45 Years (2015)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

45 Years (2015) – A. Haigh

The acting by Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay (both actors of distinction with impressively long careers) is fine-grained and subtle; they disappear into the characters of Kate and Geoff Mercer who are about to celebrate their 45^th anniversary with a big party.  We see lives that have worn grooves into their environment and people who know each other intimately; Kate in particular often talks about Geoff’s personality, attitudes, and ways of behaving as though they are obvious to her and set in stone.  So, she is particularly taken aback when the body of Geoff’s former fiancée is discovered in the Swiss Alps (frozen solid after 50 years) and she discovers that he still harbors a longing for her.  This casts a cloud over the upcoming anniversary party.  As they engage in various preparations, we see how their preoccupation with the news from Switzerland affects each of them separately, presented subtly through their behaviour.  Slowly too, we see how this new knowledge about events “before their time” has consequences for their relationship.  Although Geoff does his best to “make up” for his (understandable?) absorption into the past, it is Kate who seems the hardest hit, principally by the fact that Geoff has kept a secret from her for this long – that is, by a loss of trust.  But is it fair? That is for the viewer to decide.  Personally, I empathized with both – but if I interpreted the last shot of the film correctly, then I think one of them has to work harder to let things go.  Surely, after 45 years, they would have learned to overcome issues such as this. (For the record, although I feared this would be a film suitable only for oldies, it felt real and natural for me – meaning what?!?).

Poltergeist (1982)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Poltergeist (1982) – T. Hooper

Better than I expected (after all these years) but still an uneasy mix of Spielberg’s childlike wonder and fantasy and Hooper’s dread.  Fortunately, the dread comes through despite the attempts to smother it with schmaltz.  And surely this is streets ahead of other films in this horror sub-genre (The Amityville Horror, Paranormal Activity, etc.).  JoBeth Williams and Craig T. Nelson live in a new-ish suburban development with their three kids.  About 30 minutes into the film, one of them (5-year-old Carol Anne) is sucked into some sort of void (bi-location) inside the house and the rest of the film is about how to get her back.  They can communicate through the TV (but only when it is showing white noise).  A group of paranormal investigators is brought in and they begin to discover the nature of the problem (which is fairly ridiculous, almost a MacGuffin).  A highlight is a visit by psychic Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein), spooky enough in her own right.  Of course, the special effects are over-the-top and pretty good for 1982.  But I couldn’t help thinking that if you dialled back the “over-production” by a few notches, this could have been a really scary and downright creepy affair (rather than a blockbuster, I suppose).  Worth revisiting.    

The Rats of Tobruk (1944)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Rats of Tobruk (1944) – C. Chauvel

This version of the Australian WWII war picture is nearly 30 minutes longer than the version currently circulating in the US.  This might explain some of the bad reviews it has received on the internet, although it’s true that it doesn’t really distinguish itself in the field of combat.  Yet, it is (and was) something to see (stereotyped) Australian characters on the big screen.  Grant Taylor is Bluey, the rough womaniser (who secretly yearns for his one true love); Chips Rafferty is Milo, the lanky Ocker with the broad Strine accent; and Peter Finch is the Brit journalist who narrates the picture and delivers some stirring patriotic speeches (including from the Bard’s Henry V).  The plot is largely anecdotal, focused on Australian troops who held off Rommel in the North African city of Tobruk (Libya).  The battle sequences are intercut with comic relief and scenes reminding us that Bluey is pining for his love back home.   

  

Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Jason and the Argonauts (1963) – D. Chaffey

Seeing this again through the eyes of a 7-year-old (Amon) refreshed it quite a bit.  Of course, it is the Ray Harryhausen stop-motion animation scenes that carry the film.  Jason and his crew battle the giant bronze statue Talos, the harpies that plague blind Phineas, the seven-headed hydra, and of course, the skeleton battalion that grow from the hydra’s teeth.  The craftsmanship is impressive (a lost art?). In between these set pieces, there is some passable acting that explicates the plot.  Jason (Todd Armstrong) is the rightful king of Thessaly but first must find the golden fleece at the end of the world before he can return to claim the throne from evil usurper Pelias.  The gods, particularly Hera (Honor Blackman) and Zeus (Niall MacGinnis) either help or hinder his quest.  Medea (Nancy Kovack), high priestess of Hecate, sells out her own kingdom to help Jason after falling in love with him. The Argonauts themselves are rather indistinguishable (save perhaps Hercules – Nigel Green) but character depth is not the point here.  When I asked Amon how many stars this adventure yarn deserved, he simply said “lots”!

Gattaca (1997)

☆ ☆ ☆

Gattaca (1997) – A. Niccol

Surely “designer babies” were not too far-fetched an idea in 1997, but Gattaca takes this premise further and proposes a world where the technology has been so widely adopted that to be imperfect means to be discriminated against.  Members of this underclass (whose parents did not engineer them) work as cleaners and such – unless they use the black market to buy an identity from one of the privileged who has fallen from grace.  DNA testing is everywhere, used for job interviews, prospective relationship partners, and, of course, for the detection of crime.  To buy an identity means an elaborate and ongoing con to avoid being caught.  Ethan Hawke, an “invalid” who desperately wants to be an astronaut, purchases Jude Law’s identity (which he gives up after succumbing to the pressure of expectations to be perfect) and begins to work for the Gattaca corporation, assigned to visit Titan, one of Saturn’s moons.  When one of the company directors is murdered, the subsequent investigation (led by Alan Arkin) threatens to expose Hawke.  Uma Thurman, also working at the company, begins to suspect things but also falls in love with Hawke, thinking him as perfect as he pretends to be…  In the hands of first-time director, Andrew Niccol, this potentially intriguing and dystopian premise is rather glossy and flaccid.  The surfaces are gleaming and futuristic, sure, but somehow we only see these surfaces and not enough depth. A remake might better reveal the complex psychological tensions underneath?

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943)

☆ ☆ ☆

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943)—R. W. Neill

Another solid outing for Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson.  This time, there is a murder at Musgrave Manor in Northumberland where the Musgrave family has turned their mansion into a home for convalescing servicemen (the film is set in modern day WWII England).  The mansion is spooky and filled with secret passages (in which bumbling Inspector Lestrade gets lost) and has an underground burial crypt which holds the secret to the mystery.  But it takes some time before this secret is found – the Musgrave family members are murdered one-by-one and a ritual poem read at their funerals provides clues (with allusions to the game of chess) that enable Holmes to discover just what is going on.  There are a few too many minor characters and the major red herring is rather too obviously innocent but it’s all good fun.  I have fond memories of watching these films on Boston’s Channel 38 on Saturday nights!

  

711 Ocean Drive (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

711 Ocean Drive (1950) – J. M. Newman

A take on the gangster film (wherein a naïve newcomer rises through the ranks to become the boss, losing his moral compass along the way) blended with elements from the “true crime” and police procedural genres.  Edmond O’Brien (with plenty of noir cred already) plays the lead role, starting as a telephone technician and then applying his knowledge of electronics to assist a “wire service” to help bookies keep up with race results.  When his boss is killed by a bookie under stress, O’Brien moves in, makes improvements, and starts raking in the cash while squeezing the bookies more.  Soon, the syndicate takes note of his West Coast operations and wants a piece of the action – O’Brien joins them but soon feels ripped off (and his burgeoning romance with the wife of one of the mobsters, Joanne Dru doesn’t make things easier for him).  By the end, both the police and the mob are after him and there is a final climax on location at the Hoover Dam.  All told, 711 Ocean Drive (the address of a Palm Springs hideaway for the gang) isn’t too original or striking but it’s a solid noir for when you want one.  O’Brien is always worth the price of admission.

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) – M. Heller

Here we have a “small” film, of the kind that the big studios hardly make anymore, a character study of two lonely and rather miserable humans.  Melissa McCarthy plays Lee Israel, a writer of biographies down on her luck (partly because of her misanthropic attitudes), who pragmatically turns to forging historical memorabilia from famous authors (Dorothy Parker, Noel Coward) in order to pay her rent and her cat’s vet bills.  Richard E. Grant plays her only friend, Jack Hock, a gay man apparently living on the streets, living from drink to drink, score to score.  Both are sarcastic, cynical misfits (and perhaps pointedly, also sexual minorities) unwilling or unable to join in mainstream society. So, the film is also about loneliness, the kind of loneliness that you can only find in big cities, where the constant reminder of other people’s relationships is all around.  Not that either Israel or Hock would readily admit to needing others, but you can see it in their actions and in certain moments (that the script presents well).  Given that the film is based on a true story, of course, everyone finds out about the deceptions at hand – but this is all rather besides the point except that it seems to have lead to a redemption (of sorts?).   Apparently, some of the dialogue from Grant echoes Withnail and I (1987), his first feature, which I shall have to watch again.

Dune (1984)

☆ ☆ ☆

Dune (1984) – D. Lynch

I saw this on the big screen back when it was released – but I didn’t remember it at all.  Now that I’ve read Frank Herbert’s novel and well, because David Lynch, I thought I would watch it again.  And despite some surreal Lynchian passages (giant worms with giant mouths) and an overall dreamlike feel to the proceedings, the damn thing would surely be incomprehensible if you haven’t read the book.  Now, if you have read the book, you’ll find a strangely abridged rendering of the rather epic story, with a lot left out (and some tiny bits from other novels in the series seemingly added in).  Characters are barely introduced (occasionally by voiceover from Princess Irulan who also offers some similar overviews in the book) and hearing their whispered thoughts (also a feature of the book) is rather disorienting when we don’t really know them at all.  Kyle MacLachlan is Paul Maudib, the self-anointed (but true to prophecy) saviour of the planet Arrakis and its rebel group, the (blue-eyed) Fremen.  He is up against Baron Harkonnen (with nephew Sting) and Emperor Shaddam who are aligned with a big corporation that mines and profits from the spice melange (which is highly addictive).  The politics of Dune are rather lost in this version (truncated by the producers but unable to be satisfactorily reconstructed according to Lynch) as are the more-pertinent-than-ever environmental implications of a desert planet with no water.  The pre-CGI special effects are at times clunky and at other times just plain weird (a la Lynch).  You could watch the film and just marvel at its weirdness – there is probably enough to enjoy; but if you are looking for plot or substance, then look elsewhere (perhaps in Denis Villeneuve’s upcoming version that is currently in post-production). Also, for fans of the book, it does appear that Lynch has changed the ending.

  

Annihilation (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Annihilation (2018) – A. Garland

Hahahahahahaha – what just happened?  Alex Garland’s follow up to Ex Machina (2014) is another sci-fi flick that echoes Tarkovsky’s Stalker (because there is a mysterious and dangerous zone called the “Shimmer” that the characters enter) but also hews close to certain horror genre conventions (characters are picked off one-by-one – we know this from the start).  Natalie Portman plays the biologist/geneticist whose military husband (Oscar Isaac) disappears on a secret mission (to the Shimmer, of course) – when he returns, damaged, she decides to join a subsequent party of women scientists (kudos to the writer-director) who are the next to venture to the lighthouse which is the epicentre of the Shimmer (and where a meteorite seems to have struck).  Jennifer Jason Leigh plays Dr Ventress, a psychologist who is the team leader, and Gina Rodriguez, Tuva Novotny, and Tessa Thompson round out the team.  As they trudge through the forest, I’m thinking Predator (1987) – however, things are far more psychedelic than that.  Plants and animals have all mutated – and our heroes may be mutating too.  Garland and his production team use CGI to good effect to make a bizarro (yes, lysergic) world that comes complete with some mumbo-jumbo scientific explanations.  Things do escalate to ultra-weird levels (and ultra-incomprehensible) but you can just lie back and let the images wash over you.  Perhaps there is something deeper here – a meditation on Thanatos or a puzzle about what or who is real and what or who is not – but figuring it out doesn’t really feel worth it to me.  A trippy but awkward mix of familiar genre moves and cracked philosophizing.

High Life (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

High Life (2018) – C. Denis

With references to both 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Solaris (1972), Claire Denis’ latest is set on a space journey to the farthest reaches of our solar system (or actually beyond and directed toward the nearest black hole in our galaxy).  Robert Pattinson stars as one of the only survivors of the crew (the other is a small baby) and the film jumps around in time (and hurtles through space) as we find out how he ended up there.  He certainly isn’t the typical astronaut type.  Soon, we discover that this is all part of a program by NASA to send death row prisoners to space to collect data and to judge impacts on them (despite the fact that the astronauts will age much less quickly than those back home will).  In the flashback scenes, a doctor (Juliette Binoche) is seen attempting to produce babies in space via artificial insemination – usually they don’t survive because of the radiation; she is also seen pleasuring herself in the “sex box”.  As such, the film does have a bit of a Cronenberg body horror feel at times, though it never gets quite as gross as he does/did.  Still, with a soundtrack mainly of low rumbles/electronic sounds and a lot of lonely scenes in space, this is a nearly soporific film, although if you get on its wavelength (as I did), it can be strangely absorbing (in an ugly and beautiful, sad but hopeful sort of way).  Yet, one can’t help but think that the film falls short of the sci-fi masterpieces that it aspired to join…

The Sicilian Clan (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Sicilian Clan (1969) – H. Verneuil

Who could resist the promise of a French heist movie starring Alain Delon, Jean Gabin, and Lino Ventura (with a soundtrack from Ennio Morricone to boot)?  Not me – but alas, the promise only leads to an average genre pic, which is disappointing when you’ve been exposed to the (better) films of Jean-Pierre Melville.  Delon is in his prime as a vicious thief who escapes from a prison van and then plots to rob a travelling jewelry exhibition.  He is aided by the titular Sicilian family, led by Gabin (in pre-Godfather mode).  He is tracked by police commissioner Ventura.  The plot has some twists – yet, somehow it doesn’t feel tight enough.  Director Henri Verneuil lets the suspense drain away or doesn’t build it properly.  Still, there are plenty of classic moments (some might say clichés), such as Ventura trying to quit smoking but struggling due to the stress of the case, Delon almost getting nabbed while visiting a prostitute, Gabin politely and stoically accepting his lot.  Of course, the Thirties was Gabin’s decade (with a great later turn in Touchez Pas au Grisbi in 1954, already the gangster ready for retirement) and Delon (Le Samouraï, 1967; Le Cercle Rouge, 1970) and Ventura (Le Deuxième Souffle, 1966; Army of Shadows, 1969) had better roles for Melville.  But if you are jonesing for this genre, this is certainly more than passable fare. 

Malcolm (1986)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Malcolm (1986) – N. Tass

Charming Australian comedy that also includes a bank heist that is essentially ridiculous – pulled off with mechanical rubbish bins – but that’s not the point. Instead, this is a bit of a character study (or two) about the titular Malcolm (Colin Friels), a shy grown up mother’s boy (who might be thought to be “on the spectrum” these days), who spends his time building model trams and creating mechanical contraptions in his home. He also has a pet cockatoo. When his mother passes away, he takes in a lodger, Frank (John Hargreaves), who, it turns out, has just gotten out of prison; Frank’s girlfriend, Judith (Lindy Davies), soon joins them and smooths over Frank’s rough edges. Eventually, they decide to rob banks together! The movie is clearly low budget but its location shooting in Melbourne (the milk bar, the pub, the tram lines) feels right -- and shows just how much the city has changed since the ‘80s (which is to say a lot!). Of course, the cops are bumbling and there is a bit of keystone comedy when Malcolm’s self-engineered car splits in two during a getaway but the movie happily allows the crooks to get away with it and we feel somehow that no one was disadvantaged at all. In fact, the heist seems to have helped Malcolm socially since he uses his skills to fit in.  Worth a look, especially if you are in Melbourne.

Fårö Document 1979 (1979)

☆ ☆ ☆

Fårö Document 1979 (1979) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman returns 10 years later for a second documentary about Fårö, the small island he came to call home (although at this point he was a tax exile living in Germany).  This second look is longer and less formally structured with more expansive wordless stretches showing us life on the rural island (which has become a favoured tourist destination during the summer).  It does feel meditative at times. Watching this back-to-back with the original 1969/1970 doco reveals some overlap (this time they slaughter a pig instead of a sheep, however) and from this vantage point, a viewer might be hard pressed to determine whether they are watching 1969 or 1979.  A brief attempt in the spirit of the 7 Up! Series involves interviewing the kids from the bus in 1969 to see whether they followed through on their plans to leave Fårö or to stay (most ended up staying, it seems, even as the population dropped to 670 or so).  Everything is very pastoral (and often very wintry), but the loss of cinematographer Sven Nykvist is felt.  A few poignant moments captured me but my attention did waver.  Bergman’s political comments at the end further reinforce the sameness of this sequel.  Perhaps this is one reason why the mooted 1989 edition was never made.  Nevertheless, it would likely be great to visit Fårö one day.

Fårö Document (1970)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Fårö Document (1970) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman made two documentaries about the people on the island that he came to call home in the late 1960s, Fårö (which is a small island just off the coast of the larger island of Gotland, southeast of Stockholm in the Baltic Sea).  Bergman interviews a few of the 900 residents (a school-teacher, a 102 year old carpenter, a sheep farmer, a fisherman, a young couple just about to have a baby, an old retired woman with an amputated leg, some school children) and shows scenes from the island and its routines (graphic scenes of sheep being slaughtered by hand caused me to look away).  In 1969, the island was dealing with a decreasing population (as young people left for the mainland) and a decrease in autonomy as local services were becoming centralised in Gotland.  Bergman uses some of his questions to address the politics of the island (and of Sweden), advocating for the rights of his neighbours (the documentary was shown on Swedish TV).  Bergman is a good interviewer and the interviewees seem at ease and their reflections are intriguing – even if one knows nothing about Fårö, it isn’t hard to imagine their lives and concerns (and to see the universal human condition in them). Sven Nykvist’s cinematography, in both black & white and colour, elevates the picture to something more poetic than a series of talking heads.  Bergman made a sequel in 1979 (which I will turn to next).

Alfie (1966)

☆ ☆ ☆

Alfie (1966) – L. Gilbert

I’m working my way through a list of the best 100 British films of the 20^th century and this was next in line.  Featuring one of Sir Michael Caine’s early star turns in full on Cockney mode, the film is horribly dated. iMDB describes the plot pithily as follows: “An unrepentant ladies' man gradually begins to understand the consequences of his lifestyle.” Throughout the film, Caine breaks the fourth wall to speak directly to the camera about his exploits, which involve affairs with married women behind their husbands’ backs, getting girls pregnant and leaving them, and generally behaving like a misogynist cad.  He isn’t a sympathetic character although some of his adventures (and spiels) must have been designed for comedy (perhaps his over-reaction to finding spots on his lungs at the doctor’s office). Fifty years later, it is hard to tell whether anyone in the audience was expected to identify with Alfie’s behaviour – teen boys wanting to imagine a love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle, perhaps – but more mature audience members would certainly see the shine come off as Alfie is psychologically affected by both the loss of his toddler son (when the young mum he impregnated eventually marries someone more responsible) and a depressing abortion (that he encouraged in a married woman he seduced). We leave him being rejected by Shelley Winters in favour of a younger stud.  In the end, the film lands halfway between kitchen-sink realism and farce, tantalising the audience with laddish exploits while still moralising heavily about their consequences.  Cher sings the title song over the closing credits.

Midsommar (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Midsommar (2019) – A. Aster

Director Ari Aster garnered a lot of attention for his first film, Hereditary (2018), that featured Toni Collette as a woman seeking support in dealing with grief over the death of her mother.  This results in a significant amount of family conflict (and horror) and things get very weird.  Midsommar follows a similar pattern.  Florence Pugh (so great in Lady MacBeth, 2016) plays Dani, a young woman who has also recently lost her parents and now travels with her rather thoughtless boyfriend to a remote Swedish village with his friends.  Apart from Dani (a psychology student), they are all postgraduate students studying anthropology.  The trip to Sweden is an opportunity to attend a unique festival at the request of a student from that village but, for Dani, it is also a means of escape from her grief and perhaps a chance to solidify her (shaky) bond with Christian (Jack Reynor).  Arriving in Sweden, the group is repeatedly given magic mushrooms and exposed to the customs and cultural traditions of the Hårga people. The build up of tension is slow and steady, as weirdness is suddenly introduced and then backed away from.  There is a fair bit of foreshadowing (particularly if you look at the paintings and murals around the village in detail) which “explains” the plot but might be too overt.  Because the film takes its cues from The Wicker Man (1973), if you’ve seen that, then you probably have half an idea where this is going (although it gets a lot more graphic). Although Pugh is excellent (despite a role that calls mostly for grimacing and crying), Jack Reynor and the other actors playing the guests are not always convincing. It is probably Aster’s script that lets them down, as he seems more interested in the various rites and pageantry than in his characters – until the end when he wants to comment on the relationship dynamics again (but may not have “earned” the moment?).  Still, this is a film that holds your attention the whole way through, even if your acceptance of its reality wavers at times.  In this genre, that is often the best that we can get.

Un Flic (1972)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Un Flic (1972) – J.-P. Melville

Melville’s final film is a restatement (or rehashing) of his earlier themes about male bonding, grace under pressure, the commonalities between cop and criminal (themes later borrowed by John Woo among others).  It also is another example of his stylized technique, with the art direction and set design featuring multiple shades of grey, blue, and brown (including the suits, trench coats, and fedoras), shot in the rain or on cloudy days.  Melville famously claimed that his films weren’t “Bressonian” but instead that Robert Bresson’s films were “Melvillian” – by which he means to say that his films were intensely focused on instrumental actions (including shots of hands and feet) more than on establishing the psychology of his characters. Un Flic displays this fetish rather extravagantly with two major heist scenes, the gang (led by dubbed Richard Crenna) robs a bank on a rainy day and a drug courier on a train.  The latter scene takes place in “real time” as the train travels twenty minutes between two stops and Crenna descends from a helicopter onto the roof and then back up again.  (The fact that the train and helicopter are so clearly models detracts from the film and speaks to Melville’s tight budget; unlike Hitchcock’s back projection, the effect here isn’t particularly Brechtian). The two heist set pieces don’t really contribute to the themes or to character development in Un Flic.  Instead, Alain Delon’s police inspector is more richly presented, as we see him in a variety of contexts, at different crime scenes, at the office, with police informants, and alone with his tryst partner Catherine Deneuve – but also at the typical Melvillian nightclub (with synchronised dancing girls) which is run by Crenna whose girlfriend is actually Deneuve as well (a link between cop and crook again).  Of course, everything and everyone is cool, particularly Delon, Crenna, and Deneuve, but Melville’s handling of the conclusion feels abrupt – he’s set the mood expertly, but he has less patience for the resolution and its (typical) fatalism.  Still, there’s a nice effect when Delon’s final move in this chess match sinks in.  Start elsewhere but this is still worth it for fans.

Volver (2006)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Volver (2006) – P. Almodóvar

There are some darker undertones here in what otherwise is a “fun” ghost story from Pedro Almodóvar.  As usual, his film features women in the major roles and their relationships are the focus – the darkness arises from how women are treated by men.  Penelope Cruz plays Raimunda, a woman whose mother (Carmen Maura) has died three years earlier (in a fire with Raimunda’s father).  She suddenly finds herself a single mum and makes due by taking over an empty restaurant and serving a visiting film crew lunch for a few weeks (and also staging their wrap party).  She doesn’t know that her sister (Lola Dueñas) has been receiving ongoing visitations from her mum, which began soon after the mum’s sister passed away.  A subplot finds the aunt’s neighbour on a quest to find her own missing mum.  Almodóvar’s world is a candy-coloured one, filled with chatty eccentric characters who deal with mundane (and deadly serious) problems with aplomb. The fantastical and supernatural elements are generally played for comic effect (but the soundtrack feels like something Bernard Herrmann wrote for Hitchcock at times).  Of course, all of the various plot threads are nicely tied together by the end (although viewers might not be able to shake off some of the darkness).  I find Almodóvar’s films to be hit or miss and while this one falls on the positive side of his oeuvre, I can’t help feeling that it is just a shade too slight (although that may just be the director's talented sleight of hand, making complicated themes go down smoothly).   

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950) – O. Preminger

There are a few moments in the film where Dana Andrews is faced with a moral dilemma: reveal just how badly he has screwed up and pay the consequences or continue to try to cover things up, including to his new love interest (Gene Tierney) whose father is likely to go to jail in his place, and possibly get away with it.  At the end, he just gazes past the camera and lets it all sink in.  This moment could be the best acting in Andrews’ career. He could go either way.  This being film noir, we aren’t sure.  Director Otto Preminger (working from a screenplay by Ben Hecht) expertly orchestrates the tightening of the screws: Andrews is first warned for beating up perps and then placed in a situation where he has to strike someone in self defence (who immediately croaks).  His desperation is palpable and it only gets worse as he tries to help the innocent man who might take the fall in his place.  Karl Malden and Gary Merrill show up in supporting roles (on either side of the law).  Preminger’s other noirs (Laura, Angel Face, Whirlpool) vary in quality but none of them are particularly distinguished by the classic noir visual style (as far as I recall). Nevertheless, the situation of being trapped by one’s own flaws makes this an archetypal entry in the genre. 

Good Time (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Good Time (2017) – B. Safdie & J. Safdie

Benny and Josh Safdie are hot indie directors and this 2017 feature may be their breakthrough (the first of their films I’ve watched).  Robert Pattinson stars as Connie, a hoodlum (more or less) who stages a bank robbery with his intellectually disabled brother, Nick (Benny Safdie).  When it goes wrong and Nick is jailed, Connie seeks to break him out (but it turns out he’s been relocated to a hospital after getting beaten up in a prison fight).  Thus begins a rather epic night that sees Connie travel from the bail bondsman’s office to the hospital and points beyond (a closed amusement park) as his plans fall apart.  The soundtrack by Oneohtrix Point Never (pulsating electronic music) really makes the film and gives it a druggy overtone that isn’t contradicted by the action we see (and the film’s visual sense).  Pattinson inhabits the character well and pretty much disappears into it (esp. after his hair is bleached).  The desperation onscreen (punctuated by sudden jolts of violence) is pretty palpable.  So, the film might give viewers a rush of sorts. There is also some pretty black comedy afoot (possibly in bad taste).  But when things suddenly ground to a halt 100 minutes later, I guess I was left wondering what the point of it all was.

Us (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Us (2019) – J. Peele

I had high hopes for Jordan Peele’s second directorial feature (after the excellent Get Out, 2017) but by the 90-minute mark of Us, I was hoping that the expected twist in the third act would be enough to save the film.  Perhaps I don’t love eighties horror enough to enjoy the action of the chase, attack, and defence moments when the Wilson family meets their evil doppelgangers?  Sure, these parts of the film are deftly executed with interesting horror set-pieces and a demonstration of complicated technical mastery as each actor plays two parts, often onscreen at the same time.  But I was really hoping for deeper insights here (akin to those that Peele managed to expose about racism in his first feature). So, when the much-needed facts about where the doppelgangers come from – and the gaps in the backstory of Adelaide Wilson (Lupita Nyong'o) -- are finally revealed, yes, the mind races to understand what has gone before in light of this new information.  Perhaps though, it’s too much, too late.  Indeed, there are a number of rich and important ideas that are stirred up – but I had to rely on the interviews with Peele in the special features to really piece things together (my bad).  The conceit may be too weird, or too heavy-handed, to really capture the false consciousness and bad faith that Americans (and/or other societies with large middle/upper classes) possess.  Perhaps this is more explicit for black Americans with the painful reminders of slavery and their group’s persistent economic suppression making ignorance/neglect (absence of wokeness) more difficult/painful (and the doppelgangers do play on stereotypes of the poor), although the inclusion of a white family justly extends the point.  Peele’s creativity and playfulness are still here, particularly in the way he has inserted references to other horror films and countless “doubles” (mainly the number 11) that I’m sure I didn’t catch.  At the end, however, I felt that the film would have benefited from less straight slasher/zombie genre horror and a deeper exploration of the tethered – but perhaps anything more than the sketch we get wouldn’t have held up as a proper analogy.

Certain Women (2016)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Certain Women (2016) – K. Reichardt

Director Kelly Reichardt’s films are minimalist in their approach to plot, with much time spent observing characters (in action or even doing not much at all).  She sets ideas in motion and allows viewers to invest psychological meaning into the events on screen that aren’t always clearly spelled out (perhaps are often not spelled out).  In Certain Women, Reichardt sets forth three minimal plots, the starting place for three stories that ultimately remain unfinished, focused on four women and their relations with others in society.  All the stories take place in a remote part of Montana with beautiful lonesome vistas.  Laura Dern is a lawyer whose client, Jared Harris, has been injured on the job and then manipulated into taking a settlement, thereby voiding his ability to sue.  She’s treated by Harris and others as though she isn’t competent and instead her relationship skills are highlighted (i.e., she’s stereotyped as a woman).  Michelle Williams and her husband James LeGros want to build a house (a second house?) and she is keen to use “authentic” materials in the construction, such as old railroad ties and some sandstone retrieved from a long-gone schoolhouse that they want to buy from lonely old timer Rene Auberjonois.  Her husband unintentionally undercuts her when talking to Auberjonois and also to their daughter, minimizing her needs or calling attention to her demands as requiring kid gloves or special treatment.  Here, women are placated rather than having their views valued and accepted.  Kirsten Stewart is a lawyer who accidentally agrees to teach a class on education law four hours away (near the Wyoming border) – another woman (Lily Gladstone) attends the class (although not enrolled) and strikes up a friendship (perhaps seeking more). Stewart is friendly but not responsive. Gladstone drives to Stewart’s town but nothing happens.  Both women remain unsatisfied by these encounters.  In the short stories by Maile Meloy from which the film’s sketches are drawn, the Gladstone character is male, which would make the potentially unwanted attention more explicitly sexist – but the ambiguity works in the mysterious and minimal contexts that Reichardt provides.  Indeed, we are led to be curious, to wonder what might happen, to think about the purpose of everything in the script – and the dots are rarely connected for us, even as the three stories threaten to come together at the end of the film (and don’t).  Perhaps these unfinished sketches could have benefited from longer running times (particularly the middle story) or some firmer resolutions, but there is no doubt that Reichardt chose to leave us suspended in thought with the hypothesis that these certain women do represent the (psychological) experiences of many women.   

Man of a Thousand Faces (1957)

☆ ☆ ☆

Man of a Thousand Faces (1957) – J. Pevney

James Cagney plays Lon Chaney (Sr.) in this biopic of the silent film star.  Cagney excels in the early scenes from Chaney’s vaudeville days (given his own tendency toward being a song-and-dance man) but we see fewer of the performances and more of the tense life story as the picture progresses. Interestingly, it turns out that both of Chaney’s parents were deaf and the family communicated with sign language (his three siblings could also hear), which the film tries to relate to his success in pantomime.  But Chaney had significant troubles with his first wife (played by Dorothy Malone) who yearned for her own career instead of being weighed down by the responsibilities of motherhood. Chaney is less than sympathetic and when she leaves him and their young son, Creighton (later Lon Chaney, Jr.), he is denied custody by the courts who think that his Hollywood career is far from stable. Eventually, when he becomes famous (as a result of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1923, and the Phantom of the Opera, 1925) and remarries (to Jane Greer), his son comes to live with them (often spending time in a remote cabin, given Chaney’s unsociable nature) until he discovers his mother is still alive and leaves to be with her.  Of course, he returns when Chaney begins to have signs of the heart trouble that killed him at only 47.  Overall, a solid, though glum, effort by Cagney and his costars -- but it can’t overcome the clichés of the genre.  I had hoped for some insights into the actual making of films, but alas.   

Faces Places (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Faces Places (2017) – A. Varda & JR

I’d never heard of JR, the young French photographer/muralist, until he teamed up with venerable director Agnes Varda (originally of the French New Wave and more recently a champion essay filmmaker) to make this documentary. Together they travel the countryside, meeting the locals and taking giant photos of them and pasting them on barns, buildings, and water towers.  The effect is admittedly pretty cool and Varda crafts the cinematic result for maximum charm, highlighting the rapport between the 33 year old and the 88 year old (although they didn’t meet on the dance floor).  Things do become personal, as Varda navigates their search to a memorial for one of her favourite authors (Nathalie Sarraute) and to the graves of photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson and his wife.  Finally, she arranges to meet up with Jean-Luc Godard himself (because JR’s penchant for always wearing shades reminds her of him) and the film suddenly careens toward a peak, with the heightened expectation that these two Nouvelle Vague veterans will meet on camera!  And then, what? We’re left wondering what happened.  And now Varda has passed (early in 2019), leaving a huge legacy and some very wistful films – like this one.

Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆

Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story (2017) – A. Dean

There is a lot that is surprising about Hedy Lamarr’s life – principally that she invented something called “frequency hopping” that was originally meant for torpedoes in WW2 butis somehow related to the genesis of wi-fi and Bluetooth technology.  She had a patent that the US military may have stolen (since she wasn’t a US citizen).  Of course, the public didn’t know about Hedy’s intelligence and penchant for inventing – they just knew her as the Hollywood star of Algiers (1938; with Charles Boyer) and for her scandalous nude scene in the German film, Ecstasy (1933).  The documentary charts her film career and her later hit, Samson and Delilah (1949) for Cecil B. DeMille, which gave her the opportunity to produce her own films – which bankrupted her.  The filmmakers seek to promote Hedy as a proto-feminist, but it is clear that, although she sought to take the reins of her life, things did not really work out.  She had 5 husbands, became addicted to speed, and spiralled downward, becoming a recluse – a late telephone interview reveals her pride…and fatalism.  Her children describe her as erratic.  So, is this a cautionary tale?  Or a rescue of her image? Was she really a thwarted genius? The many talking heads offer conclusions but not so much data. No doubt things are/were tough for brilliant women.

  

Kusama: Infinity (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆

Kusama: Infinity (2018) – H. Lenz

Somehow I expected that the pop art polka dots that I associate with Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama would flow from a cheery positive personality overflowing with joie de vivre.  Not true.  This documentary about her life showed me just how little I knew about Kusama and how wrong I was in my assumptions.  Instead, Kusama suffered through the sexism and racism of the New York art scene in the ‘50s and ‘60s and the backlash back in conservative Japan when she became associated with naked happenings at the end of the latter decade.  This drove her to depression and nearly to suicide.  I did not know she had a celibate romance with much older artist Joseph Cornell who was obsessed with her.  After her career (but not her motivation or the quality of her work) fizzled in New York, she returned back to Japan to slowly rebuild her life (in a psychiatric institution -- where perhaps she still voluntarily lives?).  And of course, she did make a come back and now is apparently the highest selling living artist in the world.  I first saw her work in Pittsburgh at The Mattress Factory in the late ‘90s – one of her mirrored room installations (that do seem to extend to infinity).  More recently, she contributed a series of small rooms, a cottage of sorts, where visitors placed flower stickers wherever they wanted (and soon the entire exhibit was plastered), to the Melbourne NGV Triennial last year.  Her work is certainly worth experiencing – but I didn’t realise the different phases she had gone through (and her influence on other contemporary artists) and the depth of her thoughts and feelings.  So, even though the documentary itself is not anything more than typically presented, it certainly gave me a greater appreciation and feeling for Kusama.  Perhaps the polka dot dress and dyed red hair are just a great marketing tool.