I_Ailurophile Reviews

Be My Wife (1921)

A splendid comedy classic

[8/10 · 21 May 2024]

Max Linder may not be as famous as other iconic silent stars, but he was really just as reliable as Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd. It's not even necessarily a question of quantifying how funny one was compared to another - their best works are very consistent and highly enjoyable, lighthearted with just the right touch of earnestness to the story to help the film stick. Linder's 'Be my wife' of 1921 fits very neatly among that terrific company, giving us one swell bit after another amidst a gently amusing and solid narrative of romance. Right from the start this is simply a joy, and anyone who appreciates older cinema is guaranteed to have a great time!

It's fair to say the actual plot is rather light as Linder's protagonist works to win the heart of sweet Mary despite opposition from both her protective aunt and rival Archie. Within that framework, however, the legend treats us to one fantastic scene and gag after another, an indisputable treasure trove of wit, silliness, and vibrant energy. To that end, as Linder writes, directs, and produces this romp in addition to starring, his full creative control means we can be assured that the brilliant humor of the picture shines through at all possible times. In some scenes more than others there are a lot of moving parts, yet the filmmaker deftly ties them all together into a stupendously fun whole.

Commanding the lead role himself Linder naturally stands out most with a wild performance of gleefully exaggerated expression, self-sacrificing physicality, and selective instances of more controlled, nuanced restraint to provide contrast and a sense of dynamics. We would expect no less, of course, given the stature that he ultimately enjoys alongside his contemporaries. To my delight, though, his co-stars in supporting parts all have their own opportunity to share in the frivolities, with Alta Allen, Lincoln Stedman, and even Caroline Rankin, among still others, all getting in on the ridiculousness at one time or another. Moreover, my commendations to the dog trainer for the production, because "Pal" also has his own delightful moments in the spotlight.

Strictly speaking 'Be my wife' may not be a title to change the mind of anyone who has a harder time engaging with silent fare. While it's all in the name of joyful comedy, the acting isn't specifically of the variety that modern viewers are accustomed to; it is perhaps splitting hairs to say that the plot development is a tad gawky at points, but not untrue. Tiresomely, at one point the script reaches for a fat joke that has not aged well, and in a reflection of the time in which it was made, there are sparing instances of language that today we recognize as racist. Still, scrutinize the feature as we may, this wants only to entertain, and far, far more than not it handily succeeds in that goal. Linder may earn the most credit here with the multiple hats he wears, and his co-stars just behind, but all others involved turned in work that was just as outstanding. The sets are superb, with the design of Madame Coralie's being particularly ingenious, and the stunts and effects that are employed are a blast. Even the costume design, hair, and makeup are not just notably sharp but have their own parts to play in the tableau. To whatever extent the flick has its faults, by and large it's marvelously funny, and holds up much better than not.

It has its weaknesses, and it also has unmistakable strengths. On the balance, though, this movie really is just grand, an enduring comedy classic whose value well outweighs any drawbacks. One should be aware of its most distinct flaws, and broadly it won't appeal to all comers, yet if one is receptive to the silent era and its style of film-making, there's not much going wrong with 'Be my wife.' I assumed I would enjoy it and I most certainly did, and I'm pleased to give this my high recommendation!

Second Sight (1989)

Splendid performances can't salvage achingly weak material

[2/10 · 20 May 2024]

So you're telling me it's a film about a "psychic" and a "paranormal detective" and the primary thrust is NOT that they are con artists? I'm thinking of an eight letter word that starts with "b" and ends with "t." Do you know what word I'm thinking of? Oh my gosh, you must be psychic, too! It's actually worse than that, though. Countless are those pictures that operate in a space of the supernatural and fantastical, and we accept the premise as a part of the unwritten social contract of suspension of disbelief that comes with engaging with fiction. However, I don't think Ivan Reitman pretends to have sought the advice of literal spirits of the dead when he made 'Ghostbusters,' any more than Steven Spielberg claims he talked to dinosaurs before he made 'Jurassic Park.' The fact that folks involved with this flick employed the services of self-proclaimed "psychics" by way of "consultation" and "research" speaks to the earnestness with which the participants approached the material, and wow, all of a sudden 'Second sight' faces not an uphill climb to earn my favor, but a vertical one.

And you know, despite that, it was still possible that I might have liked this. Exorcism and "ghost-hunting" are pure bunkum, too, yet if the writing is sharp enough then entertainment supersedes disbelief. Unfortunately, the screenplay credited to Tom Schulman and Patricia Resnick is a dud. At its best it tries to emptily mimic Reitman's biggest legacy; Wilbur Wills is a dead-ringer for Peter Venkman, Preston recalls Ray Stantz, and Bobby McGee is Louis Tully if Rick Moranis was channeling Pauly Shore. In both the scene writing and Joel Zwick's direction this also commonly tries to capture the same tone as 'Ghostbusters,' and the same energy, and sometimes it almost directly lifts some beats or visuals. For good measure, throw in nonsensical "psychic" jargon that, instead of being invented for yucks, was culled from those "consultations" and that "research" in an effort to allude to as much woo, flimflam, and pseudoscience as possible. But at its worst the script is just lousy, and this applies to the supposed substance of the story - or rather, the lack thereof, as the plot is very thin, very unconvincing, and at times nearly incohesive - and of the intended comedy. Some bits come close to earning a laugh, sure. As the saying goes, however, "close" only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

The best thing this feature has going for it is the cast. Bess Armstrong, Stuart Pankin, John Larroquette, and especially Bronson Pinchot give highly animated performances that fully embrace the most raucous spirit of the proceedings, and the personalities of their characters. Setting aside pretty much everything else about the movie, Pinchot is so tremendously lively, and gives himself over so freely to whatever a scene demands, that I'm astonished he never achieved far more significant success as a comedic actor. I would go so far as to say that Pinchot, leading the charge, is actually the one major reason anyone might have to watch this. It's certainly not the lackluster situational humor, middling gag writing, or iffy dialogue, let alone the toilet humor, the puerile sex jokes, or the tinges of racism, sexism, or homophobia. In fact, there are considerable portions of 'Second sight' that are nothing more than the extra-lazy writer's cop-out - the unsophisticated childishness of "Look at that silly man! Haha! Isn't he so silly?" with no otherwise cleverness attached - with "psychic" babble layered on top, and this is supposed to earn laughs. It doesn't.

Zwick's direction is technically capable but dull and unimpressive. The practical stunts and effects are terrific, but we can get these almost anywhere, and the post-production additions are subpar and outdated by 6-10 years. This is fine in terms of other work turned in by crew operating behind the scenes, but such facets alone cannot save a title. Plagued above all by highly questionable writing, the sorry truth is that 'Second sight' never really had a chance. The cast gave it their all, and I salute them, but this is so mediocre that I must assume even those folks who fervently believe 100% in psychic activity would be unamused and turned off. There are aspects of this that are straight-up bad, but that's not the case overall. Overall, the film is just so incredibly weak that it falls perfectly flat, and all the best efforts of the stars amount to too little. I guess I'm glad for anyone who does enjoy this, but as far as I'm concerned 'Second sight' isn't remotely strong enough to even bother mentioning, let alone recommending. Ah well, such is life.

Sanjuro (1962)

Very funny and very entertaining, another adept if atypical Kurosawa classic

[9/10 · 20 May 2024]

There are two aspects of this feature that especially stand out right away. The first is that, unsurprisingly, the cast and crew include no few of Kurosawa Akira's regular collaborators, and specifically no few individuals returning from the immediate predecessor, 1961's 'Yojimbo.' The second is that in no time at all, even within just ten minutes beyond the opening credits, it's made abundantly clear that the playful, wry wit of the preceding work has given way to much more outward humor, to the point that more than not 'Sanjuro' could plainly be categorized as a comedy. It most assuredly remains a period flick, and a samurai flick, and as well made as we anticipate of so esteemed a filmmaker, but to the extent that its forebear delighted with its jest, this picture earns hearty laughs while imparting its earnestly compelling story. The result isn't just a wonderfully fun viewing experience, but one that quite stands apart from much of Kurosawa's oeuvre. This is a blast!

In fact, in its own way, the writing here is unexpectedly complex, and arguably more so than in 'Yojimbo' with its tale of two rival gangs pitted against each other. Kurosawa and returning co-writers Oguni Hideo and Kikushima Ryuzo expand somewhat on the central character of Sanjuro, suggesting even greater intelligence and hidden depths to a figure we've already seen to freely roam the countryside and cleverly render aid as he deems fit - only, here he joins up with a squad of brash, impulsive young samurai who he must continuously prevent from committing terrible blunders that would subsequently foil their own plans. The plot is a tad more direct, and swiftly paced, yet this only reflects how busy the narrative is as Sanjuro and his new compatriots face steady opposition and a series of obstacles in rescuing the abducted chamberlain Mutsuta. In turn, ninety-five minutes pass very quickly as major intrigue and scheming mix with fluid shocks of violence and the regular bursts of cheeky, almost frolicsome dialogue, situational humor, and some decidedly animated performances. It would have been easy enough for the title to have been made as a straight blend of drama and action; that Kurosawa, Oguni, and Kikushima instead followed the antecedent by fully embracing the friskiness speaks incredibly well to their brilliance.

Moreover, given the fare for which the man was best known, I don't think it's unreasonable to suppose that 'Sanjuro' illuminates Kurosawa's range as a filmmaker, and likewise the skills of those he worked with. In every regard this is solidly made, with superb fight choreography, stunts and effects; heavily detailed sets, costume design, hair, and makeup; smart, dynamic cinematography and editing; and a splendid score that, if less prominent here, nevertheless lends further to the tableau. Iconic actor Mifune Toshiro again illustrates his tremendous capabilities as an actor as he deftly rides the line between imposing severity, tightly controlled passion, and sardonic disdain; those in supporting parts, generally guided toward one mood or another, very ably serve the humor as much as the story. Maybe it's just a projection of the viewer that results from the overall tenor of the film, but it also seems to me that Kurosawa's direction is marginally looser here, and less rigid, in order to facilitate that lightheartedness. This is hardly to suggest that his famous, perfectionist fastidiousness is specifically diminished, only that he perhaps loosened his grip on the reins to a slight degree as befit the production. All these facets nimbly maneuver between the serious period roots and the strong comedy woven throughout, complementing a screenplay that in and of itself is a joy in its unusual swirl of elements down to the scene writing, characters, and dialogue.

If I have any criticism at all to impart it's that the ending, no matter how suitable for the plot at large, feels a tad out of place given the tone that is broadly adopted. In its coda the storytelling swerves from a careful balance to abject drama, and I must think it would be impossible not to observe the discrepancy. Still, be that as it may, the whole is so excellent and entertaining that this measure of imperfection doesn't seem that important. Unless one is dead-set against the approach that Kurosawa took to the source material, I can't imagine anyone would watch this movie and not step away having enjoyed themselves. For the level on which Kurosawa operates any difference in quality from one work to the next is mostly very small, and a matter of personal preference; I can't say I was prepared for the unabashed humor in 'Sanjuro,' but I'm very pleased with just how superbly it all turned out. Why, maybe that makes this an easier point of entry for the uninitiated to Kurosawa's body of work, not least as it is not particularly necessary to first watch 'Yojimbo.' One way or another what it all comes down to is that this 1962 feature is really fantastic, and whether you're a fan of someone involved or just looking for something good to watch, there's no going wrong here. Not as essential as some of Kurosawa's other pictures, but also likely more accessible, 'Sanjuro' is a terrific classic and I'm happy to give it my high recommendation!

Yojimbo (1961)

A smart, well-rounded, essential classic

[10/10 · 20 May 2024]

Though in the first place it's effectively suggested by the very premise of two rival gangs being played against each other, there's no mistaking how playful this tends to be, and wryly so, maybe more than anything else Kurosawa Akira had made up to this point. The plot is teased out with relatively sparing action, atypical for a samurai flick, as clever ronin Sanjuro seeds the roiling animosities between the two factions, and iconic star Mifune Toshiro portrays the antihero with levelheaded nuance that allows him to nimbly ride the line between shrewd, sardonic wit and the cold, calculating intelligence of a man seething at injustice. Even the original music of esteemed composer Sato Masaru tends toward jaunty themes that echo the jestful spirit, belying the more somber and violent underpinnings. Rest assured that all component parts shift just as dexterously to an earnest, serious tone as the narrative and scene writing demand, especially in the latter half, yet compared even to subsequent titles that adapt the tale to a new setting, the overall tenor here is more reserved than one might suppose sights unseen. But then, master that Kurosawa is, and stellar as his collaborators are, all that really means is more of an opportunity for the saga to be realized to its maximum potency, and 'Yojimbo' is without question another superb, essential classic.

Time and again in his roles Mifune stuns with a deft mix of stone-faced severity and imposing physicality on the one hand, and on the other, terrific subtlety and range, and his turn here is no different. This is hardly to count out anyone else involved; only as a matter of their prominence do some stand taller than others, with Tono Eijiro, Nakadai Tatsuya, Sawamura Ikio, and Kawazu Seizaburo, among others, making a big impression. Between their own great abilities and the filmmaker's infamous, perfectionist precision, all those in supporting parts are just as outstanding with fulfilling their parts in the tableau. And given Kurosawa's arduous, hard-boiled approach to film-making, how much should we even try to separate his direction from the screenplay he developed with Oguni Hideo and Kikushima Ryuzo? The story is marvelously smart and well-rounded, ranging from that morbid friskiness, to stark violence, to sincere, heartfelt drama, with each mood delighting in turn as the proceedings flow smoothly back and forth through to the end. The scenes as written and orchestrated are stupendously strong and varied, with fantastic artistic flourishes every now and again, and even the characters and dialogue are joyfully vibrant both on paper and in execution. No filmmaker who has taken cues from this picture, not even Sergio Leone, has managed to replicate the exquisite brilliance that Kurosawa accomplished down to every last detail.

Those details include not just Sato's genuinely fun, enticing score, or the invigorating fight choreography, stunts, and effects, but the meticulously crafted sets, costume design, hair, and makeup, and Miyagawa Kazuo's keen, adept cinematography. It seems readily evident, in watching this feature, just how fastidious Kurosawa was as a storyteller and director, and whatever else that reputation meant for him personally or professionally, it also ensured that his works would go down in the annals of cinema history as stunning masterpieces while other filmmakers could only aspire to meet the same level. It's not that 'Yojimbo' is as outwardly grabbing or totally rewarding as some of its kin, but as the saga unfolds we see more and more the skill and ingenuity behind the patient, careful construction and plot development, and like the protagonist's scheme, the fruits of that labor speak for themselves. When all is said and done this is just as absorbing, entertaining, and satisfying as one would ever anticipate of Kurosawa, and any discrepancy we might discern in quality is a matter only of personal preference and splitting hairs. One way or another, what it comes down to without fail is that 'Yojimbo' is another sparkling gem in an already resplendent crown, and there can never be any doubt that Kurosawa's legend is secure as one of the very best filmmakers to ever live. Though the violence is pretty substantial at times, primarily in the back end, otherwise this is so tremendous and important a movie that I think it exists beyond any questions of personal taste, and I have no qualms in recommending it to one and all. As far as I'm concerned this is a must-see for anyone who enjoys films, and I'm happy to give it my very high and enthusiastic recommendation!

Up in Smoke (1978)

Dull and woefully unfunny. How is this, of all things, a "cult classic?"

[1/10 · 19 May 2024]

I freely admit that I sat to watch with expectations that were mixed to low. Probably more than any other variety of storytelling or art, comedy is heavily susceptible to changing tastes and sensibilities. I recognize the stature that Tommy Chong and Cheech Marin have in pop culture, and the parts they have played beyond their iconic shenanigans as a duo, but how much lasting value would their premier film - arguably their most significant stamp on culture at large - have for someone who is not steeped in drug culture, who has never partaken of marijuana or harder recreational substances, and who has no interest in doing so? Could it be that 'Up in smoke' is the type of comedy that is only funny if the viewers themselves are high? It doesn't take long after one presses "play" that the answers reveal themselves, and in my opinion they are, in the latter instance, "far more so than not," and in the former, "essentially none." As far as I'm concerned this is just an exhausting dud.

It's not that the movie is actively, specifically bad - though it is at no few times, with instances of cheap toilet humor, tiresome sex jokes if not outright tawdry raunchiness (including, incredibly, a bit making light of sexual assault), animal cruelty, self-indulgent embellishment by way of music, and more. No, mostly it's just dull, boring, and woefully unfunny. There are some lines, scenes, and gags that represent some measure of wit, and which could have theoretically been fun, but the tone, pacing, and/or comedic timing are usually so laidback that the preponderance of these eighty-six minutes sail past without eliciting any reaction other than a sigh, or a glance at the clock. There's also the matter of how this flick treats law enforcement: I'm all for mocking cops, who are already vacuous, villainous goons in real life, but with that in mind, there is no need to make the police here abject cartoons, and the doing here simply means another loss of potential humor. Elsewhere the script just flounders outright with no comedy in sight. Worst of all is when 'Up in smoke' relies on that exasperating stand-by of the feeble-minded writer who wants to earn a laugh with nothing more than the unsophisticated childishness of "Look at that silly man! Haha! Isn't he so silly?" with no cleverness attached otherwise. Alternatively, this prototypical stoner comedy also provides its own variant, "Look at those people who are high! Haha! They sure are high, aren't they?" It's so hard to care about the vast majority of this title.

Granted, I guess some other facets are adequate. The cast sure do act; if nothing else I appreciate Marin's energy. Some of the music in and of itself is modestly enjoyable; then again, while the riff in climactic tune "Earache my eye" is catchy, the lyrics are trash. Other odds and ends contributed from behind the scenes ably serve their purpose. But what does any of this matter when, far, far more than not, an intended comedy fails to entertain? This came close a few times to earning a laugh, but almost exclusively within about the first third. The number of times that I did, in fact, laugh: twice. A grand total of twice. And this is somehow a revered classic? I guess when all is said and done my thoughts on Cheech and Chong are much the same as my thoughts on recreational drugs. If you like them, good for you; be safe and have fun. I want nothing to do with them. I had poor assumptions about 'Up in smoke' in the first place, but I was completely unprepared for how wholly shallow and asinine this feature was going to be. A few scattered good ideas amount to nothing. For my part I think the value this has to offer is negligible, and I'm flummoxed at how visible it is in pop culture. My staunch recommendation is to altogether avoid this like the lemon it is.

The Wheel (1923)

Superb, compelling, and deeply satisfying

[9/10 · 19 May 2024]

I became enamored of Abel Gance from the first moment I watched his powerful, haunting 1919 anti-war epic 'J'accuse.' Having also greatly enjoyed other works of his that I had found to date, I've very much been looking forward to checking out another of his famous, extra long sagas; where 'Napoleon' is sadly difficult to find outside of film festivals, 'La roue' readily awaited. I will say that this 1923 did not impress at the outset, instilling some doubt. More substantively, I'm also of the mind that through to the end there are some sequences even in the widely available 2008 reconstruction - clocking in at four and one-half hours - that could have been trimmed considerably without losing anything; I can only imagine that given a full restoration and an even longer runtime, more of the same would hold true. It's also worth observing that, splendid as that reconstruction is, it's strangely uneven: in the second half we're greeted with instances of curtness in the storytelling, and rough edges in the fundamental presentation, and it almost comes across that less effort was spent on revitalizing the gathered materials for this portion of the feature. There are troubles here, and they do detract in at least some small measure from the totality of the viewing experience.

However, to whatever extent we may see unfortunate points of criticism in this picture, much more than not this remains a terrific, compelling drama, and there is much to love throughout its extensive length. 'La roue' has notably been celebrated for its technical achievements, and to watch we easily see why as there are many moments throughout where one facet or another inspires as altogether brilliant. This distinctly applies to many instances of lighting, used strikingly to artistic effect to bolster the mood or to enhance a scene. The cinematography at large is often fantastic, with significant, smart variety in how Léonce-Henri Burel, Gaston Brun, Marc Bujard, and Albert Duverger composed shots, and the incidence definitely draws one's attention. Incredibly, Marguerite Beauge's editing may be more impressive still. While filmmakers were innovating and pushing the envelope all the time in the silent era, it wasn't particularly until Dziga Vertov's revolutionary experimental documentary of 1929, 'Man with a movie camera,' that we would see the art of film editing truly come into its own. Be that as it may, here in 1923 Beauge gives us some extra shrewd, rapid sequencing that very specifically and directly feeds into the storytelling in a manner that few if any others had done up to this point.

All this is to say nothing of the truly outstanding work that still others contributed in other capacities. Relatively infrequent were those titles of the silent era in which the hair and makeup were as integral as they are here, and these, like the costume design, are lovely in their detail. The same certainly goes for the sets, built among or complementing superb filming locations. It also seems to me as if there is heavier use in 'La roue' of effects of one sort or another, and stunts, than we typically saw among contemporary fare save for the most robust action sequences. To all this add the marvelously skillful, intelligent direction of Gance and assistant director Blaise Cendrars; while there are sparing choices throughout that I don't necessarily agree with, by and large the filmmakers orchestrated and assembled the movie with tremendous acumen and finesse, allowing every beat and idea to achieve the maximum effect. Granted, there are also some inclusions herein that emphatically establish the film's placement in the earliest years of cinema, with exaggerated facial expressions and body language, extra tightly focused close-ups, and other minutiae that swiftly vanished from practice as talkies took over. These are just part and parcel of the silent era, though, and are both the reason some modern viewers might have a harder time engaging with the period, and the reason why the period is so endearing for devotees.

None of this would be possible, though, without Gance's immense original screenplay, and in all honesty it towers so mightily with its ponderous human drama that one would be forgiven for thinking that he had adapted it from some grand tome of classic literature. I swear I see Victor Hugo's own hand spilling across these many pages. While the narrative as it presents here has some points of comparative weakness, the whole is so magnificently strong and absorbing that these become minor grievances that are all but forgotten. Gance gifted us a remarkably well-rounded, thoughtful, and stirring epic story, one filled with complex characters, momentous scene writing, stunningly poetic flourishes, major themes and motifs, and a mind for bringing to bear the smallest traces of every odd and end. The saga is dour and depressing, very much recalling elements of our own modern lives as painfully bittersweet reminiscence is layered on top of heartbreak on top of tragedy - yet there is also tireless warmth here, and love, and ultimately there are brighter notes in the last stretch of the story. I'm reminded after a fashion of 'Les misérables' (it wasn't for nothing that I mentioned Hugo), or more obliquely, Fukasaku Kinji's 1980 feature 'Virus,' as some relief is offered for we viewers after seeing all that the characters have endured. And still I get the impression that the plot is not 100% complete; maybe it's a reflection of reconstruction rather than restoration, but it almost comes across that 'La roue' as we see it really is an adaptation, with some sections of the non-existent novel having been cut due to constraints of one type or another. One way or another, this only further cements Gance as an extraordinary visionary early in the history of the medium.

But one would be remiss not to also extend hearty congratulations to the cast. The picture may be Gance's baby, yet just as it could not have been made without other participants behind the scenes, the actors realize the tableau with vibrant life. Those in smaller parts naturally have less opportunity to shine, but the likes of Georges Térof, Pierre Magnier, and Gabriel de Gravone nevertheless make the most of the time they're given. These several hours are mostly a showcase for Ivy Close and Séverin-Mars as Norma and Sisif, and both give phenomenal performances that easily match the weight and strength of Gance's screenplay. Both roles place a lot of demand on the stars, requiring adept range, nuance, and emotional depth, as well as expressive physicality, and Close and Séverin-Mars navigate the ups and downs of the story with grace and poise. Somewhat accentuating the point, this is not the first time that Séverin-Mars had collaborated with Gance, and while I personally find 'J'accuse' to be a better and more lastingly impactful film overall, I dare say the man's acting here is heartier and more dynamic. In fact, I wonder if these two actors don't give two of the best performances I'd recount from any of the many flicks I've seen from the silent era; for my part I'd put Close and Séverin-Mars on much the same pedestal as James Murray and Eleanor Boardman in King Vidor's 'The crowd,' or George O'Brien and Janet Gaynor in F. W. Murnau's 'Sunrise.' If that's not a compliment, then I don't know what is.

Especially between the length and the broadly downtrodden plot, I can very much understand how this movie won't appeal to all comers. Just as much to the point, I can understand why some folks are less keen on older cinema, and I'd have said the same myself at one time. Yet for those who do not find any of these factors to be obstacles, nor the arguable imperfections I've noted, then far and away 'La roue' still stands tall as an engrossing, satisfying, rewarding viewing experience. It's a massive project, and a massive commitment of one's time, but in every regard it's stupendously well done and a real pleasure to behold as a cinephile. From the lighting, cinematography, and editing, to the hair, makeup, costume design, and effects; from Gance and Cendrars' direction, to the hefty screenplay, to the wonderful acting, there is much to admire all across these four and a half hours, and anyone who is receptive to what the title portends owes it to themselves to check it out. I sat with somewhat mixed expectations but high hopes, and though I would nitpick some aspects, when all is said and done I could scarcely be happier with just how good the end result is. This is a classic that's worth carving out some time to watch, and I'm glad to give 'La roue' my very high and hearty recommendation!

Bio-Dome (1996)

Appallingly unfunny. Everyone involved should be ashamed of themselves.

[1/10 · 19 May 2024]

Sometimes it's not enough to read about a piece of cinematic infamy, and we have to see it for ourselves. 'Ishtar,' 'North,' 'From Justin to Kelly,' 'Cats' - just how bad could they really be? (All pretty bad, to be honest.) And what about one of the world's most infamous bombs, starring one of the world's most maligned "comedians?" Could 'Bio-Dome' really be so atrocious? Well, in fairness, as we start watching it's not necessarily that this notorious flick is always, perfectly, actively rotten. Don't get me wrong, it tries its hardest to be as obnoxious, offensive, and desperately unfunny as possible, with an overabundance of toilet humor, rank puerility, one-cent jokes about sex or anatomy, suggested animal cruelty, backhanded homophobia, sexism, sexual harassment, and even sexual assault, ableism, fatphobia, suicide jokes, and incredibly, still more. Yes, this does try very hard to be awful, and it succeeds, but the story of 'Bio-Dome' isn't just about what it does. The story of this movie is also about what it fails to do, and its shortcomings are in its absolute inability to demonstrate the slightest, nanoscopic fraction of intelligence in its writing.

However small, rare, and scattered, there are occasional tidbits that might have theoretically carried some value. There are fleeting bits of dialogue or scene writing, and some gags, that illustrate the writers possessed an infinitesimal kernel of wit - or, maybe more plausibly, that the writers lifted some ideas from other existing titles which don't immediately come to mind. There are contemporary and pop culture references; incredibly, the nearest this came to eliciting a laugh was with a very brief bit nodding at the music video for Men Without Hats' 'The safety dance." Boiled down to its fundamental essence, what is 'Bio-Dome' but the classic comedic set-up of a couple ordinary people drawn into a situation they don't understand and subsequently mucking things up? There was also the possibility that, as we've seen elsewhere in the past, the humor may have been borne of exaggerated character writing, animated performances embracing the spirit of the charade, and/or shrewd direction that achieves the exact right tone or sense of timing. However, because "Bud" and "Doyle" are written as the most buffoonish and unlikable of stereotypical 90s slackers, and because the entirety of the writing, direction, and acting is aimed toward viewers who identify from head to tail with Bud and Doyle, all these fragments of potential are totally, unfailingly wasted. Every slightest modicum is bent not toward sly, underhanded ingenuity, but utmost oafish, raucous boorishness, pure juvenile inanity, and the elevation of the most vacuous, low-brow anti-intellectualism. If you have ever wondered in earnest curiosity if this 1996 travesty is really "one of the worst movies ever made," let me assure you: it is.

Customarily one may be inclined to at least consider some appreciation for the casting (Kylie Minogue! William Atherton! Henry Gibson! A cameo by Tenacious D!), for work put into the production by crew behind the scenes (e.g., stunts and effects, hair and makeup, sets), or even just for the music. Under the circumstances, I cannot in good conscience bring myself to do so. By all reason, this should have been the end of the careers of everyone involved. It is a stain on all of cinema that will never be forgotten, and I don't know if I have it in my heart to offer forgiveness. Where it isn't consciously, willfully aggravating, it represents a complete bankruptcy of any of the cleverness that may have possibly been exercised. It is terrible, abysmal, putrescent, foul, dull, and mind-numbingly insipid. It is a blunder of which all participants should be ashamed, and of which all participants should be routinely reminded lest they ever dare think about signing on to another subpar picture. It is a colossal misstep for the medium, and a dire mistake for anyone who considers watching. I knew what I was getting into, and still my curiosity betrayed me. I very much regret watching 'Bio-Dome,' and I can only hope that my folly might be sufficient warning for anyone in danger of repeating my error. You've been warned.

The Saga of Gösta Berling (1924)

An excellent, compelling drama, though individual experiences may vary

[8/10 · 18 May 2024]

Countless are those films I've watched of every variety, and strangely, I don't recall ever before having difficulty with aspects of a film's narrative as I did here. Part of it is the structure, for the plot in these three hours is imparted to no small degree through flashbacks within flashbacks. Just as much to the point, especially in the first half, characters and story threads are introduced left and right without immediate connection to each other; furthermore, just as with much more recent titles like Tim Blake Nelson's 'Anesthesia' or Paul Haggis' 'Crash,' all these ideas rise and recede in the storytelling until they gradually converge around some manner of focus. And yet it's not just about the structure, for each facet of the plot revolves in its own way around a confluence of (a) Wealth, Society, Propriety, and Class; (b) people being roundly awful to one another, largely through the hypocrisy of heavily emphasizing others' flaws while hiding their own, and generally without ever getting called out on it; and (c) the absolute devaluation of women except as property, and wives wholly subject to the whims of men - more than still remains infuriatingly true in 2024. Never before, to the best of my recollection, have I ever watched another film in which the expression of deeply antiquated and therefore regressive values made it difficult for me to any extent to grasp the tale on hand, but even I have found parts of 'The saga of Gösta Berling' hard to parse.

Granted, these are not specifically flaws. They aren't flaws at all, in fact, and seeing as how, among many thousands of other flicks I've enjoyed, this is the first time such matters have struck me, I think the incidence here is pure happenstance. In the same way that one person might touch two blankets made through the same process, and with the same material, but find one more comfortable than the other, I'm inclined to believe there's simply some intangible quality about this 1924 classic that just puts it on a different wavelength from me. I'm sure of it, in fact, because beyond such splitting of hairs, this epic drama is altogether outstanding. After a fashion I'm reminded of Sergei Eisenstein's 'Ivan the Terrible,' where in my opinion the storytelling was distinctly more sure-footed in the second part. Indeed, should one have taken any issue with the narrative structure in Part I of 'Gösta Berling,' all the characters and threads are drawn together within Part II as events come to a head. Scrutinize the particulars as we may, the sum total is dreary, and often tragic, but ultimately strongly absorbing, compelling, and satisfying. Dark as the saga gets at various points there is just enough of a sense of dynamics to keep the proceedings fresh, and at select times, meaningful airs of tension and suspense help propel the drama. Working from Selma Lagerlöf's novel, scribe Ragnar Hyltén-Cavallius and filmmaker Mauritz Stiller give us gratifyingly complex characters and incredibly robust scene writing, and at length the many strengths of the picture handily outweigh any subjective weaknesses.

Those strengths further include gorgeous sets and beautiful filming locations, and costume design, hair, and makeup that are truly just as lovely and carefully considered. Where stunts and effects are employed, notably with major sequences in the second half, they are genuinely impressive and surely bring to mind various points of comparison from one viewer to the next. While the contribution of esteemed cinematographer Julius Jaenzon doesn't always specifically stand out in this instance, there are plentiful moments where his keen eye really does provide smart, superb vision that lends considerably to the tableau. It also must surely be said that the cast is terrific, all doing their part in turn to bring the dour drama to bear with admirable nuance and emotional depth. Lars Hanson obviously stands out most as the titular figure, and Greta Garbo both for her growing fame and for her prominent supporting part, but at one time or another every actor herein has their time to shine. Among others, I'm especially pleased with the tent pole performance of Gerda Lundequist as Margaretha; it's a part of importance arguably second only to Hanson's, and furthermore a part that requires significant range, and Lundequist navigates it with grace and ease. Really, unless one has some inexplicable hang-up about this or that, as I did at the outset, there is no abject trouble with 'The saga of Gösta Berling' in any manner, and it's a superb, engrossing classic. Case in point, as composer Matti Bye provided a new score for the commonly available restoration of more recent years, it's worth observing just how fantastic that score is. Some portions of the music are more noteworthy than others, but one way or another Bye very ably complements the mood at any given time, and at its best his work is outright marvelous in how it bolsters the narrative.

When you get down to it I don't think there's any disputing the overall worth of this feature, and any variation in our reaction to it is one strictly of personal preference or perception. Maybe with a second viewing all my initial misgivings would evaporate; it wouldn't be the first time that has happened. Regardless, when all is said and done this movie remains an upstanding treasure even after so many decades, and anyone who appreciates older cinema would be remiss not to check it out given the opportunity. Marked by excellent writing, direction, acting, and craftsmanship, it's only our own perspectives as viewers that might in any way take away from everything that 'The saga of Gösta Berling' is, and I'm pleased to give it my solid recommendation. The runtime may be prohibitive, but if you're receptive to the silent era, carving out some time for this is well worth it.

Galaxy of Terror (1981)

Unexpectedly strong sci-fi horror

[8/10 · 18 May 2024]

There's something comforting about watching a low-grade genre romp from the years before Green Screen Fever took over and seeing the kinship it shares with titles of preceding years. Oh sure, there are times when late great producer extraordinaire Roger Corman's penchant for cheap, quick productions shine through, chiefly in some of the flashier special effects. Yet by one means or another I discern influence in 'Galaxy of terror' from 'Ikarie XB-1,' '2001: A space odyssey,' 'Alien,' and more, including grotesque horror features of the 70s. You may say "copycat thievery," but what I see is "everyone takes inspiration from something." In no time at all I think there's a lot to love in this third-tier lark, and I can honestly say I had a really great time watching!

It's the original music of Barry Schrader that catches our attention first, and I for one was immediately entranced by the harsh, haunting electronic soundscapes and pulsing beats that even in 1981 were still fairly novel for film music. One can draw a line from this score back to 'Forbidden planet' (another obvious broad influence) and beyond, certainly, yet Schrader's work is all his own, and I adore it. The sound effects, too, are a blast, vivid and evocative, and still we're just getting started. Tremendous work went into the sets and they are flush with welcome detail, let alone the creatures and other practical effects; the production design and art direction at large are outstanding. There is a softness in Jacques Haitkin's smart cinematography that makes the fundamental image very easy on the eyes while giving us eyefuls of all the wonderful if often nasty visuals; even the lighting seems shrewd and tasteful to me, and the editing. Moreover, in my opinion Bruce D. Clark's direction rides the line between the mindful balance of restraint and forcefulness appropriate for a tale of sci-fi horror, and outright artistry in how he orchestrates some shots.

Customary for anything Corman touched, the cast is filled with both screen veterans who were in the latter part of their careers and relatively fresh faces who had yet to make their biggest mark in cinema or television. Despite the nature of the flick and the genre space it plays in, I'm of the mind that the actors give terrific, vibrant performances of meaningful range and nuance. Some instances are better than others, by all means, but at one point or another Edward Albert, Grace Zabriskie, Sid Haig, Erin Moran, Robert Englund, Ray Walston, Taaffe O'Connell, Bernard Behrens, Zalman King, and Jack Blessing all shine. It bears repeating that the stunts, special makeup, and practical effects are fantastic. Granted, with all this well in mind it's arguably the writing that is the least sure-footed of anything here. All told Clark and Marc Siegler's screenplay gives us a relatively light plot that is primarily just an excuse for the gnarly violence and death scenes to follow, and the story could be easily and neatly summarized. Still, the narrative and scene writing are capable fuel for an unexpectedly harrowing atmosphere of disquiet, and they provide the foundation for all the imaginative visuals to come our way. Why, the character writing is surprisingly solid compared to a lot of comparable fare, if still not as completely robust as it could have been. 'Galaxy of terror' boasts far more strength than I'd have ever guessed.

The movie isn't without its faults, and one way or another there are various elements that could be discussed and dissected at considerable length, including Dameia's death scene. Then again, the overall thrust of the plot is something that has been explored before and since in cinema, and I think this picture does so a bit better than some of its brethren. Between the substantial violence and some nudity this won't appeal to all comers, let alone those who are disinclined toward sci-fi horror. Yet from the start and through to the end I enjoyed this much more than I assumed I would sights unseen, and I'm very pleased with the end result. Unless one has a special impetus to watch there's no need to go out of your way for it; all the same, for my money 'Galaxy of terror' is a darkly entertaining, satisfying piece that holds up unexpectedly well, and I'm happy to give it my hearty recommendation!

All Jacked Up and Full of Worms (2022)

"Could have been" bizarre, creative, and fun. "Is" incohesive, sloppy, and aggravating.

[1/10 · 17 May 2024]

Sometimes we learn about films because someone makes an offhand reference that, however unlikely, points us directly toward something we've never heard of otherwise. Sometimes such films are unexpectedly great; sometimes they're pointless and terrible. 'All jacked up and full of worms' is one such movie, specifically because the name and premise fits in neatly with a topic of recent discussion - and I have to say, from the outside looking in, it sounded fun. Unfortunately, as soon as we begin watching, all our hopes are swiftly and summarily dashed against the rocks rolling around in the head of filmmaker Alex Phillips.

Whatever this flick sounds like from an outside perspective, in actuality it's a rotten, incohesive, inane, vacuous mess. Whatever potential there may have been in the concept is wasted because ultimately it is employed as nothing more than a variation on the dull, juvenile stoner comedy, with more dramatic or horror-laden elements on the edges. That, it should be said, is the best "comedy" that the title has to offer, and the most "sensible" that the viewing experience gets. Elsewhere the writing is even more boorishly puerile as it takes cues from sex comedies that are big hits among 12 year old boys, replete with female nudity for its own sake. For good measure add in quizzical expression of homophobia and pedophilia. This is to say nothing of outrageously bad dialogue specifically amidst writing that, broadly, is perfectly scattered and sloppy - and direction so awful, forcing the cast into such small and insipid corners, that I'm fairly certain I just watched Phillips destroy their careers with a single feature.

Yes, there was potential in the concept. There are workable notions herein, including a broken sense of reality, but because Phillips flounders so much as both a storyteller and a filmmaker, that notion as it presents comes off not as imaginative and forward-thinking, but slipshod, feeble, and worthless. By one means or another there are some inclusions - whether a contribution of those operating behind the scenes, or a thought that could have been latched onto as a unifying force, however offbeat - that share in that potential. Yet because Phillips was just haphazardly throwing ideas at a wall for seventy-one minutes to see what would stick (nothing does), nothing herein amounts to anything. At length the only objective aspect of 'All jacked up and full of worms' that does not abjectly deserve criticism, and subsequent entombment within a concrete sarcophagus at the bottom of the deepest salt mine in the world, is the playfully oddball, unexpectedly dynamic original music of Cue Shop.

Weirdly enough, though, music is not enough to salvage a picture of any nature, not any more than the wildly, uselessly disparate assortment of ideas that the so-called "filmmaker" dubiously cobbled together. 'All jacked up and full of worms' could have been something wonderfully bizarre, creative, subversive, and memorable. What it is, instead, is total rubbish that I spent seventy-one minutes regretting; the only hope this had would have been if Phillips shared his root thoughts with another filmmaker who then took on all the responsibilities of writing and direction. By all reason I should have stopped watching right away, but I will watch almost anything, and I commit to it. Suffice to say that Phillips is making me reevaluate the decisions I have made in my life. However it is you stumble onto this 2022 putrescence, please take my advice and just avoid it.

Gallipoli (1981)

Strong and compelling, with a striking finish

[8/10 · 16 May 2024]

Given the subject matter and the film's legacy, it may well be surprising to the unaware that the majority of these two hours is not a war film as audiences would generally recognize, but a drama set during wartime. The violence is reserved for the not just the last third, but specifically the last fifteen minutes or so; up to that point the picture traces the journeys of Archy and Frank from acquaintances, to friends and travel companions, to recruits, and from rural Australia, to Egypt, to the shores of the Dardanelles. The movie primarily deals with the camaraderie among the Australian forces (and, broadly, of soldiers in World War I), speaking to the optimistic anticipation of heroics, of patriotic duty, and of adventure, and to a lesser extent of the lives left behind to go to the front. Peter Weir is no proverbial "spring chicken," however, and the brilliance of that choice, informing David Williamson's screenplay, is readily apparent once the final bloody stretch does come around. By that point we're familiar with the characters, and care about them, and as the horrific brutality of trench warfare takes over it's all the more impactful and difficult to watch. In total 'Gallipoli' may not be the sort of title to demand viewership, but it strikes hard and shrewdly, and its reputation is well deserved.

It's been observed that there are historical inaccuracies here, particularly with regards to the roles of British and Australian officers at Gallipoli; be that as it may, I don't think those errors are all that important. The crux of that terrible climax is not in assigning blame, but in speaking to the folly of "The War To End All Wars," of trench warfare, and of the decisions of command that would send troops forward with no purpose but to be slaughtered. That the known reality of the campaign was more complex doesn't take away from the core of what Weir and Williamson drive at, nor the significance that it has in Australian and New Zealander culture. Where this feature is concerned I'm perhaps more concerned with pacing that arguably feels a tad gentle in the first two-thirds, and the use of music in some instances where its absence would have been more powerful. And still, maybe that's splitting hairs a bit: him and haw as we might about this or that, I don't think there's much disputing that this is a fine film, and the question of overall quality is really just one of personal tastes. For my part I don't find 'Gallipoli' to be a major must-see, but I firmly recognize the high esteem it has enjoyed and I think it's quite on point.

Even outside of that climax the screenplay carries most of the weight of the runtime with relatable, identifiable characters, strong scene writing, and a compelling narrative. This is hardly to discount the contributions of all others involved, though, because from top to bottom there is much to appreciate in these (almost) two hours. Weir's excellence as a director is never in question, nor the splendid acting skills of young Mark Lee and Mel Gibson, among others. Russell Boyd's cinematography is crisp and vivid whether he's treating us to superb filming locations, detailed sets, or the harrowing tragedy of the last act. Some gratifyingly smart minutiae rounds out the production design and art direction; whatever else is true of the music, the use here of Albinoni's 'Adagio in G minor' is an ingenious touch that pointedly captures the overarching mood of the picture from the very beginning. It remains the case that the movie stands tallest for the build to the climax and ending by way of Archy and Frank's respective journeys, but it's pretty fantastic at large, and I don't think there's any going wrong here. By one means or another this won't appeal to all comers, nor meet with equal favor, but the lasting value of 'Gallipoli' is plainly evident, and secure beyond the reach of any critiques. I'd stop short of saying it's essential, yet especially if one has a special impetus to watch, this holds up well and earns a solid recommendation.

Runaway Train (I) (1985)

Unexpectedly smart and terribly dark, a stupendously intelligent action-thriller

[10/10 · 16 May 2024]

Forty years on Eric Roberts isn't exactly known for high quality pictures, and Jon Voight is known for his family and for his regressive sociopolitical views at least as much if not more than for his past successes. Factor in the very early roles for screen darlings Danny Trejo and Tiny Lister, a screenplay co-written by the renowned Edward Bunker, and inspiration from a story by none other than Kurosawa Akira, and there's a lot to take in with this flick before we ever sit to watch. Of course, such points of interest are almost somewhat beside the point, and as soon as we do sit to watch, the fact is that 'Runaway train' is readily striking and absorbing, and like a vehicle building speed, it only ever becomes more spellbinding. Say what one will about Roberts and Voight in the subsequent years of their careers and lives, both give stupendously sharp performances here of superb personality and vigor that are immediately entrancing, and it's no wonder they were both once highly celebrated. And the same verbiage we would use to praise the stars unquestionably applies to the title at large, for this is terrifically well made, and smartly crafted in every way, and altogether brilliantly written. At first blush 'Runaway train' impresses as an excellent action-thriller, but as the plot picks up and two hours fly past all too quickly, it swiftly shows itself to be far, far more. Modern spiritual successors can only wish they were this shrewd and exciting: frankly, this is one of the best movies I've watched in recent years.

I did say the background details are "almost" beside the point. The influence from Kurosawa, with original co-writers Oguni Hideo and Kikushima Ryuzo, is plainly evident in the ferocious undertones characterizing the narrative. The existing feature says "80s Hollywood" all over, certainly, yet the innermost core speaks to a hardier, more ruminative exploration of humanity amidst the terrifying, thinly-veiled metaphor of an enormous machine screaming forward with unstoppable momentum, and the broader potential peril thereof. The characterizations, particularly of Manny - cold, ruthless, single-minded, and self-reliant - and young, impulsive, inexperienced Buck, are kith and kin with other figures from the Japanese master, whatever one's frame of reference. In their own ways they retain a shred of humanity and echo different facets of our species for better and for worse, even in contrast to innocent Sara and in comparison to Warden Ranken; ostensibly posited as a representation of the stability and order of civilization, the warden is nevertheless just as if not more vicious and reprehensible than the convicts. Moreover, as the story develops, and the danger grows, and tensions rise, the shifting characterizations and dynamics between them, the scene writing, and even small pieces of dialogue seem to leap out directly from a script by Kurosawa. Add to this confluence the terribly gritty flavors of prison drama (both inside and outside prison walls) that Bunker knows well, the helplessness of railroad staff observing the disaster in motion, and still more stunningly profound insights and sage themes, and there is a strident, horrifying darkness piercing through 'Runaway train' that almost makes bloody contemporary 'Ran' more palatable by comparison.

Nearly as stunning is that in realizing that screenplay as an 80s action-thriller out of the United States, Russian filmmaker Andrei Konchalovsky still manages to find ways with those film-making sensibilities to reinforce the underlying existentialist nightmare. The violence herein, though sparing relative to other flicks that play in a similar space, is gnarly, visceral, and jolting; the stunts, effects, and action sequences, and the very manner in which the sets and trains are used herein, are fierce and honestly rather grisly, roaring to life with a vitality that puts kindred genre fare to shame. Cinematographer Alan Hume employs his keen vision to make every idea and beat come off all the more harrowing, and select instances of a first-person perspective looking down the railroad tracks nearly makes one's hair stand on end. Henry Richardson's editing is just as bright; Trevor Jones' original music is surprisingly deft, swerving from slightly more upbeat synth chords common to 80s Hollywood to more achingly somber phrases that reflect the deepening gloom, and at all times the score is fantastic complement to the proceedings. It bears repeating that Roberts and Voight give truly tremendous performances, not to mention Rebecca De Mornay even with less prominence, and still others on hand. The film is perfectly solid in every regard, really, a very high credit to all involved, capped off with Konchalovsky's expert direction that ties all these odds and ends together into a captivating, genuinely thrilling, earnestly though-provoking, and immensely satisfying experience. In my mind there is not one fault to be found here.

And still I'm wholly blown away by the writing. Strictly speaking I don't know how much of 'Runaway train' can be traced to Kurosawa, Oguni, and Kikushima, and how much to Bunker, Paul Zindel, and Djordje Milicevic. Whatever the case may be, however, it seems obvious to me that Konchalovsky's scribes worked closely from the prior screenplay while updating it and transplanting it to Alaska in the 1980s. The early scenes in the prison could easily have served as fine foundation for a more familiar prison drama or crime thriller, and yet they are only exposition for the ardor to come. That the flick can firmly stand shoulder to shoulder with various action romps, while also boasting depth and sophistication generally uncharacteristic of action-thrillers, speaks volumes about the incredible skill and intelligence of everyone who contributed to the writing one way or another, and at length to the skill and intelligence at large of all who participated. Rarely have I watched a picture that kept me so raptly glued to the screen; just as much to the point, precious few are those pictures that can elicit such strong, lasting feelings of a grim portent without specifically playing in the same genre space as, say, John Carpenter or David Cronenberg. As far as I'm concerned this joins the company of those uncommon pieces that, while not being labeled "horror" in and of itself, treads in such dreary, distressing territory that it comes off as practically indistinguishable. I would say this of Andrzej Wajda's 'Danton,' and Francis Ford Coppola's 'Apocalypse now,' among others, and that, too, is nothing if not a compliment for the writers, director, cast, and crew of this 1985 wonder.

Personal preferences vary and this won't appeal to all comers, but I think it would be a grave error to overlook 'Runaway train' for any reason. I sat with expectations of a well-reputed action-thriller, and I step away floored by an action-thriller that far exceeds the boundaries common to its brethren. I couldn't be happier with how outstanding this is, and I cannot recommend it any more highly or enthusiastically. In my book 'Runaway train' is an essential classic that deserves much more recognition; however you must go about seeking it out, this is absolutely worth it!

Little Shop of Horrors (1986)

Joyful, rejuvenating, stellar; stupendously rich, fun, and funny

[10/10 · 16 May 2024]

Though I'm not familiar with the off-Broadway stage musical, Roger Corman's original 1960 B-movie was an unexpected delight - as preposterous as it was cheaply made, and as everyone involved fully embraced the nonsense it became a wholesale blast. I've been long overdue to watch this iconic 1986 rendition, and I've not been disappointed: as soon as it begins the picture is utterly entrancing. Alan Menken's songs are marvelously catchy, joyfully infectious, and overflowing with tremendous heart; in both their singing and their acting the cast boast a vivacious buoyancy that's altogether rejuvenating. Fresh off the equally invigorating 'Muppets take Manhattan,' director Frank Oz infuses the proceedings with inescapably vibrant energy; from the choreography, and Robert Paynter's rich cinematography, to the puppetry of growing Audrey II and the blissful practical effects, there is a gleeful vitality saturating every facet of 'Little shop of horrors' that is woefully lacking from the preponderance of both cinema and television. Porting his own stage contributions to the screen, writer Howard Ashman gives us dialogue and lyrics that are exceptionally clever, characters that are veritable beacons of light, superbly flavor scene writing, and a story that takes Charles B. Griffith's already delightful plot and sends lightning coursing through its veins. Frankly, what about this is less than perfect?

Between Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, Steve Martin, Bill Murray, and Tichina Arnold, Michelle Weeks, and Tisha Campbell, I don't know who among the most prominent stars is most awesomely lively in their acting. Down to the smallest supporting parts the cast shine with astonishing luminosity while enthusiastically embracing the wild spirit of the feature, including Levi Stubbs with his exuberant, dexterous, dynamic voice performance as "Twoey." Much the same goes even for the general visual experience: the lush, enormous sets, completely taking over Pinewood Studios; the exquisite production design and art direction broadly, bringing 60s aesthetics the electric splendor of the 80s; the stupendously colorful costume design, hair, and makeup, and even the props. It bears repeating that the many puppeteers operating Audrey II turned in stellar work, and to read of the ingenious manner by which the plant's movements were executed in the final presentation is itself downright captivating. There's an imaginative resplendence in the fundamental look and feel of this flick that calls to mind the works of Jim Henson, however fantastical, and meanwhile the sound design is totally impeccable - bringing every tune, every word, and every piece of audio to bear with unfailing fidelity. I ask again: what about 'Little shop of horrors' is less than perfect? The blunt, honest answer, I believe, is "nothing."

This film thrives with incredible creativity and unfailing zest that have precious little comparison anywhere in the medium. Truthfully, it's brilliant. It takes the wry horror-comedy of its progenitor and amplifies by a thousandfold the merriment, while nevertheless shrewdly retaining the darker airs as a buzzing undercurrent. From beginning to end and top to bottom the title is flush with extensive, remarkable detail and pure, riotously stimulating verve; the fact that there are meaningful themes and a heartfelt sincerity further rounding out the dazzling display only cements, beyond all question, its utmost excellence. It cannot be overstated how extremely fun, funny, and all-around entertaining this is, a stellar exemplar that has to be seen to be believed. For all the high esteem and strong word of mouth 'Little shop of horrors' has enjoyed over nearly forty years, secondhand impressions still fall laughably short of being able to express just how magnificent this movie musical is. There's not really any way around it: this is a fabulous, bewitching must-see, and to pass up any opportunity to watch is a terrible mistake. I cannot recommend it any more highly, heartily, or enthusiastically; seek it out however you must, for these ninety-odd minutes are 100% worth it! Bravo!

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963)

Rampant immoderation supersedes the wit necessary to earn laughs

[5/10 · 15 May 2024]

A comedy with its own overture, and an honest-to-goodness intermission? A comedy clocking in at over three hours, that isn't a Bollywood musical? A comedy with veritable legions of contemporary star power that precedes Wes Anderson's self-indulgence? A comedy in which some sequences show distinct discrepancies in the image quality, in which some audio is inserted over still images - reflecting footage that has been lost, or rediscovered and compiled from various sources - and in which curt editing of image and/or sound further indicates the latter effort, and raises some questions about the restoration? Well now, all that truly is mad. One hopes, for all that, that it's a comedy that holds up sixty years later, especially seeing as how comedies are sometimes extra susceptible to changing tastes and sensibilities over time. Some of the greatest comedies ever made hail from the silent era, and some brand new comedies exceed their expiration date before they're ever released; for the sake of filmmaker Stanley Kramer and all others involved, does 1963's 'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world' live up to its broad reputation? For my part I think this is enjoyable to some degree, but I don't how how lastingly worthy it really is on its own merits, and personal preferences will play a big part in determining just how much one admires it.

To get to the heart of why the picture may remain worthwhile we have to first dissect those ways in which it falls short, and I'm of the mind that such issues have nothing to do with the era in which it was made. The troubles I have with 'Mad world' I can just as easily identify in other titles made over the years. First is the major mean streak coursing throughout the proceedings, a display of selfishness, greed, cruelty, and violence that is excessive, and deeply imbalanced in relation to the wit that should twist them into humor. Such traits have been firm foundation for merriment elsewhere, certainly, but the more prominent and heavy-handed they are, the less funny they are. See 'A fish called Wanda,' for example - I think it's only in the last half hour, as free-wheeling ridiculousness becomes more prevalent, that the 1988 movie comes closest to being worthwhile; on the other hand, for as outrageous as 1975's 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' is even at its most bloody and gory, the outward wickedness is easily wrapped up in the silliness. Secondly, there are many scenes throughout that consist of little more than unintelligible yelling and flailing, blustery raucousness than is supposed to be funny in and of itself. Well, sorry, but once again, divorced from cleverness to make that boisterousness count for something, the result is just boorish; every performance is thusly marked at one point or another, if not most of the time, and frankly, I could have completely done without Ethel Merman's character Mrs. Marcus. A big reason why many of Will Ferrell's comedies of the twenty-first century have no staying power is that they rely entirely on his one-note Man-Child act of being loud and oafish, a predilection that appeals primarily to the twelve year olds in the audience; in contrast, the deliciously clever situational humor of Peter Bogdanovich's 'What's up, doc?' gives meaning to the 1972 flick's unyielding madcap energy.

That's not all, though. 1933's 'Meet the baron,' incidentally starring many figures who also appear here, had some swell ideas, but was plagued with poor comedic timing; actors seemingly cared more about their delivery in any moment than the jokes they were meant to convey, and the humor was lost in the process. In a like manner, there are instances in this piece of thirty years later in which the harried delivery of lines overwhelms the wit therein; e.g., the discussion between Russell and Hawthorne about the differences between Britain and the United States. There are instances of sheer randomness that just don't provide any amusement, like the cuts in the first half to Sylvester and his lover, or to figures on the sidelines observing the primary characters and their activities; some bits are drawn out too long. The pacing irks me, a consequence in part of giving us so many characters across these 190-odd minutes; we may swerve from relatively quiet and low-key scenes to others of pure zaniness, and back again, and in so doing the intended humor also loses some cohesiveness over time. Now, a wealth of all these faults could have been resolved, or at least partially relieved, simply with the exercise of more restraint and moderation, and more mindful construction in every capacity. If the screenplay had been pared down, if the editing were tighter, and if the acting and direction weren't so routinely overcharged, then this would surely stand taller. Good comedy, like good storytelling at large, requires careful balance; there is a time to charge ahead, and there is a time to pull back on the reins, and knowing when to do one or the other can make all the difference in the success of a film. Therein lies a major overarching problem here.

Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike 'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world.' I do see what it does well, and this mostly means the substantial stunts and effects sequences that populate the runtime as a surfeit of characters get into various hijinks in pursuit of a load of cash. In most regards those behind the scenes turned in splendid work, including Ernest Laszlo with his cinematography, plus the production design, art direction, costume design, and hair and makeup. I disagree with the choices that were made to emphasize wholesale bombast over all else, but Kramer's direction is technically proficient, and I recognize the skill of the cast members even as it is subsumed within all those more tawdry factors. There are plenty of excellent ideas in William and Tania Rose's screenplay, in the scene writing above all, that should have been solid fuel for a delightful romp - or which, alternatively, could have been exercised in an earnest crime drama or thriller. With all this in mind, however, what this lacks more than anything else, or at least what gets waylaid among the remainder, is enough of a spark of ingenuity to truly provide the comedy that we're supposed to be getting for over three hours. It's not that the picture isn't entertaining; it's that I think I laughed once throughout the full runtime, and that was all the way back before even thirty-five minutes had elapsed. There are shrewd kernels of writing all throughout, yet except for at the very beginning these are generally drowned out by near-constant cacophony, an overabundance of characters and frequent cuts from one scene to another, a steady stream of stunt, effect, or gag after stunt, effect, or gag, and overall immoderation. It really doesn't take long before the level of fun derived hence is no more robust or remarkable than what we can get passively from just about anything at all, and we can "watch" without actively engaging. I've watched films of equal or greater length that kept me raptly absorbed and absolutely attentive; this just doesn't particularly inspire the excitement it is meant to. And at over three hours long, that translates to a feature that feels overly long and overdone.

'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world' is still a good time. It's still worth checking out, more or less. This might have the biggest enduring draw for those who are specifically keen on flicks with huge sequences of one nature or another, like 'The Blues Brothers' with its car chases, that provide the preponderance of the entertainment to be had. Considering its reputation and especially its runtime, however, I'm just kind of taken aback that I don't nearly find this to be everything it's cracked up to be. I'm glad that I took the time to watch, but having done so I will never feel the need to do so again, and the viewing experience is a commitment with less of a payoff than I would have ever anticipated. In my estimation this needed a far more measured, judicious approach, in too many ways, for the whole to meet with success, and as it is, I'm rather underwhelmed. I'm glad for those who get more out of this than I do, and they're welcome to it; I can't muster enough enthusiasm for a particular recommendation, and I have other things to watch.

Spite Marriage (1929)

Keaton's silent era concludes with another tremendously funny classic

[9/10 · 14 May 2024]

No one could ever dispute that Buster Keaton was a legend of cinema, boasting one hit after another during the silent era of short and full-length feature alike. There did come a point where his career took a turn, though, and in Keaton's own words his association with MGM was one of the worst decisions he ever made. All this does beg the question of how this 1929 flick would turn out - the man's second production under MGM, and his last silent work. I do think that at least one aspect of 'Spite marriage' is regrettable in retrospect: splitting the difference between silent fare and full-blown talkie, this makes selective use of synchronized audio, and that's fine until we're greeted with needless embellishing sound effects, primarily in the use of whistles. The film is already very silly, and the addition over top of cartoonish cues is unnecessary, excessive. And kind of distracting.

The good news, however, is that even with such gaudy trimmings, at its core this is ripe with wonderfully funny comedy that far outshines the gratuitous bits of audio. We get everything we want and expect from Keaton: riotous gags, stunts, and physical comedy; charmingly witty dialogue as expressed through intertitles, robust situational humor, and animated performances. Further factor in a smidgen of romance and heartfelt storytelling, and the icon's trademark Every Man, dopey but earnest, and we have all the ingredients for another classic farce. Across the board the acting and direction alike maintain vibrant, infectious energy while the writing infuses its narrative with one scene after another of raucous frivolity, and the result is an absolute joy. Keaton is the chief star, certainly, yet Dorothy Sebastian ably matches him toe to toe - portraying beleaguered stage actress Trilby with buzzing electricity, and a commensurate willingness to contort and sacrifice her body to serve the steady stream of foolishness. The two of them are an utter delight, but just as capable of making a more sincere turn as the tale occasionally requires, and one wishes that they had paired up for more pictures, like Harold Lloyd and Jobyna Ralston.

Rest assured that this is well made in every other regard, too. The supporting cast is swell in rounding out the proceedings, and those behind the scenes did a fine job. Reggie Lanning's sharp cinematography is notably smart at no few points, and definitely Frank Sullivan's keen editing. The sets and filming locations are splendid, not to mention the costume design, hair, and makeup. Though I plainly disagree with some specific choices of how audio was employed, the more subtle sound effects are dandy, and I love the adept score that bolsters the mood at any given time. Above all, all the many stunts and effects employed throughout, big and small, are downright outstanding. These arguably constitute the key draw of Keaton at his best, and the star's penchant for gladly meeting any demand of a production is in full swing in these seventy-five minutes.

At all points the comedic timing is impeccable, with every odd and end landing at just the right moment to keep us laughing. It's safe to say that the runtime elapses quickly, but the length is so chockfull of tremendous, brilliant merriment that the viewing experience is perfectly engaging and satisfying. It's also worth noting that while the more tawdrily overt sound effects are a bit much, and are present through to the end, they are perhaps less prominent as the length draws on. While I would rather 'Spite marriage' had been entirely free of them, ultimately this is so marvelously strong otherwise that the incidence is a fairly minor consideration. Yes, this would be Keaton's last venture of the silent era, and his career would gradually decline hereafter. But gratifyingly this movie is, after all, a fantastic and highly entertaining romp. Discuss the finer points as we may, all told this is another joyful reverie that stands shoulder to shoulder with the other many highlights of the star's silent treasures, and one would be terribly remiss not to check it out. To whatever extent it may be imperfect, for the level on which the feature operates the distinction is meaningless, and I'm happy to give 'Spite marriage' my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Machine-Gun Kelly (1958)

A surprisingly strong crime flick from the most unlikely of places

[8/10 · 13 May 2024]

Roger Corman may have been best known for cheaply made B-movies, but he had an importance in cinema that can't be overstated as he helped to kickstart many careers and find domestic distribution for international titles. Every now and again, whether by accident or on purpose, he even made an unexpectedly great movie, and in all honesty this is surely one of them. It's not that 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is particularly remarkable, or essential, but it's a sharp and flavorful crime flick with outstanding, invigorating music (thank you, Gerald Fried), strong acting (particularly from Susan Cabot and newcomer Charles Bronson), and high production values. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a total must-see, but this is a really good time and well done overall, and definitely worth checking out!

Far from the Corman norm of a screenplay hastily cobbled together and a fly-by-night filming schedule, we can readily see how much care and hard work went into this piece. The image and sound are crystal clear, and the editing and cinematography reflect intelligence and judiciousness that even some more well-known major studio releases don't always boast. Gratifyingly, the same very much goes for Corman's direction - precise, calculated, and mindful, exercising restraint at the appropriate moments and maintaining hearty tension in the orchestration of scenes generally, and in his guidance of the cast specifically. The acting is marked with forceful yet nuanced personality, a severity matching the articulate shrewdness the characters are granted by the writing. And 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is certainly a fine credit as well to scribe R. Wright Campbell, for the characters are as vibrant and striking as the scene writing, the dialogue is decidedly keen, and the story at large is actively engaging and compelling. This is a genuinely good picture!

The stunts and effects are excellent, helping to bolster the excitement that the writing, direction, and acting frankly already facilitate all on their own. I repeat that Fried's score is an absolute blast, a zestful panoply of jazz chords that is the first highlight to greet us in these 80-odd minutes and a consistent strength. While the feature has big moments of violence, owing to the character writing and the acting that realizes it - above all the dynamics between the titular gangster and iron-willed Flo - those quieter scenes throughout the length are pretty much just as grabbing and absorbing. No, it's not as if the whole film is exactly as fetching from start to finish; in the latter half the saga becomes a tad more plainly dramatic, and the energy dies down in some measure. There's a little bit of lag, truthfully. Still, for whatever weaknesses we may cite, much more than not the movie is entertaining and satisfying, and broadly far better than we tend to assume of Corman given his reputation.

One way or another this isn't something one needs to go out of their way to see, but the key is that it blends in well among contemporary fare from more reputed studios and filmmakers. It feels weird to say that as a compliment, but I mean it, and at its best 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is altogether terrific. With some fantastic work from everyone involved this is a flick that holds up very well, and I'd have no qualms in recommending it to just about anyone.

The Hidden Fortress (1958)

Smart, compelling, marvelously well-rounded; another essential Kurosawa classic

[10/10 · 13 May 2024]

Leave it to Kurosawa Akira and his collaborators to craft not just an exquisite film, but an ingenious screenplay. Peasants Tahei and Matashichi are buffoons, and less than honorable and trustworthy, but they are also provide comedic relief in their dynamics and antics. Uncommon for a Kurosawa flick, 'The hidden fortress' is flush with a robust element of humor for fair portions of its runtime. By this measure is the relatively light story and pacing of the first hour made to pass smoothly and almost wholly unremarked until the plot more distinctly advances. Moreover, that comedic edge provides sly cover for the greater underlying substance: predominant adventure airs as General Makabe and Princess Yuki more or less employ the peasants to help convey them across enemy lines; strong character writing that grants each figure significant, gratifying intelligence and personality; marvelously witty and flavorful scene writing and dialogue; and a deeper core of powerful drama and hearty emotion that rears its head at select intervals, and increasingly so over time. As esteemed composer Sato Masaru's excellent score follows the same tenor as the writing the strength of the feature is solidly confirmed, and in turn the viewing experience is both deftly compelling and very ably entertaining. As if we should anticipate anything less of such a legendary filmmaker, when all is said and done, this is simply exceptional.

This picture doesn't generally receive as much recognition as some of Kurosawa's many other tremendous classics, and that's an unfortunate oversight. The overall tone is perhaps a tad lighter, but the screenplay is altogether brilliant, it's just as well made as anything else the man ever gave us, and rest assured that we definitely get the action thrills we expect and desire. Why, for as dark as the likes of 'Kagemusha' and 'Ran' are, the lighter touches may arguably work in this flick's favor, ingratiating itself to us in a manner that's more gentle but just as certain. The scenes to greet us along the path of the quartet's journey represent a stupendous variety of levity, drama, broad tension and suspense, and flat-out action with wonderful cleverness spread all throughout. The cast is nothing less than stellar as all readily and dexterously navigate the spaces between these moods; superstar Mifune Toshiro naturally stands out most as General Makabe, bringing both confident intensity and underhanded nuance to the role, but I am equally pleased with the sharp performance Uehara Misa gives as willful Yuki. Even those in smaller supporting parts make a big impression, like Fujita Susumu as opposing General Tadokoro, and the boisterous spirit Chiaki Minoru and Fujiwara Katamari carry as Tahei and Matashichi definitely adds a unique dimension to the title. The script provides the foundation, but the actors breathe superb life into the saga.

Kurosawa's direction is as reliably sure-footed as ever, at once giving us terrific, artistic shot composition, orchestrating every scene with splendid vitality, and capturing the exact right energy at all times. If marginally less grand than we've seen elsewhere, there is a definite sense of spectacle to the proceedings here and there as the group tries to make their way to safety, and at no few points one can see the major influence that 'The hidden fortress' has had on much of cinema and television to follow in subsequent decades. With that firmly in mind, there is no aspect of the craftsmanship that is anything less than fantastic. The fight choreography, fight choreography, stunts, effects, and otherwise action sequences are unfailingly outstanding. The filming locations are gorgeous, and the sets and art direction truly no less so. Everything from costume design, hair, and makeup to props and weapons are conjured and realized with utmost skill and intelligence; Kurosawa's editing is as keen as it ever was, and Yamasaki Kazuo's cinematography smart and steady. Even the sound is rich and hardy, becoming particularly important in the back end as the journey faces increasingly difficult circumstances.

What it really comes down to is that if at any time the movie isn't as striking as some of its brethren - more likely to be the case earlier in the length - the sum total more than proves itself. There isn't really any going wrong with Kurosawa's mighty oeuvre, and this film is just another shining gem in an already sparkling crown. To whatever extent it isn't as absolutely spellbinding as 'Kagemusha' or 'Seven samurai,' or as fulfilling as 'Red Beard' or 'Ikiru,' for the level on which 'The hidden fortress' operates the disparity is meaningless. Him and haw about the specifics as one will, all told this is a timeless, essential classic among a bounty of timeless, essential classics, and I could not be happier with just how enjoyable, satisfying, and ultimately rewarding it is. There are some pictures that exist beyond any concern for personal preferences, and I very much believe that this is one of them. 'The hidden fortress' is exemplary, and I'm pleased to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Mean Streets (1973)

It's alright. But I'm not exactly impressed.

[6/10 · 13 May 2024]

It's noteworthy that this was very early in Martin Scorsese's career, before he had especially made a name for himself or curated a style. It seems to me that this inexperience does rather come across in how the film was made, not necessarily in a manner of being bad but surely reflecting undeveloped skills and aesthetics. The crime drama template, mafioso exploration, and Tough Guy posturing, trademarks for the filmmaker, are present in spades, but in other ways this feels quite different from what Scorsese would go on to make even a few years later. The narrative structure is surprisingly loose, and a preponderance of the runtime consists of general vibes, basic establishment of characters and relationships, and flavorful scene writing rather than discrete plot. There is a story here, centered on stock cinematic Italian-American Charlie and the varied directions in which he is pulled, but plot progression is quite light and minimal for the most part. The editing seems extra curt at points, and there are times when Scorsese's direction and Kent L. Wakeford's cinematography come across as somewhat unpolished - be it deliberately or not - or possibly stylized in a manner that's a tad overzealous, as if in compensation for those skills that had not yet fully crystallized. Kind of emphasizing the point: the music is terrific at large, both the pop songs on the soundtrack and diegetic selections, not least in wryly contrasting with the violence in the tale and the slowly deepening spiral of events; nonetheless, the music sometimes stands out in a fashion that clashes with the proceedings, or at least overshadows all else.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of this, and how much one appreciates 'Mean streets' is really a matter of personal preference. With that said, for my part I'm not concretely impressed, and I'm maybe even a little disappointed. Granted, that might speak to my own expectations more than anything else. In most every regard there are choices made at one time or another that I don't think were ideal ones, and while I can't fault those involved for just starting to really find their legs, the result has really rough edges that don't say "gritty, messy life on the streets" so much as "storytelling and film-making that had not yet matured to a point of expressly deserving praise." Yes, we do get tastes of the former in addition to the latter, and overall this is well made more than not. Those stunts and effects that are employed are great; though some skills are inchoate and some choices not specifically to my liking, the cast give capable performances (some actors or singular moments standing out to me more than others), and much the same verbiage could be applied to the cinematography, and Scorsese's direction. Other crew members operating behind the scenes turned in fine work, and there are fantastic ideas in the screenplay. And still, what I see in this picture above all is major slack in the storytelling, if not outright disorder, with the direction bearing facets of brazen self-indulgence in addition to echoing those traits. It's not that the sum total isn't enjoyable, but whether one is considering 'Mean streets' on its own merits or in comparison to Scorsese's later credits, it comes off to me as muddled and chaotic beyond what was intended, not fully convincing, and less than fully satisfying.

I'm glad for those who get more out of this movie than I do. It's just that I was anticipating a solid, hefty brick, and what I got was a malleable, nearly weightless sponge. In my eyes those beats that should have an impact simply don't on account of how this was put together, and the ending seems decidedly abrupt. I do like 'Mean streets,' and I want to like it more than I do; may you watch and find it a more rewarding experience.

The Little Shop of Horrors (1960)

Precious few are the cheaply made B-movies that are this fun!

[9/10 · 13 May 2024]

It's wonderfully fascinating to read of the production, and learn of what a truly bottom-dollar budget and tight production schedule informed everything down to reused sets and music, and a shot of the moon. It's a joy to know that this was the eventual inspiration for an off-Broadway musical, and the movie musical of 1986 that has become a treasure of pop culture in its own right. And with filmmaker, producer, and schlockmeister Roger Corman sadly having just recently died, an icon important to cinema well beyond his penchant for B-movies, it is a pleasure that this should be part of his enduring legacy. It may have been cheaply and hurriedly made, and its low-grade nature may show in the quality of its sound and image, but 'The little shop of horrors' is marvelously fun and funny to an extent well surpassing no few other comedies across all periods of the medium.

The image is grainy, the sound is muddled, the editing is kind of rough, and not since the most vaudevillian days of the silent era had movies boasted acting this over the top. Yet all told this is all just part of what makes the picture a tremendous delight, endearing it further to us. It's not so surprising after all that this would become a musical, because this is already a spectacle, and the comedy is already stupendously robust. Leave it to Corman to whip something up on a lark to make an easy buck, and the result is so imaginative and cheeky that it becomes a certified classic. The cast unreservedly embrace the silliness with their highly energetic performances, and I really don't know if I could pick a favorite among Jonathan Haze, Jackie Joseph, Mel Welles, or John Herman Shaner, among others. Young Jack Nicholson is a splendid and instantly recognizable bonus, and writer Charles B. Griffith clearly reveled in his voice performance for Audrey Jr. Fred Katz's peppy original score adds terrific flavor to the proceedings, and despite the nature of the production, the art direction, costume design, and even the practical effects really are fantastic, and very suitable for a film of this tenor. Who would have thought that this, of all things, would have such staying power?

Flush with giddily ridiculous situational humor, surprisingly sharp dialogue, cartoonish characters and animated acting, and some choice gags, 'The little shop of horrors' is built purely to entertain. Between the cheerful comedy, the underlying genre roots, and a smidgen of crime flick on top, this ably does just that. Griffith's script gives us a fabulously wacky narrative rounded out with equally wild scene writing, and as if the cast needed any prompting to go all-out in portraying their characters, Corman's fly-by-night direction maintains a thrumming, electric joviality about the proceedings. To top it all off, as the feature clocks in at a trim seventy-three minutes, there is no room for excess; from top to bottom the abbreviated length is filled with vibrant, playful punch, and when all is said and done this is far more clever than one is likely to assume of similar fare.

What more is there to say? Sometimes the titles that hold up as gems come from the most unlikely of places. This piece is outwardly preposterous in concept and in execution, and to read up on how it was made, it's almost a wonder that it got made at all. Yet with a little ingenuity and hard work, and unswerving commitment, the sum total is an incredibly enjoyable slice of nonsense that remains a blast. I can understand how such works won't appeal to all comers, but if you're open to all the wide possibilities that cinema has to offer, 'The little shop of horrors' is a blast, and well worth checking out!

Ordinary People (1980)

Stunning and hard-hitting, an emotional powerhouse of a drama

[10/10 · 12 May 2024]

I've been long overdue to watch this, and especially more recently I've wondered how it ended up winning accolades that, say, 'Raging Bull' didn't. To finally sit and watch the answer seems readily evident to me. It's not necessary to draw any comparisons to Martin Scorsese's masterpiece, but it is useful in at least one regard. Where Scorsese's feature is roundly, exquisitely made, largely in specific ways, Robert Redford's directorial debut is a tremendously nuanced yet wholly unyielding emotional powerhouse that gets in deep under your skin. Ultimately one of these is more impressive than the other - and I can't believe it's taken me this long to see 'Ordinary people,' because it's absolutely exceptional.

Where the script introduces a rare fragment of humor it's a welcome, necessary gasp of fresh air before we're plunged once again into an astoundingly depressing, sorrow-ridden, but utterly heartfelt examination of a family in extreme crisis. Young Conrad feels everything intensely, guilt most of all; mother Beth has a pathological need to feel a sense of control; father Calvin tries his hardest to love. In the wake of the death of the eldest son, and Conrad's attempted suicide, hairline fractures become tumultuous gulfs, with a slowly spiraling narrative, one gut-wrenching scene after another, barbed dialogue, and characters penned so carefully they're basically plucked directly from real life. Alvin Sargent gives us a truly stunning, incredibly impactful screenplay that cuts like a knife, and it's a magnificent credit to Redford, directing for the first time, that he brings the wretched tableau to life with such remarkable, unfailing skill and intelligence. For as hard as the picture hits again, and again, and again, no small part of that punch is owed to the delicate, finessed restraint that the proceedings repeatedly demonstrate - holding back just enough so that when the next beat comes it's all the more potent. Emphasizing the point, there are moments where words are left unspoken in a brilliant move that lets the dour airs swirl all on their own, and these are among some the sharpest scenes in the whole two hours. Between Sargent and Redford I really don't know whose contribution is more spectacular.

It's not just the writer or the director, however, because they're not alone in making 'Ordinary people' the heavy piece of cinema that it is. It's noteworthy that the preponderance of the length is bereft of any music; the absence of a score lets the drama speak for itself, and it does so to perfect success. Where composer Marvin Hamlisch does introduce a phrase or two, however, it is with an impossibly acute ear for the exact gentle addition that will disproportionately add to the weight of the saga. I've never heard Pachelbel's Canon in D reduced to so simple an arrangement, and I also doubt I will ever again hear another arrangement that is so immensely powerful. And still such considerations pale in comparison to the acting, for I think these might be some of the best performances I've ever seen. These days Judd Hirsch is recognized for bit parts, but the indefatigable warmth and poised sagacity he carries as Dr. Berger shine with a luminosity that caught me off guard, and it now seems strange that his career isn't more highly celebrated. Similarly, while I don't think anyone would ever underestimate Donald Sutherland, he's now at a time in his life when it's easy to take for granted that he's a well-regarded actor (not unlike, say, Robert De Niro). Lest there ever be any doubt, however, his turn as Calvin is rife with a soft subtlety that belies the turbulent moment in the Jarretts' lives that the father is trying to navigate and manage. This somehow goes double for Mary Tyler Moore, best known for TV sitcoms. As beleaguered mother Beth, handling her grief and her family's troubles in the only way she knows how, there is a momentously understated vibrancy in Moore's acting that makes it all the more striking when Beth allows herself to show what she's feeling; a quiet coda to a scene very late in the third act is one of the most singularly striking bits of acting I can recall. Yet it's Timothy Hutton, only twenty years old when this movie was released, who lends most to its monumental potency. His portrayal of Conrad is characterized by such fantastic emotional range and depth, and physicality, that very simply, he stands taller than anyone else involved. All things considered, that's saying a lot.

This is to say nothing of the rest of the supporting cast, or of the work of those operating behind the scenes. 'Ordinary people' is totally solid in every capacity. There is no mistaking where it's utmost vitality lies, however, and so the writing, direction, and acting are the linchpins, with the music a step behind only because of its general declination. I'm blown away by just how stupendous this film is, far exceeding any expectations I might have had, and in my opinion it deserves more recognition and visibility than it's gotten in the past forty years. All who participated to are to heartily congratulated; while the subject matter and overall tone are dreary, when all is said and done the title is so superb that I'd be hard-pressed not to suggest it to one and all. From top to bottom this is ferocious absorbing, poignant, satisfying, and rewarding, and I would start tripping over my words if I tried to speak of it more highly or at greater length. As far as I'm concerned 'Ordinary people' is a must-see modern classic, and I'm pleased to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Close-Up (1990)

Fascinating and thought-provoking

[9/10 · 12 May 2024]

This is, actually, a deeply fascinating film, and I readily admit that it took the entire length for me to fully appreciate it. The case of Hossain Sabzian is highly interesting, speaking to multiple factors, and given that filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami was able to become involved in the actual legal proceedings raises questions of how important his role was. 'Close-up' gets labeled as "docufiction," but seeing as your ordinary "documentary" also sometimes includes reenactments and that is the sole distinguishing factor here, the only manner in my mind in which this bears significant disparity from common non-fiction cinema is that there is a concrete narrative flow to the proceedings. However one wishes to categorize the picture, it is softly absorbing even with its quiet tenor and is very much worth exploring; it's no wonder that it has been held in such high regard over the years.

While a couple specific sequences are reenacted with the graceful aid of all the figures involved in the real-life drama, rounding out the non-fiction narrative, the core of these ninety-eight minutes lies in the footage obtained as Kiarostami was allowed to film Sabzian's trial. All told the "story" is a very simple one, but it is incredibly revealing, and is relatable no matter one's frame of reference. 'Close-up' speaks to wealth inequality and social conditions in which poverty and unemployment foster desperation and criminal behavior, and - very notably the precise interest that Kiarostami himself indicates - the power of cinema as an outlet, as a means of expression, and as a way of organizing our thoughts in such a manner as to find we're not alone in the world, or in our troubles. The movie further speaks to identity: our self-perception, the perception of others, and how circumstances might lead to insight or to alteration in either perception or the identity that we express. Some of these very matters are given voice in the feature, and some we can just easily infer, but all lie at the heart of Kiarostami's work.

And that leads us to one critical aspect of the proceedings, one which we could discuss endlessly: the role of the filmmaker in Sabzian's case, and the lives of the Ahankhah family. Kiarostami was granted access to Sabzian in prison, and permission to film the trial in front of Judge Haj Ali Reza Ahmadi. We readily observe how, of the footage included herein of the court proceedings, the number of questions that are asked of Sabzian as a defendant, and the amount of the discussion that is fomented, come as much as if not more from Kiarostami as from Ahmadi. Would Ahmadi have asked the same questions as Kiarostami did? Would he have prompted the same points of candid discussion from Sabzian as Kiarostami was able to? As Sabzian's answers are the grounds for the ultimate outcome, it's not unreasonable to suppose that the very involvement of Kiarostami - not just filming the trial, but remarkably being allowed himself to participate in the questioning - had an impact on the ultimate outcome. Would the course of events have gone the way they did otherwise?

With all this firmly in mind, it bears reflecting on the small glimpse we see of Iran, here not filtered through the lens of U. S. hegemonic propaganda. It's inconceivable that we would see an outsider figure (a filmmaker) allowed to actively participate in American courtroom proceedings the way that Kiarostami does here. It's almost impossible to imagine the American criminal justice system acting with the prudent consideration and compassion that Ahmadi is seen to here, or possibly even the victimized family. It's feasible that this glimpse, too, is also impacted by Kiarostami's involvement, yet it's not as if the man were a western filmmaker given access to a domestic courtroom. What we see, then, is that for all the profound issues that plague Iran politically and culturally, the differences between our countries are not nearly so great as U. S. politicians would want us to believe. The same virtues and commendable values that our country can claim are also found in Iranian society; the same awful faults, chiefly authoritarianism, political corruption, and persecution of minorities, that are routinely emphasized as part of Iranian society also run rampant in our country, and increasingly so. 'Close-up' is an examination of one curious case of impersonation, yes, and of the esoteric factors that we draw from it, but it is also a tiny, demystifying peek at a nation-state that is usually little more than a boogeyman to the average American viewer. And in all these ways, it is fantastically engrossing, and satisfying.

It will hardly appeal to all comers, particularly given the muted, plainspoken tone. The high esteem this has enjoyed in the past thirty-odd years no joke, however, and any cinephile who is open to all the wide possibilities of the medium will surely feel right at home with this title. Even recognizing its reputation I had mixed expectations when I sat to watch, and I'm so very pleased with just how rich the viewing experience really is. Think well on whether or not it's something you might like in the first place, but if you do have the opportunity to watch 'Close-up' then it's an outstanding modern classic, a tremendous credit to Kiarostami, that's well worth exploring.

Club Dread (2004)

Boorish and obnoxious; not clever, and not funny

[2/10 · 12 May 2024]

I remember very well when this came out. I remember it partly because I worked at a video store at the time, and partly because in glaring contrast to Broken Lizard's smash hit 'Super Troopers' of 2001, no one talked about 'Club Dread'; it came and went with barely any notice. I've not seen 'Super Troopers' in about twenty years and I wonder if it still holds up; what about a slasher comedy that was effectively dead on arrival? The good news is that we get our answer pretty quickly, and for those who are apt to duck out fast from a bad movie, you can do so right away. The bad news is that whether you duck out or are the sort of viewer who are committed to sitting through a flick no matter how awful it is, any amount of time spent with this muck is too much. The "dread" of the title belongs to the audience who has unknowingly entered into one hundred minutes of insipid putrescence.

As a slasher comedy this naturally plays liberally with tropes of the root genre, and moreover, the intended parody energy is on full blast. We're given an island populated by obnoxious college co-eds (staff and guests alike), checking off all the boxes for them to be thoroughly unlikable, and we actively look forward to seeing these characters meet the reaper. This is all well and good, but there is a risk that comes with that territory, for there must be balance between the bluster that is being skewered and the cleverness that provides the humor. This, sorrily, is where 'Club Dread' fails, and it fails spectacularly - not riding the line between awful, unfunny puerility and witty spoof, but falling almost completely on the side of awful, unfunny puerility. We're greeted with cheap, tawdry, tiresome juvenile jokes and gags about sex and anatomy, and dashes of homophobia, ableism, and fatphobia. We get the stale, boorish dialogue of frat boys, dull stoner comedy, and female characters who are either included purely to be objectified, and treated as veritable sex toys, or practically not written at all. Do note considerable gratuitous nudity, and for good measure add some exhausting bluster and raucousness for their own sake.

Despite relying heavily on tropes there are some good ideas in the story itself; granted, this does not apply to the reveal of the killer or their motive, and the simple fact of the matter is that this is longer than it should have been. Surprisingly, there are very small tinges, sparsely scattered here and there, of the sharp ingenuity necessary to earn a laugh, and that actually is what happens. In general I don't particularly like the characters, and the scene writing is an incredibly mixed bag, but I guess the cast do their job, and some actors come off better than others - though emphatically, not those who adopt a cartoonish, exaggerated accent. Those operating behind the scenes made suitable contributions, and 'Club Dread' is duly well made according to the standards of the early 2000s. Yet none of this matters so much if a title built first and foremost for comedy fails to elicit the desired reaction. While there are a few additional points where the film comes close to earning a laugh, the number of times when it truly does so can easily be counted, and it is: four. Four laughs total over the course of one hundred minutes, and I'm unsure if two of those really count.

I suppose strictly speaking there are worse ways you could spend your time, but that really isn't saying much. As it is I think it's possible I'm being too kind in my assessment, and THAT, on the other hand, is saying a lot. I don't know who I would recommend this to, because no one I know - or would want to know - is going to enjoy this any more than I did. Check it out if you want, I just don't know why you would. 'Club Dread' is a dud, and you're better off not bothering with it in the first place.

Steel Dawn (1987)

That uncommon, highly satisfying action-adventure flick of more careful, deliberate construction

[9/10 · 11 May 2024]

There are some very recognizable names and faces appearing here, and others involved boast some noteworthy credits. As the picture was filmed in Namibia we're treated to some truly beautiful sights, and from the start I appreciate the tasteful score of Brian May. (No, not that Brian May, the other one.) By 1987 the world was already full of post-apocalyptic action-adventure titles, but all the same I admire the contributions of those behind the costume design, production design, art direction, and props and weapons. The flick notably kicks off with an action scene, and this, and those to follow, all look rather excellent to these eyes, with swell fight choreography, stunts, and effects. The story of screenwriter Doug Lefler plays in a familiar space, and likewise the characterizations, but this is just fine; some instances of dialogue raise a quizzical eyebrow, but other examples are delightful; the scene writing is suitable, and reasonably varied. All told the writing isn't specifically remarkable, but it ably gets the job done with an aptly compelling, enjoyable saga. Furthermore, very honestly, the cast give capable performances - reserved, and nuanced, and definitely more carefully considered than what we get in most comparable fare.

'Steel dawn' is hardly a must-see classic, a revelation of the genre, but I find it earnest and perfectly solid. At first blush it seems distinctly direct and forthright given the scenes to greet us in the first ten minutes, yet between Lefler's script and more so the smart direction of filmmaker Lance Hool, that is far from the overall tenor the feature adopts. On the contrary: the approach is generally soft and thoughtful, nearly portending drama rather than action, right up until it's time for that action to kick in. This tack is well removed from the norm of most any frame of reference; more usual is for movies to throw violence at us willy-nilly, with any narrative context for it being a secondary consideration. The result, here, is not something that leaps out and grabs our attention, and it may not stand in the annals of cinema as an exemplar, yet I for one heartily welcome an action-adventure film that demonstrates patience, deliberation, and a mind for allowing the action to serve the plot and not vice versa. Such works are decidedly uncommon amidst the MCUs, 'Mission: Impossibles,' and 'Mad Maxes' in the world, and I'm very pleased with how surprisingly good this is all told. Dare I even say - I think this is kind of great!

The action sequences really are fantastic; they keep their head on their shoulders instead of aiming for wholesale bombast, and I firmly believe that works in the picture's favor. I mean it when I speak well of the acting: it's not that anyone was going to win awards with their portrayals, but from one to the next every player on hand carries themselves with range, personality, presence, and even tinges of subtlety that echo the overarching tone of intelligence and restraint. My commendations to Patrick Swayze, his widow Lisa Niemi, Anthony Zerbe, Christopher Neame, Brion James, and those in still smaller supporting parts - I did not expect this from a second-tier 80s genre romp. There are even some shrewd touches in the lighting, and George Tirl's cinematography. And while I'm inclined to think Hool's direction is the chief factor behind the more sober and judicious nature of the production, kudos surely do belong after all to scribe Lefler for a prudent, more serious-minded screenplay in which that nature could flourish. Truthfully, I don't know that I could even identify any particular flaw with this title. It's no stellar masterpiece, but it's far, far better in every capacity than I ever might have guessed sights unseen. That means something.

It won't appeal to all comers. It's unlikely to ever make a list of top favorites, let alone "best of" lists. I fully understand that what I consider to be a core strength, that low-key tenor and supreme mindfulness, could be exactly what turns off other viewers from the sum total. Yet in every regard I'm so happy with the skill and care reflected in 'Steel dawn,' and as far as I'm concerned it deserves much more recognition. So long as you're receptive to action-adventure of the sort that declines utmost zip and zest this is well worth checking out, and I'm glad to give 'Steel dawn' my very high and hearty recommendation.

Hands of Steel (1986)

It's not great, but it's not totally awful, either.

[5/10 · 11 May 2024]

Thank you, Claudio Simonetti. This was neither the first nor the last time in your career that the flavorful original music you provided for a film was one of its top highlights, if not the only highlight. Here, your contribution is not necessarily the only highlight, but it's certainly the most reliable one.

It's not that 'Hands of steel,' initially released as 'Vendetta dal futuro,' is absolutely rotten. The script is a weird hodgepodge, but there are some genuinely good ideas here amidst the more dubious ones, and those plainly borrowed from existing properties. At least a few of the actors on hand seem to be making an effort. The filming locations are terrific, and I think the crew operating behind the scenes turned in some good work including sets, lighting, costume design, and even the cinematography. The stunts and practical effects look pretty good, and the action sequences at large, especially as they populate the back end. The thing is, I can't bring myself to offer more substantial or enthusiastic praise.

Sergio Martino's direction and Aldo Devgen's editing are both rather curt and brusque at points, doing the whole no favors, and there are times when the editing is kind of just sloppy. For every actor seemingly making an effort, there is at least one who is chewing scenery, including star Daniel Greene and Italian B-movie regular George Eastman; elsewhere the performances are direly limp and unconvincing. Even if we make allowances for dubbing the dialogue is mostly terrible, and the dubbing is less than great. The plot development relies in no small part on "Just So" Movie Magic, especially as the government investigates the attempted assassination, and feels coarse and unpolished broadly, and maybe rushed. The picture overflows with tiresome, frankly repulsive machismo, and do note some gratuitous nudity and an obligatory romantic element that is likewise not fully convincing.

I don't mind that 'Hands of steel' lifts some ideas directly from other sci-fi flicks. We get tastes of 'The Terminator' as "Paco" is a cyborg like Arnold, but he is also a hero like Michael Biehn, as paired with "Linda," standing in for, well, Linda Hamilton. Heading into the last third we get a character based on Pris in 'Blade Runner,' and so on. It's fine; these are thoughts I could work with. What I do mind is that the construction here seems a little careless in too many ways. I see fantastic potential in what the feature could have been if the screenplay had been approached more mindfully, if the direction were stronger, if the acting was more consistent, and if the editing didn't questionably chop up the proceedings. Through to the ending, abrupt though it may be, there are smart notions that could have been exercised to meaningful effect. We do get glimmers throughout of that more significant, more lasting value. It's too bad that such glimmers are dragged down by the more tawdry facets.

I don't dislike this title; there are much worse ways to spend your time. For everything else that we could be watching instead, however, there's also not much reason to sit with it unless one is extra keen on B-movies of this nature. Don't go out of your way for 'Hands of steel'; if you're going to check it out then save it for a lazy day, and be well aware of the flaws throughout. Maybe we should just leave it at that.

The Three Musketeers (1921)

An absolute treasure, a wonderful blend of adventure, comedy, drama, and romance

[10/10 · 11 May 2024]

Though not all titles of the period are equal, it remains true that some of the greatest films that will ever be made hail from the silent era. Even outside of those utmost exemplars, there is a magical effervescence and joyful energy to silent cinema - to the common sensibilities of storytelling and film-making, and to the common style of acting - that makes them a real pleasure to watch. As this classic 1921 adaptation of Alexandre Dumas' most famous novel twists together drama, romance, and adventure with buoyant, playful wit and humor, it's impossible not to be enchanted as the tale advances. By that point just before the 40-minute mark when we get our first action sequence, if not before, and certainly from that point onward, 'The Three Musketeers' is so wonderfully charming and entertaining that we're wholly swept up in its wake. One can easily imagine this flick being memorialized in a modern-day love letter to the medium, like Damien Chazelle's 'Babylon,' and that alone says so much about its staying power. I adore this!

It's certainly the case that in keeping with the norms of the time Nellie Mason's editing typically accelerates the footage by some small percentage that's markedly unnatural, yet not to such an extent, here, as to jeopardize the tone or our suspension of disbelief. Even setting aside that idiosyncrasy, however, the picture carries itself with fabulous mirth and vitality that are altogether electrifying. Between the smart, seasoned direction of Fred Niblo in orchestrating every shot and scene and the deft, impassioned, lively acting of the cast this stays so vibrant at all points, whatever the tenor of a given scene, that the ensuing ten decades are wholly unable to dull its luster. Yet it's not just the direction or performances; even the adapted screenplay of Edward Knoblock, luminous star Douglas Fairbanks, and Lotta Woods bears terrific zest and cleverness. Informed by Dumas' 1844 masterwork, we're treated to sharp dialogue, robust and flavorful scene writing, and ebullient characterizations in a compelling plot of intrigue and daring-do in seventeenth century France. This is to say nothing of detailed, somewhat whimsical costume design, hair, and makeup; lovely, elaborate sets, many being downright gorgeous; and the splendid stunts and effects we see throughout, no few still coming across as keenly imaginative.

Bolstered by the superb contributions of all involved, that shrewd blend of drama, romance, action, and light comedy is a consistent, marvelous delight. Even many modern features, with all their advantages of updated techniques, technology, and sensibilities, are often unable to match the cheerful fun that 'The Three Musketeers' represents. Kind of emphasizing the point, the fact is that even as Niblo's romp is an earnest adaptation of the novel, it is characterized by no less boundless spirit and frolicsome ingenuity than Max Linder's 'The Three Must-Get-Theres' of 1922, an outright farcical spoof. Both works are absolute treasures, and funny, invigorating, and highly enjoyable, just in different ways as they tackle the same material from opposite ends. In all honesty this is such a blast that two hours fly past very quickly, and I could easily stand for this to be longer. In a time when many present-day new releases are self-indulgent with lengths nearly, exactly, or more than three hours long, the fact that the merriment of a silent flick feels too brief at two hours speaks very, very well to the stupendous skill and intelligence of all involved.

I assumed I'd enjoy it, and still this movie handily bested my expectations. It's fantastically well made across the board, and frankly its sprightly verve is nothing less than intoxicating. Everyone who participated in its creation is to be congratulated, and as Fairbanks served as producer in addition to starring and lending an assist in the writing, perhaps the credit is owed to him above all. With all this in mind I can understand how some modern viewers may have a harder time engaging with older cinema; I'd have said the same myself at one point. Yet this lark is such a tremendous gem that I must believe most anyone would find something to love in it, and that, too, speaks so well to the end result. Simply put, 'The Three Musketeers' is radiant as it continues to hold up even one hundred years later, and I'm thrilled to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation to one and all!