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).