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.