | The
Other Guys (2010) |
The Other Guys opens with a pretty gleefully over-the-top car chase and shootout led by Samuel L. Jackson and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, following them through a series of one-liners, explosions, and all sorts of mayhem. But the movie isn't about these guys - as the title suggests, it's about the other cops - the ones who are doing paperwork and who aren't always allowed to break the rules. And in that inversion, The Other Guys becomes not just a very, very funny Will Ferrell vehicle; it becomes a fairly hilarious send-up of modern cop movies, one that has a lot of fun toying with conventions and upending them handily. The Other Guys wouldn't be half as good as it is without Adam McKay's direction, giving the movie a genuine visual flair, something that really makes the action sequences all the more effective (and all the funnier when they're overturned). Once you add in a slew of actors who are having a blast in their roles (Wahlberg, in particular, is used to really great effect here), you have a comedy that pretty much cracked me up throughout, as well as one that feels surprisingly timely and a little more angry at current events than you might expect (with credits that are fascinating, even if they don't quite fit the tone of the movie). It doesn't quite hit the absurd peaks of Anchorman, but by grounding itself in the cop genre, The Other Guys becomes a really great spoof piece that had me laughing until I cried. |
| 12-22 | Say
Anything... (1989)  |
One of those rare movies that lived up to its reputation and then some, Say Anything... is every bit as funny, smart, sweet, and honest as everyone says it is, and it's a movie that absolutely deserves every piece of love that it gets. It's reminder of how great Cameron Crowe can really be here - with his choices of casting (Cusack is a perfect choice, obviously, but there's not a role that's not filled to perfection, from John Mahoney as the loving, flawed father all the way to a brief role by Philip Baker Hall as the IRS agent who gets depth even for what's basically a bit part), music, and his realistic, warm dialogue, the movie absolutely comes off the screen in every scene. The opening party scenes couldn't be more perfectly done, capturing the free-for-all spirit while still nailing that innocent, joyous fun done without malice or hatred, and even working in that bizarre form of humor that comes from hanging out with a bunch of drunk people. The central romance is beautifully told, making it feel like something that truly comes from these characters, rather than being a construct of the plot. And on top of all that, there's the quietly heartbreaking relationship between Mahoney and Skye, whose close bond is tested as she grows up and realizes some essential truths about her life and her father. I expected great things of Say Anything..., and it didn't let me down at all; it's one of those films that feels so honest, warm, and joyous that you finish it in a better mood than you started, even if it was a good day already. Wonderful. |
| 12-21 | Birdman
of Alcatraz (1962)  |
I absolutely can't deny that Birdman of Alcatraz is a beautifully filmed and acted film in every way. And really, would you expect any less, with John Frankenheimer behind the camera and a cast that includes Burt Lancaster, Karl Malden, Telly Savalas, and more? So, yes, objectively, I can see why the movie was so inspiring to so many people - it's beautifully crafted, and the story - in which a violent, misanthropic murderer finds peace and even redemption through his care and love for birds, a story made even more uplifting due to its true nature. Here's the thing, though - even before reading the reaction to the film from people who actually knew Robert Stroud, the film's whitewashing and softening are pretty obvious, making Stroud's redemption less about turning over a new leaf and more about discovering the great guy who was there all the time. As I've said, on every technical level, it's a great accomplishment, but as a whole, it feels like we're being sold a bill of goods. |
| 12-21 | Variety
(1983) |
Variety is one of those frustrating films that's interesting to analyze and dissect, but not all that interesting to actually watch. But, man, is there a lot to discuss. The film follows a young woman who gets a job working at an adult theater in Times Square (pre-Guiliani, naturally), and whose experiences start a sexual awakening in a variety of ways. There's no way you could watch Variety and not be aware of the feminist underpinnings of the whole thing, from the inversion of the male gaze to the discomfort the male characters feel when dealing with a woman capable of expressing her own sexual interests. And that doesn't even get into the plot (more or less) of the film, in which our heroine becomes obsessed with a customer at the theater and begins following him. (For what it's worth, it's this aspect, I think, that leads the movie's cover to compare it to a "feminist Vertigo"; I don't think the film fits that description, but it definitely shares some of the themes.) All of this is heady, intriguing stuff, but the film that carries it all isn't quite as interesting. The pace is glacial, and many of the "following" scenes go on and on without ever giving even that uncomfortable sense of voyeurism that the best directors can create. Nonetheless, it's a fascinating film, and one I'd say deserves better than its forgotten reputation - there's too much going on under the hood to ignore here. I just wish the film itself was more interesting. |
| 12-21 | Across
110th Street (1972) |
The DVD packaging for Across 110th Street would have you believe this is pure blaxploitation filmmaking, a la Shaft or Coffy. And while there are elements of the genre here, the movie is more complex and thoughtful than you might expect from that, focusing less on plot and more on characterization and atmosphere, creating a vivid sense of time and place that makes the film far richer than I planned on it being. The plot is simple enough, revolving around a group of men who leave a bloodbath as they rob a drug deal, then find themselves hunted by the police, a local crime lord, and the Mafia. It's a compelling enough arc, but what makes the movie soar are the performances and the depth, with much of the drama coming from the play between Anthony Quinn (playing an old-school racist cop) and Yaphet Kotto (his young, more liberal successor). Rather than painting in broad strokes, the characters are allowed to live in nuances and subtleties, making their conflict less about the social changes of the time and more about these two specific men. Even the men at the heart of the film - the robbers - are given far more depth and complexity than you might expect, with one of them explaining his motives in a speech that's riveting and even moving. Surprisingly dark and violent, vividly told, and superbly acted, this is a fantastic piece of work, and a massively overlooked gem of a movie. |
| 12-21 | Heavy
Metal (1981) |
It's easy to dismiss Heavy Metal, what with all the gratuitous sex scenes and nudity that fill the movie, to say nothing of how ridiculously...um..."endowed" all the ladies are in the film. But if you can set that aside, Heavy Metal is a pretty creative and inventive piece of science fiction, one that creates all sorts of unique worlds filled with bizarre details and unique characters. For as dated as the animation feels, it also feels like little else you've seen out there, creating alien and future worlds that feel wholly new, even if you've seen a lot of science fiction. (And having seen it finally, the film's impact and influence are even more obvious to me - the classic video game Beneath a Steel Sky owes a lot to this one.) Heavy Metal definitely earns the adolescent and sex-obsessed reputation it's gotten (and if you've never seen the South Park episode that takes this on, you're missing a hilarious and dead-on riff on the movie), but it's more creative and fun than I expected, with more of interest to it than I prepared myself for. |
| 12-21 | Machete
(2010) |
This is what the overrated and tedious Hobo with a Shotgun should have been. Machete is a blast - it's a faux exploitation movie that takes itself just seriously enough, providing absurd action and theatrics while hammering the anti-anti-immigration politics home with all the subtlety you'd expect from a 70s blaxploitation film. Of course, the movie wouldn't be half as entertaining as it is without a cast that's clearly having a blast, from Robert De Niro as a scheming John McCain stand-in to Don Johnson as a border patrol vigilante. But this is Danny Trejo's film, and he exudes all the charisma, menace, and presence he possesses to make Machete a larger than life icon. Without him, the film wouldn't work; with him, it's entertaining as all hell. There's a lot I enjoyed here, from the constant foreshadowing of new bladed weapons to the creative use of low-riders in the final showdown, but the whole thing is just genuinely fun, entertaining, and laugh out loud funny when you least expect it. Is it a little overstuffed at points? Sure, of course it is. (You could probably cut out Lohan's plot thread and lose nothing except a favorite gag from the original Grindhouse trailer.) But that go-for-broke insanity is half of what makes the movie as enjoyable as it is. Flaws and all, it's one of the more purely entertaining movies I've seen in recent memory - excessive, insane, outspoken, and just plain fun. |
| 12-20 | Stunt
Rock (1980)  |
Rarely has a movie title better summed up its film than Stunt Rock, which spends about 75% of its runtime following a stuntman as he does various stunts, and the other 25% showing performances by an over-the-top 70s rock band whose stage show is, to put it mildly, theatrical in the extreme. Stunt Rock is part documentary about stunts in movies, part feature on Australian stuntman Grant Page, part concert documentary about the band Sorcery, and part fictional story about a reporter looking for a story about stuntmen and striking up a relationship with Page. That sounds like a lot of ground to cover in 85 minutes, and it is - and the film doesn't balance itself at all well, leading to the movie feeling incredibly cluttered and messy. And yet, most of the individual pieces are interesting enough, especially the sections about how the stunts were done and the ones that went wrong. Stunt Rock certainly isn't all that good, but there's something fun about its sloppiness, to say nothing of its exploration of the stunt world. It's the kind of movie that begs for a cult reputation, and that's about what it deserves - a few people who really love it, and a bunch more who see it as the interesting oddity that it is. |
| 12-20 | Beyond
the Darkness (1979) |
Is there any more damning criticism to give a movie than finding it more boring than anything else? And wouldn't that criticism go double for a horror film, whose whole purpose is to evoke a reaction? If that's the case, then Beyond the Darkness has to rank among the weakest horror movies I've ever seen, no matter how disgustingly gruesome it can get at points. The story of a young taxidermist who can't bear to part from the love of his life, Darkness gives you a decent premise and then doesn't know what to do with it. So instead, you get an oppressive older woman, a few random hookups/victims, and a mysterious old man whose ultimate purpose turns out to be pretty boring. Of course, the same can be said for the film, which nicely eschews the Hollywood conventions of "pacing" and "having things happen," instead watching as characters take each and every step of their days and filling scenes with mundane events that utterly fail to add tension. If you're a gorehound, there are some memorably disgusting scenes here, but they don't ever feel interesting enough or done with any purpose to justify their existence. Instead, they feel like an effort to add something interesting to a film with nothing else going for it. |
| 12-20 | The
Hound of the Baskervilles (1959) |
A fun, entertaining adaptation of the Sherlock Holmes story by Hammer films, Hound of the Baskervilles gets a lot of mileage simply out of embracing the theatrical horrors of the story, but it also never neglects the deductions and plotting that made Doyle's work so addictive. Generally sticking close to the plot of the original story, this version of Baskervilles gains immeasurably simply through casting; while Peter Cushing gets most of the attention for his manic, slightly arrogant portrayal of Holmes (and rightfully so - he's a blast here), I thought Morell was just as good in the Watson part, bringing the confidence and unobtrusive intelligence that makes him such a good foil for Holmes. Add Christopher Lee as Henry Baskerville, and you've got a fantastic cast that makes the story a blast to watch. As mentioned, the film sticks closely to the story, adding in some more "action" scenes, but always letting the mystery dictate the story. All in all, it's a really fun take on the story, and one that nicely captures so much of what makes Doyle's work fun while simultaneously making a good movie first and foremost. |
| 12-20 | The
Innocents (1961) |
A young governess takes over the care of two children, only to find herself rattled and unnerved by their odd behavior and her own visions of people long dead. An adaptation of The Turn of the Screw, The Innocents maintains an ambiguity about whether the events the governess is experiencing are a true haunting or a product of her own sexual repression and damaged psyche, and ultimately that ambiguity becomes more frustrating than exciting by the film's conclusion. Until that point, though, The Innocents is a satisfying psychological horror film, one that's more interested in watching its protagonist slowly crumble in the face of her suspicions than it is in gore and overt horrors. Using shadows, sound layering, and solid performances, The Innocents plants its seeds gracefully and lets them grow, but the ambiguity it works so hard to establish becomes more and more problematic as it goes along. The governess's suspicions seem to require a lot of bizarre logical jumps, which only seems to underline the possibility of her own insanity; nonetheless, the film never commits one way or the other, and what was first intriguing ultimately becomes irritating by the film's conclusion, simply because the film fails to make one of its ideas all that plausible or supported. Nonetheless, you can see The Innocents as part of that horror tradition that hit a perfect apex in The Haunting, and even on its own merits, it's a solid piece of work; it just never coalesces into something truly great. |
| 12-20 | Let
Me In (2010) |
Given my love for the original Let the Right One In, it should be no surprise that I went into its American remake with lowered expectations at best. Despite surprisingly positive reactions from so many people, I couldn't escape the fear that this would simply be a dumbed-down, generic American remake. And yet, I finished the film deeply impressed - in the manner of the best cover songs, it hits all the essential notes of the original while still standing on its own merits and bringing its own ideas and themes to the foreground. In many ways, Let Me In emphasizes the film's horror elements more than the original film does, with Abby (the young vampire) having a more monstrous form when she's attacking, a greater emphasis on evil and darkness, and the young boy's fantasy life feeling more like the first glimpses of a murderer than a frustrated, angry boy. It's that middle idea, though - the focus on evil and goodness in the world - that seems to focus the remake, making the moral dichotomy that governs the film more explicitly clear, even as it avoids easy answers. To the film's credit, in fact, it avoids simplifying the original story at all (with the exception of excising Abby's backstory), and when changes are made, they feel organic to the film being made, rather than being compromises forced upon it. I feel like I'm giving the film short shrift, comparing it to the original rather than discussing it on its own, and that's unfair - if the original Let the Right One In didn't exist, Let Me In would be viewed as an instant classic, and even knowing the origins, it holds its own as a solid, thoughtful, intelligent horror film. If you love the original, don't assume the worst here; this is an admirable take on the source material, one that justifies its existence by making its own film, rather than a shallow carbon copy. |
| 12-19 | Winchester
'73 (1950) |
Anthony Mann and Jimmy Stewart's first Western together may not be as flawless as The Man from Laramie, but it's still a clinic on how good Westerns can be. Essentially splitting itself into two parallel tracks, half of the film follows Stewart as he pursues a man to get his revenge for reasons that only gradually become clear, while the other half follows the titular rifle through a series of adventures that often parallel what's going on with Stewart. The split keeps Stewart from gaining the richness and depth that he would display in Laramie, but at the same time, the concept allows Mann to explore a wider variety of situations and places than he otherwise could, giving the film a richness that many Westerns never get to explore. There are some great vignettes and performances here, from an Indian trader who makes some serious miscalculations to a brief stay with some calvary soldiers who have already embraced their fates, and Mann handles them all with aplomb, displaying all the prowess that makes him so acclaimed among film fans. Winchester '73 is a great Western; even in its relatively simplicity, it's the kind of movie that people who think they don't like anything from the genre should check out, just to understand how much fun the films could be at their best. |
| 12-19 | The
Leopard (1963) |
The Leopard is the story of an Italian nobleman who finds his way of life sliding away from him as his country changes, and to be frank, I didn't think there could be anything less appealing to me than attempting to mine sympathy from the lives of nobility who suddenly had to find a life. And yet, to the credit of the film and Burt Lancaster, by the time the film came to a close, I was genuinely moved as this man came to terms with the changing of his life. It doesn't hurt things that The Leopard is so genuinely beautiful - every frame is filled with activity, lush locations, and details, giving the film an epic feel that makes the passage of time and the way of life all the more palpable. But in the end, what makes the movie work is its attention to its characters and the way it lets its story unfold through subtext and performance, showing the characters' feelings for each other are evident without ever resorting to speeches and exposition. Much acclaim is showered upon the climactic ballroom section of the film, and rightfully so - it's executed flawlessly, letting all of the film's themes and plot arcs reach a conclusion as the prince's time comes to a close. But none of it would work without Lancaster, who, though he may be dubbed over, conveys more with his eyes and posture than some actors could with any number of speeches. The Leopard is definitely long, maybe even a little too long in parts, but I can't deny that it's an incredible accomplishment, one that I went into with some skepticism and came out far more impressed with than I ever expected to be. |
| 12-19 | Equinox
(1970) |
Equinox may be the objectively "worst" movie I've seen from the Criterion collection - the budget is rock-bottom, the acting mediocre, the story not very good. And yet, I can see why the movie got the full treatment - while its budget is low, it accomplishes a lot with it, and clearly set the stage for a lot of low-budget gems to follow, most notably The Evil Dead. Don't let the 1970s date change your expectations; most of the time, Equinox feels more like a 50s no-budget monster movie, complete with broad acting and a simple plot involving an evil book and lots of monsters. But every so often, the movie becomes something stranger and more inventive, from its use of truly bizarre stop-motion animation creatures to some clever camera tricks that make the movie seem like something "bigger" than it is. It's not a movie that's going to appeal to everyone - even at 80 minutes and with me having some fun, it's still overlong, and still is pretty awful in parts. But there's that "can do" feel to it that comes with some of the best low-budget movies, and its ambition and attempts to do a lot with a little make it stand out from the kind of fare that Mystery Science Theater specialized in. Your feelings on it will definitely depend on how able to you are to overlook the many flaws here; if you're open to it, though, it's an interesting little movie that's as interesting for the things it inspired as anything it does. |
| 12-19 | The
Fog (1980) |
By all accounts, the version of The Fog that ended up on the screen is more the result of a battle between Carpenter and the studio than Carpenter's original plan for the movie - and it shows. While Carpenter planned on making a film almost entirely reliant on atmosphere and mood, the studio wanted something more visceral and brutal, and the film lurches a little bit between those two points, not always gracefully. But Carpenter's pacing and atmosphere go a long way to making The Fog really compelling, even as the script and the plot don't always support it. The story here...well, let's just leave it at "serviceable," mainly providing a reason for a malevolent fog to be rolling into this town every night. More intriguing is Carpenter's knack for a slow build, drawing out the horrors until the optimum moment to reveal them. If nothing else, The Fog is a nice reminder of what Carpenter does best - to me, he's always been a director who does the setup better than the payoff, and when almost your whole movie is that build and setup, you have a nicely satisfying horror film, even if the payoff doesn't quite work. |
| 12-19 | House
on Haunted HIll (1959) |
In which five people, each with their own reasons for being there, spend the night in a haunted house in the hopes of earning a large cash prize. What results is equal parts atmosphere, camp, thriller, and horror movie, and while the whole thing isn't really all that good, it's pretty fun anyways. Much of that has to be chalked up to Vincent Price, who's clearly having a blast as the mysterious millionaire who's opened the door for this challenge, and whose confrontational relationship with his wife makes him equally entertaining and abrasive. The rest of the cast is fine enough, with Elisha Cook Jr. on hand to add a healthy dose of worry to everything, but this is more about the setpieces, the big moments, and the plotting. The first two...well, you can't blame the movie for aiming big, but the results are far more often hilarious than unsettling at all; really, most of the movie's best moments are the small ones. I enjoyed the plotting, though, which unfolds in a few nicely surprising ways that I didn't expect, even if it leaves you with as many questions as it does answers. House on Haunted Hill isn't a good movie, but I enjoyed it anyways; it certainly makes for a fun time, and it's clear everyone involved enjoyed it. |
| 12-17 | Mission:
Impossible - Ghost Protocol (IMAX/2011) |
There's no reasons anyone would have had particularly high expectations for the new Mission: Impossible movie. Take a director (Brad Bird) who's never directed a live-action film before (although he's a genius at animation), a movie star who seems to get more attention for his personal life than his performances, and a franchise that's had five years since the last film...there are a lot of chances for this to go wrong. Instead, what you get is one of the most exhilarating, inventive, and exciting action movies in recent memory, one whose array of setpieces provide an absolute joy to behold. Much attention has been paid to the Burj Khalifa sequence, and with good reason; even if you ignore the dazzling IMAX cinematography (and I urge you not to), this is an incredible setpiece, one that feels incredibly dangerous and even manages to create vertigo while you're sitting still. But there's plenty more to enjoy here, from a hallway infiltration that makes great use of a surprisingly complicated fake wall to a brilliantly choreographed fight in the midst of a giant automated garage, from a chase obscured by a huge sandstorm to a prison break timed against a Dean Martin song, and plenty more. And if all that's not enough, you have a plot that nicely isolates our heroes and adds some heavy stakes, some incredibly globe-hopping cinematic tourism, the charisma and rapport between Cruise and the rest of the team, and a sense of adventure and invention that I haven't found in an action movie in some time. All in all, Ghost Protocol is an absolute blast to watch, and tells me that Bird isn't just going to survive in live-action; he's going to thrive and then some. |
| 12-17 | Hugo
(Real- 3D/2011) |
In which Martin Scorsese takes what could be a simple family movie and turns it into a love letter to cinema, a call for film preservation, and a reminder of what a talented filmmaker he really is. If you're judging this off of the trailers, don't; while they present the movie as a wacky slapstick piece, the movie's far more character-driven and rich than you might expect, following a young orphan who lives in a train station and maintains the clocks there. As young Hugo works to complete an invention that he worked on with his father, he finds himself drawn into the life of a toy shop owner, and soon discovers that there's more to the man than his gruff exterior might suggest. To reveal more would be to give away some of the fun; suffice to say that those themes that I brought up in the opening sentence play into things in a big way. But the joys of Hugo aren't as much about the plotting so much as the world it creates; Scorsese's use of 3D is amazing here, creating a richly detailed world filled with moving parts, active crowds, and a constant sense of life that's inescapable. Beyond even that, his attention to even the smallest part reaps huge dividends, with even the "villain" role (played by a nicely restrained Sacha Baron Cohen) ultimately becoming more complex and even sympathetic as the film unwinds. Hugo is a joy to watch from beginning to end; it's genuinely touching and even moving, and Scorsese's recreation of a lost time makes it easy to get lost in his world, even before you get swept up in his love for film. It's hard to think of a recent family film that's filled with more interesting ideas, creates a more wonderful world, or just genuinely leaves the viewer more pleased to have sat through it. An unabashed treat from one of the world's greatest directors. |
| 12-10 | Melancholia
(2011) |
Whatever your feelings on Lars von Trier, you can't accuse the man of subtlety. After all, Melancholia is nothing if not a metaphor for chronic depression taken to its logical extreme; if depression often makes you feel like your world is coming apart, why not extend that to make a film about Earth possibly coming to an end as a result of a planet called Melancholia? I've come to feel that a lot of von Trier works best almost as opera of sorts, where everything is cranked to its maximum point and some of the subtlety and nuance is discarded in favor of visceral impact. And on that level, Melancholia works phenomenally. There was a definitely puzzled reaction among a lot of people when Kirsten Dunst won an award for her work here, but as the cripplingly depressed Justine, Dunst completely conveys the frustration and overwhelming despair and anger that can come when your depression flares out of control. But she's matched perfectly by Charlotte Gainsbourg, who plays her sister Claire, the "stable" one who tries to take care of her sister but finds herself ill-equipped to face what could be the Apocalypse. Melancholia is a beautifully filmed movie, much as Antichrist was - if nothing else, von Trier stepping away from the Dogme requirements has left him capable of making staggeringly beautiful work, something that shows up most clearly here in the film's "overture," which consists of scattered moments told in such slow motion that they're essentially still. All of this builds to the final moments of the film, which gain their impact not from surprise (you basically know how the film ends during the overture) but through execution, as von Trier builds to images that are absolutely jaw-dropping in their execution. (If you can see this in the theater, do it; having the music and sound grow to the point of almost deafening during the climax only adds to the scene's impact.) I understand why von Trier doesn't work for everyone, but I tend to like his work, and Melancholia is no exception. It's about as unflinching a depiction of chronic depression as I've seen, and one done in such a way to make an immersive experience that's hard to shake as you leave the theater. |
| 12-9 | They
Live (1988) |
If some movie producer out there is smart, they're working on a remake of They Live, and they're trying to get it made soon. After all, here's a movie about an increasingly disenfranchised lower and middle class who are growing more and more disgusted with their mistreatment and neglect at the hands of the upper class - let's call them, say, the 1% - and soon find that there's more to their subjugation than just callous human indifference. Do you get the sense that that movie might play pretty beautifully into the current zeitgeist? But here's the thing: if they do the remake, maybe they should take the chance to make it a better movie, too. They Live is an incredibly frustrating movie, because there are lots of great moments and bits scattered throughout, and you can easily see the germs of something that could be great. But for every one of those, there's another scene that goes on monstrously too long (how criminal is it that a movie that's not even 90 minutes feels so bloated and slow?), and a few more where the movie loses its thread and meanders onto another story as though it's not sure what it wants to be about. I can't deny that parts of They Live are a lot of fun, but they're just that: parts. The movie as a whole feels so disjointed and lurching that it never comes together as a cohesive whole, and the fizzle of an ending would be laughable if it weren't so irritatingly anti-climactic. Is it worth seeing as a cult icon and an interesting reaction to the 1980s? Sure. But is it a good movie? No, not really. |
| 11-29 | Battle
Royale (2000) |
I feel like I've said my piece about Battle Royale on here before - if you want, you can see my thoughts on it in 2009 here and from earlier this year right here. What's more interesting to me is the way it's become the runaway favorite of my film club at school, necessitating that I show it at least once a year. I feel like there's a lot of reasons for that - maybe it's just the irresistible premise (one that's even more fascinating for an adolescent), and maybe it's the pitch-black comedy of it all. Or maybe it's the obscurity of the thing and the chance to see something that they would never get to see on their own. Whatever the case, it really is one of the mainstays of the club - I always get the highest attendance out of it, and even students who've seen it are always asking to see it again. And me? I think it's hilarious and lots of fun, and watching a movie that's so much about school and adolescence with adolescents in a school setting...how can I pass that up? |
| 11-27 | The
Walking Dead: Season 2.1 (2011) |
What happened to this show? I had some problems with the first season of The Walking Dead, but at least the show was engaging and generally entertaining from week to week. This season, however, the plotting slowed to a crawl, as the show stranded its characters on an idyllic farm in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, nominally so that we could get to know the characters better. Not a bad idea...if your show is capable of creating characters that have more depth than a shallow puddle, Instead, the characters ended up being pathetic archetypes without any consistent personality, depth, or even interesting characteristics. Even characters who seemed to be somewhat interesting - such as Daryl - ended up wandering around with nothing to do except literally talking to themselves. And let's not even get started on a ridiculously drawn out search for one missing character, a slew of dumb plans, and zombies that either disappeared for weeks at a time or magically teleported in when they needed to be scary. And look: I know a few people are really excited about the final scene, but the questions it raises make the scene only make sense in isolation (ask yourself: how would that character end up in that place without anyone knowing, and why wouldn't the people who knew tell anyone?), and the moment doesn't justify seven episodes of buildup. The show's behind the scenes problems have been pretty well-known, but I don't think I was prepared for the show to not only get worse, but to become something even more surprising: incredibly dull. Maybe the show will improve from here, but I think I'll find out secondhand; what promise the series once showed is definitely gone for me. |
| 11-26 | The
Secrets in Their Eyes (2009) |
The Secrets in Their Eyes tells two very different stories simultaneously, and while both of them are engaging enough, there's never a sense that they fit together in any meaningful way, nor the strong emotional appeal to really make either of them soar the way they should. One story is the tale of a young woman who is raped and murdered and the investigation into that crime; the other is the story of the man who investigated that crime 20 years ago, now revisiting it and reconnecting with a woman he has always loved. Both stories are told excellently, with some solid performances and some really outstanding camera work (there's a sequence involving a soccer stadium that's pretty jaw-dropping to watch unfold), but whether it's because of the fractured chronology or because of the writing, I never truly became invested in these characters the way I wished I would. It didn't help that every time one story started to come to life, we would jump back to the other; nor does it help that the love between these two people was never quite compelling enough to make it feel like anything but the requirements of the story. Even so, The Secrets in Their Eyes is a compelling piece of work - it's well-made, and the story of the rape is a really fascinating investigation. But it never really soars for me the way the best movies do. There's nothing wrong with it, but if that sounds like I'm damning it with faint praise, well, it should. |
| 11-26 | Bigger
Than Life (1956) |
Every so often, you come across a classic film that feels far bleaker, far more subversive than you'd expect from the time period that it hails from. And Bigger Than Life might be one of the biggest examples of this I've ever seen. The setup is simple enough: a schoolteacher (played by the ever-dignified James Mason) begins to suffer from health problems, endangering his life and his idyllic family. The doctors have a possible cure: a new drug called Cortisone. But the side effects can be unpredictable, to say the least, and Mason soon starts sliding into a manic depression where the mania is as much tyranny as it is hyperactivity. This sounds like it's two steps away from being a Reefer Madness for the prescription drug set, and in the wrong hands, it could have been. Instead, director Nicolas Ray takes this into surreally dark territory, letting Mason become as much a critic of suburbia as a victim of bad medication, much in the same way that Network harnessed Peter Finch as part madman, part prophet. Even so, nothing's likely to prepare you for how dark and nightmarish this one gets, or how insanely far Ray is allowed to go...only to balk at the last minute. Or does he? Because to me, there's no way to escape the brutal, cynical irony of those final moments, nor do I take them all at face value. Bigger Than Life is one of the more fascinating films of its time period, as much for what it gets away with as for how it does it. Between Mason's incredible, go-for-broke performance, Ray's beautiful direction and use of shadows, and the jarring juxtaposition of the 1950s with the nightmarish version the film inhabits, Bigger Than Life is a fascinating piece of work, one that will probably shock you in a variety of ways. But, oh man, what a galvanizing, compelling movie it is. |
| 11-25 | Phantasm
(1979) |
Perhaps the least surprising trivia that I've ever found out about a movie after watching it came when I learned that Phantasm originally existed in a far longer cut - one that nearly doubled the length of the film. That's pretty evident when you watch the released product, which feels incredibly disjointed and sometimes incomprehensible - characters suddenly vanish or reappear, plot threads come and go, and so forth. That sounds like it should be a pretty crippling factor in my rating of a film, and generally, it is. And yet, Phantasm kind of works in spite of that - or maybe even because of it, as this disjointed feel adds to the unease and strangeness of the film, creating a disoriented state in the viewer that often echoes what's going on in the film. What's more, Phantasm has atmosphere to spare, creating some truly strange and eerie visuals that are hard to shake, and nicely belie what couldn't have been a big budget for the film. I can't sit here and tell you that everything about the film works. There are points where the film goes from disorienting to purely incomprehensible, most notably in the final moments. And, yes, there are more than a few parts where the film just gets fairly silly. But all of that being said, the film worked for me more than it didn't, warts and all. It's its own horror film, for better or for worse, and there's something to be said for that in when so many horror films blur together. |
| 11-24 | The
Muppets (2011) |
If I'm being completely objective, I probably have to concede that, as a movie, The Muppets is probably a 4 to a 4½ star movie, at most - there are some flaws in the pacing, the focus on the human characters is never quite as engaging as the focus on the Muppets, and it's odd that the film resolves some of its plot points as the credits roll, rather than in the film itself. And yet, from a purely subjective perspective, I can't give this anything less than five stars, given that it left me smiling, laughing, and thrilled to see a show I grew up with so perfectly brought back to life here. The Muppets is very much a love letter to the Muppet Show in its heyday, as well as a lament that the Muppets have fallen so far from the public view, and every aspect of this film wears that love on its sleeve, from the slew of winning cameos that exude excitement and fun to the fantastic musical numbers that range from silly to touching. (Credit has to be given to Bret MacKenzie of Flight of the Conchords, whose work here recreating the perfect tone for the Muppet songs is fantastic.) Most of all, there's the characters, brought back to life just as I remembered them, complete bad jokes, chicken relationships, odd dialects, and fascinating facial expressions, and it seems that they've never left, so effortless is their return. And by the time that the climactic show is coming to life, I just had a big, stupid grin on my face and felt like I was a little kid all over again. The fact that my son left the theater talking about how many of the Muppets he loved and how much he enjoyed it? Even better. If you ever loved The Muppet Show, you owe it to yourself to get out here and see this - part love letter, part nostalgia, part genuinely hilarious comedy, part meta-fiction, it's pure Muppets, and it's a complete joy to see them back on the big screen and feeling like they're back in their true form. |
| 11-22 | The
Skin I Live In (2011) |
Almodóvar has described The Skin I Live In as a horror film, and there's no denying that the film contains a slew of classic elements, ranging from a mad scientist to imprisoned ladies, from twisted revenge to body horror in the vein of Eyes Without a Face. Really, The Skin I Live In is a pretty decent little mad scientist horror film, one that's executed far more strikingly than the material probably deserves. So what on earth would attract Almodóvar to something like this? It's hard to answer that question without getting into some of the movie's secrets; suffice to say, the movie's big twist (and how Almodóvar) handles it are right up his alley in a variety of ways. The problem, though, is that his "alley" doesn't really mesh with the horror film ideas at work, and when the movie changes into melodrama (admittedly, a really strange and twisted one) by the end, a lot of the momentum and atmosphere the movie's created slowly dissolves. As it stands, The Skin I Live In is a pretty great story, and there's a lot I liked about it, from Banderas's surprisingly great performance to the fantastic visuals, from the surreal plotting to the nice character work. But it's also a movie divided against itself - if it had fully committed to the horror, or fully embraced its melodrama, I think it would have worked better. As it is, it's fun, but not a masterpiece. |
| 11-18 | Martha
Marcy May Marlene (2011) |
It's hard to think of a movie in recent memory that plays more deftly with the impact of the past on the present than Martha Marcy May Marlene, which follows a young woman who escapes from a cult but has trouble adjusting to life outside of its confines. The woman in question is played by Elizabeth Olsen, who I've never seen before, but puts on a star-making performance here, perfectly capturing a damaged, haunted woman with almost no dialogue, relying on her reactions, her eyes, and her body language - and doing it perfectly. But every bit as key to this film's success is Sean Durkin's directorial assurance, which deftly slides between the past and present so perfectly that the viewer is often every bit as disoriented as Martha, sometimes unsure of whether we're in the past or the present - or whether the past hasn't come into the present itself. Martha Marcy May Marlene is as much character study and drama as it is a thriller, but it's a drama that's infused with paranoia, unease, and uncertainty, using them to brilliant effect to make us as worried and unsure as Martha often is. Martha Marcy May Marlene is getting a lot of the same attention that last year's Winter's Bone did, and with good reason - once again, here's an independent film that uses the tools of a thriller to immerse us in another world, creating a haunting story whose complexity and themes make it something richer than you might expect. It's a pretty dynamite film, one that I like more and more as I think about it again and again. |
| 11-16 | South
Park: Season 15 |
When South Park took its midseason break with the episode "You're Getting Old," a lot of people (myself included) wondered if the show was smuggling in a stealth series finale, or at the very least, wondered if the episode - which found Stan increasingly disillusioned with his friends and the things he once enjoyed - was a way for Trey Parker and Matt Stone to vent their frustrations at the show. And I couldn't blame them. While the show hadn't been "bad," per se, the first half wasn't anything too special - there were fun episodes, but nothing that felt like South Park at its best. But then came the second half of the season, which just concluded this week, and it feels like Parker and Stone are doing the best material they've done in years. Between a hilarious return to Broadway (with their Book of Mormon co-writer), a bizarre look at the origins of Thanksgiving, a welcome return of Lemmiwinks, and a brilliant take on border patrols - not to mention some surprisingly effective character work and the great conclusion to "You're Getting Old" - it really feels like Parker and Stone have a second (or third) wind these days, and the show is feeling great as a result. And hearing that we have more than a few seasons still to come? Right about now, that's feeling like some really great news. |
| 11-12 | Take
Shelter (2011) |
Curtis is a father, a husband, and a construction worker. His life is good - about as well as can be expected. But, you see, he keeps having these dreams - dreams of an ominous, threatening, somehow unnatural storm...and then the horrors afterward. This is the premise of Take Shelter, an incredible work from director Jeff Nichols, who made the superb Shotgun Stories a few years back. I liked Shotgun Stories a lot (my review is here), but it in no way prepares you for the filmmaking acumen on display here, as Nichols and star Michael Shannon (who more than deserves the Oscar nomination that better be coming his way) immerse you in the mind of a man who can't decide if he can trust his own brain. Is he succumbing to the mental illness that runs through his family history? Or is he receiving some sort of prophetic message? And ultimately, can he even tell the difference between the two? Take Shelter is more of a character study and drama than the synopsis might sound, finding its power in the way this encroaching disaster - be it real or symbolic of Shannon's family history - threatens to tear apart this young family and a small town, and Nichols' depiction of the relationships here and the performances of the cast make that story a riveting one. But that description won't prepare you for Shannon's dreams, which contain some of the most chilling and unnerving footage I've seen in years, and are genuinely terrifying, even as we know we're only watching dreams unfold. By the film's end, it hardly matters if Shannon is schizophrenic or psychic - the point is more about the way his relationships change as he undergoes all of this. But that doesn't keep the film from coming up with a hell of an ending, one that packs a fairly incredible punch. Take Shelter goes high on my list of the year's best films, and one that I think you should try to see on the big screen if you can - Nichols' imagery and visuals are incredible, and the film is as much an experience as a story. It's one I can't stop thinking about, and one that I almost feel driven to go see again, just to take it all in one more time. |
| 11-11 | Footloose
(1984) |
Sometimes, you see movies that were beloved in the 80s, and you completely understand, seeing them for the first time and realizing that they're more timeless or universal than you expected. Sometimes, they're as interesting for what they say about the culture as for the movie itself. And sometimes, you get Footloose, which pretty much fails on every imaginable level and still managed to be popular for reasons best known to those who liked it. Sure, Kevin Bacon is charismatic, I guess, but when his character has no personality or depth, how much good does that do? Sure, Lithgow is surprisingly complex for the movie, but when he swaps his position for no readily apparent reason, and when he's acting circles around everyone else, is he really that good, or just taking the part more seriously than it deserves? Footloose feels like a collection of random "teen movie" scenes badly thrown together, often to the point where the film quits making any sense at all, even on a plot level. Bacon is thrown off of the gymnastics team, for instance, which would have a lot more impact if we even knew he was on the team before that moment. There's a climactic fight sequence that occurs for no reason, is never mentioned again, and reeks of desperate focus-group testing. Footloose is, to put it plainly, just terrible. I guess people love it for the dancing, but if that's all the movie has, well, it's not really a movie, is it? |
| 11-8 | Shadow
of a Doubt (1943) |
It seems like Shadow of a Doubt never gets the attention that some of the later Hitchcock films do, which in some ways makes sense. Admittedly, the film may lack some of the complexity and playfulness of Hitchcock's later work; nonetheless, that in no way makes it any less compelling or effective, nor does it make the darkness in the film any less chilling and unnerving. Working with Thornton Wilder (writer of the seminal Our Town), Hitchcock creates a pitch-perfect American town that wouldn't feel at all out of place in Leave It to Beaver, then lets loose a figure who has no place at all in that world. The true nature of Joseph Cotten's character takes time to reveal, but as Hitchcock peels back the layers, it's genuinely shocking to realize that this isn't just an immoral man; this is a disturbed, evil figure at the film's core, and Cotten's ability to bring out that unsettling darkness in his monologues is one of the best things about the film. Of course, part of the film's greatness is the juxtaposition between the perfect town and the darkness of Cotten, something that Hitchcock plays with and toys with effortlessly all the way to the perfectly ironic ending. The plotting of Shadow of a Doubt isn't all that complicated, but that's more than made up for by the psychological complexities on display here, most notably in the ever-shifting relationship between Uncle Charlie and his namesake. There's a lot to love here, and I feel like one could write an analysis of the film as a bit of an allegory for pre-war America (idyllic and in denial about the horrors that it needs to confront), but I'm not sure how far you could run with that. What I am sure of is that this is a phenomenal piece of work - a gripping story made excellent by Hitchcock's direction and Cotten's layered, chilling performance. |
| 11-4 | A
Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas (2011) |
The third entry in the Harold and Kumar series may not have the same slyly funny take on race and stereotypes that the first movie (and the second, to some degree) had, but what it does have is a surprising amount of heart, a willingness (some would say compulsion) to go for broke in whatever it does, and a deranged creativity that leads to sustained bursts of insanity among the funniest scenes I've seen in a theater this year. Describing the plot in any way here would be an exercise in futility; suffice to say that this is a movie that involves a claymation sequence that rapidly turns apocalyptic, a baby whose drug problems keep escalating, Russian mobsters, Danny Trejo as someone's protective father, a small robot with a deep love of waffles, and, of course, Neil Patrick Harris as "Neil Patrick Harris". The result is all over the map - most scenes work, but a few don't, and it's somewhat bizarre how one plot thread continues without the two main characters for no real reason. But when this is on its game, its sublime silliness and willingness to crank everything to 11 is ridiculously entertaining and hysterically funny. Oh, and the 3D? Not only is it a pretty fantastic riff on the silliness and cheesiness of 3D effects, it also does them decently well, even while enjoying the absurdity of it all. A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas isn't quite the equal of the original movie, but it's a lot smarter and more self-aware than a lot of people want to give it credit for, and it's hard not to enjoy the sheer silliness and comedic anarchy on display throughout the entire film. Lots of fun. |
| 10-31 | Gojira
(1954) |
You could probably write a paper about the way that even though the effects in something like Gojira (the original Godzilla film) don't hold up well (the miniature work is too obvious, the suit too rigid), they still work in a way that more "accomplished" effects in lesser films don't, somehow. Gojira is a monster movie, plain and simple, and yet even a modern viewer gets a sense of how it became such a phenomenon. (And, as a Kurosawa fan, the fact that Takeshi Shimura in the movie made me quite happy - I definitely didn't expect him to show up in this. Between this and Seven Samurai, he had a great year that year, didn't he?) Of course, the film's (barely covered) subtext about nuclear war and fears of the nuclear age give it a unique and compelling appeal; although it should be no different than American schlock like Them!, the Japanese setting and history give the theme an added punch and honesty it might not otherwise have. I didn't love Gojira, but I'm glad I saw it - its legacy makes it essential viewing for film fans, and its B-movie charm and surprising effectiveness make it enjoyable on its own terms. |
| 10-31 | Seven
Chances (1925) |
Apparently, Seven Chances wasn't among Keaton's favorite pictures, with the star even going so far as trying to prevent a restoration of the movie. And at some points, the reasons for that dislike are obvious - Keaton seems a little more tied to plot than he might like to be, and the movie takes a lot longer than usual to get going. And the storyline - which revolves around Keaton's efforts to get married before the end of the day so he can inherit a fortune - doesn't always lend itself to Keaton's physical genius. Even so, there are some wonderful sequences here, from the iconic angry mob of jilted brides to a small landslide that provides the film's best moments (and which apparently was added at the last minute after positive crowd reaction). Seven Chances isn't the equal of Keaton's best work, but it's still an enjoyable enough piece of work, and it's filled with enough of Keaton's amazing reactions and expressions to make any fan quite happy with it. |
| 10-31 | Martyrs
(2008) |
Martyrs isn't exactly an easy film to recommend. Even going in, I knew that Martyrs had a reputation as perhaps the most extreme entries in the new wave of French horror, which already puts it amongst some depraved company. To put it mildly, Martyrs lives up that reputation and then some. But there's a lot more to Martyrs than gore and violence, most notably a third act that transforms the film from a brutal thriller into some unholy blend of Hellraiser and 2001. And yes, those are the two movies I meant to type. I really think you should go into Martyrs knowing as little as possible, so all I'll say is that the movie opens with a young girl escaping from horrific abuse that leaves her damaged both physically and psychically. Then the film jumps ahead 15 years to a wholly unrelated family, only to pull the stories together in a jaw-dropping fashion. From there, the story becomes more violent, more disturbing, and more thematically complex, all while being brilliantly staged and acted. Martyrs isn't a film for all tastes - even as a seasoned horror fan, I found myself stunned and horrified by how far the movie's willing to go. But it's done with a purpose, one that ends up making Martyrs into something complex, thought-provoking, and stunning by the end. If you can ensure the film's horrors, you're in for a modern masterpiece of the genre, one with a singular vision that you're unlikely to see anything like again. |
| 10-30 | The
Return of the Living Dead (1985) |
For Halloween, the Belcourt played host to a Halloween movie marathon, serving up 12 horror films ranging from a blaxploitation take on The Exorcist to a slew of zombie films and beyond. 7 movies in twelve hours is a bit much for me to give every single one of them a lengthy review, but there's no way I can let the marathon slide without a few thoughts on each of the movies:
|
| 10-30 | Lady
Terminator (1989) |
|
| 10-30 | Squirm
(1976) |
|
| 10-30 | Zombie
(1979) |
|
| 10-30 | Anguish
(1987) |
|
| 10-30 | Abby
(1974) |
|
| 10-30 | Night
of the Creeps (1986) |
|
| 10-25 | Freaks
(1932) |
I can't deny that Freaks is a somewhat flawed movie - it meanders a little bit, it bears the scars of studio interference a little too plainly, and I can't argue with some of the moral conflict I know people have about the movie (nicely discussed in this article about the famous "Wedding Feast" scene). And yet, all of that being said and admitted, I also can't deny that it's one of my favorite films, warts and all - maybe even because of those warts. In a day and age where every classic horror movie is ripe for a remake, it's almost comforting to find something that could never be remade, and whose look and feel are nothing like anything else you're likely to see in your life. It's criminal that Freaks ruined Tod Browning's career, but it's even more criminal that people were so horrified by the very double-standard and judgmental stares that Browning was condemning throughout the film. By casting real "freaks" in the film, Browning managed to get people to the theater who wanted to see a "freak show," and then confront them with their own assumptions and prejudices, ultimately turning the tables on them brilliantly with a final 15 minutes that never fails to give me chills as it unfolds. And if you don't understand why Browning's so well-regarded, Freaks provides ample evidence - the stares from under the steps, the knife held as the rain pours down, the absolute lack of score as the final sequence plays out...all of them are brilliant touches that hold up even nearly 80 years later. I've seen it probably half a dozen times at this point, and the film never fails to affect me in a variety of ways. It's like nothing else you've ever seen, and while I can't promise you'll like it, I can promise that it'll stick with you more than you might expect. |
| 10-9 | Breaking
Bad: Season 4 (2011)
|
(Vague spoilers for season 4 follow.) As I discussed in my thoughts entry on the show, season 4 of Breaking Bad was essentially the point of no return for Walter White, as his season-long chess game with Gus Fring - where the loser's life was literally at stake - led him to morally indefensible choices that left him the "winner," but at a disturbingly heavy cost. And while that makes the show sound incredibly heavy and grim - and to be fair, parts of it definitely were - that sells short the sheer amount of chaos, tension, pitch-black humor, and spectacular acting that Breaking Bad brings to the table each and every week. There's nothing like Breaking Bad for incredible setpieces, and this season had them in spades, ranging from a poisoned bottle of tequila with wide-ranging consequences to the remarkably silent use of a box cutter, from a brutal execution to a scene that was nothing more than a character laying out a slew of theories and evidence. And if you don't see how something like that last one could be intense, well, you don't know this show. As for the acting...what more can be said? Bryan Cranston was every bit as good as he ever is on here (which is to say amazing), most notably in a pair of speeches he gives to his son, while Aaron Paul conveyed desperation and despair beautifully without ever saying a word. And enough good can't be said about the entire supporting cast, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that Giancarlo Esposito (as the terrifying, icy cold Gustavo Fring), Jonathan Banks (as the cynical, practical Mike), and Mark Margolis (as Tio Salamanca, whose final facial expression of the season was nothing short of terrifying) stole the season pretty easily. Season 4 doesn't quite live up to the perfection of Season 3, but that's fair enough, given how flawless that season was. What I can say, though, is that it's still brilliant television that outdoes everything else on TV, mixing morality debates, taut thrillers, character studies, and acting showcases perfectly, creating something that looks and feels like nothing else on television. I'm going to miss not being able to miss Sunday nights. Here's hoping Season 5 starts soon. |
| 10-7 | Pépé
le Moko (1937)
|
A criminal and thief falls in love with a woman, but he knows the police will arrest him if he sets foot outside of the Casbah to get to her. That's the dilemma at the heart of Pépé le Moko, and that's an intriguing setup for a movie. In the end, though, Pépé le Moko is less interested in its story and more in the Casbah, a place governed by criminals and crooks, where police are tolerated but feared, informants are the lowest form of life, and someone like Pépé is idolized as a hero. For a while, that's more than enough to keep you involved in the film, which is a good thing - with the central romance badly underdeveloped, the plot is never as gripping as you might like, even though Gabin plays Pépé beautifully and follows his moral choices nicely to their logical conclusions. By the end, though, I found myself uninvolved, no matter how interesting the world or Pépé was, and I really think the absolute failure to make the viewer care about that central love is the big downfall. The girl is pure archetype, rather than a person, and it's never clear why exactly Pépé loves her so much, or is willing to sacrifice so much to get to her. Even so, it's not a bad film in any way, and I love the moral gray areas it toys with and the world it inhabits. I just wish the story was up to the rest of the film's level. |
| 10-7 | Touchez
Pas au Grisbi (1954)
|
The story of an aging gangster whose loot (from that last big score he pulled so he could retire) becomes something much desired by the local upstarts, Touchez Pas au Grisbi (English translation: "Hands Off the Loot") is a crime movie that's almost entirely uninterested in crime. Instead, it's a movie that focuses on aging and being too old for the world that made you famous - something that no doubt resonated with star Jean Gabin, who was no longer regarded with the adoration that greeted his younger films (although Grisbi turned that around). More than that, it's also a story about the costs of friendship, and how loyalty can cost you almost everything - though it may be a cost worth paying. Grisbi focuses on these men and their friendship and devotion to each other, using the crime framework to tell a story with roots closer to drama than action. It's a solid piece of work, albeit one that may disappoint those expecting a pure noir; that being said, the solid acting, beautiful filming, and involving storyline should be more than enough to pacify those disappointed by not getting what they expect. |
| 10-6 | The
Exiles (1961)
|
Often compared to the amazing Killer of Sheep, The Exiles follows a group of disillusioned Native Americans through 24 hours as they drift aimlessly from bar to bar, drinking the night away and looking for something to fill the time. Essentially plotless, The Exiles gains its relevance and power through monologues that overlay some of the action, as the characters describe how they see the world, themselves, and their futures, in honest and unflinching terms. Like Killer of Sheep, there's an honesty and realism here that give The Exiles a documentary-like feel at times, one that feels so far outside of Hollywood's wheelhouse as to be unrecognizable. And as the characters get into fights, or lose themselves in movies, or worry about their future children, there's something both human and yet specific to the lives of these disenfranchised Native Americans that makes The Exiles a compelling document. I didn't like The Exiles quite as much as I did Killer of Sheep; even as I recognize that it's making a point about its characters' lives and their empty nature, that point becomes clear enough somewhere before the end, and even at a brief 72 minutes, the movie feels a tad overlong at points. But it's still a remarkable film, one that's not quite like anything else; it's a testimony to an experience that many Americans remain unaware of, and that alone would be enough to make it a worthy watch. The fact that the monologues are so effective and the cinematography so beautiful? Just icing on the cake. |
| 10-6 | Mr.
Arkadin (1955)
|
There are, from what I can tell, at least five different versions of Mr. Arkadin, something that speaks to Welles' typical problems with film studios and his difficulties in getting final cut on his own films. The version I watched is called the "comprehensive" version, which combines elements from every version of the film in an effort to as closely match Welles' intentions as could be done. So here's the thing: if this is the best version of Mr. Arkadin that can be created, that says a lot about what a mess this film is. The story is a great one, as an amnesiac millionaire enlists a clueless, scheming American to investigate his own past and see what he can find. And, of course, as you'd expect from Welles, it's all beautifully filmed, with wonderful use of shadow and some really amazing sequences, including a drunken confrontation on a boat that's mirrored by the camera bobbing and weaving drunkenly throughout. But following the story gets to br incredibly complicated, and it's not helped by the feeling that the dialogue feels dubbed, rushed, and badly chopped together, or the sense that there's a ton of scenes here that are in such arbitrary order that following the plotting gets to be a real challenge. As with many Welles films, you can't help but wonder what might have been as you watch Mr. Arkadin; what's different about it, though, is that the merits of the film don't shine through nearly as much, and the flaws are far more pronounced. It's not truly bad, but it's so deeply damaged that it's hard to view it as a solid work, either. |
| 10-6 | Superheroes
(2011)
|
A documentary about people who dress up as superheroes, Superheroes could easily be a smirking movie that finds a lot of humor out of its subjects. And, to be sure, there are moments of that here...but more than that, this is a moving and even inspiring look at people who are working not just to fight crime, but to genuinely make their neighborhoods and the world a better place. These are people who don't just patrol at night for criminals, but also deliver food to the homeless, help to spur crime prevention rallies, stand up to drug dealers, clean up parks, and more. Are some of these people comical? Oh, without a doubt - the long scene in which one of the men hits on a girl at the bar while wearing his costume is pretty hilarious. And are others deeply damaged and sad? Definitely, often to point of being genuinely heartbreaking and devastating. But in the end, Superheroes looks at these people as people who are working to make the world a better place, no matter what trauma or event inspired them, or how they go about whatever it is they're doing. And it's hard not to come away feeling that the world is genuinely a better place for having them in it, no matter how much you might want to laugh at them or you might even be confused by why they do what they do. The mood of this one is a little unsteady, and it doesn't dive into the depths you might want it to, but as a portrait of these people, it's a great, compelling documentary, one that gave me a little more faith in people than I had before I saw it. |
| 10-5 | Valhalla
Rising (2009)
|
You're going to have certain expectations about Valhalla Rising when I tell you that it's a Viking movie from the director of Drive and Bronson. And here's the thing: you're probably far, far from what this movie is really like. To be sure, there are moments of brutal, brutal violence here, as you might expect from the premise, in which a mute warrior breaks free of his slavery and falls in with a group of Christian warriors on their way to the Holy Land for the Crusades. But what you get instead is something quieter, moodier, more thoughtful, and introspective, sometimes to the point of being frustrating. Refn says that, to him, Valhalla Rising was intended to evoke the feeling of being on LSD, as well as being a reflection of his mindset after the birth of his child, and both of those come through in the film, in a strange way. But what else comes through is a film that's very much about faith while questioning whether that faith is misplaced, as these men seem tormented by God at every turn of their journey - if, that is, God even notices them at all. Valhalla Rising is maddening at points, incredibly effective at others, and stunningly beautiful throughout, even as it sometimes loses its momentum. And while it's not my favorite of Refn's films, I can't deny that it's a unique and oddly personal film, one that feels like something no one but Refn could have made. And with its beautiful visuals, brutal violence, complex themes, and haunting mood, it's a compelling experience, even as I admit it's not for everyone (by a long shot). |
| 10-5 | Black
Narcissus (1947) |
It may seem weird at first that I compare a film about nuns in an isolated convent in a foreign land to Apocalypse Now. And yet, I really can't help but feel a spiritual connection between the two films, since both are very much about the way people can lose themselves in the appeal of foreign lands. And it's not hard to see how these nuns could find this place appealing; as filmed by Powell and Pressburger, the Himalayas are breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that you could simply find yourself absorbed into the visuals and still come away stunned by the film. Of course, to do that would be to miss out on the compelling, effective story that the film has to tell, focusing on the way these nuns find themselves losing focus on their spiritual mission and finding their mind turning to more earthly pleasures, ranging from gardening to the pleasures of the flesh. And as that appeal grows stronger and stronger, the nuns react in different ways, from denial to out-and-out madness, all of which builds up to a fascinating and even unsettling final act that feels like something from a horror film. I have yet to see a Powell and Pressburger film that didn't absolute blow me away, and Black Narcissus is no exception; it's a compelling portrait of obsession, faith and doubt, the cost of love, and the appeal of the sensual world, all of which is so beautifully filmed that it's frequently breathtaking. |
| 10-5 | Fury
(1936) |
An innocent man on his way to meet his fiancee is charged with kidnapping and put in jail. Then, the town gets wind of his presence, and an angry mob starts to form...and that's just the beginning of this intense, moody piece from Fritz Lang (making his American debut and touching on a lot of the themes he dealt with in films like M). Fury doesn't let anyone off easy here - not the small-town folks that dish out mob justice, and not the vengeance-driven men who want to bring them all to justice for it. But it's that darkness and willingness to follow this all the way down through all its moral complexity that makes Fury such a riveting piece of work. Anyone who's seen M knows that Lang had serious concerns about mob justice, but he's also worried about the morality of the individual, and he's willing to avoid easy answers in examining what the right things are. His direction, as always, is spellbinding, especially in his depiction of the mob itself and its chilling aftermath. But he's helped here by the incredible performance by Spencer Tracy, who displays a range and a side of his character that you don't often see from him, one that he uses to incredible effect. Fury is an incredible piece of work, one that I'm surprised Lang was able to get made. It's a direct attack on American values, and while there are glimpses of what he might have done without studio supervision, it's still profoundly effective as it is. A must-see, period. |
| 10-4 | Beat
the Devil (1953) |
Beat the Devil is regarded as one of the earliest camp/cult classics, and seems to be viewed as a satire of film noirs like The Maltese Falcon. And maybe that's true, but it doesn't make the movie any less sloppy or unengaging to watch. As Ebert says in his Great Movies piece on it, it's pretty obvious that the plot is the least important thing going on here, and that the movie's joy should be coming from the interactions and personalities of the characters. But, to be honest, there wasn't a lot of fun to be had there for me. The movie plays it too close to film noir to be as funny as it wants, but too broad and silly to be successful as a noir, and the end result is something that tries to do both but succeeds as neither. That it's watchable at all is mainly thanks to Huston's assured direction and the charisma and presence of the cast, but even that wears thin as the movie just rambles along from setpiece to setpiece without much rhyme or reason. Beat the Devil seems like the kind of movie that's easier to appreciate than really enjoy, and maybe that's why a lot of people like it. Or maybe I'm just being too harsh on it. Whatever the case, though, it mainly felt like a muddled mess to me, one that survives thanks to its cast and crew. |
| 10-4 | The
Shop Around the Corner (1940)
|
If all you know about this is that it inspired the middling You've Got Mail, well, get out there and watch this, immediately. I've really come to love all the Lubitsch films I've seen so far, and The Shop Around the Corner is no exception. The plot is relatively simple: two bickering co-workers are actually falling in love with each other through correspondence, but neither is aware of their pen pal's identity. That would be enough for a movie, as You've Got Mail showed, but it wouldn't be enough to make a great film, which this shows. Lubitsch brings so much depth to the story, the world of the film, and the characters who live there, giving everyone room to breathe and stories beyond the confines of the plot. More than that, there's a true sense of this shop as a place that really exists, filled with shoppers and merchandise and a slew of problems, from difficult co-workers to a strangely moody boss whose personal life is slowly falling apart. Much like Lubitsch's other films, the dialogue here is fantastic, and the jokes are simple or low-key, but no less funny because of it. (My favorite recurring bit involves Stewart's efforts to get himself a better Christmas present.) But the drama here is just as potent and even touching, reminding me of the way that Billy Wilder could mix the darkest drama and the lightest comedy effortlessly. The Shop Around the Corner is one of those timeless romances that works on every level, creating something sweet, funny, and recognizably human. The whole cast of characters is made up of wonderful creations, the story is charming, and the world one you can't help but enjoy. |
| 10-3 | Cops
(1922)
|
I love Buster Keaton so much, and work like Cops reminds me why. There's a smattering of plot here, but here's all that really matters: for reasons not worth getting into, Buster ends up angering the police department of a city. That's right - all the police. And the resulting cavalcade of gags, stunts, and silliness is an absolute blast to watch and had me giggling for every minute of this. Cops is a short little piece of work - only about 18 minutes long - but for Keaton, that only means that he's pared off almost every bit of fat and created something that's just distilled Keaton for the whole length of time. Even now, almost a century later, some of Keaton's stunt work still causes me jaw to drop and my admiration for his courage to grow, but just as much, the gags and physical punchlines still manage to fire on every level, even if one (involving a goat gland) requires a little bit of digging to get just how surprisingly risque the whole gag was. Just a great little short film, and one that's a reminder of just what a genius Buster Keaton truly was. |
| 10-3 | Symbiopsycho- taxiplasm: Take One (1968)
|
Wow, this is a hard one to summarize. At its core, this is a documentary about a documentary about a documentary - yes, really. Director William Greaves filmed a series of actors acting out a mediocre scene, but he also instructed his film crews to film the filming of these scenes...and instructed another film crew to film those crews and anything else happening nearby. And then, as that (shockingly) begins to collapse and spiral out of control, Greaves' crew essentially retreats from their director, filming their own conversations in which they question whether their director is brilliant or incredibly inept and pathetic. All of this sounds a little pretentious, and at points, Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One is most definitely that. And even at 70 minutes, the film runs a little long; while the long conversation with a homeless man is somewhat entertaining, I'm not sure what it has to do with the film's focus on sexuality and the layers of reality on display. But that being said, as an examination of the way cameras cause people to act, or as a study of the power of the director, or as a look at the way people rebel in the face of incompetence, Symbiopsychotaxiplasm can be pretty fascinating, and even frequently hilarious, especially if you feel that Greaves is intentionally being obtuse simply to provoke a reaction from his cast and crew. There's no doubt that Symbiopsychotaxiplasm is experimental arthouse fare, but it's a surprisingly entertaining, slickly edited one, and in its brief running time, it's full of fascinating ideas and interesting conversations. And that intelligence makes up for a lot of pretension. |
| 10-3 | The
Hitcher (1986) |
The Hitcher has a pretty strong reputation as a great thriller/horror film, and for a little bit, I totally understood why. The premise - in which a young man picks up a psychotic hitchhiker who begins to toy with him - is a strong one, and Hauer brings the perfect mix of danger, charisma, and insanity to the role. But rapidly, the movie goes off the rails, going from one absurd setpiece to another, and rapidly getting to the point where each successive moment doesn't even make sense on its own, much less in the larger context of the film. The Hitcher feels like a movie entirely composed of "wouldn't it be cool if" moments, but there's no time spent explaining any of them or giving any of them much payoff, and by the end, it all just gets eye-rollingly silly, especially once police helicopters get involved for no particular reason (and don't even get me started on all the absurdities contained within the infamous scene in which Jennifer Jason Leigh gets...well, if you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about). Here's the biggest thing that baffles me: this is from the writers who gave us the outstanding Near Dark? Really? |
| 10-3 | The
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) |
Widely regarded as the first horror film, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari doesn't hold up as well as many of the great silent films of the era, but that same dated feel is part of what makes it such a fascinating watch. Eschewing normal sets and a "realistic" feel, Caligari uses painted backdrops to create a bizarre, off-kilter, expressionistic world filled with crooked roads, angular walkways, and skewed streets that add to the uncomfortable, slightly "off" feel of the world it creates. The story here is generally pretty simple, involving a series of murders that seem to have been committed by a sleepwalker on display at the local fair. And guess what? They were. There's no major twists or reversals for most of the story, save one final one that feels a little arbitrary (largely because it was imposed by the government), but that's okay; this is a story that's as much about the mood it creates as the story it has to tell. I didn't love it the way I did, say Metropolis, but there's still much to admire here, and you can't deny the visual spectacle on display here, even if the visual style dates the film more than you might expect. |
| 9-30 | Tucker
and Dale vs. Evil (2010)
|
In which a pair of genial "hillbillies" working on restoring their cabin have an increasingly bizarre and violent confrontation with a bunch of college kids who've seen a few too many horror movies. As a reversal and satire of movies like the execrable Texas Chainsaw remake, Tucker and Dale is pretty great. It knows all the hicksploitation notes to hit, and hits them perfectly, creating a pretty funny riff on the genre that more than stands up on its own. I can't say that I loved Tucker and Dale the way a lot of people seem to, and it's not just the shakiness of the final act that kept me from embracing it. I think the AV Club brings up a good point in its review, when they opine that "the movie might've been better served by less-recognizable faces. As it is, the stars look like funny guys in hillbilly costumes." It's a valid point that kept occurring to me as I watched the movie; there's just a layer of gloss to the whole thing that keeps it from entirely embracing the genre the way, say Black Dynamite embraced blaxploitation. That being said, I can't deny that I laughed quite a bit, and I'll willingly admit that the winning tone, the charismatic performances by Tudyk and Labine, and some of the great gags really make the film a blast to watch. I just don't think it's quite as good as it could have been. (One final note: I really recommend not watching the trailer; it gives away a huge number of the movie's gags and payoffs, and given the movie's short length, the fact that it's showing stuff from over an hour in is just a bad choice.) |
| 9-27 | Out
of Sight (1998)
|
Roger Ebert's famous rule of movies is "A movie is not about what it is about, but how it is about it." And for my money, few movies are better illustrations of this than Out of Sight, a simple crime movie told so well that it becomes more complex and wonderful as it unfolds. Based on an Elmore Leonard novel, Out of Sight is the story of Jack Foley (George Clooney), a career bank robber who ends up entangled with a US Marshal (played by Jennifer Lopez before she disappeared into her own hype) as he moves towards that fabled One Last Score. In other words, it's a story you've heard before...but never quite like this. As you might expect from a Leonard novel, the characters are allowed to have dialogue that's smart, personable, funny, and moves beyond simple plot exposition and the explaining of feelings, with the results ranging from use of profanity that borders on the profound to hilarious non-sequiturs. More effective, though, is the way that Soderbergh chooses his cast and allows them to inhabit the characters not as actors dabbling in a role, but as people with their own pasts, baggage, and beliefs. The rapport between Rhames and Clooney, for instance, tells us more about their friendship than any dialogue ever could, much as the chemistry between Lopez and Clooney makes their instant connection more plausible than any contrived explanation ever would manage. (Imagining what the film would have been like with the first choice for Karen Sisco - Sandra Bullock - only underlines how great Lopez's work and presence are here.) And of course, Soderbergh brings a master's touch to the direction, using elliptical editing, nice doses of freeze frames, and a willingness to follow the emotion of the scene, resulting in perfect sequences like this conversation, where we see the aftereffects of the scene play out as we hear the words and emotions that set it all up. Out of Sight is one of those films whose whole is far more than the sum of its parts, taking a slew of small pieces and adding it all up to something genuinely engaging, fun, and even moving. It's an underrated film to me, one that people seem to give short shrift to, as though making a truly great genre film wasn't an accomplishment in of itself. Instead, Out of Sight is a perfect crime movie, a wonderful romance story, and an engaging character study, all in one. |
| 9-25 | Stalker
(1979) |
To be frank, I was a little apprehensive about seeing Stalker, no matter how strong its reputation is. Tartakovsky's Solaris was a frustrating experience for me, one whose languid pacing and style ultimately left me cold even as I admired the ideas at work, and I was worried that I would feel the same about Stalker. I needn't have worried. Stalker isn't exactly a Michael Bay film in terms of pacing, but it moves at a more rapid clip than Solaris (and not having and ten minute driving scenes is a big plus for me). Even if it didn't, though, I probably could have lost myself in the haunting visuals of Stalker for hours and never noticed, especially the sepia-drenched city that the film inhabits for its first act. Tartakovsky's city is a haunted, damaged place, and you feel every bit of the history that lives there without a word being said about it, and such is its presence that the abrupt shift to the world of the Zone outside of the city is all the more jarring and stunning because of it. Moreover, though, there are the themes and ideas of Stalker, as three men progress towards The Room, a place which can grant them their every desire, and grapple with the meaning and impact of such a place in the world. Stalker plays with heavy ideas while making a fascinating science-fiction piece, one more in love with its musings than the story, but I'm okay with that when the ideas are this rich and the world it creates this compelling. That's not to downplay the story - which involves the trek of those three men as they escape the city and move into the mysterious Zone, accompanied by their guide, the title character - but the story here is used as a method of exploring the implications of such a world, rather than being an end to itself. I won't claim that I understand it all - even now, days later, I'm still musing on what some of it means and the depth of it all. But to me, that's part of what makes the film so powerful and effective, and speaks to its depths and richness. I left the screening a little overwhelmed by what I had seen, and as each day goes by, I'm more and more taken with the film. What an astonishing experience it is. |
| 9-17 | Drive
(2011) |
Part 70s existential character study, part brutally violent neo-noir, Drive sets its tone perfectly in its opening scenes, in which the nameless driver (beautifully played by Ryan Gosling) picks up a pair of men and calmly, peacefully, navigates a police cordon to a perfectly timed escape. The sequence blends suspense with a sense of inner peace and introspection, a blend that pretty easily defines Drive. That odd juxtaposition of quiet and violent is going to make Drive fall flat for some people; if you're looking for The Transporter, you'll hate this. If, however, what you're looking for is a beautifully told crime story, one where the actors get to convey their emotions through acting rather than dialogue, where the mood tells us as much as the actors' faces, where the violence is unflinching and unglamorous, and where the plotting is simple and yet entirely gripping, Drive is going to blow you away the way it did me. The story is pure pulp - a nameless stunt driver who takes odd crime jobs for his own reasons finds himself drawn into a heist when he develops a relationship with his neighbor, and then has to deal with the fallout from that heist - but as with so many noir films, it's all in the details. Gosling plays the part perfectly, playing the driver as a coiled spring capable of brutal violence, yet also as a man desperately trying to wall himself off from the world, perhaps because he knows what he could do. And the supporting cast is brilliant down the line. Much praise has been heaped on Albert Brooks, and rightfully so; while he's recognizably Albert Brooks in every way, from his cadence to his sense of humor, he's also terrifying and incredibly dangerous, and that blend makes him all the more compelling. And I'd be remiss if I didn't rave about Bryan Cranston, playing the driver's mentor and friend as his talkative other half, a man whose scheming and patter make him immensely likable and yet deeply unreliable. I really can't say enough how much I loved this movie, from the slow character build to the graphic explosions of violence, from the fascinating and understated characterization to the gorgeous visual style. It may take an appreciation for the arthouse to fully love Drive, but if you've got that, Drive is the best pure genre film of the year, and one of my top movies for 2011, hands down. |
| 9-16 | Bellflower
(2011) |
Much praise has been heaped on Bellflower for its unique nature, and I can't deny that Bellflower looks and feels like few movies I've seen period, much less this year. But even so, I don't know that uniqueness is enough to make a movie good. The story of a relationship that goes wrong, Bellflower is a sort of mumblecore love story that also happens to feature two men obsessed with building a Mad Max-style car for the (presumably) impending apocalypse. If that sounds like an odd blend on paper, it's even more so in the film, partially because the two halves never seem to fit together in any organic way, instead feeling like the contrivance of a screenwriter. That's not to say that the juxtaposition doesn't have some fantastic payoffs; the film's third act, as the lines of reality start to blur and the film becomes a bit of a commentary on its characters and their attitudes, gives us some stunning images and moments, even as the film seems reluctant to commit to any of them. But the problem is that the film doesn't earn that third act; the characters never feel like they have any depth, the storytelling is so elliptical that the relationship never feels worthy of investment, and the time jumps end up being more disorienting than illuminating. Bellflower is beautifully shot, to be sure, and like I said, there are glimpses of a really compelling Fight Club-esque satire of masculinity and relationships. But there are glimpses of a bunch of other movies in there too, and that's part of the problem. Bellflower is ambitious, and it tries to do a lot; in the end, though, its reach exceeds its grasp. I admire a lot about the movie and what it attempted to do, but I don't think it succeeded, and that's a pretty big disappointment. |
| 9-15 | The
Unknown (1927) |
When The Unknown opened, I first expected it to be a dry run for Browning's later film Freaks. After all, here's a movie about a circus performer named Alonzo the Armless who's in love with a beautiful performer, who herself seems more captivated by the circus strongman. And while I had no problem with Browning warming up for the amazing Freaks, I was a little disappointed that there wasn't more. Then, about fifteen minutes in, there was a reveal that genuinely surprised and shocked me, and I realized The Unknown was something wholly different than I thought it was - something far darker and creepier, a portrait of obsession and madness, one that goes to some pretty stunning places as the film unfolds. Any serious horror fan knows the name of Lon Chaney, but watching The Unknown really emphasizes why that is, as he creates a character at once sympathetic, deranged, obsessive, and deeply dangerous, all without the use of his voice or his arms. And, as he did with Freaks, Browning takes this to places you might not expect given the time period, and some of the dialogue lines are truly chilling. The Unknown isn't really the monster film you might expect from the title; instead, it's more a study of obsession and madness, and a damned good one at that - one that's capable of creating chills and tension even 80+ years after its release. |
| 9-13 | The
King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007)
|
What a treat this movie is. There have been talks since The King of Kong first came out about turning it into a feature film, but it's hard to imagine how any fictional treatment could outdo this marvelously strange, gleefully eccentric, hilariously funny, and surprisingly moving documentary about two men's ongoing feud over the top score of all time on the original Donkey Kong. Part love letter to classic games, part survey of a truly odd subculture (not just competitive gaming, but competitive classic gaming), part underdog sports story (a fact that's only emphasized through some spot-on music choices - you'll know them when you hear them), The King of Kong is one of the most purely fun films in a long time, and definitely one of the most crowd-pleasing and entertaining documentaries in recent memory. And I haven't even touched on the characters. How on earth could a feature film do justice to the hilariously arrogant Billy Mitchell, or the Zen referee singing skills of Walter Day, or the slew of flunkies, tape watchers, and "kill screen" announcers that populate The King of Kong? There's always a thin line with movies like this whether you're laughing at people or with them, and I can't deny that King of Kong is probably a little closer to the former than the latter. But I don't think they'd fault you for it, and as a geek myself, I can't help but feel like I'm laughing at myself a little bit in all of that too. The King of Kong may not change the way you think about the world or expose injustice, but what it does do is entertain, captivate, and even spawn an emotional reaction, all while exposing a truly fascinating world. |
| 9-9 | Attack
the Block (2011)
|
I can't deny that Attack the Block boasts an absolutely irresistible premise: an invading alien force ends up landing in a rough inner-city London neighborhood and squaring off against much tougher opposition than they might have expected. And at its best moments, Attack the Block is a B-movie gem, bringing wonderful atmosphere, great creature design, and a good sense of fun to the whole enterprise. But those moments are adrift in a movie that makes as many wrong steps as it does right ones. Why, for instance, waste so much film time on the local crime boss, a character that never gets any depth, anything interesting to do, or any real relevance to the story? Why jump into the story so awkwardly, giving the viewer next to no time to meet the characters before moving along? And most frustratingly of all, why can't the movie establish any sense of geography to its actions? Even now that it's done, I have little sense of how the various set pieces fit together in a geometrical sense, and I still don't think I know how some characters got from one point to another. Heck, it takes thirty minutes to establish that yes, a character did get locked in a dumpster, and no, you didn't just miss something thanks to some too-eager editing. Ultimately, Attack the Block is the kind of movie that frustrates me greatly, because it has a great premise, a winning cast, and a wonderful sense of fun and atmosphere that really make me want to like it. But every time I started to warm up to it, it would lose me in nondescript rooms that didn't connect to each other, launch into a painfully on-the-nose monologue explaining everything, and so forth. I can't bring myself to entirely embrace Attack the Block, but I didn't hate it, either, and I'll be eager to see what comes next from this director. But in the end, it just doesn't work often enough to coalesce into a movie. |
| 9-8 | Louie:
Season 2 (2011) |
I'm going to put this really simply: if you're not watching Louie, you're missing one of the best things on television right now. Period. Less a standard television show and more a collection of short films, Louie is incredibly hard to classify. It's way, way too funny to be considered a pure drama, but how many comedies involve meeting up with an old friend who tells you that he's planning on ending his life, or follow a comedian as he takes a USO tour of Afghanistan and almost dies? Season 1 of Louie was incredible television, and season 2 ups the ante in almost every imaginable way, creating amazing half hours every week that stick with me for days after I watch them and even become cultural moments. Heck, here's a show where Louis C.K. essentially not only acknowledges his feud with Dane Cook (over accusations of joke theft) but buries the hatchet and even makes himself out to be the villain of the piece. And here's a show where Louis meets Joan Rivers and makes a pass at her, in a humiliating fashion. And a show with a surreal Halloween encounter with two oddly threatening trick-or-treaters. And...look, the list goes on and on, and none of it will really convey the talent, the humor, the self-deprecation, or the imagination that's on display here. Louie's a show with uncommon ambition, and I love that about it; what's even better is the fact that it lives up to all of that and then some. If you want a straight comedy or a straight drama or anything that neatly fits into some kind of box, Louie isn't for you; it's a show that defies expectations and rules and does whatever it wants, and it succeeds brilliantly at it, creating something funny and painful and moving and strange and utterly, recognizably, perfectly honest and human. |
| 9-8 | Wilfred:
Season 1 (2011) |
What a gleefully weird, deranged, warped, dark show this is. Even if you tell people it's a show about a depressed former lawyer who attempts suicide and then starts seeing his neighbor's dog as a large Australian man in a dog costume, that in no way will prepare you for some of the directions this one takes. Here's a show where a man defecates in another man's boot to show his dominance, where one character may in fact be killing elderly patients for no real reason, a dog gets into a S&M relationship with a stuffed giraffe, a young child is framed for heinous crimes - and trust me, that's not even a tenth of the weirdness and depravity on display here. But if Wilfred were simply edgy for its own sake, the show wouldn't be half as much fun as it is. Jason Gann is absolutely hilarious as the title character, and the rapport between him and Elijah Wood is more than enough to make the show eminently watchable week in and week out. Moreover, the show's aware of its own complicated premise and toys with it perfectly, teasing any audience member who's obsessive enough to watch shows for "clues," all while still creating a remarkably strange atmosphere that hints at a lot of oddities going on behind the scenes. Wilfred doesn't always work (although it gets better and better as the season goes on), but even when the premises don't hold up, the characters and the dialogue - particularly on Gann's part - more than make up for it, as do the characters, who are far more interesting and complex than you might think. If you think everything on television is the same these days, you owe Wilfred a watch. Unpredictable, funny, and utterly unique, I can't quite describe it, but I know that I really like it a hell of a lot. |
| 9-8 | Futurama:
Season 6-B (2011)
|
And so the full "sixth" season of Futurama draws to a close (trying to understand exactly why they're numbered like this is a wasted effort, trust me), and overall, I had a blast with it. I'll say the same thing that I said at the conclusion of the season's first half: was it as solid or amazing as the show's first incarnation? No, probably not as a whole. But to constantly wish that it would live up to that is to miss out on the huge number of great moments, hilarious scenes, and touching character development that has really made this revival more than worth the wait. This is a season that gave us Zoidberg in a violent Western duel, the traffic stop of a man named Schrodinger and his cat, Bender somehow containing everything in the entire world, and a profoundly sweet moment involving Leela and Fry looking at a map of their futures together. And that doesn't even get into the deranged silliness of the final episode, a trilogy of episodes done in varying animated styles (one in the spirit of Charles Fleischer cartoons, the second as an 8-bit video game, and the final as a bad 80s anime), all of which were done with care, reverence, and some hilariously funny lines. In short, the season was a lot of fun, and if all you can do is wonder why it's not what it once was, well, you're missing out, aren't you? |
| 9-2 | Kung
Fu Panda 2 (2011)
|
The original Kung Fu Panda was a pleasant surprise; far from being the sort of generic, smarmy fodder Dreamworks had become known for, it was beautifully animated, well-told, genuinely funny, and had a sense of style and action that really made it stand out. So it's an even more pleasant surprise to find that what could have been a cash-in sequel is actually a ton of fun and is even a bit better than its predecessor. Kung Fu Panda 2 delves a little more deeply into Po's backstory, deepening the character while never making the movie feel like a rehash of the first, and for that alone, I was impressed. But even more impressive is the stunning, beautiful animations, especially those implemented in a 2D animation style flashback sequence that gives the scene a stylistic life all its own. And, of course, there are the fight sequences, which are given a gloriously fluid feel that sets them above a lot of live-action animated films, to say nothing of animated ones. It's really obvious that the crew here loves martial arts films, and that affection shines through in all sorts of kinetic, well-staged action sequences. Add to all of that a really lush, detailed environment, some fantastic voice work (Gary Oldman, naturally, is a standout), interesting characters, and a compelling story on a thematic level (in which guns are being used to get rid of kung fu), and you have a great time at the movies. Now, of course, I only have to worry about my 5-year-old deciding he's a kung fu master and jumping and kicking at everything in sight... |
| 8-20 | The
Last Detail (1973)
|
Two Navy men between stations escort a young seaman off to a lengthy prison sentence for a minor crime, and along the way they decide to let him live a little bit before he goes. That about sums up the plot of The Last Detail, but like so many 70s movies like this (I'm thinking here of Scarecrow, and Five Easy Pieces, and so forth), the movie's more about the characters who live within its spaces and their developing relationship than it really is about the story itself. And what great characters they are! Nicholson gets a lot of attention, and it's not hard to see why; even if the movie was nothing more than his confrontation with the bartender, it would be a memorable performance. But it's hard to remember seeing Randy Quaid do as subtle and moving an acting job as he does here, bringing incredible pain, naivete, and childishness to his young felon. And it's sad that I haven't seen Otis Young in more; not content with merely holding his own against Nicholson, he brings his own forceful, quiet presence to the movie as well. I liked The Last Detail quite a bit, but I can't say that I loved it; in the end, it doesn't really stand out that much from a ton of similar 70s characters dramas, and while it's a solid and engaging version of one, it's not an exceptional one. Nonetheless, I'd still recommend it, especially for any fan of the era's character pieces; this is a solid entry for the era, and full of great, memorable moments. |
| 8-19 | Smokey
and the Bandit (1977)
|
A genial, goofy little road movie that's far more enjoyable than it should be thanks mainly to a ridiculously charismatic cast and a great sense of humor about itself. As a movie, Smokey and the Bandit is pretty flawed - it just goes on and on, it feels repetitive to a large degree, and it doesn't really have an ending so much as a point where they quit filming. But none of that really matters for much of the film, not while you're watching Burt Reynolds being ridiculously fun (and funny), Jackie Gleason having a blast chewing the scenery, and seeing a bunch of really fun car stunts. After finally having seen it, I can see why the movie's got so many fans, and if I were more of a gearhead, I would love it even more, I think. As it is, I certainly had a lot of fun watching it, and laughed quite a bit. Is it really "good"? Nah...but it's fun, and sometimes, that more than justifies the watch. |
| 8-13 | Race with the Devil (1975)
|
A profoundly silly horror movie that's more remembered for its overqualified cast than anything good it really did. There's no denying Race with the Devil absolutely scored a coup on casting - with Warren Oates, Loretta Swift, and Peter Fonda in the leads, Race with the Devil shouldn't be all bad, right? Right? Oh, no. Kicking things off with satanic rituals under a burning tree, Race with the Devil ultimately expands to contain snake attacks thwarted by ski poles, dirt bikes for no reason, witchcraft decoded with convenient library books, and car chases with cars that explode at the slightest provocation. It's all incredibly entertaining, but never really in the serious way it's supposed to be. Our audience started off with titters early on, but by the time the movie ended, some of the scenes were greeted with laughter and applause at the goofiness of it all. And the fact that the film ended with the diehard film junkie down the aisle from me saying "That may be one of the worst movies I've ever seen" kind of says it all, really. It's the kind of movie the MST3K guys would have loved to riff on, and it would deserve it. Even so, I can't deny having fun at the screening...just not the kind the filmmakers intended. |
| 8-13 | Bring
Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)
|
Even among Peckinpah's notoriously violent and grim filmography, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia has a reputation as being his most nihilistic and hard-to-take film, and it's not an undeserved one. The tale of a bartender (played by the inimitably awesome Warren Oates) who goes on a quest to retrieve the head of the titular Garcia (who's dead already, making the job a little easier), Alfredo Garcia takes some violent turns along the way, and its final act is a portrait of a man whose mind has snapped, focusing only on dealing out bloody vengeance. And yet, even so, in some ways Alfredo Garcia reflects more hope for redemption than we almost ever see from Peckinpah, especially in Benny's relationship with his girlfriend, a Mexican prostitute. For all the gruffness and cynicism Oates shows her (and for all of the misogyny that often rears its head in Peckinpah films), there's a real sense of love, affection, and hope underneath it all, where we get the sense that Benny is struggling to rise above his life and his circumstances and get out. Of course, this being Peckinpah, there's little hope for that to work out, but it's through the juxtapositioning of that hope with the bleak turns of the film that Benny becomes such a fascinating and effective character. By the final act, as Benny's psyche begins to splinter, the film becomes a meditation on love, death, duty, justice, and the basic fairness (or lack thereof) of the universe, and it all plays out in as bloody, grimy, and as hopeless a way as it possibly can. For my money, it's Peckinpah's masterpiece - yes, even above the superb The Wild Bunch. There's no doubt that the film's a little rambling, a little sprawling, and a little shaggy around the edges. But at the same time, it's ambitious, compelling, nightmarish, and absolutely riveting - it's a sort of redemption tale that only Peckinpah could make, and for all its excesses and strange touches, it's impossible to imagine the film without them. |
| 8-12 | Harry
Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011)
|
I've always had my issues with the Harry Potter films, and while Deathly Hallows Part 2 didn't really change my mind on those, I also can't deny that it works better than the vast majority of the series and absolutely MOVES in a great way. There are a couple of sequences here (the backstory of Snape and Harry's walk in the forest) that are beautifully done and even moving to watch, and for a little while, the film absolutely comes to life (due in no small part to some great performances). The rest of the film is solid enough and even thrilling, showing off Yates's talents at spectacle and action in a nice way while allowing the story to play out. As I've said, though, my longstanding complaints hold true - the film doesn't really stand on its own without having read the books, and some of the villains are too far over the top and cartoonish to be effectively creepy. But at this point, those feelings are so systemic to the series that it feels unfair to rehash them here (although my feelings on Fiennes' scenery chewing are pretty strong here, given how I feel like he often doesn't fit the movie's tone), and to focus on them would be to sell short how much the movie does well. It has some great action setpieces, a lot of great character moments, a wonderful score, and a nice visual style that really holds it all together. It's not Prisoner of Azkaban (still the series' high point for me), but it's easily at the top of the rest of the films, and a strong closer to the series. |
| 8-7 | Tabloid
(2010) |
Errol Morris's last few movies have been pretty heavy affairs - The Fog of War, Standard Operating Procedure - so it's no surprise that he might have felt like he needed a break from such material. But nothing can really prepare you for the story that unfolds in Tabloid - a story that includes Mormons, brainwashing, beauty queens, call girls, kidnapping, a three-day love retreat (or is it a rape shack?), tabloid newspapers, and a whole lot of slanted truths, half-lies, obsessions, and a healthy dose of insanity to top it all off. It's a sprawling tale, and in the hands of a lesser director, the tale could have gotten out of control; in Morris's hands, though, it becomes an exciting, funny, shocking, bizarre tale that's equal parts study of obsession and tragic love story - depending on who you believe. To Morris's credit, the question of the truth isn't something he's interested in; rather, he's simply fascinated by these people, most notably Joyce McKinney, the former beauty queen who flew to England to save her boyfriend from the Mormons...maybe. McKinney is charismatic, gregarious, compelling, and probably a little loopy, but Morris lets her talk all while letting other figures fill in the gaps and raise questions about her side of the story, all accompanied by a wonderful set of stock footage, vintage cartoons, charming stop-motion animation, and a score that drives the movie along perfectly. All of this combines to give you what I would say is one of the most entertaining, provocative, shocking, engaging, and frequently hilarious moviegoing experiences I've had in some time. (There's a late film revelation that absolutely stunned my audience into silence for a moment before causing a lot of us to erupt in hysterical laughter at the insanity of it all.) Add to that the film's complex themes - the power of obsession, the elusiveness of truth, the ability to lie to yourself, the joys of tabloid press - and you have what's easily my favorite film so far of 2011. I can't recommend this one enough, people - get out there and see it. (I'd also recommend checking out the outstanding trailer - it really gives you a sense of the film, its style, and the sheer insanity of it all.) |
| 8-5 | Pee
Wee's Big Adventure (1985)
|
It's easy to assume that Pee Wee's Big Adventure is one of those movies more beloved due to nostalgia rather than the quality of the movie itself. And yet, I wasn't five minutes into a midnight screening of it before I was giggling like an idiot. At its core, Pee Wee's Big Adventure is a road movie, but it's also just a celebration of silliness and childlike fun. Much of the movie's success has to be put at the feet of Reubens, and not simply because he created the character and much of the story. No, what really makes the movie work is the unbridled and unrestrained joy he brings to the title role, investing every gag with a sense of fun and a sense of self-enjoyment that's incredibly infectious. Yes, like any road movie, it's more a series of bits than a cohesive whole, but when there's so many memorable bits - Pee Wee's snarl at the gang members, "Large Marge," the dream sequences that show the first emergence of that Burton style, the "Alamo" punchline, and best of all, the fourth-wall-imploding final act - that it's hard to complain too much. Sure, it's a silly little comedy, but it also invokes such whimsy and enjoyment that it's hard to find much fault with that. |
| 7-29 | Vanishing
Point (1971)
|
Vanishing Point isn't really what you might expect. A legendary cult film, especially in the gearhead circles, Vanishing Point is the story of a driver who's making a cross-country run to deliver a car to California, and whose speed-fueled run ends up causing problems with law enforcement while making him a folk hero. It's an odd little film, one that's equal parts counter-culture anthem, moody 70s character study, and car chase movie, and the parts don't always mesh as well as you might hope. The car chases are pretty incredible to watch, especially as you can't help but remember that they're always done with real cars, at real speeds, and the insanity of many of them is jaw-dropping. But this aspect of the film never quite comes together with the counter-culture aspect, which is largely anchored by DJ Cleavon Little, an outspoken radio personality whose musings and speeches about the driver turn him into an icon. The two stories never really fit well together, and the DJ sections, even while they're interesting as they happen, often feel as though they were added in after the fact to make the film a little longer. That being said, the character study aspects generally work well, and remind the viewer about how amazing 70s films could be at sketching characters in unexpected ways. Vanishing Point doesn't always work, really, but it's too interesting to dislike, and too exciting not to watch. As a meditation on the end of an era or as a remarkable demonstration of how thrilling car-based action sequences can be, it's an intriguing, compelling movie that makes up for its missteps by having more depth, complexity, and ambition than you might expect from a movie known for its car chases. |
| 7-25 | Ride
the High Country (1962)
|
At first glance, there doesn't seem to be much that separates Ride the High Country from dozens of generic Westerns or even some good ones like Ride Lonesome, much less anything that shows any signs of genius to come from its director, Sam Peckinpah. The story - about two old friends who sign up to protect gold from a gold mine, only to have one of them reveal some treacherous plans for it - is pure pulp, and even the addition of a plot thread about a young woman trying to escape from her overly religious father doesn't seem to bring much of note. But as you keep watching Ride the High Country, you start to become more and more aware of how different the film is. Our heroes are hardly young gunslingers; these are old Western hands, men whose time has passed them by, and whose bond is largely based around a time that no longer exists - and the pain of being passed by hasn't been lost on either of them. The villains of the film aren't just your typical Western lecherous heels; these men are a little more perverse, a little more dehumanizing, and a little more misogynistic - and in such a way that it's obvious the film and the filmmakers are aware of it and playing against it. Even the film's ending, while familiar in a lot of ways, plays out a little unexpectedly, going for the more emotional impact instead of the easier moral one. It's a film really made up of small moments that add up to a greater vision of something different, and really make the film more special than you might think at first. |
| 7-22 | Rock
'n' Roll High School (1979) |
I'll be honest: I went into Rock 'n' Roll High School with pretty low expectations. The trailer really doesn't offer much to hope for other than a generic "kids rebelling against school" movie that happens to feature an appearance by the Ramones. And yet, I really, really enjoyed this a lot. What the trailer doesn't really show off is the movie's goofy, anarchic, Airplane!-like sense of humor. Here's a movie that feels the need to pack every frame with jokes, from sight gags to wordplay, from silly plotlines to surreal dream sequences that feature guitar players jamming out in the shower. Rock 'n' Roll High School knows exactly what it is and revels in the fact, just enjoying itself and being as silly as it can possibly be in the hopes of getting a laugh. And I'll be damned if it doesn't work incredibly well. I laughed pretty much throughout the whole thing; even as the movie goes on a little long, it's hard to not love a film with student enterprises operating out of bathroom stalls or giant white mice rocking out at a concert. Rock 'n' Roll High School screened as a midnight movie, and it fits perfectly into that type of film; it's a silly, enjoyable little time capsule that takes itself exactly as seriously as it needs to: not at all. |
| 7-19 | The
Kids Are All Right (2010)
|
There's quite a bit to admire about The Kids Are All Right. The performances are universally great across the board, which shouldn't be a surprise - have Bening, Moore, and Ruffalo been anything other than solid in anything? Of course, their usual strengths doesn't detract from their naturalistic, lived-in performances here, giving the film a low-key, believable feel that makes it all the more involving. And it's a joy to see a film that treats a lesbian couple not as the point of the film, not as a strange exception, but simply as another family; by making it just another family, the movie does more for gay couples than emphasizing it ever could. So all of that is really wonderful...but then we come to the story of the film. Or, more likely, the lack thereof. There's a loose plot to The Kids Are All Right, but it's never incredibly engaging or involving; the joy of the film comes not from the plotting or the story, but from the characters and their relationships. It's a well-made, enjoyable film, and a wonderfully realized one; it's just that the story it has to tell is an inconsequential one that just sort of peters out by the time it all ends. |
| 7-17 | Winnie
the Pooh (2011)
|
I'm probably a little bit partial in my review of this. After all, I grew up on the Winnie the Pooh cartoons, loved the characters for years, have two small children who love them as well, and got to take both of them to enjoy the movie as they carried their stuffed Tiggers. But you know, all that being said, I had really high hopes for Winnie the Pooh, and it met them all and then some. From the wonderfully done hand-drawn animation to some truly funny scenes (the first musical number is genuinely hilarious), Winnie the Pooh is one of those movies that's utterly charming from beginning to end, and while it's perfect for a young audience, I can't see anyone with any hint of their inner child left in them not loving the movie. Of course, I'm also predisposed to like any movie with this much love for the written word - after all, this is a movie in which characters read the text around them, run along the paragraphs, and even get bailed out of a jam through some helpful intervention by the words outside the picture. It's a joy to see a movie that assumes that its audience might actually love words and books, and from the laughs I heard from my children and the other ones in the theater, I'd say it's a good assessment. In short, Winnie the Pooh is a complete joy in every frame, no matter what your age. What a treat. |
| 7-16 | The
Trip (2010) |
The Trip began life as a 3-hour BBC miniseries before being edited down significantly (almost cutting the running time in half) to create this standalone feature film, and there's almost no way to watch the film and not wonder what's missing and whether it all comes together a little more satisfyingly in the full version of the thing. The premise is simple enough: Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon (both playing versions of themselves) go on a road trip together, visiting expensive, well-regarded restaurants throughout the UK and seeing the sights along the way. Really, that's about it in the way of plot, but that doesn't stop The Trip from being pretty entertaining throughout, thanks largely to the chemistry and rapport between Coogan and Brydon. Their exchanges - be it dialogue from a possible period film, dueling Michael Caine impressions, analyses of poetry, or whatever - are easily the highlight of the film, and they give the whole idea a life and sense of fun it might not otherwise have. But there's also a sense that whatever the "point" of The Trip was has been lost on the editing room floor. Is it a discussion of high cuisine? Is it a portrait of the relationship between these two men? Is it a contrast between a successful but unhappy man (Coogan) and a less successful but far more content one (Brydon)? This last one seems the most likely, but in the abridged version we get in the film, it feels as though that relationship doesn't develop enough to give that contrast some impact. All of that being said, The Trip is a lot of fun; I laughed pretty consistently throughout, and between the beautiful visuals and the fun dialogue, there's a lot to enjoy here. I'd be curious to know how much more improved the "original" version is, though. |
| 7-15 | Until
the Light Takes Us (2008)
|
I guess I need to offer up a disclaimer at the beginning of this review: I probably would have liked Until the Light Takes Us more if I knew more about the subject material. What I expected was an overview of the Norwegian black metal - how it developed, how it changed, and the subculture that rose up around it. You get a little of that here, but not really very much. Instead, the film is largely made up of long, unclear, somewhat rambling interviews with two of the major figures in the genre as they tell their stories. If I knew some of the background and the bands being mentioned, the rambling nature of the tales wouldn't bother me that much; as it is, I spent forever trying to figure out any coherent picture of the scene as I pieced together these interviews. It doesn't help that the film itself isn't all that well made; the filmmakers give off an air of desperation and uncertainty, the visuals are badly picked, the narrative undeveloped, and the less said about the distractingly bad electronic score, the better. (Although, I have to say: why, in a documentary about Norwegian black metal, would you play almost no Norwegian black metal? I have finished the film and still think I have heard almost nothing of the genre.) I feel like maybe this is for fans more than for newcomers, which is a shame; there are moments here and there of interest, but in the end, I felt like I finished the film without knowing much more than I did when I started. |
| 7-13 | Scenes
from a Marriage (1983) |
A fascinating, powerful look at (as the title suggests) various scenes and moments over several years in the life of a marriage. Scenes of a Marriage opens with a couple being interviewed in such a way that makes them sound like the perfect couple, through and through, and then immediately plunges us into a dinner party where we experience the opposite side of marriage as demonstrated by two of their friends. That nicely sets up Scenes from a Marriage, which often draws tension between what we want a marriage to be and what it often is, finding a compelling middle ground that we don't always expect. As you might expect from Ingmar Bergman, the characters are richly drawn and complex, and their relationship develops in fascinating and surprising ways, even as its directly informed by the personalities and lives of the characters. The end result is a beautiful, moving work, albeit one that's far less "Hollywood" and more realistic than any other portrait of a marriage I can think of. Not hopelessly bleak, not idealistically perfect, Scenes from a Marriage gives us an honest, truthful look at relationships and the ways that two people can become both dear to each other while also being capable of creating the worst pains in each others' lives. It's a masterpiece from Bergman, one that I think my love for and appreciation of will only deepen as time continues to pass. |
| 7-13 | 3
Women (1977) |
If you've ever wondered what Persona would look like if Robert Altman remade it in his own unique way, well, wonder no more. For the rest of you, 3 Women might be a little hard to explain. Apparently based on a dream Altman had, the film revolves around a shy, modest young woman (Sissy Spacek) who starts working at a physical therapy facility with an outspoken, sexually confident friend (Shelley Duvall) and follows their relationship as it develops over the course of the film...and ultimately begins to change into something very different. As you might expect from the story's origins, 3 Women has a strange, slightly "off" feeling that makes it feel like a waking dream, and that uneasiness and uncertainty only continues to develop over the course of the film until you get to the enigmatic final scenes. I can't say that 3 Women is my favorite Altman; it's lacking some of the humanity, warmth, and humor that anchors his best work, dealing as it is with abstract characters and strange ideas about personality. But I can say that in some ways, it's his most ambitious and most complex work, and I can definitely understand its appeal among so many people - between the fine acting, the intriguing and odd ideas, and the psychological games that play out, there's a lot there to dig your teeth into. |
| 7-12 | Smile
Pinki (2008)
|
Smile Pinki won an Oscar for Best Documentary Short, but honestly, I'm not really sure why. It's not that Smile Pinki is bad, per se; the story it tells (about two Indian children, each born with a cleft lip and palette, and their encounter with a hospital group that gives them and other similarly afflicted Indian children corrective surgery for no cost) is a touching one, but really, it's a somewhat generically affecting one - the type of story we've seen plenty of times by now. And it doesn't help that the film feels like an ad by the hospital group; while the cause is definitely a worthy one, that makes the film less like a documentary and more like an infomercial. Sure, the documentary feels more "classic," along the lines of a Frederic Wiseman movie - no narration, no interviews, no sense of the cameras or of "staging," no breaking of the fourth wall. So, no, there's nothing really wrong with Smile Pinki. But neither is there anything that makes this a short worth tracking down or remembering. |
| 7-12 | Hotel
Rwanda (2004)
|
It's hard to watch Hotel Rwanda and not feel shamed and indicted by your own inaction and lack of awareness of the situation the film presents, but I think in many ways that's the exact feeling the film is meant to evoke (and, in fact, should evoke). Set in the midst of the horrific ethnic cleansings that took place in Rwanda during the Clinton administration, Hotel Rwanda is the story of Paul Rusesabagina, a hotel manager in Rwanda who found himself sheltering a massive number of Tutsi refugees fleeing the wholesale slaughter inflicted by the Hutus. As played by Don Cheadle, Paul is a compelling figure, one whose kindness and actions seem not to derive from some Hollywood sanctification, but rather from his own character and personality. But more than anything, what lingers after Hotel Rwanda ends are the images of the Rwandan people abandoned again and again by those who have the power and ability to save them from certain death. Much like Schindler's List was more a story of survival and hope than truly being a story about the Holocaust, Hotel Rwanda is more a story of the things we must do to survive and what it means to truly be a "good" person, as well as reminding us what happens when we walk away from evil without challenging it. And the impact of that story is hard to forget. |
| 7-11 | Good
Hair (2009)
|
Trying to explain exactly why Good Hair is so intriguing shouldn't be as hard as it is. Yes, it's a documentary about hair. But more specifically, it's about African-American women's hair, and it delves into everything from the science of weaves to the disturbing nature of relaxer, from the social ramifications of what's considered "beautiful" to the odd role India has to play in it all. Oh, and that doesn't even get into the hair design competition, which ends up involving wet suits, marching bands, nighties, and a lot more. And, as presided over by narrator, host, and producer Chris Rock, it's a funny, engaging piece of filmmaking, one that takes on a lot of material but doesn't feel the need to become too strident or preachy about the points it makes. It's more of a general overview of the topic, as if Rock and his co-writers simply followed the material wherever they thought would be most interesting, and the result bears them out. It's an engaging, fun little documentary, and although the subject seems to be destined to not get much of an audience, it really should. |
| 7-11 | A
Better Tomorrow (1986) |
A Better Tomorrow is the film that launched the careers of both director John Woo and actor Chow Yun-Fat, and after watching the assassination sequence that plays out in a restaurant, it's not hard to understand why. Between the stylish executions, Yun-Fat's effortless evocation of cool, the perfect pacing, and Woo's typical theatricality, the sequence just blows the viewer away. The film as a whole is typical Woo: an average, even slightly cliched plot (this time about a pair of brothers on opposite sides of the law) elevated through style and execution. Of course, it says something about the leads that they don't resonate or capture the viewer's affections like supporting player Yun-Fat, but that's okay - their story is where the film gets its heart from, and it works enough to really tie together some outstanding shoot-outs and setpieces. It's not my favorite Woo, but at the same time, I can definitely see how something that's this stylish and fun would start a career flying along |
| 7-11 | The
Wolfman (2010)
|
If nothing else, The Wolfman succeeds pretty incredibly as a Gothic horror film, reveling in its lush environment and the gloomy shadows of its houses and their inhabitants. And let it not be said that the film holds back on its promises of wolfman mayhem - this one earns its R-rating quite nicely, doling out gore and viscera in spectacular doses, and creating the wolf transformations in a nicely unnerving and horrific fashion. Yes, all of that is great...but when the movie leaves that behind for the story itself, things don't really fare so well. Part of the blame has to be laid on del Toro, unfortunately; his normally solid acting is lifeless and dull here, leaving him feeling more like an empty vessel than a character with inner darkness. But really, no one here does much with their roles, and the script does them no favors, leaving the characters sadly undeveloped and their dynamics weak. Even so, I enjoyed The Wolfman well enough; it's certainly got some serious flaws, but for what it is, it does well enough. |
| 7-8 | High
Fidelity (2000)
|
What a fun, enjoyable, smart (in its own way) little movie High Fidelity is. For all the fuss and anger that greeted the choice to move the setting of the film from London (where Hornby's superb book is set) to Chicago, the movie works pretty fantastically, due in no small part to the brilliant casting choices. And while Jack Black is absolutely perfect as Barry, and Tim Robbins makes a fantastic cameo truly entertaining, and Todd Louiso is wonderfully awkward as Dick, the movie lives and dies by the presence of John Cusack, whose charm, confidence, personality, and charisma makes the film truly come together. It's hard to think offhand of another actor who could encapsulate Hornby's quintessential male character through all of his honest, self-effacing, funny monologues, much less perfectly capture that self-analytical tone that the book carries so well. The movie has some flaws, make no doubt about it; while the blank slate of a girlfriend works fine in the book (where the first person narration makes her inscrutability more understandable), it makes the film fall dead when she's present, and it doesn't help that Hjejle really seems a little out of her league here. And, given that the film is largely driven by this relationship...yeah, that's a problem. But that being said, this is still a blast of a film, one that makes me laugh throughout and one that manages to capture the thoughtfulness and complexity of Hornby's book far better than I would have thought. |
| 7-8 | Get
Him to the Greek (2010) |
For most of its running time, Get Him to the Greek is a pretty solid, entertaining comedy that manages to make the most of its premise, its cast, and a nice taste for absurdity, and throw them all together to make a cheerfully anarchic and lowbrow movie about a substance-abusing rock star and the ardent fan desperate to get him to the show on time. Between Brand's hedonistic performance, Hill's hilariously earnest agent, and a genuinely surprising comic turn by Puff Daddy, Get Him to the Greek doesn't always work, but it's funny a lot more often than not...well, until the end, when the film starts taking its characters and their stories a lot more seriously than the movie has earned, and the whole thing starts turning into a really bizarre and uncomfortable story about a troubled relationship. It's a shame the movie goes so far off the rails there for a bit, because the ending works pretty well, and the rest of the film is an agreeable little comedy. But that final act is really bizarre and ultimately hurts the movie pretty deeply. |
| 7-8 | The
Fighter (2010) |
So, people get all bent out of shape over the (admittedly awful) "evil redneck" family in Million Dollar Baby, but they want to give this a pass? I'm not going to deny that The Fighter is well-acted by much of its cast, but the problem is that the parts they're given to work with are horribly written, terribly developed, and ultimately fall completely flat. Every single member of Micky's family - especially Micky's despicable ex-wife and his mother Alice and - is a shrill, one-note, miserable caricature that never shows any depth or personality beyond "angry and white-trash," and it really kills the film in a lot of ways. In fact, the writing across the board is pretty lackluster; Micky has almost no personality, Charlene is an empty shell, Alice is hateful and obnoxious, and so forth. It's really only the casting and the direction that make The Fighter work at all, and the biggest strength of them all is Christian Bale as Dicky. When Bale is present, the film comes to life in a way that it doesn't at any other point, letting him display the charm, charisma, confidence, and personality that so many of his roles lately haven't let him show. The rest of the cast is solid enough and does what they can to make the best of the roles they're given, and they generally acquit themselves well, but ultimately they can't overcome the limitations of the script and the poorly written characters. |
| 7-7 | GasLand
(2010) |
Words fail me a little in trying to describe how infuriating, upsetting, and frustrating GasLand is to watch; at the same time, that rage and fury are part of what makes the documentary essential viewing for every American. GasLand is directed by a man named Josh Fox, who opens the film by explaining how he was offered a check to permit natural gas companies access to the massive natural gas shale under his land. Fox starts to look into some of the concerns people raise, though, and the film follows him as he studies the effects of a gas extraction process known as "fracking" - a process that seems to be causing water contamination, widespread sickness, land problems, and a wholly unexpected and horrific phenomena: flaming water. Fox's documentary is simple, and what the film lacks in professionalism it more than makes up for in evidence, emotion, and organization, as Fox presents an overwhelming case and finds almost no one willing to stand up for the other side - unless, of course, they're in front of a Congressional panel, where they seem to have a lot of allies. GasLand is one of those films that seems to have brought out passionate political argument, which baffles me; how can you let your politics blind you to the point where you're willing to claim that flaming water is a "natural phenomenon"? And yet, it seems to be happening - and "fracking" shows few signs of stopping. GasLand is one of those documentaries that I think almost every American owes it to themselves to watch, simply so they're aware of what's happening and what the effects could be. This isn't some distant problem in another country, even - this affects us, and directly, and the fact that GasLand is as much a horror film as a documentary really tells us all we need to know...if only people would watch. |
| 7-7 | Wings
of Desire (1987)
|
I love the idea of Wings of Desire; the idea of a film about angels adrift in Berlin whose job is to observe and marvel at humanity is a beautiful one, and as filmed by Wim Wenders, the resulting film is haunting and magnificent...as a silent film. The problem is, Wings of Desire isn't a silent film; instead, the film is largely composed of vignettes about people in Berlin, with each lasting just a few minutes and composed of single shots with narration laid over them. And it's the narration that makes it hard for me to love Wings of Desire. Pretentious, overwrought, and overwritten, these small monologues end up feeling like sentences that sound deep but mean little of consequence, and the sheer number of them makes the film ultimately feel pointless and dull. (Compare this to Slacker or Waking Life, whose dialogue is sharper, the vignettes clearer, and the themes better developed.) I love the film's story, particularly as it develops in the final half hour, and Peter Falk is a gem in the film, but ultimately, I left the film disappointed. It's one I've always wanted to watch, but much like every Terence Malick film I've seen, I understand why people like it, but personally found it to be overwrought and tedious. |
| 7-7 | Cell
211 (2009) |
A fascinating, complex thriller that has a lot more on its mind than you might first realize, Cell 211 is the story of a newly hired prison guard who finds himself stuck inside a prison that erupts into a full scale riot and is forced to play the part of an inmate to stay alive. As a thriller, Cell 211 is completely riveting; the plot is constantly moving in unexpected directions, and it's a joy to find a film where all of the characters are acting in intelligent, thoughtful ways, and not making stupid decisions simply to move the plot along. And I can't think of enough good things to say about the film's two lead actors, who play their parts to perfection - as the rookie guard, Ammann plays his conflict perfectly, never letting it truly show but letting his eyes tell the story; as the alpha dog of the inmates, Tosar is an incredible presence, conveying menace, authority, intelligence, and danger in every gesture and line. All of that (plus an assured, confident direction) adds up to make Cell 211 a great thriller, but what makes it an even better film is the quiet way it goes about making its points about the Spanish prison system and the desperate need for reform. The film never lectures or hammers home its points, but they're inescapable and perfectly integrated into the storyline, making it impossible to watch the film and not come away with the filmmaker's perspective. It's a galvanizing, powerful piece of filmmaking, and a film that deserves more recognition than being simply "a good foreign film". |
| 7-6 | 24
Hour Party People (2002)
|
A gleefully post-modern, fourth-wall shattering biopic, 24 Hour Party People decides that the best way to portray an unconventional man and an unconventional time is through an unconventional film, and the results are pretty entertaining. 24 Hour Party People is the story of Tony Wilson and Factory Records, an upstart record company that signed such artists as Joy Division, its offshoot New Order, and the Blue Mondays all while managing to be spectacularly unsuccessful thanks to a slew of drugs, club life, and more. Director Michael Winterbottom and star Steve Coogan tell their story with a great deal of fun, breaking in to point out cameo appearances, admitting when scenes have been cut for time, and pointing out the film's themes, all between telling the story with a verve and kinetic energy that's addictive and thrilling. I'm sure I would have gotten more out of 24 Hour Party People if I was more into the music of the scene it's depicting, but it really barely matters; this is a film about the outsized personalities that made the scene possible and the way their confidence and even naivete made it all come together into something magical, historic, and wholly unique. It's a complete joy of a film, one that embraces its cinematic nature to give you something different and unlike anything else, as well as giving you a sense of what it was like to be in a time period where no one followed the rules. |
| 7-6 | The
Town (2010)
|
I was a big fan of Affleck's directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone, and The Town proves that he can take a more conventional Hollywood action film and turn it into something richer and more character-driven than you might expect. At its core, The Town is a heist film about a team of bank robbers, and it's got the elements you expect from the genre: the weary pro looking for a chance to go straight, the criminal mastermind who keeps the team in the game through threats and intimidation, the wild card whose dangerous decisions make him impossible to control, and so forth. And yet, none of that really matters while you're in the film, which unfolds with such excitement, detail, and great performances that the film feels fresh and vibrant even as it deals in some cliches. There are a slew of great performances here, with Renner as a standout as the near-psychopath whose humanity and past make him more understandable and sympathetic than the genre typically demands. But there's also the late Pete Postlethwaite, who makes his brief appearance count by dripping with menace and power, Jon Hamm as a savvy FBI agent who's willing to do what has to be done to catch these men, Chris Cooper in a glorified cameo that nonetheless creates a fascinating premise, and many more. But this is Affleck's film, and both behind and in front of the camera, he acquits himself well, investing the script with an immersion in Boston life that gives the film a life it might not otherwise have. From some intense and gripping heist sequences to more down-to-earth conversations and human interactions, The Town is a great crime film, one that takes the essentials of the genre and executes them in a lifelike, rich fashion. |
| 7-5 | Treme:
Season 2 (2011) |
When I finished the first season of Treme, I commented that I loved so much about the show - the loving depiction of New Orleans, the rich characterization, the outstanding use of music - but conceded that the show's pacing was difficult and slow and would likely be off-putting to people. But I also said that the show was young, and I couldn't wait to see how it evolved over time. Well, season 2 has finished, and in the hiatus, Treme has found its pacing, its narrative drive, and has become one of the most quietly effective and moving shows on television. If season 1 of the show was about the immediate aftermath of Katrina, season 2 finds itself focusing on the next phase of the rebuilding process, as crime rates spiked and the city began to find its footing. There's no doubt that this season has taken the show to dark places, facing the crime wave head on and never flinching from depicting the impact of those events, but it's also been an optimistic season, in its own way. Much like The Wire, the characters that reach happy endings this season feel like ones who have earned those endings rather than simply ending up in a happy place because the show has to take them there. But it's appropriate for the show to be more optimistic here - after all, the city is coming back to life, and while there are deep problems still, there's a sense that New Orleans and its spirit may still come through. Treme is still a mellow, laid back show, and while the narrative and the pacing have improved, the show still won't appeal to everyone. But that's okay. If you can put yourself into the show's rhythm, you can lose yourself in this love letter to a city and a culture, immersing yourself into the lives of its characters and feeling every bit of pain, triumph, difficulty, and challenge that they face themselves. And any show that can take a character like Sonny and give him depth and impact, or create an arc like that between Albert and his son, or the absolutely flawless finale...well, it's pretty astonishing television to me. |
| 7-5 | Made
in U.S.A. (1966)
|
Pretentious drivel from Godard. Look, I haven't exactly loved the Godard movies that I've seen in the past, but I've at least respected their playfulness, their love of American movies, their efforts to toy with cinematic conventions while telling their own stories. But here, the lecturing takes over the movie, the playfulness becomes wearying and grating, the cinematic conventions are ignored so much that the film becomes incoherent and irritating, and the film just becomes a dull, unenjoyable experience. Even having finished it, I'm not really sure that I have any idea what Made in U.S.A. was about. I guess it was about the disappearance of a political radical and a series of murders, but the movie couldn't care less about that, so why should we? If I had to say something nice about Made in U.S.A., I guess I could say that it's beautifully shot and colorful, but if I wanted that, I would read a comic book. What a waste of time. |
| 7-5 | Umberto
D. (1952)
|
The grueling, heartbreaking tale of an elderly pensioner and his dog, Umberto D. is a masterful piece of neo-realism, with all the pain and sadness that often conveys. It would be hard, if not impossible, for Umberto D. to compare to De Sica's masterpiece Bicycle Thieves, and to be sure, I don't think that it quite stacks up, but it's nonetheless an incredible piece of cinema, one whose pain and emotional honesty comes through in every frame. De Sica's use of non-actors is brilliant here, especially as personified in Battisti, whose quiet dignity and efforts to stay strong in the face of insurmountable pressures give the character a decency and humanity that deeply affects the viewer. Add to that De Sica's smart choice of "real" actors as the film's antagonists (a choice that only deepens the divide between Battisti and his oppressors), and the film works beautifully, albeit painfully. And yet, Umberto D. isn't quite as devastating as Bicycle Thieves, maybe because of the choice to focus on Umberto's relationship with his dog - a bond whose durability and toughness resonates and seems to give Umberto an ally in his difficult life, even if it's one who can't help him all that much. Umberto D. is widely seen as the end of Italian neo-realism, but in some ways, that feels appropriate by the film's end; in its final images, Umberto D. creates a perfect ending, mixing despair and an all-too-human hopefulness even in the face of a difficult world to create something beautiful and profound. |
| 7-5 | To
Be or Not to Be (1942)
|
Between this and Trouble in Paradise, I'm kicking myself for not getting into Ernst Lubitsch sooner. Much like Billy Wilder, there's a refreshing intelligence to his films, but where Wilder's cynical side makes his films bracing but effective, Lubitsch has a bit more joy and fun to his films (to say nothing of his willingness to see what he can get away with). To Be or Not to Be impresses early on; after all, here's a film made before we entered the war that was willing to mock and ridicule Hitler pretty openly and definitely take sides in the whole thing. Describing the plot could be incredibly difficult; the best I can say is that the story involves a pair of married actors who find themselves working to protect the Polish resistance due to some unexpected personal choices along the way. If that sounds like a setup for a spy movie, it is, and it's a solid one, but it also doesn't give you any hint how laugh-out-loud funny To Be or Not to Be is throughout. From a hilarious running joke involving a nickname to Jack Benny's superb timing on every line, To Be or Not to Be is about as entertaining as a movie can really be, and its anchored in characters that we come to really care about as they go through the story. What an absolute treat this is. I don't think it's quite as good as Trouble in Paradise, but it's a narrow margin at best, and it confirms that I really owe it to myself to dig more into Lubitsch's work. |
| 6-30 | Lovely
& Amazing (2001)
|
To borrow the movie rating scale of my friend Ryan, Lovely & Amazing is a very good film that I just didn't like very much. It's great to see a movie that writes real, honest female characters, and lets them act in natural, believable ways. What's more, the film's theme of body image and self-conception is a rich one, and writer-director Holofcener does a fantastic job exploring numerous variations on the idea through her cast of characters. And yet, while I respected it all, I just didn't care all that much. Part of it has to come down to Catherine Keener's character - I think Keener is a great actress, but her character here is so grating and self-absorbed that she becomes hard to take and empathize with, and that's before her wildly misguided affair as the film develops. I know that's part of the point...but it doesn't help endear the film to me all that much. As for the rest, I respected it, and even appreciated it, but I just never really found myself involved. I'm sure a lot of it is the difference between being a 30-year-old man and a middle-aged woman and not being able to empathize and identify with a lot of the film's issues, and I'll just have to say that that's probably true. If I were the right audience for the film, I would really love it a lot. As it is, it's very good, very well-made, and very well-written...but it just wasn't for me. Sorry. |
| 6-30 | Midnight
in Paris (2011)
|
The latest film from Woody Allen is a joy, pure and simple. To talk about the film is a little tough to do without giving away some of the fun, so I'll simply say that the movie is about a struggling novelist (the usual Allen stand-in, played quite well by Owen Wilson) whose fascination with the "golden age" of Paris starts to find some surprising outlets, much to the consternation of his fiancee and her family. I've read some complaints that Midnight in Paris is a little light and trifling, and I can't really argue with that point; by the same token, that lightness and fun is part of what I loved so much about the movie. Midnight in Paris reminds me of The Purple Rose of Cairo a lot, as Allen toys with the boundaries between nostalgia, fantasy and reality, and his love for the period here is infectious and a joy to experience, particularly if you're catching all of the references and nods to various authors, artists, directors, and more. I laughed quite a bit throughout the movie, but more than that, it's just a sweet, charming, wonderful little movie that left me in a better mood after I finished it. It's great to see that this is doing so well; it's a wonderful return to form for Allen, whose last few movies have become more and more jaded and cynical; his return here to joy and whimsy is fantastic to behold, and just a great time at the movies. |
| 6-29 | The
Music Box (1932)
|
In which Laurel and Hardy spend 30 minutes getting a piano up a long flight of stairs and into an apartment, and I don't laugh even once. I wish I had more to say about this, but really, it's little more than weak slapstick with not much else to recommend it. Laurel and Hardy have no real personality to them, the pratfalls and smacks don't do much for me, the constant falling down the stairs of the piano gets old...I dunno. It may just be a similar situation to WC Fields, where I have to just say, "Hey, not for me." |
| 6-29 | Night
and Fog (1955)
|
It's hard, really, to explain the power of Night and Fog. In some ways, now that we're almost 75 years past the end of WWII, the Holocaust footage seen here has simply become part of the national consciousness, something we've all absorbed and seen, and so you would think that Night and Fog has little new to offer. And yet, this concentration camp footage has never lost its impact or its power to affect the viewer, leaving you drained and shattered at the end of it. Much of this has to be chalked up to Resnais's direction of the film, which is almost entirely composed of footage from the camps; the only exceptions are present-day (that is, 1955) shots of the camps, a juxtaposition that only drives home the horrors that were witnessed and the evil that was done there. For 30 minutes, Resnais immerses the viewer into life in the concentration camps, from the barracks to the latrines to the shower rooms, narrating it all simply and without affect, instead choosing to let the footage and the facts say it all for him. There are no real answers here as to how this all happened, nor are there moments of hope. What Night and Fog does is remember what was done and stand as a witness to those events, neither editorializing nor commenting, only depicting. And in some ways, that makes Night and Fog one of the hardest films about the Holocaust to watch, no matter how short its length. I can't easily say that Night and Fog is a film I would "recommend," but at the same time, I would put it down as one of those rare films that every human being should have to see and bear witness to. |
| 6-29 | Down
with Love (2003)
|
What Far From Heaven did for Douglas Sirk melodramas, Down with Love does for Doris Day/Rock Hudson romantic comedies. That is, it recreates them absolutely perfectly from a technical perspective while bringing a slightly more modern take on the typical themes of the genre. And, also like Far From Heaven, I enjoyed the results much, much more than I thought I would. Down with Love is absolutely packed with joy and fun in every frame, from McGregor's swagger as a ladies man to David Hyde Pierce absolutely nailing the Tony Randall role, from some incredible costume work to perfect musical accompaniment, and the whole is far more than the sum of the parts. The story here is a fun one, involving a book that tells women how to be more self-sufficient, a series of potential relationships, and a slew of schemes that end up laid out in a six-minute expositional monologue by Zellweger that gets funnier and funnier the longer it goes. Down with Love stumbles a tiny bit in its rushed final act (really, Down with Love is the rare film that could stand to be a little bit longer), but that's a tiny misstep in the film that otherwise works on almost every level imaginable. It's funny, perfectly acted by every cast member, visually sumptuous, smarter than I expected, and just generally a joy. |
| 6-29 | The
Color of Money (1986)
|
Let's get this out of the way: The Color of Money doesn't compare to The Hustler. But once you set that aside, you have a pretty solid film about a retired hustler who finds himself pulled back into the game once he takes a young pool shark under his wing. To be sure, the story definitely plays along formula lines a little bit, but with Newman bringing his A-game to the film (and Cruise ably holding his own), the characters have enough life in them to give the movie some life of its own beyond the trappings of the genre. Add to that Scorsese's able direction and atmospheric depiction of the pool player's world, and The Color of Money works a lot more than it doesn't. When the film is following the plot, it's at its weakest, but when watching Cruise's temper flare under the constant heckling of another player, seeing Newman light up as he gets sucked back into the game, or getting drawn into the patterns and life of a pool hall, it's hard not to enjoy the movie and its low key intensity. It's not Scorsese's best work, and while Newman is outstanding here, I definitely agree with the conventional wisdom that says the Oscar here was more for The Verdict and other works than this. But even so, The Color of Money is better than I expected given its reputation, and far more involving than I expected. |
| 6-29 | The
Terminator (1984)
|
Somehow, I've never gotten around to seeing the original Terminator, despite loving the second, seeing the third, and knowing lots about the fourth. In my head, I somehow just assumed I knew most of the story and doubted it would hold up all that well. I could not have been more wrong. The Terminator is closer to a horror film than pure sci-fi, in many ways, as it depicts an unstoppable killing machine (literally) inexorably pursuing a woman for reasons which become clear as the film develops. There's a lot here to admire, from the violent future war sequences (which hold up incredibly well) to the solid performances across the board (having only really seen the second, Linda Hamilton was a bit surprising, really - I didn't expect her to be so...well, girlish and vulnerable), but really, this is Schwarzenegger's film, through and through. It's no wonder that The Terminator put him on the map; his presence here is undeniable and surprisingly effective. From his giant build to his unblinking stare, Arnie plays the part to perfection, and the film really wouldn't work without him. Far from being overshadowed by its sequel, The Terminator is a solid piece of horror/sci-fi and a generally great thriller. I may find Cameron himself to be overbearing and egotistical, but it's hard to deny his talent when it comes to making movies. |
| 6-28 | The
Beyond (1981) |
In which a small hotel in New Orleans turns out to be hiding one of the seven doors to Hell and soon finds itself the focal point for a slew of nightmares, violence, and unsettling imagery. I didn't really know much about The Beyond other than it being an Italian horror film directed by famous grindhouse director Lucio Fulci, and in all honesty, with my severely mixed feelings on Argento's Suspiria, I wasn't quite sure I would like this. But The Beyond is something wholly different - something closer to a horror film by David Lynch, in which you have to simply give yourself over to the dreamlike plot and the surreal visuals and don't bother trying to follow the story, really. And when the visuals are this incredible (and incredibly nightmarish), it's hard not to find yourself sucked into the film, from the gruesome opening (involving the brutal fate of a painter) through to the basement murders, from the zombie mayhem (!) through to the incredible final moments. The Beyond loses a little momentum during a lengthy zombie battle in a hospital, but as a horror film, I can't deny how effective and chilling it all really is. Fulci is known for his gorehound tendencies, and they come through in incredible form here, but they're used well to accentuate the horrors, not as a substitute (although that in no way implies that they're not extreme and horrific in of themselves). I have to say, despite my worries, The Beyond is an absolute knockout and really sold me on Fulci. Heck, I may even owe Suspiria another shot...or, maybe not. |
| 6-28 | Cars
2 (2011)
|
Cars 2 is getting a ton of vitriol and hatred from all over the place, and in some ways, I can understand why. The film feels massively overstuffed, filled with plotting that's far too complex for its intended audience, a little too much action, and jokes that come awfully close to being nothing more than pop-culture references (which, again, tend to fly over the heads of its audience). And the end result is definitely a little unsatisfying; it's lacking the intelligence and honest emotion of Pixar's other films, and feels a little more perfunctory and shallow. And yet, as pure spectacle, Cars 2 is pretty effective. The animation is gorgeous, even by Pixar standards, and while the constant action can sometimes get a little excessive, the style and energy of it all is undeniable. I can't say that Cars 2 is entirely successful, nor can I deny that its structure and plotting feel muddled and in need of development, or that the jokes are disappointingly tepid and reliant on cultural knowledge. But I also feel like the hatred the film gets is more because of Pixar's usual high standards rather than the film being truly "bad". In a lot of ways, Cars 2 is to Pixar films what The Godfather Part III is to The Godfather series. It's not a great film; in fact, it's pretty flawed and I don't entirely disagree with those who say it's bad. But neither does it deserve the hatred and strong feelings that it inspires - feelings that seem to spring more from what it's being measured against than the film itself. |
| 6-24 | Jackie
Brown (1997)
|
A criminally underrated masterpiece from Tarantino, Jackie Brown is easily among the man's best work, no matter what its misunderstood reputation might make you think. It's not that I don't understand the initial reaction to Jackie Brown - heck, I felt the same way on my first watch. Gone were the hyper-cool criminals of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction; in their place were more human, more fallible characters whose coolness is a front for their weaknesses, their self-doubt, and most unexpectedly, their concerns about their age and where their lives have taken them. It's a far richer and more human tale than Tarantino's previous films, but all of those factors (especially the film's meditation on aging) combined to make Jackie Brown not seem as exciting or thrilling as its predecessors. And maybe it's not (although I would argue that the final act plays out like a great heist film)...but what it is is a moving, touching, and more character-driven film, one whose cast of characters feels less constructed for a film and more pulled out of our world. It's a fantastic piece of filmmaking, and in general just a perfect movie whose successes and strengths stand out to me more and more with each successive watch. |
| 6-24 | Bad
Teacher (2011)
|
I went to see Bad Teacher with a large group of teacher friends, hoping there would be some cathartic fun to be had (much like Office Space is beloved by cubicle workers). Instead, apart from one great sequence involving essay grading, I got a frustratingly bad film that absolutely failed to deliver much in the way of laughs. Bad Teacher is one of those incessantly crass movies that mistakes profanity and sexual comments for comedy; it's as though the writers watched Bad Santa and thought what made the film funny was the cursing, not the interplay between characters or the delivery of lines. It doesn't help that the supporting cast is entirely reduced to cliches and one-note jokes; for a comedy like this to work, you need a "regular" crew of straight men to play off of, not more absurd caricatures. In the whole cast, only Jason Segel plays someone who seems like a real human being, and not coincidentally, it's his work in the film that brings the most laughs and enjoyment. Look: anyone who knows me knows I don't mind lowbrow humor. What I mind is a movie that mistakes crudity for comedy; the two simply aren't the same thing, and Bad Teacher forgets that. |
| 6-24 | Super
8 (2011)
|
Steven Spielberg's name is being invoked a lot when discussing Super 8, and the comparison is a good one; even apart from Spielberg's producing role on the film, Super 8 clearly goes out of its way to evoke that late 70s/early 80s adventure movie feel of Spielberg films like E.T. and The Goonies. Of course, if all Super 8 did was ape someone else's work, it wouldn't be as successful as it is. Instead, Abrams takes Spielberg's childlike sense of wonder, his affinity for depicting children's worlds and their relationships, and the nuances of family drama, and mixes it all together with a pretty great alien invasion/monster movie. The end result is a ridiculously enjoyable and satisfying summer blockbuster, one that provides all the excitement you'd hope for while also giving you nicely drawn characters and relationships that keep you invested in the film. There are a couple of logical questions that will bug you along the way, and while the film doesn't really address them well, they were never really deal breakers for me; they were more small flaws in an otherwise really fun movie. With its great cast of characters (and a slew of really talented young actors), nice sense of humor, and perfect thriller timing, Super 8 is the kind of summer movie I wish we got a lot more of. (One final note: if you go, stay through the credits. What you get is very worth the wait.) |
| 6-24 | First
Blood (1982) |
I wonder how I would have felt if I had seen First Blood back when it was first released. It seems like there are some fascinating cultural currents coming together in this movie, most notably with the way our society dealt with Vietnam veterans during their return. Of course, those ideas are mostly used to set up a "one-man army" action movie, so I don't know that I would look for much profundity on display here. Most of what makes First Blood work is courtesy of Stallone - for all the bad rap his acting often gets, his portrayal of John Rambo is really outstanding here, bringing both the pain he's suffered and the danger he could inflict out into the open, and ultimately creating a far more sympathetic and pitiable character than the script (or, really, the rest of the movie, for that matter) seems interested in doing. And, yes, he carries the action scenes well, making Rambo's transformation from drifter to soldier incredibly believable. And yet, for all the good things I've said, the movie itself just isn't that interesting. For all its subtext and intriguing main character, it ends up being just another action movie, albeit one that wastes some good potential. The performances are fine, the action staged well enough...but so what? |
| 6-23 | The
Seven Year Itch (1955)
|
A genuinely funny and charming comedy from Billy Wilder, who brings his sharp timing and strong sense of humor to bear here while still tucking in some of his cynicism about the world. The Seven Year Itch is the story of a New York businessman who sends his wife and child away for the summer, all while promising to remain a good husband while he's alone...and then he finds out that a new girl, played by Marilyn Monroe, has moved in upstairs. Wilder plays the material perfectly, finding the humor in human weakness while making his lead character essentially likable and sympathetic - a critical step, given the subject matter. Of course, you can't talk about the movie without touching on the numerous fantasy and imagination sequences, as our hero imagines everything from a tragic death to a masterful seduction and beyond. Wilder lets his actors play the sequences to the hilt, and the result is absolutely hilarious, with my favorite being a late-film vision involving his wife dropping in unexpectedly. And, of course, there's Monroe, who brings incredible sex appeal and charm, all while bringing a nice sense of comic timing that really makes it all come together. I didn't really know much about The Seven Year Itch other than the general premise, but what I got was something far funnier and more enjoyable than I expected. |
| 6-23 | Faces
(1968)
|
An absolutely blistering, painful look at the dissolution of a marriage, Faces feels real and honest in a way that few movies manage to do, and it's obvious upon seeing it why Cassavetes is so revered and influential. Faces follows a long-married couple as they go through an angry argument and then head their own directions for a night of infidelity and single life. As painful as Faces can be, the acting and characters make it less unpleasant to watch than you might expect, giving the film a richness and depth that you might not expect. More to the point, I admire the way that Cassavetes lets his actors improvise their way around the characters, letting them live and breathe without feeling the need to explicitly state their feelings or their motivations (even as that occasionally leads to moments of frustrating ambiguity, especially in the film's closing moments). And the cast here acquits themselves perfectly, with Seymour Cassel and Gena Rowlands as standouts in the roles of the other man and woman, respectively. I don't know that I could bring myself to watch Faces again anytime soon, but at the same time, both as a milestone in film and a powerhouse dramatic experience, I can't deny that it's a cinematic must-see. With its painful exploration of these people, a shocking level of honesty in its conversations, and a story that follows these emotional arcs through to their logical conclusion, Faces is a masterpiece of dramatic filmmaking, one whose influence is all too easy to see even today. |
| 6-22 | An
Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge (1962)
|
I've been on a short film binge recently, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that one of the things that's appealing about watching short films is that I don't feel obligated to write reviews of them all. And yet, there's no way that I could watch something this satisfying and remarkable without saying something about it. A short French film that was later broadcast as an episode of The Twilight Zone (and is available for online watching here), Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge is the story of a man during the Civil War era who is sentenced to hang for a crime that we really know nothing about (though we infer it's something to do with the railroad). As he drops, the rope breaks, and he begins an involving and exciting escape that unfolds in some beautiful, spellbinding visual cinematography. Having read the story, I knew where this was heading, and yet I was never anything less than enthralled by every second of this. It's beautifully filmed and wonderfully staged, eschewing dialogue in favor of letting the actor's face convey the emotions that need to be there. But more than that, the film creates an immersive, stunning environment, filled with gorgeous backgrounds and an odd, slightly "off" sense that creates an air of unease throughout the movie. I really, really loved this one; it's small wonder that Serling picked it up for The Twilight Zone - after all, it fits the show's sensibility perfectly - but it works not just as great TV, but as a beautiful, effective little short film that creates a perfect little mood and tone. |
| 6-22 | Beverly
Hills Cop (1984) |
In some ways, Beverly Hills Cop is kind of depressing. It's a reminder that before he started burying himself in fat suits and retreating to family fare, Eddie Murphy was a genuinely funny, wonderfully charismatic presence with impeccable comic timing. Beverly Hills Cop really should be another generic 80s action movie, and at its weakest moments (most notably the bullet-riddled ending), that's exactly what you get. But for most of the running time, you get Murphy getting to be the rebellious upstart cop who irritates the old guard, and he does it really well. Be it a speech about the sterling detective work by his "super cop" partners, a rant about the racist tendencies of an upper class hotel, or an improvised impersonation of a customs officer, Murphy brings a comic energy that makes the film really fun to watch and papers over the weaknesses. Add to that a supporting cast of straight men and some scattered comic gems and you have a movie that's entertaining enough to watch that you don't really notice all the plot holes until it's done. |
| 6-22 | Double
Team (1997)
|
Really, the only reason I watched this was thanks to Scott Tobias's New Cult Canon entry, which made it sound endearing and over-the-top. Sadly, it's neither. Double Team has a scattering of cool ideas and moments, most notably the idea of "The Colony," which is pretty much wasted here. Apart from that, the action is disappointingly generic and uninvolving, and mainly of note simply for the sheer number of windows people get thrown through. I will say that the finale, which involves a tiger, land mines, and a bizarre number of Coke machines, is pretty gonzo and absurd in a fun way, but that's about the best I can say about the whole thing. (Oh, and as for Dennis Rodman? Well, he can't really act...and he's not very intimidating...and although there's no indication the character plays basketball, that doesn't prevent the film from dropping in a ridiculous number of basketball jokes. So that's that, I guess.) |
| 6-20 | Memphis
Heat: The True Story of Memphis Wrasslin' (2011)
|
Memphis Heat is one of those documentaries that gains a lot simply through the enjoyability of the stories it has to tell and the people it has to tell them. In telling the story of Memphis-based professional wrestling and its massive success, Memphis Heat gets to delve into the stories of professional entertainers known for their braggadocio and swagger, and lets them tell their tales themselves, which leads to no end of entertainment. Add to that a collection of great (if low-quality) footage from the promotion's television show, and you have a documentary that more than entertains for its length. And that's a good thing, because as a narrative, Memphis Heat has some major problems. It gives us a little bit of how wrestling got started in carnivals before jumping without warning (or transition) to modern professional wrestling, and once there, just kind of follows the tales of its narrators. All of which is great...until the film abruptly and without warning ends in the early 80s, reducing the next 30 years to a couple of on-screen notes. All of that being said, I can't deny how much fun I had watching Memphis Heat, nor can I say that it didn't give a great sense of what day-to-day life was like in the promotion. Yes, it needs some structure and work, but what it lacks there, it more than makes up for in storytelling and entertainment. |
| 6-20 | Young
Mr. Lincoln (1939) |
I don't really have anything bad to say about Young Mr. Lincoln, really, but I don't know that there's much about the movie that inspires a lot of enthusiasm, either. As the title implies, the movie is about the life of Abraham Lincoln before he became president, following him both as a young man and into his first courtroom cases (fictional, for what it's worth). As you'd expect, John Ford has a great eye for composition even early in his career (and outside of Westerns), and Henry Fonda is typically strong as Lincoln. But really, there's just not much here to talk about. The courtroom case isn't really that involving, and the film doesn't really give us developed characters outside of Lincoln (and, to be fair, most of his characterization is added in by the viewer). Yes, it's got a nice sense of humor and fun, and yes, it's a nice effort to humanize one of the great American icons. But really, it's just kind of...there. |
| 6-20 | The
Spirit of the Beehive (1973)
|
Trying to describe The Spirit of the Beehive is a difficult task, as it's not really a movie that's driven by the plot in any way. What plot there is revolves around two young girls growing up in a small village in Spain during the Spanish Civil War. The girls play games, tell stories, watch the movie Frankenstein and become a little fixated on it, explore their town, and so forth. However, the joy of this movie - and it is a ridiculously beautiful, moving little film - comes not from the story it tells, but from the complex depth of its characters, which is almost entirely done through suggestion, implication, and some fine acting on every level. At its core, this is a story of two girls who are facing adulthood and the pains of life and dealing with it in very, very different ways. How that ties into Frankenstein, or the letters their mother is writing, or their father's beehives - well, all of that is left for you to discover. But even when you watch the film, you may be surprised (pleasantly, I hope) to find how much of this is done through implication, trusting the audience to put together the psychological complexity of the story being told. It's hard, really, to describe The Spirit of the Beehive without seeing it, but I can tell you that I absolutely loved it. It's a beautiful, complex, thoughtful, and ultimately moving film about the end of childhood, but one that's done with so much care and love that it becomes something more profound. |
| 6-19 | The
Killing: Season 1 (2011) 
|
An utter waste of time for 13 hours capped off by an insulting finale that basically flipped me off for watching the show. I'm not even going to waste time giving this a full review. (If you want one, go read Sepinwall's angry screed against the finale and the show as a whole.) Fuck you, The Killing. |
| 6-19 | Game
of Thrones: Season 1 (2011)
|
I've heard for a long time now how great George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series is, and for whatever reason, I've never gotten around to them. Based off of this first season, I've been missing out. Game of Thrones is absolutely stunning television in every way, and a glorious return to form for HBO television. Filled with intricate plotting and intricate political tensions, riveting action, deeply flawed and complex characters, and some incredible visuals, Game of Thrones is an adult drama that manages to challenge both the tropes of television and fantasy in satisfying, shocking ways. There's so much here to talk about, and so little space in my small review to gush about it all. Should I talk about the brutal, vicious combat that truly gives a sense of danger and violence? Do I rave about the stunning creation of a world filled with incredible sites such as the Aerie? Do I attempt to discuss the show's fascinatingly cynical, relentlessly grim view of human nature and refusal to tolerate simple men of "purity"? Do I attempt to convey the show's ability to shock with its twists and turns, including one of the most jaw-dropping moments I've seen on TV outside of Breaking Bad? Do I gush about the complex, intelligent plotting that treats viewers like adults who can follow implications and subtleties? Or can I just talk about the incredible acting by every single cast member across the board (but most notably, Peter Dinklage as the hilarious, witty, acerbic Tyrion Lannister)? I could go on and on about all of it for pages if I needed to. But here's the simple version: Game of Thrones is genre television at its absolute best. It's beautifully filmed, perfectly acted, intelligently written, and magnificently staged. In short, it's incredible, and I wish season two was ready to start today. |
| 6-18 | Uncle
Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010)
|
What a strange, cryptic, and utterly wonderful delight this film is. In general terms, Uncle Boonmee is about a dying Thai man who begins to be visited by those he's lost - both in terms of death and distance - as he prepares himself for the end of his life. Of course, this plot summary in no way does the film justice - and how could it? It couldn't begin to describe the shadowy creatures with glowing red eyes, or the long trek through a darkened cave, or the interlude with a disfigured princess and her chauffeur (and that interlude doesn't even begin to touch on the unusual part a catfish plays in it all)...on and on I could go. Here's the thing: I definitely didn't understand all of Uncle Boonmee on this initial viewing, and I have a feeling that a rewatch might not help with a lot of it, especially the cryptic epilogue to the film. But here's the other thing: I still loved the film. I loved its thoughtful approach to death, its quiet musings on life, its off-kilter humor, its utter peacefulness, the beauty of the relationships it depicts, the mystery of it all...no, I may not have "understood" it all, but that doesn't mean that it didn't resonate with me and even move me in its own unusual, quiet way. It's left me eager to see more of the director's work to see if it all speaks to me in similar ways. I hope so. |
| 6-18 | Gone
with the Wind (1939)
|
Having finally seen Gone with the Wind, I can say that I understand a lot of the praise for the movie from a technical perspective. The film is beautifully filmed and made, with stunning costumes, a nice attention to detail, and some truly remarkable camera shots (with my favorite being the famous shot of the street full of wounded soldiers). And yet, at the same time, I can honestly say that I simply didn't like the film at all. I can chalk a lot of that up to the film's incredibly racist depiction of its black characters (and don't tell me that it's simply because the film is about the Civil War and that explains it; the black actors are obviously being asked to take their cue from minstrel shows, and the end result is painful and cringe-worthy to watch) and its ridiculously over-the-top sanctification of the old South. But a lot of it comes from how much I couldn't stand the character of Scarlett. Look: I've watched a lot of movies with dislikable protagonists before (heck, let's talk about Citizen Kane a few years later!), and I can respect a film with an anti-hero or even a detestable main character. But in those cases, the film either scorns their main character or has a reason or cause for their behavior. Gone with the Wind really does/has neither. It obviously wants us to feel bad for Scarlett and root for her to get the man she wants, and her cause for her behavior is largely based on her insipid, foolish, shallow view of the world. And when all that's really at stake is who will date her, it's hard for me to care too much. If I watched Gone with the Wind again knowing how abhorrent Scarlett is, I might have different feelings about the movie and watch it differently. But as it is, I can say that I respect some aspects of the film, but just generally wasn't a fan. I may have to chalk that up as a case of a movie just being "not for me," though. |
| 6-16 | All
Quiet on the Western Front (1930)
|
A remarkable, powerful anti-war film that feels as relevant and effective today as it did 80 years ago, All Quiet on the Western Front laid the groundwork for movies like Saving Private Ryan - and in some ways, did it better. Focusing on the effects of the war on soldiers, All Quiet on the Western Front surprised me by focusing on not American soldiers, but Germans - given the Hollywood tendency to Americanize everything, I expected the nationality to have changed as well. To the film's credit, it doesn't, but it hardly matters; the movie is uninterested in the motivations or the reasons behind the war other than in abstract terms that it's the thing that sent these men to their fates. By following a group of classmates through the war, the film makes the war's toll all the more clear as we watch this group cut down by bullets, bombs, psychological breakdowns, terrors, and more. By the film's end, we've lived through these men's hell with them, and watched as they've grown from naive boys to jaded, damaged men. All of that, the film does exceptionally well, from its nightmarish battle scenes to the constant barrage of bombs and explosions, from the unflinching depiction of injuries to the difficulties in coming home. But nothing - nothing - is more effective than the stark, brutal simplicity of the final shot, which packs an absolutely devastating emotional punch that left me stunned with its impact. It sums up the entire film perfectly, and in its own way, it is the entire film in a single brief burst. All Quiet on the Western Front is an absolute masterpiece, beginning to end, and one whose honesty and bluntness about war make it not only a powerful film, but an important one, now as much as ever. |
| 6-15 | Incendies
|
It can't be said that Incendies doesn't boast a great hook for a movie. After the death of their mother, a pair of twins attend the opening of her will, where they are each given a mission. The girl is told to find her father, who she has always assumed was dead; the boy is told to find his brother - a brother he had no idea existed. That's a pretty great start to a film, and as Incendies plays out - alternating between the twins' search and flashbacks to their mother's life - the psychological drama and personal stories start to come together in surprising ways. But about 3/4 of the way through the movie, I started to feel that the movie's use of religious conflict wasn't as deep or insightful as the movie thought, and in fact was being trivialized by being used just to make a thriller more dramatic. And, at the same time, I started to have a sneaking suspicion where the film was going, and realized that if it went with the ending I suspected, it would be such a contrived climax that the film would fall apart pretty badly. Well, it was the ending I suspected, and the film did fall apart. In fact, by the end, it made me feel that the film seems a lot more interested as it plays out because we suspect a richer, more interesting payoff than we get; when we get to the absurdly coincidental reveal, it basically lays the movie's goals plain. As a thriller, Incendies is fine, but as a serious drama or a statement on war, it fails pretty badly; sadly, I think the movie might have been going for the latter. If that's what you want, I recommend leaving about fifteen minutes before the film ends; the ending cheapens the film as a whole and leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth. |
| 6-14 | Mother
(1996) |
I love Albert Brooks. In fact, it befuddles me to think that there are people who don't find him inherently funny and hilarious, and to think that there are people who can watch scenes like Brooks dealing with his mother (played by Debbie Reynolds) over her bizarre adherence to generic brands or combating her shopping habits and not crack up. And yet, I suppose they must exist; however, I am definitely not one of them. The story of a science-fiction author who moves in with his mother to figure out why his relationships keep failing, Mother is hysterically funny, but it's also richer and more thoughtful than you might expect from that summary. Of course, there's some wonderful humor and play between Brooks and Reynolds, but what sets Brooks apart from other writers is his desire to make his characters live and breathe, and not just reduce them to punchlines. With this premise, it would be simple to turn Reynolds into just a goofy old woman, but Brooks gives her a lot of depth and pathos, leading up to some genuinely surprising and even moving revelations. Mother is just a wonderful film, and it makes me wish that Brooks didn't take so long between movies. |
| 6-14 | My
Blueberry Nights (2007)
|
It's hard to know exactly why My Blueberry Nights doesn't really work. As a fan of the other Wong Kar-Wai films I've seen, my first reaction is to wonder if it's not just a problem in the translation, as this is his first English language film with an American/British cast. There's still a wonderful style to the whole movie, and the story - which follows a dumped young woman as she travels across the country to try to learn more about herself - is pure Wong, complete with his usual character exploration, visual flair, and excellent use of music. And yet, it just never hits the emotions the way that In the Mood for Love or Chungking Express did. Jude Law's cafe owner never really sells his emotional devotion to our heroine, and while a lot of the supporting cast does some great work here (especially David Strathairn), the road movie format makes each of their vignettes too brief to really come together, and the film ultimately feels more like a collection of pieces than a cohesive whole. I sound like I'm being really hard on this, but I still enjoyed it quite a bit. After all, I think it's always a good thing when you wish the vignettes and the film were longer rather than shorter. During its short running time, it was fun to give myself over to Wong's vision and enter his world, especially as he filters America through his moody, haunting vision; while it may not be his best, it's still a solid enough entry on his resume. |
| 6-13 | Home
Movie (2008)
|
A remarkably creepy and effective found-footage horror film, Home Movie has a simple gimmick that helps deal with a lot of the questions ("Why is everyone filming this stuff?") that always pop up in these type of movies. Here, the footage is made up of home movies taken at each holiday, allowing the film to cover a lot of time nicely, as well as leaving much of the family's backstory and explanations for the events effectively elliptically, leaving much of the film up to the viewer's interpretation. The events we do see are chilling in their simplicity, as we see the family's two children slide farther and farther into madness. As the holidays continue to pass, the children's madness seems to progress without stopping, leading to a climax that's absolutely unnerving and chilling in all the right ways. There are a couple of missteps here and there, most notably in how long it seems to take the parents to realize what's going on; at the same time, there are hints scattered throughout that there's more to the picture than what we're seeing. (To be fair, the film's ambiguity can also be incredibly frustrating in some ways, leaving the viewer with as many questions as they have answers; your feelings on this one may vary depending on how much you like explained for you.) As found-footage horror goes, Home Movie is a damned good one that absolutely creeped me out all the way to its phenomenal closing moments. |
| 6-13 | Gates
of Heaven (1978)
|
The first film by acclaimed documentarian Errol Morris, Gates of Heaven is about a modestly successful business and both the people who run it and those who use it. That business: a pet cemetery. I can't bring myself to love Gates of Heaven as much as Roger Ebert (who has called it one of the ten best films ever made), but at the same time, I can see why so many people love it. Morris has a knack for finding fascinating interviewees, and whether he's talking to the man who started the business, an elderly woman who used the cemetery but uses the film as a chance to rant about her son, or the wildly different sons of the current cemetery owner, Morris stays out of their way and lets them tell their stories. I've read that some people aren't sure if the film is laughing at these people or not, which baffles me; I never got the sense that the film was anything but moved by its participants, and if it did laugh, it laughed with them. The film ends up feeling a bit too scattered for me, jumping around from subject to subject and sometimes leaving their connections unclear, and yet at the same time, there was a lot of beauty and surprisingly thoughtful depth to it all as well. I like Morris's later work better, but there's no denying that this is a remarkable debut that deserved the attention and acclaim it got. |
| 6-13 | Fish
Tank (2009) |
Fish Tank feels like a modern take on British "kitchen sink" realism films, with an effort to recreate the life and conditions of the lower working class. And I suppose, by those standards, it does a generally solid job, even if I feel like there are times that it piles on the misery and irony (most notably through Mia's constant watching of shows about people with extravagant lifestyles). The problem, though, is that I just didn't care that much about anyone in the movie, especially our main character. There are moments of pure naturalism scattered throughout the movie, and at points, the relationships and the conversations between the characters are enough to carry the movie. But every time I get into that, the movie piles on another complication, another layer of misery and hopelessness, and ultimately I just got frustrated with the movie's effort to make sure I was aware of the rough life this girl has. (And let's not even talk about some of the painfully earnest symbolism like the horse.) Add to that some one-dimensional characters (read: almost everyone but Mia and Fassbinder)...look, I guess Fish Tank was fine as an effort to return to those British realists, but while it succeeds on that front, as a movie, it just never resonated much with me nor made an emotional impact. |
| 6-10 | Hobo
with a Shotgun (2011)
|
What a letdown. If you're unfamiliar with the story, Hobo with a Shotgun began life as a fake trailer that won a contest for the release of Grindhouse. Now it's a full-length feature film...and one that loses a lot of the charm and fun of the trailer in exchange for trying too hard and ultimately just wearing out its welcome. There are some scattered moments of greatness throughout, to be sure (I especially enjoyed some of the scenes with The Plague), and Hauer really gives the part his all, which is more than the movie deserves. But while the gore is inventive, everything feels like it's less gleeful fun and more edginess for its own sake, and the film's constant gratuitousness ultimately gets exhausting, irritating, and even childish, even for someone like me who tends to love over-the-top films like this. To steal a line from my friend Ryan, this is less grindhouse and more Troma, but it's not even good Troma; it's Troma that takes itself too seriously at points, and not enough at others. My own feelings are that Hobo with a Shotgun proves that a movie like Robocop isn't as easy to do as it looks; while that film mixes its brutality and its satire perfectly, Hobo ends up feeling like you've wallowed in the dirt for a while and been bludgeoned by someone who thinks they're incredibly edgy and awesome. Big disappointment. |
| 6-10 | Un
Chien Andalou (1929)
|
What a strange, surreal little film - and what a great little piece of surrealist nightmare fuel, too. Un Chien Andalou defies any conventional review or discussion; in the end, it's about fifteen minutes of strange, unreal images that feel as though they've come directly from the dreams of co-writers Salvador Dalí and Luis Buñuel (which, in some cases, they did). There's no way David Lynch doesn't love this movie, and you can definitely see the origins of Lynch's strange, dreamlike visions here, but Un Chien Andalou has its own unique power and impact that's hard to quantify. Of course, the opening moments are infamous for the "eyeball" shot, but there's far more to come, including insect stigmata, the strange fate of two horses, an unnerving sexual assault of sorts, and lots more. The film, by all accounts, was intended as a way to jar people out of their comfort zones, and its to the film's credit that it works just as effectively 80+ years later as I'm sure it did then. Only 15 minutes long, Un Chien Andalou packs more memorable imagery into its brief runtime than many feature films I've seen. Even so, I'm okay with the film not being much longer; it's almost a relief to step away from it to find that the sun's still up and life isn't quite as disturbing as it seemed while you're in its odd world. |
| 6-10 | Funny
People (2009)
|
I've long heard that Funny People was a bit of a mess - that it was overlong, that it felt like at least two different movies jammed together, that the film's last hour didn't mesh at all with the rest of the film. And really, all of that is pretty true, but none of it kept me from enjoying the movie quite a bit. As usual, Apatow has a knack for nailing that masculine bonding that drives his films, and the characters here are nuanced and flawed enough to keep you deeply involved through all of the plot jumps the film goes through. Sandler, for one, has rarely been better, playing the deeply sad movie star whose success has left him as isolated as Charles Foster Kane (it can't entirely be a coincidence that his massive home feels much like the Kane estate in many ways), and his bitterness and self-hatred gives the film a surprisingly dark and sad feel that I didn't expect. Apatow's supporting players give the film a lot of great laughs, as usual, but Funny People is far more drama than comedy, title be damned. And while it's certainly sprawling and loses its way, I like the fact that Apatow seems to be willing to follow his characters through their story, even if the result is a little sloppy and meandering. For all its problems, I liked it all a lot, and never even thought about the running time; instead, I just enjoyed watching all of these characters bounce off of each other and come to a solid, richly deserved conclusion. |
| 6-10 | Jeanne
Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) |
In the end, I respect Jeanne Dielman a lot, but I can't really say that it's a film I "liked" or would be interested in watching again. I don't view that as a mark against the film; after all, when you make a nearly 3.5 hour film which details a housewife's daily routine in long, unbroken takes lasting several minutes, you're not really asking your viewer to "enjoy" the film in any normal sense. (To give you an idea of one sequence: Jeanne runs out of potatoes, walks to the store, buys more potatoes, comes home, and peels each potato, all of which is depicted on film.) And yet, the film's length is also its greatest strength, because it makes the small breaks in Jeanne's routine that start up on day 2 all the more jarring and strangely unnerving. We think we have Jeanne's life down, and that she's a perfectly controlled woman - get her son ready for school, clean the house, watch the neighbor's baby, cook lunch, sleep with a client...oh, did I mention Jeanne is a prostitute? And yet, it's dealt with in the same joyless, automatic manner as the rest of the film...until the odd breaks start to occur, and we wonder if Jeanne is coming apart. Like I said, the film wouldn't have the impact it does without its length and the time it takes to get to its unexpected ending, and I admire and respect the impact of it all. But I also can't say that it's an enjoyable film in any way, nor can I deny that I was frequently more bored by Jeanne's life than immersed in it. Yes, I know - that's the point of it, to submerge you in her life, but it makes the film more successful as a statement than a film, to me. (It's also the kind of film that makes me irritated I caved and started putting numerical ratings on my movies. From a quality perspective, it's a five-star film, but it's not a rating I'm thrilled with giving it, as you can tell from all this waffling.) It's a unique experience, and I'm certainly glad I watched it. But I don't feel much need to see it again, really. |
| 6-9 | Cave
of Forgotten Dreams (2010/ Digital 3D)
|
Increasingly, 3D has become a disposable gimmick, something to raise ticket prices without adding any value to the movie. Every so often, though, a film comes along that actually uses 3D in a way that adds to the film. Although every example I can think of to date has come from animation (Up, Coraline), Cave of Forgotten Dreams shows that live-action can use it just as subtly and well. Cave of Forgotten Dreams follows Werner Herzog and a small camera crew as they descend into a massive underground cave, one blocked off from any public access (and almost all scientific access, as well) due to the 35,000 year old cave paintings that decorate its walls. Herzog's use of 3D is wonderful here, immersing you in the world of the cave, letting you truly sense the scale of it all, as well as giving you a feel for the shape of the walls and how the art uses those shapes in its designs. Oh, and about that art? It's breathtaking and truly wondrous. You could argue that the documentary is a little too long, and too dry at points, and I would agree. But between Herzog's philosophically musing narration, the chance to see something truly incredible that we would never otherwise be able to see, and an astonishing use of 3D that lets you feel the wonder of it all, Cave of Forgotten Dreams is a remarkable experience that I found profoundly moving, no matter what issues I might have with the movie itself. |
| 6-9 | Judgment
at Nuremberg (1961)
|
Let me get this out of the way first: Judgment at Nuremberg has one of the most jarring and inappropriate scores I've heard in a long time, and whenever the movie spends time outside the courtroom, it's meandering and loses focus. So why, then, is the movie so highly regarded by many - myself included? Because when it remains in the courtroom, it's a powerful, riveting, effective examination of evil and how it can come to pass. A fictionalized version of the Nuremberg trials, Judgment at Nuremberg focuses not on the Nazi officers or the commandants of the concentration camps, but on the judges who worked during Hitler's reign. To the film's credit, the questions - about who can be held responsible for such acts, the nature of morality, the effects of society on moral men - don't get clear-cut answers. Nor are the Germans depicted as monsters. Rather, these are ordinary people, which makes their actions all the more incomprehensible and harder to understand. The film packs an emotional punch, most notably in its use of concentration camp footage that remains horrific today, to say nothing of when the film came out. For all of its flaws and missteps, Judgment at Nuremberg works as an examination of evil and morality, and I respect the film all the more for the adroit handling of its complex issues. And as portrayed by a stellar cast who are allowed the chance to carry their roles, it makes for a dramatic, compelling film. |
| 6-8 | The
Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)
|
When I first finished The Outlaw Josey Wales, I liked it, but wasn't really sure it all worked. But the more I think on it, the more the movie really works for me. It's a perfect bridge between Eastwood's Man with No Name movies and Unforgiven, as his brutal gunfighter finds himself unwillingly and inexorably pulled into a more civilized and settled era, and Eastwood's direction is solid enough that the change happens almost without the viewer truly realizing it. There's a lot of interesting things going on here, from a surprisingly sympathetic and even funny portrait of Native Americans to an unexpectedly anti-Union sensibility, all adding up to a very revisionist Western. But that wouldn't really work as well as it does without the fine performances, and although the whole cast does a great job, there's no way the film can be written about without speaking about Chief Dan George as Lone Watie, Eastwood's Native American acquaintance. It would be all too easy for the film to slip into stereotypes, but George nicely sidesteps that, creating a rich, vibrant, funny, heartbreaking character that makes the relationship between he and Eastwood work perfectly. And, of course, there's Eastwood, who uses his reputation from Westerns to make Wales into a fearsome killer, making his gradual assimilation into society all the more effective and even moving. It's an ambitious, intriguing Western, and it was a good one for Eastwood to head out on for a long time, until Unforgiven came along to give him the perfect final chapter. |
| 6-8 | Scott
Pilgrim vs. The World (2010)
|
What a gloriously fun, funny, and surprisingly sweet film. At its core, Scott Pilgrim is about the way that our pasts can haunt our new relationships, and the way we choose to deal with those pasts. It's a story that's been done lots of times. But, as Ebert says, a movie is not about what it's about; it's about how it goes about it. And Scott Pilgrim goes about its subject with a glorious sense of geekery, video game culture, quick wit, and general fun that makes the film just a blast to watch. No, Scott Pilgrim isn't perfect. The movie's about 15-20 minutes too long, and worse than that, I think Cera just doesn't entirely work as Pilgrim. The role necessitates the ability to switch from lovelorn geek to action hero to ladies man, and Cera can really only nail about one of those. But Wright's ridiculously confident direction and the film's sheer kinetic energy - and its smart, clever, and rich screenplay - go a long way to carrying Cera along through his weak patches. And, more than anything, it's just ridiculously fun, from the retro studio logo to the rampant Hollywood in-jokes, from the great dialogue to the wonderfully absurd fight sequences. Yes, it's a flawed film in a lot of ways, but it's one whose whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I may just be in the right demographic to like it, or it may just be that its energy carried me through it, but I had a lot of fun with this one, beginning to end. |
| 6-7 | The
Freshman (1925) |
The Freshman is my second Harold Lloyd film (the first was Safety Last!), and my feelings on it are almost identical to how I felt about my first one. I can't deny that Lloyd is likable, or that his stories and stunts work well in terms of making the character endearing and involving. And especially with The Freshman, Lloyd does a great job of capturing the essence of a sad sack hero while still making him appealing to an audience. And yet, Lloyd just doesn't make me laugh. Not once. I may be impressed with his stunts, I may not mind the stories, but I just don't find them funny - and when they're held up as great comedies, that's problematic. I can say that I don't find his movies to be chores (like I did The Bank Dick), so that's something...but I also can't say that I think Lloyd holds a candle to Chaplin or Keaton. |
| 6-7 | Band
of Outsiders (1964) |
I'll say this for Band of Outsiders: of the three Godard films I've seen (the other two being Breathless and Alphaville), this was the one I liked the best...but I still wouldn't say that I liked it all that much on its own. There's a little more life and fun to the film than there was in Breathless, with a little more plot to tie everything together (even if Godard doesn't seem all that interested in his own story, which is fine). But the characters are still essentially blank slates, romantic triangle or no; while the competition for the girl's affection gives them a little more personality, I would still be hard pressed to tell you anything about them apart from that. There are a few great moments, especially the famous dance number that inspired so many more that came after it, but once again, I found myself more bored with the characters and their conversations than intrigued. It's obvious that Tarantino found a lot of inspiration in the movie, and while I know this is going to get me accused of film blasphemy, I think he does the mixture of conversation and plot better than Godard ever did, giving his characters more depth and personality and tying them better into the overall picture. Once again, I find myself just having to concede that either I don't "get" Godard or maybe deciding he's just not for me. |
| 6-6 | Trouble
in Paradise (1932)
|
According to Robert Osborne, you'll find no shortage of people who call this the "most entertaining movie ever made," and I have to say, I'd be hard pressed to argue that claim too much. An effortlessly funny, sweet, and just lovable romantic comedy, Trouble in Paradise is the story of two thieving con artists who fall in love before having their relationship tested when the man finds himself entangled with their latest mark. Lubitsch's direction is wonderful here, from the opening scene that glides around a building to his masterful use of innuendoes and suggestion to say far more than the film really does (so much so that the later institution of the Hayes Code basically kept this film unseen for decades). The cast is uniformly wonderful, with Hopkins, Francis, and Marshall creating a wonderful romantic tension between their complicated love triangle, and Horton and Ruggles playing their parts perfectly to bring some extra comedy to the film. The plot is complicated, but not overly so, and lets the actors bring the characters to life and dictate the story, rather than have them forced into silly situations. The dialogue is wonderful, the staging perfect, the comedy genuinely funny, the emotion honest and moving...it's just one of those rare perfect films where not a single thing could be improved. An absolute joy. |
| 6-6 | Sweet
Smell of Success (1957) |
A fascinatingly vicious piece of work, Sweet Smell of Success finds its inspiration in the life of (in)famous gossip columnist Walter Winchell, whose ability to make or break a reputation with a word made him a deeply feared man among the elites. Much as Citizen Kane probably left William Randolph Hearst furious, there's little chance Winchell was pleased at his (thinly fictionalized) depiction by Burt Lancaster, despite the fact that it's a dazzling and intimidating performance, one that clearly depicts the power of the man while making no bones about the fact that his vicious streak makes him a force to be reckoned with and a heartless bully. Of course, an alpha dog needs a follower, and the part is played to perfection by Tony Curtis, a desperate press agent who lives to make Lancaster happy, even if that means ruining the reputation of a man who's done nothing more than love Lancaster's baby sister. Sweet Smell of Success would make a fantastic (if crushingly bleak) double feature with Ace in the Hole, another film about the way that ambitious and amoral men can reshape the world through the power of the press. And, like that film, this is a film about vicious, cutthroat men who care nothing for the world around them, only for the glory of their own name and their own success. The result is a riveting, brilliant piece of work, one anchored by the love-hate relationship between Curtis and Lancaster and the power dynamic between the two men. The film noir style serves the film perfectly, allowing the men to live in a world of stylized, incredible dialogue that gives us some of the best lines I've heard in some time. And the character-driven story makes the plunge into moral darkness all the more bracing. In short, Sweet Smell of Success is a masterpiece, pure and simple, and a spectacular and incisive take on the gossip columnists who once ruled the world of entertainment with their typewriters. |
| 6-6 | The
Bank Dick (1940)
|
Every so often, I watch an established classic of cinema and am just left baffled and confused. This? This is so highly acclaimed? Well, The Bank Dick can join those ranks. W.C. Fields is held up as a comedy legend by any number of people whose opinions I respect and even admire, and so I don't think it was too much to hope for that I might, you know, at least laugh a little while watching one of his movies. No such luck. I understand that Fields has a reputation for an unusual, even slightly surreal, sense of comedy, and I definitely got the vibe of cinematic anarchy from the film. But that would have worked better for me if there had been any sense of comedy to the film beyond some silly sound effects and some pratfalls. Fields seems to eschew typical comedy rhythms, which would be okay if he could make them work in some other way, but it never really came together for me. Instead, I spent most of the film simply bored, watching what passed for the movie's plot go by and waiting for Fields to do more than stammer. There's a couple of nice moments here and there, but in general, I guess I just don't get it. |
| 5-31 | F
For Fake (1973) |
Describing F For Fake in any conventional manner is a difficult thing. Technically, it's a documentary about hoaxes and hoaxers, but as told by Orson Welles, it's also a love letter to cinema, a playful set of games, a master class in storytelling, an excuse to hang out and drink with Orson, a cinematic essay, and a stunning piece on the power of editing. And beginning to end, it's a complete blast. Mind you, your feelings on this will probably depend on your tolerance for Welles, whose ego and sense of self-importance is on clear display here, but I tend to find the man fascinating, and the film follows suit. It doesn't hurt things that Welles has some fascinating interviewees here, including the world's pre-eminent art forger and a biographer who happened to be involved in one of the most famous hoaxes of the day - a hoax that unfolded just when Welles was making F For Fake. The subject here is a rich one, and Welles displays a love of tricks and trickery that truly makes the movie a joy to dive into. And, of course, it wouldn't be a Welles movie without a beautiful eye for visuals, and Welles delivers in spades here, be it in retelling the story of his infamous War of the Worlds broadcast through classic movie footage or the complicated tale of a beautiful young woman and a famous painter. More than all of that, though, there's a beautiful, thoughtful, philosophical tone to the film, most notably in a stunning, beautiful sequence in which Welles meditates on our legacy as a human race. F For Fake is an entirely unique film, but it's a wondrous experience, through and through, and one whose richness and humor make it a joy to watch. |
| 5-28 | Meek's
Cutoff (2010)
|
Based on true events, Meek's Cutoff tells the story of a group of Western settlers in the mid-1800s who find themselves lost, no matter what their rugged guide assures them. And just as their faith in their guide reaches its lowest point and their lives seem most in jeopardy, they discover a Native American who could be their only chance to survive, even as they deeply distrust him and his people. Meek's Cutoff is not for all tastes; it's slow to the point of tedium sometimes, and lingers in its characters' depression, isolation, and unease about their environment. And yet, it's that very pacing that makes Meek's Cutoff so engaging and oddly gripping. Kelly Reichardt (who made the superb Wendy and Lucy) empathizes with the disenfranchised and ignored female settlers, often setting the camera far from the conversations between the men, leaving us straining to get any information, just as they were, and making the actions that push the film's third act all the more understandable. There's a lot of ambiguity and quiet in Meek's Cutoff, from the choice to leave the Native American character an enigma all the way to the haunting and perfect final shot, and the end effect is to create a fascinating, haunting portrait of American citizens lost when they begin to doubt their leaders - a story with obvious allegorical overtones, of course, but also a compelling tale of survival and exploration, as well as a story of power struggles between the haves and the have-nots. In its own way, it's a beautiful, fascinating film, one whose patience and unease makes it a magnificent, if uneasy, experience. |
| 5-28 | Pirates
of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)
|
It's not even been two days since I saw the latest Pirates movie, and already I'm finding myself having troubles remembering anything of note about it. And that's really a shame. What was once an endearingly offbeat and quirky franchise finds itself in surprisingly bland and generic territory here, losing a lot of the personality and humor that once made the films so much fun to watch. Depp is enjoyable enough, as always, but rather than the lovable, selfish rogue who's out for himself, here Sparrow is pushed into the role of the hero, and his personality is constantly forced into situations and battles that don't really suit him. Add to that the fact that the film basically wastes two incredible actors (Geoffrey Rush and Ian McShane) in underwritten, underutilized roles, and tosses in an incredibly generic and dull plotline about a star-crossed romance between two blank slates, and the fact that it goes on for about a half hour too long...need I go on? On Stranger Tides is fine, I suppose, but it's ultimately generic, bland, and forgettable, none of which I expected from the series. If the series has to continue (and supposedly the next two are already in the pipeline), let's hope they can bring back some of the charm and whimsy that made the first three films so watchable. |
| 5-22 | Family
Guy: Season 9 (2011) |
I've been watching both of these shows for as long as I've been doing these writeups, and while almost every other TV show I watch merits an entry in these logs, I've never felt that I had enough to say about The Simpsons or Family Guy to bother writing about them. This year, though, I find myself desperate to make a point: PLEASE, SOMEONE CANCEL THESE SHOWS. Why? Because while neither of them are so bad, so dire that I can just force myself to quit watching, I also can't deny that both shows are a shadow of their former "greatness" (that word only really applies to The Simpsons, but it works for Family Guy's comedic glory days). Once a smart, subtle, character-rich show about American values, culture, and society, The Simpsons has become the very thing it once mocked. It riffs on pop culture incessantly. Its characters serve the punchlines, and not the other way around. The stories are contrived silliness, not the fun tales we used to enjoy in the best seasons. And the once rich, imaginative cast of characters has been reduced to catchphrases and one-note caricatures. As for Family Guy, it never managed to have the heart, soul, and intelligence that The Simpsons had, but that was okay, because it more than made up for it in laugh-out-loud gags, inspired insanity, and a willingness to go anywhere for a joke. And yet, this season, the show has been striving to cash in on sentiment for characters that don't deserve it, and the jokes feel lazier and sloppier than ever, only occasionally hitting on something that truly gets a laugh. (The easiest comparison I can think of? Early Family Guy is to Airplane! as late Family Guy is to Naked Gun 3 - the gags are slower, dumber, and far less successful.) And here's the worst part of all: I can't bring myself to stop watching. I've been watching The Simpsons for a ridiculously long amount of time, and I keep hoping and praying for a return to the glory days. And Family Guy manages to keep me hooked with at least a couple of jokes every week that make me wonder when it will find its footing again. So here's my request, Fox: cancel them. End them both. Kill the mediocrity and let everyone be freed from a curse that seems like it's never going to end. |
| 5-22 | The
Simpsons: Season 22 (2011) |
|
| 5-17 | Dazed
and Confused (1993) |
By all accounts, director Richard Linklater had to fight tooth and nail to make Dazed and Confused the way he wanted to. The studios were baffled - here was a teen movie with no nudity, no real sex scenes, no major crises or drama, and essentially no plot. Instead, what you got was a slice of life about the last day of school in 1976 and the night of parties that follow it, as upcoming seniors contemplate their ever-approaching futures and middle-schoolers look forward to the pains of acceptance yet to come. And all of this is done with a massive, sprawling cast of characters (all played by no-name actors at the time, and almost all of whom have become much bigger over time) and backed by an insanely expensive but spectacular 70s rock soundtrack. And here's the thing: Linklater is right. I liked Dazed and Confused well enough the first time I saw it, but each successive view has made me love it more and more as I find myself identifying with different characters, loving its mixed feelings of love and hate towards high school, and appreciating how the film avoids cheap irony or absurd dramatics in favor of simply perfectly capturing a moment in time. The end result is more moving than any pregnancy scare or unexpected death; instead, we find adolescents at a time in their life that's both the best and worst points of their lives, and trying to figure out what's to come and who they're going to be. In other words, it may be one of the most perfect looks at high school ever captured on film, and it's a film that I appreciate, enjoy, and admire more every time I see it. |
| 5-9 | Fringe:
Season 3 (2011) |
About halfway through the first season of Fringe, a good friend of mine bailed on the show, commenting that it seemed wandering and just generally lacking. I couldn't really blame him; even so, I stuck with it, and not long after that, the show really started to gain a focus and a purpose. Now, two and a half seasons later, I've just finished watching Fringe knock its third season out of the park, and a show that once seemed average and muddled now is going for broke. After all, this is a season that included parallel universes, numerous dopplegangers, identity theft, serial killers, flashback episodes, an animated sequence, copious amounts of hallucinogens, and a season finale that literally pushed the show to the brink of the apocalypse. No one can say Fringe is average anymore; even if you dislike it, you can't say that it's content to rest on its laurels. But I'm definitely not in the "dislike it" camp; for my money, Fringe has become one of the most enjoyable and entertaining science fiction shows in recent memory. Partially thanks to its goofy wit, partially due to the rich characters, partially because of the complex and detailed mythology, and partially thanks to its "anything goes" mentality, Fringe is almost always a blast to watch. The third season has been an absolute treat, building to a three-part finale that continually blew my mind and did some really jaw-dropping things. Now, full disclosure: looking at the season as a whole, there's a lot more loose ends than I initially felt like, and you could argue that there's a couple of plot arcs that could have been cut out entirely. But when the end result has been this much fun, this rewarding, and this absolutely gripping every week, it's hard to complain too much, isn't it? |
| 5-5 | Justified:
Season 2 (2011) |
A really great season finale can elevate the season as a whole by drawing it all into sharp focus, revealing the themes and ideas that have been percolating under the surface for the entire season. (No better example of this exists, I think, than "Whitecaps," the knockout finale to season 4 of The Sopranos.) And while no one in their right mind would argue that Justified's second season was weak, I also think no one can deny that the finale puts the perfect cap on it all, raising the season up to something greater than the sum of its parts. Those parts shouldn't be taken lightly, though - not when they include incredible turns by Jeremy Davies and Margo Martindale (to say nothing of the rest of the Bennett clan), a greater exploration of the lives of Raylan's co-workers, a fantastic mini-arc involving a whole lot of stolen money, and a slew of great cases of the week. But it's the Bennett arc that really made this season soar, from a shocking death scene in the first episode all the way to the pitch-perfect final shot of the season, and it's that arc that made clear what season 2 of Justified was all about: the way our decisions can define us as a person and trap us in our lives, keeping us from being able to break free and change ourselves. How Raylan - and Mags, and Dickie, and Boyd, and Arlo, and so on - all deal with that is part of the beauty of this show. But in short, this was an incredible season of the show, one that took a great show and starts it moving to the top tier of television dramas today. |
| 5-3 | Barton
Fink (1991) |
I can't deny that the Coens have made "better" films since Barton Fink (A Serious Man, No Country for Old Men) and even films that I enjoy more (The Big Lebowski primary among them). But there's something about Fink that always keeps it near the top of their works for me. Maybe it's the elusive, unknown symbolism; maybe it's the hairpin gear shifts in tone; maybe it's the hilarious, rapid-fire dialogue. Or maybe there's just something about its odd, slightly surreal world that sticks with me long after I finish the film. Whatever the case, every time I watch Barton Fink, I find myself lost in its oddities and blown away by its quietly unnerving style. And, of course, every time I watch it, I find myself enthralled by the underrated performance of John Goodman, who plays Barton's next door neighbor Charlie with a twinkle and a world-weariness that only deepens in complexity as the film unfolds. Of course, a lot of the reason I love the film is that show-stopping climax, but there's no way it would work without the eerie hotel that the Coens have created, or the ever-increasing sense of being lost in a personal nightmare (or is it Hell?) that they create for Barton. It's pure Coen brothers, from its pretentious characters to its pitch-black sense of humor, but its off-kilter sensibility and touch of surrealism really create a film that feels like nothing else they've done before or since. |
| 5-1 | African
Cats (2011)
|
A perfectly fine, if mostly forgettable, Disney nature documentary. There's no denying that some of the footage presented here is absolutely spectacular, and leaves you wondering just how some of it was filmed without danger to the people behind the cameras. But every time you allow yourself to get caught up in the environment, the heavy-handed and ridiculously anthropomorphizing narration comes in to beat you over the head with the message Disney wants you to take away from it. (Seriously, I know we like to put human characteristics onto things, but there comes a point where you're just being absurd.) Nonetheless, it's hard to deny the power of some of the images nor the beauty captured on film. Making the movie better for me? Watching my kids watching the movie. Aidan was absolutely enthralled by it all, commenting afterward that the cheetahs in the movie were "the funniest cheetah actors ever". And Lily? Well, she greeted every jungle cat in the film with her own little roars. So, my problems with the movie aside, I can't deny that I had a great time at the theater. |
| 4-25 | Talking
Funny (2011)
|
A fantastically enjoyable and interesting HBO special about the art of stand-up comedy as discussed by some of the greats in the field. Ricky Gervais (himself a stand-up comedian, although he's a comedic writer first and foremost) moderates a panel that consists of Chris Rock, Louis CK, and Jerry Seinfeld, letting the four comedians discuss favorite bits, their philosophies and approaches to the art of stand-up, and their belief in what makes certain things funny or unfunny. All four of these men are comedic giants, and while Gervais clearly came to stand-up in a different way (and isn't quite on their level), all of them have fascinating, thoughtful insights into the art, and it's clear that this is a conversation among equals with large amounts of respect and affection for each other. And, as you'd expect when four brilliantly funny people hang out, the conversation is frequently hilarious, most notably during their attempt to figure out why a bit involving a terrible parody of "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" is so funny to all of them. All in all, this is a phenomenal little conversation, marred only by the fact that you can tell there's a wealth of material that was edited down to fit here (according to Gervais, the conversation went over three hours!), and the editing scars are a little obvious. Nonetheless, if you're a fan of these men or their art, this is a must-watch; the insights into comedy, the discussions about how it all works, and the observations and stories from these masters make for an incredible, riveting conversation that I wish I could hear all of. |
| 4-16 | The
Ricky Gervais Show: Season 2 (2011)
|
Oh, how this show makes me laugh. As I said after the first season, I've never heard the podcasts which give this show its material, so I can't compare how the show stacks up if you've already heard them. But for me, these bizarre conversations between Gervais, Stephen Merchant, and the inimitable and unique Karl Pilkington completely crack me up week after week. Be it about movie pitches, perfect animals, final wishes in life, vacations, or whatever, Pilkington's bizarre musings and the bewildered, bemused reactions he gets from Gervais and Merchant have kept me laughing pretty hard with each episode, occasionally so hard that I've had to pause it all lest I miss more of the insanity. Moreover, as the show has progressed, the animation has worked more and more in the show's favor, feeling like an extension of the material rather than just depicting what's happening in the stories. Your appreciation of it all will vary, of course, depending on your appreciation of Gervais, tolerance for Pilkington, and your feelings about some slightly mean-spirited (but no less funny) humor. But for me, I think it's a great little show, and I'm glad to know there's definitely at least one more season to come (if not more). Any chance to eavesdrop on these conversations is a good one, in my opinion. |
| 4-15 | The
Room (2003)  |
A midnight screening of Tommy Wiseau's astonishingly inept and miraculously awful magnum opus. I think this marks my fifth or sixth attendance of The Room, and I absolutely love it every time. There are scenes so gleefully disastrous that sometimes I can even ignore the audience and just laugh maniacally at the idiocy of it all (Wiseau's laugh after Mark tells the story of the woman being beaten never fails to reduce me to cackles), but when you add the movie's insanity to an appreciative and enthusiastic crowd, you have one of the very rare films that not only deserves its cult following and ritual, but gains from it. |
| 4-15 | Super
(2010)
|
I made no secret about how much I hated the movie Kick-Ass, and one of my biggest problems is that the movie didn't have the strength of its convictions. It wanted to toy with darker ideas about superheroes and vengeance and then toss them for a cartoonish, ridiculous finale. Well, you can say what you will about Super - and it's certainly not a perfect film - but you can't deny that it follows its ideas to their logical and brutal conclusion. The story of a loser who takes up a superhero mantle after his wife leaves him, Super is a sprawling mess that's all over the map; the tone veers wildly between goofy fun, awkward comedy, pitch-black nastiness, and back again, and while it does them all well enough, they definitely don't fit together all that well into anything resembling a coherent film. Even so, I can't deny that I had a lot of fun here; Gunn's screenplay is frequently hilarious, Nathan Fillion's small part in a Bibleman riff is fantastic, Wilson and Page make a great duo, and Kevin Bacon is having more fun than I've seen him have in a long time. It's just that the movie itself can't decide if it wants to be funny, serious, or disturbing, and juggles the three in pretty inconsistent ways. Still, I've always said I would prefer an ambitious failure to a boring success, and I can't fault Super for having a lack of ideas that it's playing with, nor can I say it's not entertaining. It's just a movie that's less than the sum of its parts, and that's a bit disappointing. |
| 4-12 | Dog
Day Afternoon (1975) |
One of the greatest films by the late, great Sidney Lumet, Dog Day Afternoon is a simple story made great by Lumet's attention to character, acting, and place. At its core, Dog Day Afternoon is the story of a bank robbery that spirals into a media circus as our robbers find themselves entirely unprepared for what's happening. But if that's all Dog Day Afternoon was about, the film wouldn't be nearly as outstanding and effective as it is. Rather, Lumet lets his characters (by way of his outstanding cast) live and breathe, letting personalities and drama emerge from the relationships and letting the film develop in an organic, unhurried pace. The end result may have a laconic pace for a bank robbery film, but as a character study and a powerful drama (with some incredibly funny comedic elements), you couldn't ask for more. For my money, Dog Day Afternoon changes from a good movie to a great movie with the introduction of Sonny's wife and their subsequent conversation, during which the movie pulls back the curtain on Pacino's inner life, revealing a very different person than we might expect. The fact that the movie nails this scene so perfectly, especially given the time period, is all the more testament to its greatness, and the emotion and impact of the scene is hard to ignore. If all you know of Pacino is his later scenery-chewing, you owe it to yourself to see this; it's a remarkable reminder of how talented he can truly be. Of course, this talent is spread across the board; none of the actors in this movie are playing archetypes or even stock characters; instead, every frame is infused with life, with humanity, with a rich detail and a desire to bring it all to documentary-like life. Dog Day Afternoon may not be what you expect from its premise, and if you're expecting a crime thriller, you'll leave disappointed and frustrated. But if you watch it for what it is - a superb piece of 1970s American drama and character study - you'll be blown away by it. This is a film that feels as alive and magnificent now as it did 35 years ago. |
| 4-3 | The
Found Footage Festival Vol. 5 (2010)
|
A collection of odd videos found in garage sales, Goodwill stores, used video stores, and other strange places, The Found Footage Festival is a pretty great experience, even if the end effect relies a lot on schadenfreude and irony. Here you'll find overweight hunters making animal calls, religious ventriloquism teachers, bizarre medical sales pitches, Linda Blair outlining the plan for revenge, and a faux cowboy who recorded 20-odd sing along videos of songs all while "acting" them out in front of a green screen. All of this is hosted by the festival's founders, who share the tales of finding the videos, offer some occasional MST3k-style riffing on it all, and sometimes just stay out of the way and let the insanity wash over the audience. It's a pretty great time, to be honest; there's something just gleefully fun about watching all of these oddities play out in a crowd, with everyone wondering along with you if they're really seeing what they think they're seeing. It's a good time, and I definitely recommend it. (A nice bonus before the show was the screening of Heavy Metal Parking Lot, a famous piece of cult/bootleg VHS moviemaking about hanging out with some heavy metal fans before a Judas Priest show. It's funny, gloriously 80s-filled, and just a general blast to watch. A very worthy bonus to the festival.) |
| 4-1 | Two
Thousand Maniacs! (1964) |
Two Thousand Maniacs! made me do something I haven't done in 30 years of movie-watching: it made me walk out on a movie I paid money to see. In my defense, let me point out the following:
Oh, and the most important thing of all? Two Thousand Maniacs! is a pretty shitty movie. It's cheap, terribly acted, overly long, and really only works if you're able to give yourself over to its goofiness and willingness to stretch for cheap gore. And you know what? I really wasn't tonight. It is what it is, and it works for you, great; for me, I went from not liking it much to really hating it a bit, and honestly, I don't regret leaving all that much. |
| 4-1 | Book
of Numbers (1973) |
A fantastically entertaining piece of blaxploitation, Book of Numbers is a bit of a lost gem, and that's a shame. Here's a movie about two men who come back home to a small Southern town and set up a numbers game catering to the black community, and end up with an operation so successful that it draws the attention and ire of the local (white) mobsters who want a piece. Book of Numbers is pretty light and comedic, drawing out a lot of hilarious lines, great scenes, and some really fun performances from everyone involved. On top of all that, here's a movie that's very aware of the racial stereotypes it's playing with and uses them humorously and surprisingly effectively, even going so far as to make an intriguing point about them in its closing minutes. Yeah, okay, there's nothing really original or unique here, but what is there is a blast, complete with car chases (with Klansmen!), a few shootouts, fantastic banter, and lovable characters that bring a good deal of life to the screen. All in all, Book of Numbers is an absolute blast. It's a funny, entertaining, smart piece of blaxploitation, and one with a lot of heart and soul to it. It's a shame that it seems to have slipped through the cracks; if the genre appeals to you, you really need to make an effort to track this one down. |
| 4-1 | Cockfighter
(1974)
|
Tell someone there's a Roger Corman-produced movie from the 70s called Cockfighter, and they'll make some assumptions. After all, Corman has a reputation for cheap exploitation fare, and given Cockfighter's subject matter (and the fact that the film features a good number of actual cockfights), you wouldn't expect much different. But given that Cockfighter was directed by Monte Hellman (who directed Two Lane Blacktop, an oddly existential road race movie), it's no surprise that the film has a very different feel than you might expect. Warren Oates plays the protagonist, a cockfighter named Frank Mansfield who has decided not to speak until he wins the sport's highest medal. It's an odd decision to make for your main character, and a gutsy one that relies on Oates to carry the film through body language and presence, both of which he's more than capable of. However, apparently not everyone believed in it, as there's an intrusive voiceover that ruins much of the effect created by the mute hero. Add to that some bizarre and ill-fitting flashbacks and a rushed ending, and you'll find that Cockfighter seems like a movie hamstrung by its own limitations and some bad choices. Even so, it's a compelling watch, if only for Oates, who can create a vivid character with little more than a gesture and a look, and Hellman's ability to fully immerse the viewer in this underground world, giving it a sense of experience and realism that works to the film's advantage. It's a flawed film, but a solid one, and one that's far more interesting and compelling than you might expect given some elements of its pedigree. |
| 3-26 | Ratatouille
(2007)
|
I have to say, I liked Ratatouille a little less than I remembered. There's still a lot to love here, from the absolutely stunning animation (which is really emphasized by the pristine Blu-ray transfer) to the voice performances, from the beautiful art direction to the blend of comedy and genuine, heartfelt emotion. But what felt a little less exciting to me this time around were the characters. I still loved Remy, with his desire to overcome his limitations and embrace what he loved; I still loved Ego, whose self-awareness makes him all the more fascinating, especially when paired with a wonderful and perfect little flashback. But Linguini? Collette? Those are two remarkably weak characters, ones who I had a lot more trouble caring about than I remembered, especially when compared to the depth given to a lot of the other cast. Don't get me wrong; I still really liked Ratatouille a lot, even though a second watch made me wonder exactly how much the movie really believes in its own philosophy (that is, the "Anyone Can Cook" ideal). But I wasn't as taken with it this time. Whether it's just an issue of mood or a deeper look at the film, it's hard to say, but there were definitely a lot more flaws than I noticed before. |
| 3-24 | Where
the Buffalo Roam (1980)
|
While I was watching Where the Buffalo Roam, I was enjoying it just fine. Bill Murray is outstanding as Hunter Thompson, absolutely nailing the mannerisms and much of the man's image. And there are some undeniably funny sequences and scenes that I thoroughly enjoyed. But as it finished, I found myself growing more and more dissatisfied, and as I thought about it, I realized why: here was Thompson, sanitized and stuck into a "snobs vs. slobs" 80s comedy. That's not always true, but it's true for much of the movie, most notably the jarring, terrible ending in which Thompson turns his back on his wild friend to do his job. What? Really? For as good as Murray is and some scattered moments of genuine comedy, taken as a whole, Where the Buffalo Roam wants to make Thompson into a comedy icon, but wants to do it while making him the hero of the story, and that ultimately feels like a betrayal of the man they seem so desperate to celebrate. |
| 3-24 | Boxcar
Bertha (1972)
|
I'd be curious to know what Roger Corman, who produced Boxcar Bertha, thought of the finished results. Corman was famous for B-movie production, and the script and story of Bertha fit that model to a T. Here's a story of a girl orphaned at a young age who finds herself riding the rails during the Depression and becoming involved with a group of radicals and criminals, a story that lends itself to plenty of sex and violence. And yet, as directed by a very young Martin Scorsese (this is his second movie), Bertha takes on a different feel, something very different from what I expected. The violence is brutal, used in that Scorsese style that shocks with its impact and its visceral nature, rather than the glorified and "fun" violence of so much exploitation. The characters are less thrilled with their lives and more resigned, and the world they inhabit is a dreary one. And the ending, while it goes more than a bit over the top, certainly doesn't give the typical ending you might expect. All in all, Boxcar Bertha isn't a flawless film, but it's far more interesting than its roots might lead you expect, and it's an obvious stepping stone for Scorsese, still honing his craft and becoming the man who would bring us Mean Streets after this. |
| 3-23 | Shock
Corridor (1963)
|
Beneath its B-movie trappings, Shock Corridor hides a pointed, effective piece of social commentary, perhaps made all the more effective for the experimental feel of the movie around it and the daring of the time in which it was released. Nominally, Shock Corridor is about a reporter who goes undercover in a mental institution to investigate a murder, but ultimately the movie's plot is the least interesting thing about it. More fascinating are the three major patients the movie focuses on, all of whom have been driven to the asylum by the Red Scare, racism, and the pressures of the nuclear age. The fact that Fuller took these issues on at all in 1963 is impressive enough; that he does so with such rage and without regard for the "typical" American view is even more impressive. After all, this is a movie in which a black man becomes convinced he is white due to racial hatred, and angrily delivers a recruiting speech for the Ku Klux Klan - a speech that was apparently taken verbatim from speeches delivered by congressmen. It doesn't hurt that the film around all of this is so odd; Fuller plays with melodramatic elements, but there's also more than a touch of the surreal (particularly in a fairly jaw-dropping scene near the film's end) and the intentionally campy to keep viewers off balance. All in all, Shock Corridor is a little oddity, but it's one whose cult reputation is definitely merited. The ferocity of its convictions, the odd feel of its sensibility, the gutsiness of some of its points - all of it adds up to a movie that's a little flawed, but deeply fascinating, involving, and intriguing. |
| 3-23 | The
Hospital (1971)
|
One certainly can't fault Paddy Chayefsky's script for The Hospital for having a lack of ambition. As if having a movie about the failures of the medical institutional wasn't enough, The Hospital also contains a brutally depressed resident toying with suicide, an ex-acidhead girl who brings with her an Indian shaman, a series of increasingly frustrated and angry doctors, a community group made up of warring revolutionaries, and, oh yeah, a serial killer as well. So it's no wonder that The Hospital feels a little cluttered and unfocused, and that lack of focus really keeps the film from reaching the heights of, say, Network. Of course, there are some outstanding scenes here and there, and any movie with George C. Scott can't be all bad, and his performance as the aforementioned resident is fantastic, mixing a weary fatalism with cynicism, anger, and an unexpected hopefulness that comes up now and then. And, of course, Chayefsky's script brings the strong satirical elements you'd expect from him. It's just that the film as a whole is muddled and meandering, which ends up robbing it all of much of its impact. |
| 3-23 | Brewster
McCloud (1970)
|
In his introduction to this when it screened on TCM, Bill Hader commented that "this is a weird movie even for the 70s," which says quite a bit about Brewster McCloud more elegantly than I could. After all, this is a movie in which a loner (played by Bud Cort) who lives in a room in the Astrodome is obsessed with flight, constructs a massive pair of wings, is protected by an apparent guardian angel, and strangles people on a regular basis. Oh, and did I mention that it's all a comedy? The end result is a odd little movie, but not necessarily a bad one. After all, this is Robert Altman, and he brings with him his usual talent and skill for creating striking images and great performances, both of which pay off handsomely here. Now, what exactly Brewster McCloud is, I don't think I can tell you. Is it a satire of 70s police dramas? A bit of social commentary? An arthouse character study? Just a bizarre comedy? I think the truth probably lays somewhere in the middle there, but the inability to decide what the movie is really does create a fragmented, somewhat frustrating piece of work. Still, I can't deny that I thought it was all pretty entertaining in its oddity, even while I don't think it's a complete success by any means. |
| 3-21 | Duplicity
(2009) |
I'm a sucker for movies about conmen and con games, so take that into account when I say that, on the whole, I enjoyed Duplicity pretty well. The story here is incredibly labyrinthine; suffice to say it involves two major corporations who are constantly spying on each other, a double agent working for one of them, and a series of players with more to their motivations than it first seems. The biggest thing Duplicity has going for it is an outstanding cast, including Clive Owen, Julia Roberts, Paul Giamatti, and Tom Wilkinson, to name a few. In many ways, this feels like a throwback to something like To Catch a Thief, which coasted as much on its star power and their personas as the dialogue and chemistry; that being said, Tony Gilroy does a great job managing a complicated story, doling out flashbacks and revelations at a nicely gradual pace. Duplicity has a couple of pretty significant problems, including getting to a point where the characters are so secretive that they're hard to empathize with and Julia Roberts' inability to make the jump from "adorable" to "sexy". (She's perfectly fine in the movie, but at the points that call for a femme fatale, she feels miscast.) Still, I had a lot of fun with it; then again, I have a weakness for the genre, so your mileage may vary. |
| 3-21 | The
Boss of It All (2006) |
It's unlikely that Lars von Trier, director of movies like Dogville, Dancer in the Dark, and Antichrist, would be on anyone's list as someone who's likely to make a comedy. And yet, here we are with The Boss of It All, in which a company owner desperate for the love of his employees hires an actor to play the part of his non-existent boss to take the heat off of some unpopular decisions. As you might expect from von Trier, The Boss of It All doesn't really play out conventionally; von Trier occasionally intrudes into the film and offers his own thoughts on the film, there's a lot of meta commentary about acting and actors, and the shot and framing are done by a computer program that did it all through computations. And, to be honest, The Boss of It All isn't always laugh-out-loud funny so much as it is consistently amusing and entertaining. Even so, I don't want to undersell amusement and entertainment, and The Boss of It All keeps its story moving in enough oddball directions to make for a pretty fun time. It's certainly an oddity in von Trier's work, but an enjoyable enough one - and how often can you really call a von Trier movie "enjoyable"? |
| 3-20 | A
Face in the Crowd (1957)
|
How astonishingly prescient is A Face in the Crowd? Would it suffice to explain that Keith Olbermann's nickname for Glenn Beck comes from this movie (and it's an incredibly fitting one, at that)? A Face in the Crowd is the story of "Lonesome" Rhodes, an ex-con who gets his own radio show, then parlays that into a television show, moving from there into politics, power, influence, and manipulation of the people. It doesn't matter how much you remind yourself that Rhodes is played by Andy Griffith (yes, that Andy Griffith); you'll forget quickly, as Griffith creates a cackling, vicious, spiteful demagogue out of Rhodes, pulling out the Griffith charm only as needed to play the crowd until they're eating out of his hand. The screenplay for Face in the Crowd keeps things escalating perfectly, slowly letting the film become something darker and more spiteful as it develops, letting everything build to a dynamite climax that fires on every imaginable cylinder. It doesn't hurt that director Elia Kazan brings his absolute A-game here, underlining his cast's moods and the story through framing and cinematography, and otherwise staying out of the way of his actors' - and when your cast includes Walter Matthau, Lee Remick, and Patricia Neal, that's an easy thing to do. The final result is a riveting piece of work, one that taps into melodrama in the telling of a fantastic piece of social commentary. If you're a fan of Network, you owe it to yourself to watch Face; it definitely plays out like the pundit-focused companion piece to that film, and does so with dialogue, performances, and storytelling every bit as good as that film. In short, A Face in the Crowd is an overlooked masterpiece, one whose foresight is becoming clearer with each passing day. |
| 3-20 | The
Night of the Hunter (1955)
|
One of the great directorial one-offs of all time, The Night of the Hunter is a film that looks and feels like little else that I've ever seen. Blending German expressionism, Southern Gothic melodrama, Malick-like dreamscapes, and fairy tales into one fascinating mixture, Charles Laughton created a stark, compelling world filled with forbidding buildings, haunting shadows, and dreamlike vistas, and anchored it all in a riveting thriller about a serial killing preacher desperate to learn the location of stolen money, even if it takes murdering children to do so. There's so much to talk about here, from Mitchum's iconic performance as the preacher to a surprisingly grim edge to it all, from Lillian Gish's surprisingly complicated role to some absolutely incredible cinematography, including a shot at the bottom of a lake that may be one of my favorite camera shots in all of cinema. But what's remarkable about The Night of the Hunter is the way that all of these parts combine to create something far greater than the sum of its parts. In lesser hands, The Night of the Hunter could have been a standard thriller. Instead, Laughton mixes religious commentary, haunting imagery, sexual obsession, parental feelings, and more, and adds it all into this fascinating, slightly off-kilter and dreamlike/nightmarish world, creating something wholly unique and peculiarly haunting. |
| 3-18 | Big
Time (1988)
|
Part concert film, part rock opera, Big Time feels like it was probably greenlit in the wake of Stop Making Sense, in the hopes of capturing that same lightning in the bottle of the Talking Heads documentary. It's no surprise that it didn't really work; for one thing, Waits is a harder sell than the Heads, more of an acquired taste than an easily accessible singer. If you're into Waits, though, you'll find quite a bit to enjoy here, from some fantastic live performances to some engaging and offbeat stage banter. Of course, you'll also find a few pretentious touches and oddities, with strange asides, characters being somewhat introduced and running through stories, and so forth. I walked in liking Waits, but not being a diehard fan; I've enjoyed the bits that I've heard over time, but never really sought out much of his work. By the time I finished, I had really enjoyed the music I'd heard. The film? Well, it's about three songs too long and a little meandering. But as concert films go, it's a fun one, and fans will thoroughly enjoy it. |
| 3-18 | Dark
Star (1974)
|
On the one hand, I feel like I should go a little easy on Dark Star. After all, it's literally John Carpenter's student film that a studio picked up and asked him to expand to feature length, and so it should be no surprise that it feels very much like a low-budget, amateur production. But here's the thing: if a studio wants to pick up a movie and release it, that certainly implies that the movie has something to recommend it beyond novelty, and Dark Star really doesn't. The premise of an anti-2001, with a bored crew adrift on a pointless mission, isn't a bad one, but with its meandering script, mediocre acting, incredible plotlessness, and a lot of really unfunny attempts at comedy, it feels like Dark Star works a lot better on paper than it does in practice. There's one genuinely great sequence, which involves men trying to negotiate with a sentient bomb, that feels like something that Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett could have come up with, and for a brief moment, I understand why Dark Star has its cult following. But a few minutes of a feature film do not a good movie make, and Dark Star is assuredly not a good movie. It's an admirable student film, but otherwise, it's an amateurish, dull, uninvolving mess. |
| 3-18 | Hearts
and Minds (1974)
|
It's not surprising to find that Hearts and Minds is one of Michael Moore's favorite films. After all, this is definitely in the "documentary as essay" vein of filmmaking, as director Peter Davis systematically sets out to make a case against the Vietnam war, choosing his evidence and editing so as to underline his points. And like Michael Moore's films, there are times when you're almost frustrated at Hearts and Minds for letting its salient, powerful footage be undermined by cheap tricks and manipulations. At the same time, from a historical perspective, Hearts and Minds is more impressive as an effort to give the Vietnamese a voice, a chance to allow both sides a chance to speak, rather than simply focusing on the American debate over the war. It's that effort to humanize and empathize with the Vietnamese that was, in many ways, the most controversial element of Hearts and Minds, and yet in many ways, that's the most important aspect of the film, the one that makes the film worth watching. Even beyond that, there's no denying the impact of the footage Davis chooses here; even if you bristle at some of Davis's editing and misleading, the footage is effective enough and well-chosen enough to speak for itself and make its case without effort. In fact, it makes Davis's work simply feel like someone without the confidence to see that his film could easily stand on its own and make its case very well. |
| 3-18 | Fires
on the Plain (1959)
|
Fires on the Plain is a difficult experience, make no mistake. This is a film that focuses on Japanese soldiers in the Philippines during WWII who find themselves on a deeply losing side with little hope of survival. What follows from there is a break from every bit of honor, decorum, and military discipline, as men break ranks, steal, cheat, and do anything else to stay alive, no matter how horrific or immoral it may be. To call Fires on the Plain unflinching is an understatement - this is a brutal, bleak look at what war can do to men and the toll such conditions can take, and the film is surprisingly graphic, especially for its time. Its beautifully framed and filmed black and white cinematography only emphasized the brutality the film depicts, much as the film's black humor only underlines its grim nature. The end result is a remarkably powerful experience, one that makes it's anti-war stance very clearly and very effectively, all without so much as mentioning the stance once in the film. No, this isn't a film meant to be enjoyed, but it's an uncommonly powerful experience that takes us to a place none of us would willing go and forces us to contemplate what we would do - and the answers are never easy and never without cost. |
| 3-17 | Crazy
Heart (2009)
|
Crazy Heart tells the story of Bad Blake, a country singer whose glory days have passed him by, leaving him playing in bowling alleys while staying functional by way of alcohol. Then, of course, he meets a young single mother who helps him begin to emerge from his depression. In short, Crazy Heart is one of those movies that really shouldn't work, but somehow succeeds in making something that really resonates more than it should. There's any number of reasons why, including the way the script gives even tired plot elements a new life and avoid other cliches entirely, and the way the low-key direction stays out of the way and lets the characters breathe. But more than those, there are the consistently great performances, from Colin Farrell's grateful up-and-comer to Robert Duvall as a old friend and Maggie Gyllenhaal as the single mother who makes what could have been a stock character into a living, breathing human. But more than any of those, there's Bridges as Bad Blake, and his performance creates a man who's been through it all and survived, and has the scars and toughness to prove it. It's these performances that really make Crazy Heart work as well as it does, taking a story told in countless country songs and giving it an age, wisdom, and life I didn't expect. |
| 3-17 | Ponyo
(2008)
|
I've seen a little less than half of the films by Hayao Miyazaki, often described as Japan's greatest animator and a major inspiration on many American animators (and especially the great folks at Pixar). And of the ones I've seen, I'd probably have to call Ponyo the weakest of them, but that sounds as if I'm saying bad things about the movie; instead, it's more a commentary on how great Miyazaki's work is that such a wonderful little film would be a "lesser" work. Inspired by Disney's Little Mermaid, Ponyo tells the story of a little goldfish that becomes human, upsetting the balance of nature and causing monumental chaos that affects both the land and the sea. The story couldn't be more simple - there's barely conflict here, to say nothing of tension. What there is is Miyazaki's beautiful, entrancing, incredible animation, which brings the world to life in a wondrous fashion that's hard to describe without experiencing it. Miyazaki's reputation is well-deserved, based on everything I've seen of his; his boundless imagination and attention to detail create worlds unlike anything else in animation - or, to be fair, unlike anything in cinema - and Ponyo is no exception. With highways transformed into whale roads, underwater fields, little girls skipping on waves, and creatures created from the ocean itself, Ponyo is a treasure trove of visual delights, and its simple story only makes its sweet nature all the more enjoyable. If you skip this because it's Japanese, or because it's a cartoon, your loss; you're missing out on a joyous experience. |
| 3-17 | Hoosiers
(1986)
|
This will probably make me less American or less of a man, but I just wasn't all that impressed with Hoosiers. To be fair, I'd probably be more into Hoosiers if I were more into sports movies, but even so, I felt like there was a lot of this movie that just seemed generic and overdone. There's montage after montage, an overbearing score by Jerry Goldsmith, flat characters without much personality to them (everyone in the movie has two moods: "combative" or "excited"), and game after game that always seems to come down to a tied score in the last seconds of the game. What quality there is in Hoosiers comes from the solid performances, especially by Hackman and Hopper, who both give their characters more personality and depth than the script does. I dunno. It's a perfectly acceptable film, but it all just felt like it'd been done before and after, and done better. |
| 3-17 | Crank
(2006) |
Chev Chelios has been poisoned. There's no antidote. In fact, all he can hope to do is delay the poison coursing through his body by means of getting his adrenalin pumping as hard as he can. Such is the ridiculous but fun premise of Crank, a gleefully insane action movie that revels in its own absurdity and willingness to push the envelope further and further with each passing minute. Playing out like a live-action videogame, Crank follows its hero as he drives through shopping malls, robs a hospital, has public sex with his girlfriend, starts brawls, and does anything else possible to keep his heart moving along as fast as it possibly can. The end result is a darkly funny, exciting movie that's all the more effective for its willingness to move in unexpected directions. Crank definitely isn't flawless; even at 88 minutes, it starts to wear out its welcome and become exhausting, and as the movie draws to a close, it loses some of that daring in favor of a generic final shootout (somewhat redeemed by the final scene). Still, for fans of movies like Shoot 'Em Up and John Woo's more spectacular Hong Kong films, Crank is a blast; its sense of humor goes a long way, to say nothing of its willingness to go beyond any reasonable boundaries, and the end result is a wonderfully anarchic piece of fun. |
| 3-16 | Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)
|
There are a lot of people who'll argue that this version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is the best cinematic adaptation to date, and it's not too hard to understand why. Frederic March gives an outstanding performance as both Jekyll and Hyde, so much so that if I didn't know that the same man played both, I wouldn't have known it - and not just because of the spectacular makeup. Of course, you can't mention the makeup without mentioning the remarkable transitions, done with a clever use of colored lights and makeup. Add to all of that a pre-Hayes code willingness to push the boundaries and go to unexpectedly dark places, some remarkably inventive cinematography, and great use of mirrors and split screens to emphasize the story's themes, and you've got a pretty great adaptation of the story that definitely embraces Jekyll's desire to explore his darker impulses. Even with all that working in its favor, the movie has some flaws, especially that awkward silence and pacing of a lot of the early sound films, and I can't deny that some of the more melodramatic scenes fell a little flat for me. Still, this is definitely a horror classic that does the story justice, and its inventiveness and unique feel make it well worth checking out. |
| 3-16 | Aguirre,
The Wrath of God (1972) |
A fascinating, haunting cinematic experience, Aguirre is the tale of 16th century Spanish explorers in search of the golden city of El Dorado; instead, they find madness, violence, and death. I've read a few reviews which comment that Aguirre owes much to Heart of Darkness, and there's definitely something to that; like Conrad's tale, Aguirre follows men on a river journey, watching as they slowly become less and less civilized, giving in to the jungle and wilderness around them. But even that cursory description doesn't do the haunting world of Aguirre justice. As filmed by Werner Herzog, the film unfolds at a slow, methodical pace, giving the film the feel of a slowly unfolding dream (or nightmare). Even the film's use of violence is quiet and paced, with much of it taking place off-screen, allowing our mind to fill in the details or to ponder on the causes. Nothing is quite real in Herzog's world; everything here feels as though it's in some otherworldly jungle, one far removed from anything experienced in modern day. And striding through it all, dominating every second of the film, is Klaus Kinski as the titular Aguirre, a violent, angry, hunched megalomaniac whose lust for power and palpable hatred for those around him create a force that rages against the predatory jungle environment. To describe Aguirre is a futile task in almost any way; the film works as an experience, as a world in which you immerse and lose yourself, and as a dreamlike vision that lingers long after the final spectacular, astonishing shots. It is an essential film for any serious cinephile, one that speaks to the very nature of humanity. |
| 3-15 | Cabaret (1972) |
Cabaret is a weirdly schizophrenic film. Most of the film is the story of a decadent love triangle set in pre-WWII Germany, a triangle between an hedonistic showgirl, a homosexual English teacher, and an upper-class bisexual German. This story's not uninteresting, but at the same time, there's nothing all that special about it, either. Then there's the undercurrent of the story - the rise of the Nazis. It's this element that makes Cabaret so intriguing; it's fascinating to see this unfold in the background as the backdrop against these somewhat shallow lives. Tying it all together is the cabaret numbers themselves, which somewhat serve as a Greek chorus for the film, anchored by a show-stopping performance by Joel Grey. The end result is a strangely divided film, one that asks us to become involved in the romantic entanglements of three shallow people while a monstrous evil rises in the background. To some degree, I feel like that's the point of the film, and when the film focuses on the Nazis (most notably during a stunning musical number in a beer garden), it hits its highest, most effective points. I actually liked the film more than I think I'm coming across here; I just felt like it's somewhat fractured. But again, perhaps that's more the point of the film than I'm realizing. |
| 3-15 | Grand
Illusion (1937)
|
There's an irony to the fact that Grand Illusion is largely (and correctly, I'd say) regarded as one of the all-time great war films, yet features no actual warfare during its running time; to me, it makes the film's points about war all the more successful for doing so without relying on the brutality of war to make them. The story of a group of French POWs in WWI who are treated as equals by their German captors, what makes Grand Illusion so powerful is the fact that it treats its characters - both foe and friend - as wholly human, and asks that its characters do the same. In doing so, Renoir emphasizes the human connection over the political/national one, focusing the film on the bonds that connect all of us, even in the midst of war. There's a simplicity and beauty to the entire film, so much so that it's hard to talk about for fear of dissecting its perfection; one can hardly write about the film without mentioning Erich von Stroheim's quiet, dignified performance, but to focus too much on that would be to miss out on Dita Parlo's widowed farm woman, or Fresnay's aristocratic officer, or Julien Carrette as the exuberant Cartier...and the list could go on and on and on. Simply put, Grand Illusion is a beautiful, moving film, one that argues that our human connections should come before our political and national battles, and does so in a quiet, understated way, proving its point rather than preaching it. It's hard for a film which is often cited as one of the all-time great works of cinema to live up to that reputation. Grand Illusion does so, and I think in many ways, it's all the more relevant (and tragic) in our current atmosphere than it was in 1937. |
| 3-15 | The
Wages of Fear (1953) |
2 trucks full of nitroglycerin that could explode with the slightest jostle. 4 men. 300 miles of bumpy, rocky, dangerous roads. Such is the premise of The Wages of Fear, which wrings incredible tension out of its premise through patience, silence, and imminent danger. Of course, none of this would matter without characters we were interested in, and Wages provides that as well. Mind you, these are not your typical heroes; these men would be at home in The Treasure of Sierra Madre - they're cutthroat, desperate, and driven to do almost anything for money, even when that means brutal, hateful behavior. Combine these characters with some dazzling setpieces (my personal favorite involves nothing more than a wooden turnaround for the trucks), and what you get is one of the most quietly intense thrillers I've ever seen, one that Hitchcock would be proud of in every way. Wages has a couple of missteps, to be fair: the opening starts to drag a little bit, and the ending is a bit of cheap irony unworthy of the film before it. But those are minor quibbles when dealing with such a riveting, nerve-wracking piece of cinema. A great premise executed with incredible panache and spectacular pacing, The Wages of Fear is a thriller that's hard to top, especially considering how much it often does with so little really "happening". |
| 3-14 | Swing
Time (1936)
|
Can I leave my review of this as "I guess it's just not for me"? There's no denying the chemistry between Astaire and Rogers, nor the talent on display whenever the two of them take to the dance floor. But for every dazzling dance sequence (including a jaw-dropping one with Astaire dancing against his own shadows and one in which Rogers and Astaire dance on two different stories), there's a scene full of silly, inessential plotting, flat characters, and a lot of shtick that wore me out pretty early on. Your tolerance for all of that may vary from mine. For me, the dancing was impressive, but it's not something I can get lost in the way so many others can, so I found my attention wandering. And given that they're the main thing the film has going for it, is it any wonder that the whole thing left me a little lukewarm? If you're a fan of dance, you'll like this more than I did, but even so, it's great numbers held together by a middling film. |
| 3-14 | Green
Zone (2010) |
One of the things I admire so much about Paul Greengrass is his ability to take profoundly politicized events and remind us of the human cost being paid there, stripping away the context that would be added later by others and leaving simply the event itself (see, for instance, Bloody Sunday and United 93). My first hope was that Green Zone would be more of the same, this time engaging in the failed intelligence about WMDs that ultimately led us into war with Iraq. On some level, Greengrass succeeds; Green Zone is at its best when it's immersed in the life of soldiers in Iraq and the dangers they're facing on an everyday basis. As usual, Greengrass has a knack for nailing the details, here creating an environment that's being thrown into a profound chaos not only born of violence, but also of social upheaval. That being said, it's the issue where Greengrass falls short here, simplifying the controversy down to something far less complex than it really is (and which Greengrass normally handles better, I think). There are some interesting details here, and I think Greengrass and company do a nice job of turning it all into a solid thriller (complete with one of the most engaging and thrilling chases I've seen in some time), but the message of the film falls short as a result. None of this is to say that Green Zone is bad, per se, but neither is it as good as most of Greengrass's other work, including the second two Bourne films. |
| 3-14 | Planet
of the Apes (1968)
|
Given that I knew the ending of the original Planet of the Apes and felt like I was fairly familiar with the story, I felt like this was a movie I needed to see more than one I wanted to see. So it was a bit of a pleasant surprise to find myself enjoying this as much as I did. One of the great things about Planet of the Apes is the way it's a movie more about its ideas than the plotting; in fact, the plotting is all tied inextricably to the world created and the ideas the movie's playing with (as opposed, say, to Burton's execrable remake, which meandered all over the place with no sense of what it wanted to really be about). After all, this is a movie that spends nearly thirty minutes building up to the apes, spending time with nothing more than three astronauts exploring an unfamiliar planet and trying to see how to survive. When the apes finally arrive and the story comes through, there's a lot of interesting subtext, from the courtroom scenes (unsurprisingly written by a prominent blacklist victim) to some social commentary. Even the justly famous twist ending serves a nice point, even if it's one that's a staple of a lot of the era's sci-fi flicks. Yeah, sure, Planet of the Apes is a bit of a B-picture, but it's a fun one, and smarter than I initially expected. Heston adds a lot of swagger and personality, the makeup is surprisingly well done and interesting, and the story and world richer than I expected. I definitely feel like I have a better understanding of why the movie has its iconic status now; what's a nice surprise is to find myself agreeing with it to a large degree. |
| 3-13 | An
Idiot Abroad: Season 1 (2010)
|
Your feelings for An Idiot Abroad will probably depend on how amusing you find Ricky Gervais, Stephen Merchant, and especially their fascinating, odd friend Karl Pilkington. If the idea of two friends sending their uncultured friend out into the far reaches of the world expressly to make him uncomfortable for their own amusement doesn't seem funny to you, well, this won't work for you. If, on the other hand, the meanness of the idea works for you, this is a completely hilarious version of a travel show. Of course, the meanness shouldn't bother you too much, not when the target is Pilkington; between his often backward views on the world, his hilariously blunt (and often bewildering) observations, and his willingness to go along, Pilkington defuses the premise by giving as good as he gets and sometimes deserving the torment. Over the course of the series, Karl sees the seven wonders of the world, along the way stopping in native villages, being kidnapped by security teams, eating bizarre delicacies, sleeping in unclean houses, and generally getting a very un-touristy experience. The end result is a hilarious inversion of the usual travel show, giving us a very reluctant and uninformed tour guide whose discomfort, ignorance, and irritation are the reason to watch, not a flaw in the show. I found the whole thing absolutely hilarious, from Karl's irritated judgments on the world (Karl on the Great Wall of China: "It's a good wall. But it's not a GREAT wall.") to the torments Gervais and Merchant create. It's not your typical travel show, but for me, that's what made it so much fun. |
| 3-5 | The
Silence of the Lambs (1991) |
Each time I watch The Silence of the Lambs, I'm struck more and more by what an astonishing accomplishment it truly is as a film. Hopkins gets a lot of the credit for the film's greatness, and for good reason; his performance, even as it hints as chewing the scenery, is more restrained than we think, and makes the explosions of viciousness and bile all the more effective. And yes, Foster is superb, bringing both a confidence and a vulnerability to Clarice that truly emphasizes the feminist elements in the film and changes it all into something more complex than it would otherwise be. But much of the credit for the film's greatness has to go to Jonathan Demme, who films it all in an unusual style - a lot of people addressing the camera, a lot of sweeping shots that descend into darkness - that both draws the viewer into the film and unnerves them subtly. We are there as Clarice is ogled and disrespected; we are forced into looking directly into Lecter's sneering face; we are peering up from the pit at Buffalo Bill as he mocks us with his laughter; we are slowly immersed into the labyrinths and nightmares that lie beneath the film's ordinary surfaces. The end result is something far more complex than simple horror, though it's undoubtedly a horror film, and a great one at that. Rather, Silence of the Lambs manages to be a psychological study, a thriller, a quietly feminist work, and something more than the sum of its parts. Watching it in a print in the dark only reinforced the film's greatness for me and made me respect it all the more, from the chilling conversations to that wonderfully icy ending. |
| 3-1 | Rushmore
(1998) |
I don't know that I have much to add to my review of Rushmore that I wrote a little over two years ago. I still find the movie perfect in every way, and I still find myself cracking up at the perfect lines and the deadpan delivery. I'm still blown away by Anderson's elliptical style, giving his characters a life beyond the boundaries of the movie that we can fill in easily on our own, which makes the whole thing all the more real and impactful. What's more interesting to me is how my feelings about the characters change with each successive viewing (and, perhaps, as I get older). This time, I was struck by how essentially sad Max is as a character underneath his front; here's a boy who lost his mother and wants desperately to be an adult, but is missing out on the joys that can come along with being an adolescent. And, of course, I'm struck as always with how empty and lonely Murray plays his role, and how wonderful his spark of life is when it shows up. I wish there were more movies that made me instantly as happy and fulfilled as Rushmore does. It's not the only one, but there aren't enough that work this well and this efficiently, and even less that hold up, viewing after viewing. But this one really does, both on a comedic level and an emotional one, and that makes it a gem to be treasured. |
| 2-18 | Black
Swan (2010)
|
A rewatch with the wife, who had not seen it yet. I was a little curious as to how Black Swan would play on a rewatch - after all, so much of the film's power and impact comes from the games it plays with reality and Portman's deteriorating mental state. Would the film work as well once we know what's real and what's not (well, more or less - there are still a few scenes which we may never really know one way or the other)? Happily, the answer is a resounding "yes". If anything, a rewatch is all the more compelling for seeing how carefully and artfully Aronofsky lays the groundwork for what's to come, from the early introduction of a nail file to a greater sense of Portman's feelings about herself early on in the film. I'll fully admit that I'm a sucker for this kind of film - there's something incredibly fascinating about immersing yourself in the perspective of a character whose reality is affected by her psyche, and just as Repulsion did, following that train to the logical endpoint makes for an unsettling but unforgettable experience. I still give the slight edge for 2010's best film to The Social Network, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't close and ultimately a bit of a coin toss in many ways. Black Swan is a hell of an experience, and as pure cinema, it's hard to think of a more gripping sequence than the film's final performance. |
| 2-12 | Casablanca
(1942) |
Oh, Casablanca. How can you be so perfect? Everybody involved thought they were making just another run-of-the-mill studio picture, but through some perfect storm, what resulted was absolute magic in every frame. You've got an incredible supporting cast that takes their characters and gives them a life far beyond the screen and their lines. You've got a smart script filled with iconic lines and a complex, rich tale of love, loyalty, and sacrifice. You've got Curtiz's amazing direction, filled with spectacular shots, rich shadows, wonderful framing, and so much richness. You've got Bergman, who's never been lovelier as a woman torn between two very different kinds of love. And last but definitely not least, you've got Bogart, a man without a country who's shocked back into the world through some emotional pain. There's so much to talk about with Casablanca that my tiny little film log won't do it justice - how could I have enough room to talk about Claude Rains' funny, nuanced Captain Renault, or the incredible foresight of the story, or the moral gray areas, or that amazing dueling music scene, or the emotional wallop that it all packs even to this cynic, or Lorre's amazing (if brief) appearance...and that's just scratching the surface. Look, Casablanca is that rarest of things - a perfect film in every way. And if you haven't seen it, then quit reading this right now and go see it. You owe it to yourself. |
| 2-11 | Woman
in the Dunes (1964) |
An entomologist wandering the desert, studying beetles, misses the last bus home. Luckily, there's a young woman at the bottom of a steep valley in the dunes with room to spare...but the next morning, the ladder seems to have disappeared. Such is the setup for Woman in the Dunes, one of the most stunningly gorgeous and dreamlike films I've ever seen, and one that I was absolutely riveted by for every frame. There's dozens of ways to look at the film - from allegory to horror film to psychosexual drama to to dream story, and part of what's so rewarding about Woman in the Dunes is how well it holds up to every one of these interpretations. The two leads (and, for most of the film, our only two characters) do a phenomenal job conveying the wide range of emotions between the characters - from affection to resentment to distrust to erotic lust and beyond, and they do it so well that it makes it all the simpler to get lost in the film's haunting rhythms. If there's a third character in the film, though, it's the sand itself, shot in staggering ways that give the sensation of watching a sentient, malicious entity, and a dangerous one at that. Ultimately, Woman in the Dunes is awfully hard to describe. But to experience it is to experience a stunning work of art, one that I can't stop thinking about and I was a little sad to see end. I can't classify it, and I can't quite explain it, but I know I was enthralled with it, and I definitely plan on seeing it again at some point to take it all in a second time. A magnificent masterpiece, period. |
| 2-11 | The
Battle of Algiers (1966)
|
Famously, the director of The Battle of Algiers once stated that there is not "one foot" of actual footage in the film; what's so impressive is that such a disclaimer might actually be necessary, as I don't think I've ever seen anything that felt so real and immersed in the violence and politics of a guerilla revolution. The Battle of Algiers depicts the war waged by the FLN, a group demanding Algerian freedom from French rule, and it follows the insurgents' war through assassinations, bombings, battles with the police, speeches, and more. The result is as compelling and riveting a film as I've ever seen, and it's all the more effective for how timeless it is - or, more accurately, how appropriate it feels today. The film was screened for officers and civilian experts dealing with the Iraq War in 2003. The flier handed out to get people to come? "How to win a battle against terrorism and lose the war of ideas." Essentially, Algiers depicts exactly that. It follows both sides of the fight, and although its sympathies are clearly with the separatists, the film doesn't shy away from casualties on either side of the battle. And it focuses no less on the ideas at war than the men themselves. It's rare to find a film that works as well as The Battle of Algiers - as a war film, as a docudrama, as history, as indictment of torture, as depiction of insurgent warfare, as portrait of a city under martial law, as revolutionary propoganda...it works on every one of those levels, and even more. |
| 2-10 | Best
Cartoons Ever: A Gift List by Jerry Beck
|
As you can probably guess from the title (and from the link), this isn't an individual movie. Rather, this is a list surveying 50 of the best (primarily American and Canadian) short cartoons as collected by a film historian. The end result is a pretty great sampling of cartoons, and thanks to the Internet, you can watch every single entry online somewhere (I'll link to all the ones I mention). Some I'd seen before, but any chance to watch such classics as "Duck Amuck" and "Duck Dodgers in the 24½ Century", both of which are high on my list of all-time classics, is a chance worth taking. Of course, the list also contains some Looney Tunes I hadn't seen before, such as the hilarious "The Dover Boys of Pimento University", an inspired piece of lunacy. If the list were all Looney Tunes, though, it wouldn't be an intriguing of a list. To be sure, not every entry was to my taste; while I could definitely see the influence and appeal of "Quasi at the Quackadero", the voice acting and relentless coloring kind of grated on me after a while, and the less said about "The Big Snit", the better. On the other hand, without this list, I wouldn't have revisited some of the classic Betty Boop cartoons and been reminded just how surreal and inventive they are. From the conversion of Cab Calloway into a ghost walrus in "Minnie the Moocher" to the gleeful anarchy of "Bimbo's Initiation", I had forgotten (or maybe not realized as a kid) just how strange and delightful those were. And I can't finish this review without mentioning "The Man Who Planted Trees" (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3), a quiet, simple tale about a shepherd who makes it his life goal to plant trees. With beautiful animation, a simple story, and a quiet grace, this one is a surprisingly moving little piece, and well worth the time to watch it all. In short, if you're an animation fan, you owe it to yourself to check out this list. There's some really great stuff on here, whatever your age. And if you've made it this far in life without the 1½ minutes of genius that is "Bambi Meets Godzilla"...well, that's just plain unacceptable, isn't it? |
| 2-10 | Three
Colors: Red (1994) |
The final volume in a thematic trilogy (the first two parts of which are, as yet, unseen by me), Red revolves around a model with a long distance boyfriend, a young law student on the verge of success, a wandering dog, and a retired judge who eavesdrops on the world around him. What follows from there, really, barely matters; Red is more concerned with the conversations, relationships, and ideas of its characters than a story. There's nothing wrong with that, particularly when you're playing with such interesting characters and ideas as morality, destiny, and brotherhood, although I'd be lying if I didn't mention that my first reaction to the movie was a little bit of frustration as to how open-ended and ambiguous it was. But the more I think about it (particularly after reading this thought-provoking essay about some of the film's nuances), the more I'm taken with it. I can't say that I fell instantly in love with the movie as so many did, but I finished it intrigued, fascinated, and thinking, and that goes a long way with me. I'll be curious to re-visit Red after I watch the first two volumes to see if I react much differently; as it is, I feel like the movie works more on an intellectual level than an emotional one, but given how successful it is on that count, I'm not too bothered by that. |
| 2-8 | Let
the Right One In (2008)
|
I hadn't seen Let the Right One In since its theatrical run, and I was a little nervous as to how well the movie would hold up against my incredibly positive memories. I needn't have worried. Let the Right One In is a superb piece of work, and while saying it's the best vampire movie ever made may be damning it with faint praise given how much dreck is in the genre, saying that it's the rare horror movie that's also a great film should say more. The story is simple enough - a young bullied boy becomes friends with the young girl next door, and he begins to suspect that there's more to her than meets the eye. But what makes Let the Right One In so successful is the depth and time it gives its characters, allowing the story to be a function of their relationship rather than the other way around. Watching this uneasy friendship develop is a galvanizing enough hook, but allowing it play out in unexpected ways, and letting the film luxuriate in its moral and ethical shades of gray, elevates Let the Right One In to a new level, all the way to its fascinatingly ambiguous ending. Of course, the film fires on every technical level, too; from the haunting snow-covered landscape to the unsettling and horrific sound design, Let the Right One In will sneak under your skin and leave you unsettled for a long, long time afterward. What an amazing, rich, wonderful film. I still need to see the remake, especially as I keep hearing that it's surprisingly strong, but it's hard to imagine it equaling this gem. |
| 2-4 | Lost
Highway (1997)
|
I can't deny that, in many ways, Lost Highway feels like a dry run for Lynch's finest film, Mulholland Drive. There's a similar story arc (a main character with a guilty conscience, a fractured version of reality as put through a psychic blender), but there's no arguing that Mulholland is more tightly plotted and controlled. And yet, I can't write off Lost Highway as a failed experiment. For one thing, while the film is less focused and cohesive, that allows Lynch a little more freedom to wander afield, and when those detours work, they really work. There's no greater evidence of this than Robert Blake's unsettling, nightmarish part in the film, which may give us the quintessential Lynch scene: terror out of something as simple and mundane as a cell phone, even while you're unable to articulate exactly what makes it so unsettling. It's as pure a creation of dread as I've ever seen on film, and every appearance of the character works as well. That alone would be enough for me to embrace the film, but there's so much more to like here - the puzzle that is the film's second half, Loggia's scene-stealing presence, some incredible uses of music and score, the ever-present mood of impending doom that fills the film...while Mulholland Drive may be more successful and coherent, Lost Highway may be more successful as a trip into hellish nightmare, and watching Lynch create what amounts in many ways to a full-on horror film is an amazing experience. I may be overrating the film slightly, but I can't help it; anything that elicits such a major emotional response from me (here, pure dread and terror) has a way of earning my respect, and Lost Highway is no exception. It's not Mulholland, but that doesn't mean it's not a gripping, effective trip into Lynch's world. |
| 1-26 | Below
(2002)
|
If there's anything worse than a disappointing movie, it's a movie that takes a fantastic premise and completely squanders it, and Below is such a movie. The concept of a horror movie/thriller set aboard a World War II submarine is a fantastic one, and there are glimpses of how good this could be scattered throughout the movie. But the key word in that sentence is "scattered". Instead, Below unfolds in a disappointingly pedestrian fashion, giving us another variation on a ghost story about a secret crime whose ultimate nature is pretty easily figured out early on in the film. Add to that effects that give everything a fancy, glossy feel, rather than the lived-in feel you'd expect from a sub movie, and you have a movie that just doesn't work as well as I wish it did. (It probably doesn't help that I watched Das Boot so recently; you can't help but compare the submarine environments of the two movies, and the comparison definitely doesn't help Below at all.) |
| 1-26 | Scarface
(1932) |
There's no denying the influence of the original Scarface, even without touching on De Palma's remake. From the scores of Looney Tunes gangsters to the ruthless tone, Scarface casts a long shadow, and with good reason. Paul Muni's performance as the titular gangster whose star is rising is iconic, and justly so, as is George Raft's as Tony's right-hand man. And, sure, the whole "X" motif is neat and well done, and adds a nice sense of tension as it comes up again and again. But while the whole thing is well-made and I admire its influential nature, I also had to admit that I was a little uninvolved with the whole thing. The comedy doesn't blend all that well with the drama, resulting in some awkward scenes; the female characters could charitably be called one-dimensional; the dialogue slow and unpolished (all the more disappointing, given that Howard Hawks was sitting in the director's chair). Still, as a gangster movie, its influence is evident and obvious, even today, and it's not hard to see why; it just didn't do a lot for me personally. |
| 1-25 | Battle
Royale (2000)
|
It's been about a year and a half since I last watched Battle Royale, and to be honest, my views haven't changed all that much since last time. Yes, the movie still has some warts, most notably in the unclear and muddled opening that jumps through about three time periods before settling down into the story. And sure, the ending is a little unclear and underexplained. But it's also a darkly hilarious movie, and the odd juxtapositioning of high school drama and gloriously lurid violence makes for an inspired pairing, and lends the movie to all sorts of satiric interpretations. And enough good can't be said about Beat Kitano's performance as the children's "teacher," with his brilliantly upbeat and violent game update as well as his truly odd presence, which pays off brilliantly in the film's finale (honestly, I could watch the movie every time just to get to Kitano's final scene in the film, which cracks me up). So, in short, it's a cult movie in every sense of the word - a little flawed, but still a gem in its own offbeat way. |
| 1-24 | His
Girl Friday (1940)
|
In adapting The Front Page, Howard Hawks makes one change, but it makes all the difference in the world - he changes the part of Hildy to be a female. One gender change, but that simple alteration helps make His Girl Friday into the bona fide classic that it is. Anchored by Hawks' trademark rapid-fire dialogue, a hilariously Machiavellian performance by Cary Grant, and Rosalind Russell's ability to not only hold her own against Grant but even best him, His Girl Friday is laugh out loud funny throughout, with some absolutely fantastic dialogue that had me cracking up as much as the deadpan reactions. Moreover, though, Hawks finds the emotional beats necessary to make the film work (something that Wilder didn't do half as well in The Front Page) - look, for instance, at the mood in the press room once Mollie rips into them, or the pitch-perfect tone of the film's ending. There's not a wasted moment in His Girl Friday; the jokes all work, the performances are perfect, the plotting just convoluted enough to keep things moving, and the direction, full of surprisingly long takes, fits the scenes to a T. In short, His Girl Friday is every bit the classic it's acclaimed as being. I could have watched Grant and Russell go at it for hours more and never lost interest, and once you add in such a great supporting cast (especially the press room boys) and a fun plot about ex-spouses, incompetent authorities, and a cutthroat press, you've got a great time at the movies. |
| 1-23 | The
Tin Drum (1979)
|
A young German boy born between the World Wars, Oskar becomes so disgusted by the world of adults that he chooses to stop growing. What follows from there is a bizarre tale of an adolescent in a child's body, one who constantly beats on a tin drum, has a shriek that can shatter glass, and who watches the Nazis come to power with an uncertain feeling about what will come. I read the novel The Tin Drum in college, and while I don't remember many of the specifics, I remember finding it uniquely compelling; in its bizarre conceit, it managed to be both a dark satire and an allegory for the time, one that eschewed normal literary rules and did something wholly different. I'm not sure if the book simply allowed more time for the ideas to breathe, or if the concept of a shrill, 3-year-old adolescent works better on the page where you're not constantly reminded of the physical reality (especially as he enters his sexual phase), but regardless, the film version is an uneasy, not entirely successful work. There's no denying the sharp visual style or the off-kilter sensibility, but the film's conceit comes across as odd for its own sake here, and the events feel haphazard and thrown together, not unified into any sort of point. It also doesn't help that Oskar comes across as malevolent and irritating in the film, rather than as a charming (if somewhat "off") antihero. I guess I understand why this is acclaimed, but I feel its far more empty and unsuccessful than it first seems; while it's undoubtedly ambitious and unique, it doesn't really coalesce into anything truly meaningful, and instead just ends up as a pile of oddities. |
| 1-22 | Marwencol
(2010)
|
A rich, involving documentary, Marwencol boasts a fascinating premise: after a beating outside of a bar left him with severe brain damage that robbed him of most of his memory, a man constructs a small model World War II town named Marwencol and retreats to this fantasy world to cope and work out his own therapy. While there are still some events that unfold from there, by and large Marwencol limits itself to this man (Mark Hogancamp) and his town, allowing the viewer to see the way the town reflects his own damaged psyche and his efforts to come to terms with his trauma. If there's a gripe to be had about Marwencol, it's the fact that the movie is clearly worried about Mark, so much so that it holds back from confronting the man about some of his rougher edges and some of his stranger (and creepier, to be fair) behavior. (There's also something unfair about the way the movie withholds some information about Mark for no real reason other than narrative trickery, but it's more of an oddity than a serious flaw.) But that's more than compensated for by this absorbing and moving tale. It's easy to get lost in Mark's world, and the stories and characters than inhabit Marwencol are fascinating and compelling, and it's not hard to understand why Mark likes to retreat here. What I loved, though, was the way the movie doesn't always feel the need to connect the dots for viewers, trusting them to make the connections between the stories of Marwencol and Mark's own self-admitted therapy. Ultimately, though, there's a disconnect between the seemingly rich world of Marwencol and Mark's sad, isolated existence; it's hard not to feel pity for this man who's so deeply damaged by his trauma that he can't face the real world. But it's that pity and connection that makes Marwencol so fascinating as a film; in its short running time, it creates a rich psychological study of this man and explores what makes him tick, watching him bare his soul in this lush, indirect fashion. It's a fantastic documentary and one that I hope gets more attention, despite its limited release. |
| 1-21 | Pieces
(1982) |
Some movies, the star ratings just don't cut it. By any definition of the term, Pieces is a pretty bad movie. The acting is uniformly bad (can I make a possible exception for the hilariously over-the-top performance by Paul Smith as the gardener?), the script terribly written and largely tied together as an excuse for nudity and/or gore, the pacing atrocious...on and on. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a blast with it. Pieces has the tagline "It's exactly what you think it is," and that about sums up the movie; you get about what you expect, but the whole thing has a sense of fun to it all that's hard not to enjoy, even as you're getting bizarre scenes like a kung-fu fight out of nowhere or perhaps the most nonsensical "twist" ending I've ever scene. And there are even moments of real style, born out of some obvious Argento love - there's a sequence with a waterbed that's actually kind of cool. So, no, Pieces isn't a "good" movie, but it's a fun one, and it delivers what you'd expect out of a movie about a chainsaw-wielding psycho who's collecting pieces of beautiful young women, and it does so with a little style and a lot of fun (some intentional, and a lot not). |
| 1-17 | Amadeus
(1984) |
I knew the basic outline of the story of Amadeus - that it was a film about the composer Salieri and his rivalry with/hatred of the young Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - but other than that, I really didn't know what to expect. Whatever I did expect, it certainly wasn't a modern-feeling telling of the story, one with contemporary dialogue and some obvious modern feeling to it (I agree with Ebert who points out the slightly "punk" feel to Mozart's choice of wig). But most of all, I didn't expect to be this entertained by it all. It's not hard to see why Amadeus is the rare film to do well with both the public and the critics. It's entertaining, beautifully made, engaging, features complex characters, addresses powerful themes from faith to destiny, but more than any of that, it just soars as a motion picture. Abraham has never been better, bringing to life a Salieri both despicable and completely sympathetic, and his rage at God and profoundly mixed feelings for Mozart are completely understandable to nearly any person alive, especially one who knows those with remarkable talents themselves. And Hulce is stellar as Mozart; although my first reaction was how off he felt, it soon became apparent that his inability to fit in is part of the point, and from that iconic laugh to his abrasive personality, his Mozart is a fantastic creation. There's so much to love here, from the way the film refuses to deify its heroes to its understanding of envy as a mixture of hate and love...and none of that even gets into the beautiful visuals, the outstanding use of music as a piece of the overall picture, the dry humor, and on and on and on. I put off Amadeus for a long time, thinking it really didn't sound that interesting or involving, but this is one of those times where I was not only wholly wrong, but was thrilled to be so wrong. |
| 1-17 | Das
Boot (1981)
|
A 3.5 hour movie about men on a German submarine. Is it any wonder that it's taken me so long to get to Das Boot? But I have to say, from the first moments, I was completely riveted by this. I've never really understood Wolfgang Petersen's appeal - all of his movies have been adequate, but nothing special. But seeing Das Boot helps me understand better what people see in him, and the tension and raw power he brings to Das Boot is fantastic, and his decision to film the movie within these tight, constricted quarters only adds to the impact of it all. This is a war movie, first and foremost, and it does all the things you expect a war movie to do - it gives us a wide range of characters, lets us get to know them, plays with our attachments to them, explores moral quandaries, and gives them room to breathe in the midst of this conflict. Of course, it's not often that all of this is done from the German perspective during World War II, and it's to Petersen's credit that the movie works as well as it does, focusing on these men's humanity and their job rather than their politics. And, of course, there's the battle sequences (and the stalking sequences), which are no doubt part of what make the film so famous, and rightfully so - these are tense, unnerving scenes, paced perfectly and given just enough time to let the horrors of the situation sink in with the viewer. My only real grumble with the movie is the very last scene, which felt unneeded and tacked on; it felt like something a screenwriter would come up with to make a point, and not something from the story. It doesn't keep this from being an incredible film, and one that really blew away my expectations in a very, very good way. |
| 1-16 | Boardwalk
Empire: Season 1 (2010)
|
It would be hard for Boardwalk Empire to have lived up to its hype and the expectations. After all, here's a show about Prohibition-era gangsters in Atlantic City, with a showrunner who worked on The Sopranos, a pilot directed by Martin Scorsese, and a fantastic cast. So admitting that Boardwalk didn't meet my expectations isn't really that big of a surprise. But is it still solid, entertaining television? Definitely. Like a lot of shows, Boardwalk got better as it went along; it learned to juggle its massive cast a little better, tied plotlines together a little more neatly, and started avoiding on-the-nose dialogue and heavy symbolism a little more. The show still has some problems - for instance, I don't argue that Steve Buscemi isn't great in his part, but his character is far less involving and fascinating than almost any member of the supporting cast, especially Darmody, Rothstein, Harrow, and especially Van Alden (and I'd include Michael Kenneth Williams's Chalky White in here, but he's so criminally underused that it's hard to say much about him yet). And there are a few plotlines that just ultimately don't seem to matter much or interest anyone, with the main one being Jimmy's wife's sad little affair. Even so, Boardwalk is engaging and entertaining as anything, and I have to say that I'm more excited for the second season than the first, with the way the show's improving. I stayed involved and intrigued by what the show did and the gorgeous style in which it did it, and I'm curious to see how season two learns from the forgivable mistakes of season one. |
| 1-15 | Naked
Lunch (1991)
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Trying to describe Naked Lunch is pretty much an exercise in futility. I can attempt to tell you that it's a bizarre mashup of an unconventional biopic of William S. Burroughs and his book; I can tell you that it's like Cronenberg attempted to create a new Philip K Dick story with all of his usual motifs and strengths; or I can simply tell you that it's wholly unique and kind of amazing. The story revolves around an exterminator (and Burroughs stand-in) who kills his wife in a "William Tell" attempt gone wrong - or maybe it's because he thinks she's an enemy agent, as the very large (and, as is Cronenberg's wont, oddly sexual) roach he talked to that morning tried to convince him. What follows from there defies much narrative description; suffice to say it includes drugs brewed from centipedes, typewriters that ooze happily when good sentences are given to them, alien heads which nonchalantly greet their owners, a Nazi-ish housekeeper, a series of dopplegangers, and so much more. Trying to follow Naked Lunch on a plot level is a lost cause; it's a strange, surreal film, one more akin to the plotting of something like Alice in Wonderland than a conventional tale (although you can read it all as a loose recapturing of Burroughs' life, if you want). But that doesn't mean it's any less entertaining. There's a dark bizarre humor that had me cracking up repeatedly; there's Cronenberg's usual gift for nightmarish imagery that pays off in spades here; and there's the compelling (if understated) performance from Weller, who brings depth to his character without acting out excessively. It's a bizarre, odd film, but I can't deny that I had a blast watching it. The surreal humor completely worked for me, the performances all made the story (such as it was) work, and the script is fantastically done. I feel like I owe the whole thing another watch at some point, just to see if I can make more sense of it, but regardless, I'm always up for wholly unique cinema, and this one definitely qualifies. |
| 1-15 | William
S. Burroughs: A Man Within (2010) |
There's a famous line in Broadcast News, where Albert Brooks remarks on a reporter who keeps inserting his own opinion and reactions into stories with the sarcastic "We must always remember that we are the real story." That issue is the biggest issue with A Man Within, which is nominally a documentary on the life, work, and impact of William S. Burroughs. Instead, a vast majority of the talking heads and artists use the time in the documentary to express how amazing they are, to explain how creatively they use Burroughs' ideas, and to generally try to interpret Burroughs in such a way that makes their own existence look better. And the end result is often excruciating. So why am I still giving this three stars? Because when you can get away from these people, the film manages to create a fascinating portrait of the man. With home video footage, candid discussions with him, revealing and funny anecdotes from friends and lovers, and great commentator from serious fans like John Waters and Peter Weller, the movie manages to succeed in spite of the pretentious self-fellating going on in so many parts. This could be pared down by a half hour and be fantastic; as it is, it's got some great parts, but it's a matter of whether or not you can get past those using the film to show off their credentials. |
| 1-14 | Broadcast
News (1987)
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Movies like Broadcast News are why I have a problem with so many generic romantic comedies. Why would I want to watch something with a contrived, oh-so-wacky plot when I could watch something like this, that's intelligent, brings up interesting ideas, plays with expectations, and gives me real characters instead of walking punchlines? A love triangle between a career-focused news producer, an ace reporter with no camera skills, and a charming but not overly intelligent anchorman, Broadcast News manages to not only make all of its characters - even the "villains," for lack of a better term - complex and believable, but does so while simultaneously telling a great romance story and also discussing the changes in the way we approach the news and learning in our society. (And the only thing dated about the movie's views is that it was made when there was still some hope of avoiding the path of simplistic news coverage.) All three leads are wonderful in their performances; Hurt makes his character both engaging and likable, Hunter is adorable and smart, and Albert Brooks is as awesome and great as he always is (plus, he gets a fantastic speech about Satan that I completely loved). Broadcast News stumbles a bit near the end; there's a revelation that seems like it should have been obvious to the characters, and the film's epilogue is a bit of a puzzling choice. But neither of these really detract from the otherwise great movie, which brings something all too rare to a romantic comedy: intelligence. |
| 1-14 | The
Visitor (2007) |
What a rich, vibrant, warm, wonderful film this is. The inimitable and wonderful Richard Jenkins gets a rare (and richly deserved) starring role as a college professor who is more or less going through the motions in life before circumstances lead him to befriend a pair of immigrants who introduce him to a culture he's never seen before. This sounds like general indie fare, and it's true that The Visitor could easily have turned into that, but there's a couple of great points in its favor. First of all, it's written and directed by Tom McCarthy, who gave us the fantastic The Station Agent and understands that these stories should be more about the characters than the plotting. If The Visitor became the story of how music and culture could bring a man back to life, it would fail; the fact that it's about this man and these events makes the film work in a way it wouldn't otherwise. Moreover, just when you start to think the film may have exhausted that storyline, The Visitor becomes a wholly different film, becoming something more painful and unexpectedly powerful. I absolutely loved every minute of this movie - Jenkins is wonderful, as always; the story is moving and touching; the characters rich and real...there's not enough good things I can say about this, except that it's a wonderful a character-driven drama as I've seen in recent memory, and left me deeply moved by the end. |
| 1-14 | Limelight
(1952)  |
To lift a line from the Amazon.com write-up for Limelight: "Certainly, Charlie Chaplin at this point in his career had earned the right to reflect on his years as an entertainer, and could make his film as overlong and soppy and sentimental as he darn well pleased. But that doesn't mean the rest of us have to abet this kind of melodramatic indulgence." Limelight is overwrought, overlong, mawkish, and just generally a chore to get through. The comedy bits are shockingly unfunny, the dialogue hilariously overwritten ("I do hate the theater. I also hate the sight of blood, but it's in my veins."), the characters dull and one-note, the drama ridiculous...do I have to go on? I was bored as anything through Limelight, and the fact that the movie is well over two hours doesn't help. Even the much vaunted Keaton-Chaplin scene is a dull letdown, and this comes from a huge Keaton fan and a big aficionado of Chaplin's comedy. I really couldn't stand this one, and am shocked it has as good a reputation as it does. |
| 1-13 | The
King's Speech (2010)
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I had really mixed feelings about The King's Speech; the acting was fantastic, the script was thoroughly average, and the visual direction distractingly off-putting and terrible. As a movie, The King's Speech was disappointingly mediocre. There's a compelling story to the tale of King George, who struggled to overcome a crippling stutter as he became the voice of a kingdom, but the script reduces his story to cliches and platitudes, setting up the roadblocks and crises at the most opportune time and making the story as bland as possible. And the less said about the visual direction, the better; full of self-satisfied "neat" shots, awkward close-ups, off-kilter framing, and generally bizarre choices, the camerawork ultimately becomes distracting and takes you out of the film. So what makes the movie work? The outstanding cast, naturally. The cast is full of some incredible actors - Timothy Spall, Michael Gambon, Derek Jacobi, and more - but it's your three leads who really anchor the film. Helena Bonham Carter makes George's wife into a warm, relatable, wonderful character, Colin Firth perfectly captures the painful reality of a stutter all while breathing life into his portrayal, and the always wonderful Geoffrey Rush brings a great sense of humor and a nice sense of the absurd into it all. In the end, there's nothing really wrong with The King's Speech; it's a pretty standard piece of award-bait, albeit one that relies more than average on the performances to really succeed. Luckily, those performances more than make up for the film's shortcomings, breathing life into a film that doesn't do it on its own. |
| 1-13 | Hunger
(2008) |
Hunger is one of those films that I can't recommend highly enough, even as I confess that it's a tough, tough watch that left me more than a bit drained when I was done with it. The true story of IRA prisoners held in English prisons during the height of the Troubles, Hunger essentially falls into two halves. The first plunges us into the midst of the "no wash" protest, as prisoners used whatever filth they had at their disposal to make the prison even more hellish than it was. The second half brings us to the hunger strikes, led by Bobby Sands, who refused food for 66 days until his death. And these two halves are roughly linked by the film's only real stretch of dialogue (the film is almost entirely dialogue-free), a lengthy discussion about the effects and repercussions of the strike. Much like Bloody Sunday, Hunger is never really focused on the politics at hand; it focuses on these men and the choices they made, and follows their struggle to be recognized and treated as human beings with what meager tools they had at their disposal. Even at a relatively short 96 minutes, Hunger is almost too much to take; first-time director Steve McQueen (an artist, not the late actor, obviously) relies on his visuals, immersing us in these men and their choices, as well as the pain and physical toll they take. The result is horrific, to put it mildly, but also riveting and powerful. These are men who are willing to starve themselves to death, one day at a time, and to see a man willing to make that choice and the self-discipline it takes is inspiring, even more so due to the pain and horrors on display. Hunger is not an easy film, but it's a powerful and incredible one, and one I can't recommend enough, even as I know it will be too much for many people. |
| 1-13 | The
Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973) |
Nice moody little crime movie that works more as a character study than a thriller. Robert Mitchum is fantastic as the titular Coyle, a mid-level criminal with another prison term looming in his future. He's getting older, has a family, and can't deal with the repercussions of another sentence...but he's not sure he could be an informant, either. How all this ties into a local gun-runner and an effective bank robbing crew is the business of the movie, and it generally all comes together, even though the movie frequently feels like about three different films roughly stitched together. The bank robberies are the strangest element; they're intriguing and well-done, but they don't feel like they belong in the movie at all, and frequently distract from Mitchum's low-key work here. Still, that's okay; Eddie Coyle is more about the mood, the setting, and the characters, and the plot is the least important and least involving aspect. All of this sounds like criticism, and I don't really mean it to be; I really enjoyed this, and I loved the way the movie was willing to take its time and let the characters just breathe a bit throughout. It's not an unqualified success, but it's still a cool little movie. |
| 1-13 | Le
Doulos (1962)
|
Another gem from Jean-Pierre Melville, whose French noir I've really come to love every time I watch a new one, and Le Doulos is no exception. Much like the Coens' Miller's Crossing, Le Doulos focuses on a central character who operates on a moral code known only to himself, making his actions hard to judge. That's half the fun of the film for me, and clearly Melville enjoyed it too, as he toys with the notion of whether Belmondo is a police informant or not throughout the film, enjoying the duality of the man's actions and the shades of gray to everything that he does. As you'd expect, this is beautifully filmed and acted in every way, and Melville's love of the noir style clearly shows here (one of my favorite shots comes early on, involving a lamp swinging by its cord). This is a fun one, with all of our characters acting in ruthless ways, no one coming across as all that heroic, and the convoluted plot coming together in unexpected and clever ways. The only real knock against Le Doulos is that it goes on a bit too long; there's a scene where much of the plot is explained and laid out, and it feels like the perfect ending for the film...and yet, there's one final little bit to go, and it ultimately feels a little contrived and unnecessary. Still, it's not a dealbreaker for me, and there's so much more to love here - Melville's stoic heroes, the beautiful style of it all, the moral complexity, the intricate plotting - that I was more than pleased with it. Then again, I've come to expect little less from Melville so far. |
| 1-12 | Tristram
Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005)
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Take a novel that's considered unfilmable because of all the digressions, sidebars, and rambling nature (the narrator doesn't even get as far as being born during his autobiography) and attempt to film it, and film the resulting chaos, making your own film equally digressive...well, it's a heck of a hook for a movie, isn't it? And for the first bit of the film, I was having a blast with this. The rambling story, the witty asides, the lack of focus, all of it absolutely worked for me. Then the movie started moving backstage, following all the actors through their own stories, and it all got a lot less interesting - and worse, a lot less funny. I can't deny that it's all quirky and smart, and I can't help but admire the layers and layers of in-jokes, but I was disappointed with what I got. In the end, Tristram is one of those rare films where the movie within the movie is far more interesting, involving, and entertaining than the movie itself, and every time we came back to reality, I found my attention wandering off again. |
| 1-12 | Play
Misty for Me (1971)
|
Clint Eastwood's directorial debut is one of those movies that's perfectly okay, but isn't really good enough or bad enough to inspire strong feelings. Eastwood plays a jazz DJ who finds himself with a bit of a stalker problem after a one-night stand. The performances are all solid, especially Jessica Walter, who plays the stalker in question. There's some nice scenes between Eastwood and a bartender friend of his, and I liked the way the policeman character was far from the walking cliche he seemed. But ultimately, I just wasn't that involved in the movie. The stalker character was shrill and one-note, Eastwood not particularly sympathetic, and the movie well-made but just nothing special. (Well, nothing apart from the spectacularly 70s-era musical montage, which definitely doesn't work as well as it probably once did.) |
| 1-12 | American
Graffiti (1973)
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So, American Graffiti was made by George Lucas. The same George Lucas who gave us the execrable prequel trilogy gave us this rich, wonderful slice of life as boys leave behind their high school lives and move into adulthood? What on earth happened to that director? American Graffiti absolutely nails that moment between adolescence and adulthood, following its cast of characters as they weave their way through a slew of off-the-wall encounters, try to make decisions about life and love, and prepare for their departures. And, of course, it's all set against the backdrop of a bygone era, accompanied by the constant play of rock from the era and the chatter of Wolfman Jack. It's obvious that American Graffiti paved the way for movies like Dazed and Confused, so it's a bit of a joy to find that the film more than holds up even against its descendants. The dialogue is rich and funny, the characters endearing, and the movie surprisingly (and quietly) moving, all the way to that famous epilogue. Somehow or another, American Graffiti manages to nicely dodge cliches and feels fresh, even today, and I really loved the whole thing, from beginning to end. What a wonderful little movie. |
| 1-11 | Intolerance:
Love's Struggle Throughout the Ages (1916)
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There is no way for me to argue that Intolerance isn't an incredible achievement as a film. Cross-cutting between four stories is difficult enough in modern cinema, much less when you're one of the first people to try that sort of thing. And the sheer epic scale of the film is incredible, even today; the Babylon sets alone are jaw-dropping, and by the time the battle scenes break out and people are taking massive falls and spears are flying, I was pretty blown away on a technical level. Sadly, that's the only level on which Intolerance really did anything for me. The four stories - one in modern day about a couple led astray by the city, one about the fall of Babylon, one about religious violence in France, and the last revolving around Jesus - are involving in bursts, but never really work together to create a solid reason for the intercutting. More to the point, the film is ridiculously didactic and simplistic, hammering home its points and making its characters flat to the point of absurdity. Morally, it's more palatable than Griffith's Birth of a Nation, but this goes too far the other way, creating something so inoffensive that it's almost weightless. Again, it's a remarkable achievement, and worth seeing on that level, but I can't say I was all that moved or involved in the film as a movie. |
| 1-11 | The
Man from Laramie (1955) |
Another outstanding Western for the day, this one revolving around a loner who comes into town looking for the men who (somewhat indirectly) led to the death of his brother. Jimmy Stewart has become so associated with charming, wholesome roles that it's almost a shock to realize how great he could be in something like this, where he's driven, capable of deep rage and violent behavior, and single-minded in his quest for vengeance. But this one has so much more. The villains are anything but simple bad guys; these are complicated, complex characters with their own unique motivations that make them far more sympathetic than I ever expected, especially the family's patriarch. And, as his reputation promised, Mann's eye for the landscape is impeccable, with a keen eye for how to evoke the character's own emotional states with the shots and land he chooses. In a day where I already watched one of the all-time great Westerns (Rio Bravo), this one may top it; with its themes of father-son dynamics, familial bonds, neglected love, and so much more, this is a Western with far more on its mind than just some shootouts and excitement. A great, great film. |
| 1-11 | Rio
Bravo (1959) |
Rio Bravo is generally regarded as one of the greatest Westerns ever made, and having seen it, it's not hard to see why. Widely viewed as a response to High Noon, Rio Bravo features John Wayne as a sheriff with a dangerous prisoner in his jail and one very angry relative laying siege to the town to get him free. There's a great ensemble cast to this one, with Dean Martin as a recovering alcoholic trying desperately to get straight, Walter Brennan as a grouchy, cantankerous old man who's one of the sheriff's few remaining allies, Ricky Nelson as a confident young gun, and Angie Dickinson as a young woman with a shady background and sex appeal to spare. What results is pure fun, beginning to end; though the movie runs nearly 2.5 hours, it absolutely flies by without a single wasted moment. The shootouts are tense, the comedy genuinely funny and engaging, the drama gripping and involving, and the characters endearing. Even Wayne, who generally simply coasts on his presence, genuinely seems to act some here, bringing some unexpected fear and anxiety to his role of a sheriff who knows that he's very outnumbered, but doesn't want to risk the lives of those around him. In terms of classic Westerns, this one is an absolute gem, and a must-watch for not only fans of the genre, but fans of great movies, period. |
| 1-7 | The
Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (1988)
|
As a tribute to Leslie Nielsen, the Belcourt did a double feature of two of his most beloved comedies. While both definitely showcased the man's talents, only one really held up as a movie. What is there to say about Airplane! that hasn't been said before? With non-stop gags, a brilliant deadpan style, a willingness to try anything and everything, and a slew of great actors who never wink at the camera, Airplane! is easily one of the funniest movies ever made, and the fact that it never seems to lose its charms no matter how many times you see it is testament to its greatness. So what happened with The Naked Gun? Nielsen is still great in the movie, and there are scattered moments of that old genius, but what's gone is the sheer confidence of Airplane!. Part of what made Airplane! so funny is the fact that no one acts like they're in on the joke. There are no pauses, no winks at the camera, no breaks in the immersion, and the complete lack of reaction is part of what makes it all so funny. By contrast, The Naked Gun is packed with moments where characters pause, look confused, or otherwise react to the jokes, as though the movie is either unsure the audience will get that there was a joke, or that it's so cocky that it wants to make sure everyone gets how funny its being. But it ruins much of the movie's fun in doing that. (It doesn't help that the movie goes a lot more for cheap laughs about bodily functions and sex instead of just goofiness, either.) The Naked Gun isn't awful, but watching it back to back with Airplane! is mainly instructive as a reminder of what makes a spoof go from entertaining to to genius. One is timeless and still side-splittingly hilarious; the other is worth a few good laughs, but shows its age and its weaknesses a lot more clearly. |
| 1-7 | Airplane!
(1980) |
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| 1-5 | Four
Lions (2010)
|
It would be hard offhand to think of a less likely candidate for a comedy than a small cell of Islamic fundamentalists bent on suicide bombings in London. The fact that Four Lions not only tries it, but succeeds wildly, creating some of the hardest laughs I've had in a theater in a long time, is reason enough to see it. Four Lions' suicide bombers aren't necessarily the brightest crayons in the box, and much of the humor comes from their ineptness and inability to come up with even workable plans. (When attempting to come up with a target, one eagerly suggests blowing up the Internet.) But what really makes the film work is the way Morris and company depict their bombers as real human beings, neither demonizing them nor ignoring their beliefs, and it makes the transition into the final third of the film all the more effective, as a plan is finally put into practice. Particularly in the character of Omar, whose family life is constantly contrasted with his "professional" life, but really throughout the film, Four Lions never lets us forget exactly what these men are planning or just how horrific the results can be. And while the ultimate message - that these terrorists are neither supermen nor demons, but just human beings like us - may be a simple one, it's no less important to remember for its simple nature. But really, you go see this for the comedy, and it's funny as hell, pitch-black though the comedy may be. It's got a love of funny dialogue that may remind you of some of the verbal gymnastics of In the Loop, but it's also not above great visual gags, including some brilliant usage of costumes in the finale or a hilarious running gag about a chat room with a superb payoff. As a satire, as a commentary on human nature, or just as a pitch-black comedy, Four Lions is pretty fantastic, gutsy premise or no. |
| 1-2 | The
Blob (1958) |
Campy old monster movie whose cult reputation certainly isn't backed up by much about the movie. This is all pretty standard stuff - teenagers who know what's going on, adults who just don't understand those crazy kids, a slow monster that seems unusually successful at killing people given its speed...blah blah blah. It's odd seeing Steve McQueen before he really was Steve McQueen, but otherwise this is just kind of a chore, without even some good mood or moments to make it worth checking out. Meh. It is what it is, I guess, but I was just bored with it all. |
| 1-2 | Shotgun
Stories (2007)
|
A nicely moody piece of Southern Gothic, Shotgun Stories is the tale of three brothers who find themselves in an increasingly violent feud with their father's children from a second marriage. There's obviously a lot of David Gordon Green on display here, with its lived-in Southern feel and a lot of realistic, subtle dialogue, but director Jeff Nichols ties Shotgun Stories to a bit more of a plot, giving the movie some forward momentum and more interesting themes. Obviously, the cast is anchored by Michael Shannon, who is excellent as always, but really everyone does a solid job here, and the script is one of those rare film gems where characterization and motivation are left for the viewer to infer through the dialogue's subtleties. Even with its short running time, the film could use a little bit of pruning and tightening, but this is still a solid, involving debut, and I'm excited to see what Nichols makes from here. |
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