The Best Man (1964)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Best Man (1964) – F. Schaffner

Gore Vidal’s Tony-nominated play focused on the battle for a party’s presidential nomination is brought to the screen by Franklin J. Schaffner (with Vidal’s own screenplay).  It’s a behind-the-scenes look at the tactics used by ruthless conservative populist Joe Cantwell (Cliff Robertson) and intellectual but indecisive liberal William Russell (Henry Fonda) who are vying to get the most votes at the (unnamed) party’s convention in Los Angeles.  Cantwell has dirt on Russell (a prior nervous breakdown) and plans to use it to swing things his way; Russell’s people also find dirt on Cantwell but will the candidate use it or stand by his principles?  We’ve seen these candidates in the US before (and I fear that the tide has turned to Cantwell’s brand of politics of late) and contemporary audiences would have been thinking of Adlai Stevenson and Richard Nixon.  But fifty plus years later nothing here can shock or even surprise the modern viewer.  Still, there is some suspense built and Lee Tracy has a great turn as the folksy ex-president with advice for both candidates. Frank and authentic or cynical as hell – you be the judge.      

Dreams (1955)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Dreams (1955) – I. Bergman

But whose dreams are these?  Ingmar Bergman invites us to dream along with Eva Dahlbeck’s fashion designer, Suzanne, and with Harriet Andersson’s fashion model, Doris – both dream of relationships (with a past married lover, Ulf Palme, and a new older sugar daddy, Gunnar Björnstrand, respectively), that are ultimately not to be.  These men may also be dreaming, or fantasizing, about these women – inappropriately so.  So, this is a film about mistakes and regrets, poor choices and their consequences.  Dahlbeck and Andersson may be paired, such that Doris is an earlier version of Suzanne who may yet have the opportunity to choose a better path.  Perhaps she will – and perhaps Suzanne has come to her senses by the end of the film (or perhaps not?). The men who tempt them are clearly escaping their own dreary existences to chase dreams (that can never be) – but Bergman’s interest seems to be focused on the more complicated situations of the women.  Indeed, the film ends with a shot of Dahlbeck wearing a very complex expression (that may be ambivalent, ambiguous, or both).  I had high hopes for the film from the start, when Hilding Bladh’s camera work merged with Bergman’s direction and ear-popping synchronised sound to create a wordless opening scene (a fashion shoot) with heightened sensory power (and another impressive scene on a train suggests that Dahlbeck is thinking of suicide, with expressionistic flair). But once the protagonists move to Göteborg, the arthouse moves are toned down and the film loses some zing. Yet, this is still clearly a film by a masterful director, even if less persuasive overall.  

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) – B. Henson

Surprisingly, it stays very faithful to the book, quoting many passages and having many scenes introduced by Charles Dickens himself (Gonzo).  I felt that the staging, settings, and characterisations also seem modelled on my favourite film version of the story (with Alastair Sim in 1951).  It was fun to remember the various muppets from The Muppet Show (those from Sesame Street are absent here), playing bit parts.  The major roles are taken by Michael Caine (Scrooge) and Kermit (Bob Cratchit).  Paul Williams wrote the songs –which are pretty bland and not up to the level of 1970’s Scrooge (with Albert Finney).  In places the story seems abbreviated, particularly when showing Scrooge as a youth in love, but this was probably for the best as attentions of the under 9 crowd were wavering at that point.  There is a lot of comic relief, mostly from Rizzo the Rat and Gonzo (as narrators) but the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come might be scary for some.  Caine does fine but nothing spectacular. This is the first project for the muppets after Jim Henson’s death and it is dedicated to him.

A Quiet Place (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆

A Quiet Place (2018) – J. Krasinski

I didn’t know what this was about, nor did I immediately recognise actor/director Jon Krasinski (or know that he is married to star Emily Blunt) – so I guess I came to it absolutely cold, knowing only that it was a horror film, of some sort. If that’s your preference too, then don’t read on.  From the start, we are only introduced to what appears to be a post-apocalyptic American setting with the strange requirement that everyone has to be as quiet as possible (we figure this out, we aren’t told).  Only a few minutes later are we shocked into realising that this is a monster movie and the monsters (distant relatives of Alien’s alien, I think) hone in on sounds, since they are blind.  Well, the “shock” was fairly clearly telegraphed – and in fact, nearly every suspenseful moment here is bleedingly obvious (monster enters room, everyone freezes), but that doesn’t mean you aren’t still on the edge of your seat the whole time.  This has strong ties to the Cloverfield franchise, I think (and I read that the writers fought to keep their screenplay from being repurposed as part of those films) – and if I knew that, perhaps I wouldn’t have rented this.  There is something to slick about these CGI monsters that I can’t get into.  But why?  The old Ray Harryhausen monsters were a treat and certainly there were plenty of creature double features in my youth.  Perhaps those too could never earn a rating above 3 stars.  But if you are in the mood for a thrill ride and don’t need to or want to think, here you go!

To Joy (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

To Joy (1950) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman wrote and directed this tale of two violinists who fall in love, get married, and have children, all while working for grumbly (but lovable) conductor Sonderby (played by Victor Sjöström, the silent film director/mentor who later starred in Bergman’s Wild Strawberries).  Stig Eriksson (played by Stig Olin) is rather melancholic and pessimistic but still falls for sweet and gentle Marta Olsson (played by Maj-Britt Nilsson).  He doesn’t deserve her. However, she will not remain his forever: we learn at the very start of the film that Marta is unfortunately later killed in a tragic accident – and the movie swiftly returns seven years earlier, in flashback, to bring us up to this final fatal moment.  Erikkson is apparently a veiled version of Bergman himself, an unreliable and self-centered cad who expresses dismay when he finds out his wife is pregnant (arguing that it is wrong to bring children into this horrible world) and subsequently cheats on her with a sultry married neighbour.  Apparently, Bergman was going through a divorce at the time (he eventually had five wives) and this screenplay may reflect his guilt and shame.  Eventually, Marta leaves with the children.  However, absence makes the heart grow fonder and eventually the couple reconciles.  So, we see the ups and downs that are natural to any relationship – but it is hard to feel sympathy for Eriksson, at least until that final terrible moment when he learns of his wife’s death.  Later, the orchestra plays Beethoven’s Ninth – based on von Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” and we see Eriksson’s sadness.  Reading now the poem itself, which includes the words “Whoever has created/An abiding friendship, Or has won/A true and loving wife, All who can call at least one soul theirs, Join our song of praise;”.  The relevance is obvious and we see that Bergman is imploring us/himself to feel grateful for the love he has received (despite his many flaws).  Not a masterpiece but an unpredictable melodrama that contains Bergman’s obvious stamp of authorship. 

The House of the Devil (2009)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The House of the Devil (2009) – T. West

I’m sure the production team had a lot of fun with this feature, a pitch perfect recreation of a late 70s/early 80s “teenager in peril” horror film.  Right from the opening credits, with bad font and freeze frame and the spooky synth soundtrack, those who remember the genre from when it was new will be tickled.  There is a really really slow build as we meet Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), the babysitter hired by a weird older couple (Tom Noonan and Mary Woronov), and her rebellious friend, Megan (Greta Gerwig), with feathered Farrah hair, who drives her out to the upstate New York house.  It turns out that Sam is meant to babysit Woronov’s elderly mother rather than any actual baby – on the night of a lunar eclipse that turns out to be significant (the opening credits tip us off that Satanism is somehow involved).  Of course, Sam is soon alone in the dark and quiet old house and suspense builds and builds.  In fact, this is probably the point of the film – how long can the director (Ti West, who also wrote the screenplay) toy with us by offering false alarms, just bumps in the night?  And then suddenly there is a burst of horror and the film rushes to its conclusion.  Perhaps there is ultimately less than meets the eye but I personally felt satisfied – I don’t need any drawn out gory horror but rather some indicative supernatural flourishes will fulfil me plenty.  (We get a bit more than that).  In the end, this is a showcase for directorial fetishism, I suppose, and it seems that Ti West’s career in horror has been assured.  If all of his work is “old school”, I might be tempted to check more of it out (despite the low IMDb ratings).

The Death of Stalin (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Death of Stalin (2017) – A. Iannucci

It’s an unusual experiment for a film to treat the totalitarian days of the Soviet Union as broad comedy – and more unusual still because the details of the plot (if not the screenplay full of jokes) are drawn straight from the real facts of the historical record about bad actors, torture, murder.  This satirical portrayal of a bunch of bumblers (the Central Committee) who need to manage the country after their leader has died – and who vie to determine its political direction and methods – was, inevitably, banned in Russia.  It doesn’t paint a pretty picture.  But strangely, the slickness of the film and the deftness of the comedic actors and their witty repartee means that the brutality of the proceedings (implied and explicit) seems unreal – when in fact it all was horribly real.  Even the decision to allow the actors to use their natural accents (a full range of British classes are represented plus Steve Buscemi and Jeffrey Tambor from America), which could have been a Brechtian device to lead us to view the characters and their actions from a more distanced critical perspective, doesn’t quite have that intended effect (although perhaps there is a different goal; for example, portraying Stalin as the rural type from Georgia he was by using a cockney accent).   At any rate, it is a pitch black comedy, very probably in completely bad taste, and without a clearly identifiable modern target (only a desire to recreate and satirize the chaos of the period).

  

Mystery Road (2013)

☆ ☆ ☆

Mystery Road (2013) – I. Sen

Aaron Pedersen plays an outback New South Wales detective named Jay Swan who faces racism and a community in crisis as the only Indigenous cop on the force.  When a young girl turns up murdered, his investigation (hamstrung by racism and a lack of interest from his sergeant) leads him to a drug ring.  Hugo Weaving plays the head of the drug squad, who may or may not be corrupt – he certainly seems dodgy (played with typical finesse by Weaving).  He also implies that Swan does not have his own house in order – he is estranged from his wife, now seemingly addicted to booze and pokies, and his teenage daughter may be involved in drugs and possible prostitution.  Needless to say, Pedersen plays the character as extremely tense and gruff.  I’m not sure he smiles at any point in the film.  The script infers that he is stuck in the middle, prosecuting people from his culture on behalf of the whitefellas in control – and some of the residents of the town, both black and white, treat him as a pariah.  It’s a lonely film noir-ish existence (albeit in a “western” setting). Although Pedersen and Weaving are solid, minor characters don’t always seem to have the same acting chops – and the screenplay spends too much time having actors deliver exposition, rather awkwardly. I confess I didn’t quite follow the final machinations of the plot (which may be the result of too little attention paid to some of the nondescript baddies).  Yet the cinematography looks great and some of the dusty outback locations are scenic (but would you want to live there?); some valuable glimpses (if not insights) into a suffering community are also on offer.  Later this spawned a sequel and then a TV mini-series, where it probably would fit best, since the cop drama is a tried and true genre on the small screen. 

A Ship to India (1947)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Ship to India (1947) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman’s third feature is a moody psychodrama that shows us people trapped in unhappy relationships, looking for a way out, inflicting harm or having harm inflicted on them.  We begin with Johannes Blom (Birger Malmsten) who has just returned to his home port after seven years away at sea.  He is anxious to see the girl he left behind – but when he finds her, she is bitter and cold.  He wanders off and falls asleep on the beach – at which point begins a long flashback (comprising almost all of the movie) that tells his story and that of those around him.  Indeed, the dominant figure in the flashback is Johannes’ father, Captain Alexander Blom (Holger Löwenadler) who is sadistic to his son (berating him because of a slight hunched back) and neglectful of his wife and a bad captain to his crew.  He goes on a two or three day bender and brings back a girl with whom he plans to sail away when the current job is done, leaving his wife and son.  The girl, Sally (Gertrud Fridh), is a music hall singer/dancer with a possibly sordid past – but upon seeing how the father treats his family, she feels sympathy and tenderness for Johannes.  The movie is frank about their sexual relationship (but apparently this was edited from US prints).  As expected, the father-son conflict comes to a head, resulting in Johannes leaving for his seven-year voyage (the early scenes assure us that all the characters survive the flashback but you might not fully expect that, otherwise).  When the flashback ends, we see how Sally and Johannes’ relationship proceeds.  Although not yet at the height of his powers – and owing a strong debt to the poetic realism of Marcel Carne (for example, Le Jour Se Leve, 1939) – Bergman creates emotional tension superbly here; we are allowed to consider how all of the major characters view their conflicts and the possible psychological reasons behind their behaviour (softening our negative judgments of some or at least evoking pity).  But no one yet seems to have completely lost hope – everyone is grasping for peace and serenity in their futures (although some may not find it).  This might not be the blueprint for future Bergman characters.

Crisis (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆

Crisis (1946) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman’s first feature is a melodrama about women’s relationships (foreshadowing some of his later concerns).  In particular, we meet an older woman, Ingeborg (Dagny Lind), who has been foster mother for a young girl, Nelly (Inga Landgré), now 18 and ready for adulthood. They live in a country town, away from the pleasures and perils of the big city.  However, at the start of the film, Nelly’s birth mother arrives from Stockholm to take her back, now that she has established herself with her own beauty salon and slick boy toy (Stig Olin).  Of course, this creates conflict, as the strangers bring their different (rougher) sensibilities to the town, threatening Nelly’s relationship with older suitor Ulf (Allan Bohlin) and Ingeborg’s health and well-being (because Nelly is her only companion).  When Nelly does choose to leave in defiance, she finds that the city is not exactly what she wants.  So, a rather straightforward melodrama marked by some ordinary and variable acting, a few stock types and situations, but the occasional glimpse of something more interesting.  Olin, as the most interesting character, manages his part well and Bergman gives him a well-staged end. Even maestros start somewhere...

Ali’s Wedding (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ali’s Wedding (2017) – J. Walker

It is great to see a mainstream rom-com set in the Muslim community in Australia.  The film is based on a “true story” (drawn from the life of writer/star Osamah Sami) and smartly addresses cultural differences, particularly for the first generation born in Australia who are essentially bicultural (and subject to a conflict between parents’ views and friends’ views) -- but does so in a very light-hearted way.  Ali (Sami) is a bit of a fool for love which leads him to pretend that he was accepted into the medicine program at Melbourne Uni just to please his parents and the Lebanese girl with whom he is smitten. Of course, he gets himself into silly predicaments and also has to cope with some snooty rivals in the mosque who are jealous because he is the son of the head cleric.  The title refers to the arranged marriage that Ali finds himself shoehorned into by his parents which he desperately wants to escape.  The film doesn’t shy away from the problems of the community (Ali’s older brother died by stepping on a landmine in Iran after the family fled from Saddam Hussein’s reign in Iraq) and there are a few jokes about being perceived to be terrorists.  The genre being what it is, however, things don’t get too serious – in fact, they tilt toward the overly sentimental side.  The direction by TV director Jeffrey Walker is nothing special – it could very well be made for the Australian small screen – but that’s probably just as well for a film that aims to remind everyone that this community has a lot in common with other Australians despite the obvious (surface) differences.

Deep Cover (1992)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Deep Cover (1992) – B. Duke

Laurence Fishburne, in his first starring role, plays a rebellious cop who goes undercover, deep under cover, to infiltrate and destroy a drug syndicate operating in southern California.  His DEA superior (played smarmily by Charles Martin Smith) encourages him to violate the law as he insinuates himself higher and higher up the food chain.  His first break is winning the respect and then loyalty of a slimy lawyer (played with gusto by Jeff Goldblum) who hopes to make it big by selling designer drugs to the cartel.  As a team, they become extremely profitable selling crack cocaine but remain under the thumb of an evil middleman (Gregory Sierra). Things get increasingly out-of-control and violent.  Fishburne narrates the story in voiceover, giving a film noir flavour to the proceedings that could have starred Mitchum or Dick Powell in an earlier age.  Except this movie takes place squarely in a black community suffering from a drug epidemic, an epidemic funded by people from outside the community (Latin America) who are supported by high level American officials (George H. W. Bush is referenced!).  Fortunately, black heroes are on hand, not just Fishburne’s undercover agent (who struggles mightily with the moral ambiguity of his role) but an ordinary cop (Clarence Williams III) who prays for the dealers as well as the victims.  Director Bill Duke keeps things moving at a good clip to a rap/hip-hop soundtrack with some interesting experimental touches (jump cuts like a record being scratched).  It doesn’t all hang together perfectly but this is a far-better-than-average thriller.  

Messiah of Evil (1973)

☆ ☆ ½

Messiah of Evil (1973) – W. Huyck & G. Katz

Strange from the get-go, when a non-sequitur murder leads directly into the opening credits (complete with out-of-place torch song), which bring us to an isolated gas station in early seventies California.  There, our heroine Arletty (Marianna Hill) witnesses a strange Albino in a pick-up truck as she fills up en route to the dead end beach town of Point Dune where she hopes to find her artist father. When she finds his studio empty and only addled and frightening diary entries from him, she sets out to find out what happened.  The local art gallery points her in the direction of a wandering man (Michael Greer) in seventies suit and his two “travelling companions” (Joy Bang and Anitra Ford) who are investigating a mysterious tale told by an old vagabond (Elisha Cook, Jr.) about a time when the moon turns blood red and a mysterious stranger returns to the town.  After that, I lost my place.  Eerie bonfires on the beach draw our heroes’ attention but they separate and discover that the townspeople are slowly turning into zombies (rummaging through the meat section of the supermarket).  A couple of grisly but low budget killings later, the moon does turn red and the mysterious stranger does return.  There is much that is inventive here, especially the art direction and cinematography -- and the directors claimed to be influenced by Antonioni – but I’ll admit that things seemed pretty disjointed throughout.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009) – N. A. Oplev

Grim and ugly.  The original Norwegian title apparently translates to “Men who Hate Women” which seems apt for a film that is filled with sexual violence.  This is not the sort of content that I prefer to watch -- and indeed, we turned off the Fincher remake a few years ago during a rape scene.  However, following further, the horror and sadness evoked by seeing these experiences of women is (only somewhat) allayed by the presence of a heroic and self-sufficient (if not fully empowered) female character, Lisbeth Salander (played by Noomi Rapace).  She takes revenge on her rapist and also helps to solve the 40-year old mystery of the murdered teenager that drives the plot.  Lisbeth is a goth girl with the dragon tattoo and numerous piercings, under government-ordered guardianship, and a hacker by profession.  Her hacking job involves profiling investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist (played by Michael Nyqvist) for a rich industrialist who happens to be the uncle of the murdered girl, now in his eighties.  He hires Blomkvist to solve the murder that the police could not, in a frozen and remote part of Norway.  Most of the family members are suspects.  Blomkvist and Salander are given enough backstory to feel like real people but the mystery itself (from Stig Larsson’s novel) seems to conclude rather abruptly (despite the film’s lengthy running time).  All told, I’m not sure I needed to see this – but Lisbeth Salander seems a valuable feminist hero to add to the canon (perhaps helping to inform the later zeitgeist that resulted in the “me too” movement).

What We Do in the Shadows (2014)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

What We Do in the Shadows (2014) – J. Clement & T. Waititi

Ha, ha – the Kiwi sense of humour is droll but ridiculous.  Think about “Flight of the Conchords” – hilarious, right?  But what’s the formula?  Silly, but intelligent.  Rarely crass (which seems to be the flavour of much American humour).  Willing to poke fun at themselves.  Perhaps whimsical at times.  Now take all that and apply it to the situation of three vampires living as flatmates in Wellington; that is, think about the problems that all flatmates face and then make them vampires.  Then pretend there is a documentary team following them around as they engage in their usual routines (which include nightclubbing and hunting for victims).  NZ superstars Taika Waititi (director of Boy, 2010, and Thor: Ragnarok, 2018) and Jemaine Clement (Flight of the Conchords), co-directed and co-star alongside Jonny Brugh and a few other familiar Kiwis (Rhys Darby appears as a werewolf).  You probably need to be in the right mood for this but I enjoyed it and laughed (there are some great bits).  Of course, even at just 86 minutes, you start to feel the material get stretched out – the concept can only be pushed so far, perhaps.  That said, I understand that the movie has spun off a TV series already. Worth a look!

The Professionals (1966)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Professionals (1966) – R. Brooks

Lee Marvin leads a small group of adventurers into Mexico to rescue Texas railroad man Ralph Bellamy’s wife who has been kidnapped by Mexican rebels (formerly fighting for Pancho Villa).  The wife is Claudia Cardinale and the chief rebel is Jack Palance (both playing Mexicans).  The “good guys” are Marvin, Burt Lancaster, Woody Strode, and Robert Ryan.  I felt as though I had seen this before (but I don’t think I had).  Perhaps Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969), another all-star affair with Robert Ryan, was coming to mind.  Lee Marvin’s other epic action films mostly take place in WWII (not in Mexico); he’s as stony as ever here though.  Burt Lancaster seems to be rollicking through the film, as though he was still in a 1950s costume drama, half grinning at the predicaments they find themselves in.  Strode and Ryan have less to do and their characters are less developed (if any of these characters are actually developed). At any rate, I pondered whether there was still an audience for this sort of tough guy adventure film (the kind that has a fair amount of sexism thrown in, just because), the sort of uncritical Dad film of the days gone by, resting easily on shorthand and schematics in order to stitch the action sequences to the plot.  The action sequences aren’t too bad, some suspense is built, and things blow up.  Naturally, there is also a twist: the band doesn’t quite honour their contract with Bellamy – but they do stand for honour as a principle. 

  

Tommy (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆

Tommy (1975) – K. Russell

I have to admit that I’m not overly familiar with The Who’s concept album, Tommy – but listening to it now, I have to declare that the band’s original versions of these songs are (for the most part) far superior to the movie’s remakes featuring Ann-Margret, Oliver Reed, Elton John, Jack Nicholson, Tina Turner, Eric Clapton, and even Roger Daltrey.  As expected, director Ken Russell (Women in Love, The Devils, Altered States), an apt choice, brings the excess.  Ann-Margret’s (Oscar-nominated!) performance as Tommy’s mother is particularly over-the-top.  The album/movie tells the story of a boy who witnesses the murder of his returning serviceman father by his mum/stepdad which leads him to become psychosomatically deaf, dumb, and blind.  Eventually he becomes a pinball superstar and then a messiah of sorts (after he is awakened).  I’ll admit that my attention wavered at times but the sounds and images were seemingly more important than the plot, at least to Russell.  The Who obviously fully sanctioned this version and appear as themselves or in character parts throughout the film; however, the music is often created by others, corrupting the band’s sound.  Nevertheless, Elton John’s version of Pinball Wizard was apparently a hit at the time and the staging for the movie is pretty bizarre.  Of course, the band smash their instruments at its conclusion.

They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead (2018) – M. Neville

This documentary to accompany the (Netflix) release of Orson Welles’ last completed film (so far), The Other Side of the Wind, is cleverly edited together, featuring clips from across Welles’ oeuvre as well as footage from sets and interviews, as well as past and present talking heads.  The director is Morgan Neville who also directed this year’s doco about Mr. Rogers.  I’m a big Welles fan and have a few books about him, including Peter Bogdanovich’s interview book “This is Orson Welles” (1998; 2^nd edition) and Jean-Pierre Berthomé’s excellent Orson Welles at Work (2006; from Phaidon).  The former is referenced both in this documentary and in The Other Side of the Wind itself, where Bogdanovich’s character discusses his attempt to publish a book-length interview with fictional director Jake Hannaford (played by John Huston) that obviously echoes the real Bogdanovich-Welles relationship.  And I guess that is what I took away the most from this film, the fact that many of the TOSOTW characters were closely modelled on film personalities (such as critic Pauline Kael or producer Robert Evans), something I didn’t quite catch onto when I watched it, and the fact that Welles might have been pointedly critiquing some of his friends (as well as himself).  Was betrayal a key theme across his films? I’ll have to think about it. Beyond that it is always entertaining to see the charismatic and humorous Orson, even if the narrative attempts to portray him as sad due to his difficulties financing his films and even if many of the clips used (stolen from F for Fake, 1973, for example) are used “out of context” to add the illusion of snappy repartee.  It’s a light confection overall, without too much new to say, but very entertainingly put together.

Lake of the Dead (1958)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Lake of the Dead (1958) – K. Bergstrøm

Norwegian ghost story that manages to evoke a spooky feel (with a few moonlit shots of actors drawn to the haunted lake) even while succumbing to an excessively talky script.  Perhaps this is because the story and screenplay were drawn from an existing novel (and the novelist takes a turn at acting a minor part here).  Or perhaps it is because the ghost story has a number of complicated points to explain (e.g., the possibly incestuous bond of boy-girl twins, the Freudian interpretation of dreams) that need to be spoken rather than shown (although this is an empirical question).  At any rate, we follow a group of adult couples as they visit a large cabin in the woods where they learn the local legend about a peg-legged ghost who possesses people and drives them to drown themselves in the nearby lake.  Not coincidentally, their expected host, one half of the twins in question, has gone missing and his sister is the one drawn to the lake at night.  Fortunately, a psychologist and a constable are both on hand to help solve the mystery, which may or may not have supernatural origins.  Worth a look just for its B&W eeriness alone.

The Ghost Ship (1943)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Ghost Ship (1943) – M. Robson

One of the five collaborations between director Mark Robson and producer Val Lewton (best known for his low-budget RKO horror films which included Cat People and I Walked with a Zombie, both directed by Jacques Tourneur).  Although Robson’s best Lewton film is certainly The Seventh Victim (also 1943) about a nihilistic Satanic cult, The Ghost Ship manages to summon up a similar sense of dread in places.  Russell Wade plays Tom Merriam who has just signed on to be the Third Officer on the ship Altair, captained by Richard Dix’s Will Stone.  Stone is a sombre character, weighted down by his “authority” which he wields with a heavy hand, although alternating with moments of fatherly warmth.  When Merriam begins to think the captain is deranged and suspects foul play, he calls the shipping company to turn him in.  After that, the forces of doom seem aligned against him and shadows lurk in every corner of the ship.  His former friends turn against him.  Will there be any escape from the sullen and brooding captain?  As in other Lewton pictures, a real sense of menace and dread is created here using very subtle means: darkness, a camera shot fixed on a slowly opening door, noises from offscreen.  A creepy mute sailor adds a further spooky touch. 

I, Tonya (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆

I, Tonya (2017) – C. Gillespie

Is this really supposed to be a comedy?  About Tonya Harding, the figure skater whose husband arranged for a hit man to bash competitor Nancy Kerrigan’s knee before the 1994 Olympics?  How is that expected to be funny?  Is it because Harding was a “white trash” type, with bad taste in clothes, hair, and music?  Is it because her mother (played by Alison Janney who won the Best Supporting Actress gong for this role) was an evil bitch?  Is it because she surrounded herself with hopeless losers who hatched the bizarre plan to “help” her?  Yet, a lot of what we see seems played for laughs and that includes some hair-raising and very frequent scenes of brutal domestic violence.  Or if they aren’t meant to be funny, then they do represent very dark and abrupt changes in tone for the film, which also includes recurring breaks to the fourth wall, where characters speak directly to the camera/audience, commenting on the action that they are immersed in.  You see, the film itself is supposedly drawn from competing interviews by Harding and her ex-husband Jeff Gillooly, who are recounting past events from the future, albeit very differently (i.e., in a self-interested way).  Over the closing credits, we see the real Harding and Gillooly (and mother LaVona) which shows you just how much effort was put in by Margot Robbie (Harding), Sebastian Stan (Gillooly), and Janney to mimic the real people – which makes you wonder what the point of such an exact recreation would be.  But of course, there’s more, a lot more (as I mentioned), and the result is something of a trainwreck, not without some interest, yet harsh in so many ways. Or maybe this just doesn’t jell with my sense of humour...

  

The Post (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Post (2017) – S. Spielberg

It would be damned near impossible not to think of All the President’s Men (1976) when watching Spielberg’s The Post (also about investigative journalism at the Washington DC paper) and, of course, Spielberg’s film pales in comparison to that great classic.  Tom Hanks might be working his best Jason Robards impression – or perhaps both were channelling the real Ben Bradlee, Editor of the Post – but can’t really get any traction in the part.  Instead, the film belongs to Meryl Streep’s Katherine (Kay) Graham, the Publisher of the Post, and her struggles as a woman in a man’s world.  Although we do get some of her backstory, the script largely focuses on the events surrounding the publication of the “Pentagon Papers” which were a top secret review of the history of American involvement in Vietnam commissioned by Defense Secretary Robert MacNamara and a no-holds-barred indictment of the policy (and lying) of all the presidents from Truman to Nixon.  The New York Times was first to publish (after receiving a leak from Daniel Ellsberg) but the Nixon White House sued to stop them.  The pivotal moment here focuses on whether Graham will allow Bradlee to publish stories drawn from the leaked Papers in defiance of a court order not to.  Of course, she did – no spoiler intended – and Spielberg’s attempts to build suspense around this known outcome are destined to fail (despite John Williams’ urgent score).  But Spielberg was really hunting for bigger fish and the rousing moment when freedom of the press triumphs over governmental interference is clearly designed to castigate Donald Trump and his war on journalists and journalism.  Perhaps some need to hear this cry for freedom (an important message to be sure) – but they probably wouldn’t be watching this film anyway.  In the end, the film is average at best (despite the strong performance from Streep, as usual), taking too long to get to the point, drifting in places, offering too many faceless bit characters, and just plain not being All the President’s Men.

Sisters (1972)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Sisters (1972) – B. De Palma

Brian De Palma’s films often end up unsatisfying.  Especially in his 1970s work, he cribs liberally from Alfred Hitchcock, borrowing his themes (voyeurism), his flaws (misogyny perhaps), and here even his composer (Bernard Herrmann) – but the result is not on the same level as Hitch’s best work.  De Palma seems more grubby, although the 70s fashion, cars, and decor may contribute to that sense, perhaps a conscious choice, in Sisters.  De Palma also pushes the sex and violence further than Hitchcock did, losing something when actions and images become explicit rather than implicit.  This said, there is just enough weird morbidity in Sisters (a hint of Cronenberg perhaps) that makes it interesting.  We begin with Danielle (Margot Kidder), a French Canadian living on Staten Island who has a one-night stand that ends in murder. Reporter Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt) sees it from her apartment window but the police don’t believe her.  Danielle and her weird ex-husband Emil (William Finley) clearly cover it up (as shown in split screen, while the police are on their way), but we come to believe that the murderer is Danielle’s (evil) twin.  A private detective (Charles Durning) is hired by the newspaper to investigate.  Herrmann’s score really keeps things moving, evoking the classic Hitchcocks.  But weirder things happen and what’s with the ending?  Ultimately, the sum may be more than equal to its parts – but the parts have been repurposed from elsewhere!  This might reward another viewing.

Akira (1988)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Akira (1988) – K. Ôtomo

This was really a famous anime film back in the day, perhaps the first one to be a hit in America.  I didn’t watch it back then because I wasn’t really interested; but this was before I realised how good animation could be, before those annual animation short film festivals in the early ‘90s and before we knew about Miyazaki.  Of course, Akira is absolutely nothing like Miyazaki’s work and it definitely isn’t for kids.  Imdb summarizes the plot as follows:  “A secret military project endangers Neo-Tokyo when it turns a biker gang member into a rampaging psychic psychopath that only two teenagers and a group of psychics can stop.”  So, there are heaps of explosions, fights, deaths, a rape scene, motorbike accidents, police, army, tanks, gangs, and yes, psychic kids.  The animation itself is impressive and often beautiful in that classic Japanese style that has become so familiar worldwide now.  It is hard to place this as a 1980s film, perhaps because it takes place in 2019 (where strangely Japan is preparing to host the Olympic games in Tokyo) and the futuristic city isn’t too different from today’s cities; in other words, it feels new and current.  Yet, a little of this also goes a long way and by the time we approached the end, I was dozing off (that third beer probably didn’t help).  I think I might only dip into anime now and again, and perhaps those short sweet versions are the best dosage.    

The Uninvited (1944)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Uninvited (1944) – L. Allen

I keep returning to this film because I want it to be something that it is not.  I want it to be a spooky supernatural ghost story, along the lines of The Haunting (1963), and although it does include all the elements from the haunted house genre, the tone of the film consistently undercuts its spookiness.  For one thing, there is Ray Milland, constantly joking and not really taking the supernatural (sobbing from somewhere in the dark house, sudden cold spots or a whiff of mimosas, doors slamming) seriously at all.  His sister, with whom Milland has bought the house on the clifftop overlooking the sea on a whim, is a bit more concerned.  But the film jauntily moves along (with some mickey-mousing on the soundtrack) to focus on a burgeoning romance between Milland (aged 38) and Gail Russell (aged 20), who is the daughter of the woman who used to live in the house who died mysteriously, falling from the cliff.  It is the mother who is thought to haunt the house -- but this doesn’t quite jell because of the malevolence of the spirit toward Russell.  A seance is held to try to sort it all out and the plot thickens considerably (including the introduction of a possible lesbian subplot).  With all these classic ingredients, The Uninvited should be a spine-tingling ghost story but instead it becomes a fantasy film (save for one “angry ghost” scene), offering hope for romance if only the secret of the ghost can be worked out and Russell freed from its curse.  And approached with these different expectations, the film works.

Earlier, I wrote more pithily:

Ray Milland plays a 30-something jovial oaf who moves into a haunted house with his sister and puts the moves on a 20-year-old neighbor girl who is the target of the ghost's energies. Generally lighthearted and romantic but with some good (and not overdone) chills (room gets colder, pets won't go in there). Solving the mystery of the ghost's back-story means saving the girl.

Molly’s Game (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Molly’s Game (2017) – A. Sorkin

“Molly Bloom” is a role that would have gone to Julia Roberts in the not so distant past and somehow Jessica Chastain doesn’t seem as quite so good a fit (despite her impressive acting chops).  Having not paid much attention to the U. S. tabloid news, I wasn’t aware of Bloom at all, but writer Aaron Sorkin, in his directorial debut, fills in all the gaps in her true story.  We begin with Bloom’s olympic skiing career which ended abruptly with an accident and then jump around in time, learning about her coincidental and then hugely profitable move into hosting big stakes poker games.  These games, beginning in Los Angeles, attracted celebrities and billionaires (including perhaps Tobey Maguire, who is dubbed Player X and played by Michael Cera here).  We also see the FBI raid that took Bloom down and her interactions with her lawyer (Idris Elba).  The film seems too long and too uneven.  Sorkin may have doubled back a few too many times in the telling, although the editing keeps things going at a good clip and the acting is generally strong.  In the end, despite a focus on Bloom’s integrity (protecting the identities of her players and the confidential goss she learned about them), there isn’t much of a point to the film, except perhaps to make us all feel bad that there are billionaires who live in this world who can do whatever they want.

Happy End (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Happy End (2017) – M. Haneke

Director Michael Haneke’s latest film, his first in five years, is a chilly look at the moral failings of the bourgeoisie (or perhaps the upper class).  Isabelle Huppert is the neurotic head of a construction company, hoping to bestow this role on her son, who she constantly berates for not being good enough (an accident at one of the sites heightens this tension).  Mathieu Kassovitz is her brother, a surgeon, whose 13-year-old daughter by a first marriage (Fantine Harduin) is suddenly added to the family when her mother attempts suicide; the daughter immediately senses that her father is having an affair (and investigates this on his computer; her smartphone is always near at hand, recording things).  Jean-Louis Trintignant (now in his 80s) plays the retired head of the family, alternatively forgetful and lucidly perceptive; he seeks escape in death after having euthanised his wife several years earlier during a chronic illness (a nod to Haneke’s previous feature, Amour, 2012).  There is no linear plot to reveal; we just see the family with its various players rolling through a series of events that show their obliviousness to the suffering of the world (made a bit more overt when the son invites a group of African refugees into a fancy engagement dinner).  We do feel the tension from these events but it is enhanced by the characters’ inability to communicate with each other, to confess their own true feelings or to recognise those of each other.  (Haneke uses some cinematic tricks, such as filming from a distance so that we cannot hear what is being said, to emphasise these failures). Our social pain may be even more acute when we observe the poor tween daughter and her own constricted emotions, clearly borne of the treatment received from those around her.  As always with Haneke, there are ideas to chew on here but they seem slightly less well digested than in some of his other films.