Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel (1979)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel (1979) – G. Kromanov

I happened to be on Letterboxd and was checking out what some of the people I follow were watching and film critic Glenn Kenny had this one on his recently watched list (and he gave it five stars with a three word review: “more mind expansion”).  This piqued my interest but I could only find it at the internet archive.  It’s an Estonian film from 1979, so it has that 70s vibe (real phones with cords, European fashion/habits).  You might say it is a film noir (in colour) or perhaps it is one of those murder mysteries that takes place in a hotel where all of the guests are suspects.  This hotel is high in the mountains and the plot includes an avalanche that cuts off power and the roads and keeps everyone there, including the police inspector who got a mysterious call-out only to find that there was no crime to solve.  (An anonymous note soon advises him that a murder is about to be committed).  There is the usual allotment of suspects: a businessman and his flirtatious wife, a canoodling young couple, a paranoid man with TB, a physicist with an obsession about aliens, and then there’s the hotel proprietor and a Saint Bernard (rescued from the Dead Mountaineer who lent his name to the hotel).  Against the odds, the film held my interest when one of the young folks is found dead and the detective (Uldis Pucitis) begins to question the suspects.  Odd events start to pile up (including the arrival of a half-dead “foreigner” who seems to have a link to some of the guests) -- and then, somehow, everything gets very weird: as in, who thunk this (!) in 1979 (!).  Stay for the finale – it’s worth it!

 

Shoot the Piano Player (1960)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Shoot the Piano Player (1960) – F. Truffaut

A long time ago when I first explored the Nouvelle Vague, I thought this, Truffaut’s second feature, was pretty great, with its mix of old-timey silent film techniques, gangster plot, and French sensibility.  Revisiting it now (possibly for only my second viewing), I’m less confident that it is as great as I thought.  Not that it is bad or even average, it’s just been eclipsed by other more interesting films (perhaps).  French singing legend Charles Aznavour is a funny choice for lead, an introverted character whose thoughts we read more than hear him speak (as someone who has fled his previous fame as a concert pianist, although his thoughts do not explain this); his love life dominates the plot as much as the kidnapping of his younger brother by gangsters.  It’s bittersweet – possibly an influence on Wes Anderson – and graced with a melancholy ending that changes how the film is perceived. Writing this a week later and, acknowledging the film’s lack of predictability and its new wave features, I conclude it may be more enjoyable to reflect on than to watch. Or perhaps I just need to watch it again.

 

The Substance (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Substance (2024) – C. Fargeat

While I am definitely on board with the central theme here (essentially “women are judged on their looks, objectified, sexualized”), the film felt too chilly or clinical for me and, let’s face it, it descended into a silly mess by the end.  Demi Moore makes a late career comeback (even if she never really went away) as Elisabeth Sparkle, a fading star relegated to aerobics videos who is tempted to take an underground drug that creates a new younger version of herself (“Sue” played by Margaret Qualley), apparently by some sort of genetic fission. Naturally, there are rules around the “use” of this younger self:  they must rotate every seven days, although there are some ways around this which Sue soon exploits.  It’s not subtle but the entertainment industry (and presumably the public at large) treats young Sue and older Elisabeth very differently (even though we are reminded that they are really one and the same) and the pressures they feel are similarly different.  Writer-Director Coralie Fargeat aptly doesn’t restrict things to the male gaze (epitomized by TV producer Dennis Quaid) but explores the competition for that gaze that is experienced by women (who would be hard-pressed to swim against the societal tide and rewards, forced to choose between becoming complicit or rejected; I exaggerate but you know).  Sounds great as a plot and premise, especially for those who like horror or sci-fi, but, yes, it doesn’t really land the finish, except in the most outré way imaginable, which I guess will cement its reputation as a cult film for all time.  

Flow (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Flow (2024) – G. Zilbalodis

Latvian (though wordless) animated feature which won the 2025 Oscar and Golden Globe in that category. It’s hard not to see echoes of Studio Ghibli throughout the film (though which Miyazaki film is being referenced seems to keep changing) or perhaps Dreamworks (those lemurs!).  We follow a feral cat (no owners appear at least) on an epic-feeling journey when the world is suddenly flooded. Shades of Noah’s Ark perhaps but if there are other religious overtones, apart from a “let’s be friends and work together” vibe, then I missed them. Perhaps it is a plea for harmony amidst diversity (cat, capybara, tall birds, lemurs, dogs)? The cast spends most of the film on a boat, time on the water adding to the sense of “flow” – rarely does the motion stop. But as the film neared the end of its run time, we started to wonder where it was going to end up (perhaps like 2001: A Space Odyssey?).  In other words, what’s the point?  Ultimately, maybe it’s just some gorgeous animation for us to enjoy (although some in this household felt there was a disconnect between the detailed environments and the stylized/less realistic animals while others felt this was an artistic choice).  Worth letting it flow over you.

 

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre (1964)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre (1964) – J. Stefano

Writer-Director Joseph Stefano wrote the screenplay for Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) but nothing else at that level of prominence.  This 80-minute TV-movie was apparently the pilot for a series that never got made, starring Martin Landau as an architect/psychic investigator. He lives in an incredibly stylish house jutting out over a cliff-face overlooking the ocean. Although this was the pilot, he’s already established and the plot revolves around events from a previous case (in which an American tourist is killed by the bleeding ghost of Sierra de Cobre) and in particular the presence of Judith Anderson (the housekeeper from Hitch’s Rebecca, 1940) as the new housekeeper to blind Tom Sincox (and new wife Diane Baker who hired Landau) who thinks his late mother is telephoning him from beyond the grave (she had a phone installed in her tomb).  If you were 10 or 11 years old, this might have scared the bejeezus out of you, if you caught it on TV.  Pretty creepy, even spooky, until the plot seems to wrap up abruptly in the final 10 minutes. That’s probably how the TV series would have been too.

 

Following (1998)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Following (1998) – C. Nolan

Christopher Nolan’s low-budget B&W debut feature is a noir-ish trial run for his more successful bigger budget chronological cut-ups (such as Memento, 2000, or Inception, 2010). A young man who may be called Bill (Jeremy Theobald) decides to follow strangers on a whim, possibly because he’s bored, possibly to find fodder for his hoped-for writing career.  This is a great weird premise. However, soon the plot shifts when Bill is confronted by one of his targets (Alex Haw), who turns out to be a philosophical thief, robbing people’s apartments more to see what sort of things they have hidden away than to make money. As the film progresses, we start to see short inter-cut scenes (Bill with shorter hair in a suit, Bill with a swollen eye, etc.) hinting at some future or past events. We even see Bill interacting with a potential femme fatale (Lucy Russell) before we see him rob her flat. When the usual Nolan (or film noir) twists begin to pile up, it’s slightly difficult to keep track of what’s happened (the DVD version apparently contains a cut that reshuffles scenes into chronological order).  But for 70 minutes, it’s easy to take, even if the overall feel is sort of amateurish (although that does add a weird sensation to the proceedings, as if it might be real).  

 

The Long Hair of Death (1964)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Long Hair of Death (1964) – A. Margheriti

Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960) starring Barbara Steele is a personal favourite and also a template of sorts for this film. In fact, it seems as though Italian horror spent the entire decade in mildewy damp castles (such as 1964’s Castle of Blood, also directed by Anthony Dawson a. k. a. Antonio Margheriti, probably shot on the same set as this one) with Steele as the haunted heroine or more likely an evil witch or ghost or demon (sometimes playing more than one role). As with Hammer films in the U. K., the sets and costumes – the mise en scene as a whole – are often the highpoint of the film with the plot a gauzy tissue holding together a few shocking setpieces.  The Long Hair of Death (great title!) begins and ends with people getting burnt to death.  In between, it’s a bit dreary.  The plot goes something like this: a suspected witch is burnt at the stake by a debauched lord with lecherous intent; her older daughter (Steele) is also killed but a much younger daughter lives and is adopted by the evil lord’s family, eventually marrying his spoiled son.  And then, somehow, Steele returns (from the dead) and leads the lord’s son astray and through a lot of secret passages. The film looks great but I recommend you start with Black Sunday (or even Castle of Blood) first.

 

Escape from Alcatraz (1979)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Escape from Alcatraz (1979) – D. Siegel

Ah, the prison film – it has such a long history and so many clichés.  Escape from Alcatraz does not really eschew any of these but as crisply directed by Don Siegel and starring Clint Eastwood in his macho prime, it’s a solid effort.  But does it live up to the masterworks of the genre? (Maybe not). I’m thinking of Bresson’s A Man Escaped (1956), Becker’s Le Trou (1960), Dassin’s Brute Force (1947), and maybe Caged (1950) starring Eleanor Parker.  Obviously, there are a lot of variations on the theme (e.g., The Shawshank Redemption, 1994) and modern versions might be even more brutal (e.g., A Prophet, 2009).  But Alcatraz is based on a true story with an open-ended conclusion: the escapees were never found (presumed drowned but who knows?). So, since we know where the story ends up (as forecast by the title), this is really all about the mechanics of the escape (similar to the Bresson and Becker films), with a little bit of relationship building and character development (but not much!).   

 

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Letter to Three Wives (1949) – J. L. Mankiewicz

I missed the first five minutes or so and came in just when the three wives (Jeanne Crain, Linda Darnell, and Ann Sothern) received the letter in question from idealized but never seen “Addie Ross” who claims that she has run away with one of their husbands (Jeffrey Lynn, Paul Douglas, and Kirk Douglas, respectively.  Joseph L. Mankiewicz won Oscars for best screenplay and best director (who then did it again for All About Eve, the following year).  As the three are just departing on a picnic day-trip as volunteers for under-privileged children, they get to spend the day ruminating about whether their husbands have left them.  Viewers are therefore treated to three extended flashbacks providing “evidence” (based on the anxieties of our heroines) as to why each husband might have grounds to leave.  As such, we are treated to three very different relationships – a la 1950s – and have the ability to guess who it might be.  When the ladies return home, one of them discovers her husband is away – but there’s a sudden twist that clouds whether he’s really run away with Addie or not.  Apparently General Douglas McArthur wrote to Mankiewicz to try to clear this up and was told everything he needed to know was there on the screen!  It’s melodrama to be sure but superbly acted (Paul Douglas is particularly impressive in his feature debut).

 

Blue Moon (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Blue Moon (2025) – R. Linklater

Ethan Hawke is impressive in a virtual transformation into lyricist Lorenz Hart (one half of the Rodgers and Hart duo responsible for popular standards and Broadway musicals) on a particular evening at Sardi’s in New York City in 1943. The occasion is the opening night for Oklahoma!, a new musical by Rodgers and his new collaborator Oscar Hammerstein. Hart is a witty raconteur keeping the bartender and pianist and occasional waitress or hat check girl entertained, as they await the arrival of the cast and crew post-show.  He’s dirty-minded but erudite, displaying an impressive memory for lyrics and writing (his own and others), particularly when chatting up author E. B. White who sits in a corner of the bar.  Not unlike the Before Trilogy (e.g., Before Sunrise, 1995), Blue Moon is all talk – but without Julie Delpy, this is entirely Hawke’s show.  Despite his humor and witty stories, it is easy to see that Hart is deep down a sad and lonely figure, fixated on a possible romance with 20-year-old Margaret Qualley (Hart is 47 but looks older) that is clearly never-to-be.  When Rodgers arrives, it’s sad to see Hart’s thinly veiled desperation, as they discuss possible future shows. Obviously, Hart has made a hash of his life because of alcohol, nightlife, and general dissolution. Hawke and Linklater keep viewers absorbed despite the lack of action, even if there’s the occasional distraction caused by clumsy attempts to make Hawke look as short as Hart apparently was.  Enjoyable, particularly if you are a Broadway musical afficionado (and are prepared for salty talk).   

 

The Devil and Miss Jones (1941)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Devil and Miss Jones (1941) – S. Wood

In the ‘30s and ‘40s, Jean Arthur starred in films for Capra, Hawks, and George Stevens, as well as Mitchell Leisen/Preston Sturges, and, for this film, Sam Wood. She’s always a delight.  Wood, however, was an ultra-right-winger who testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1947 – which makes absolutely no sense when it comes to this film which strongly advocates for unions and the rights of workers – in a gentle comedic way.  So much for auteur theory (at least under the studio system).  Jean Arthur wasn’t the only reason we tuned into this one on TCM – it also stars Charles Coburn (who was nominated for the Best Supporting Actor Oscar but didn’t win).  He’s the wealthiest man in America (or at least New York) who finds that he still owns a Manhattan department store and worse, that the workers are agitating for their rights, including by hanging a dummy of Coburn in effigy.  However, Coburn is a man who values his privacy, so no one really knows what he looks like.  This allows him to go undercover as a shoe salesman to try to identify the rabble rousers on his staff with the intention to fire them. Instead, he makes friends with Jean Arthur (also in the shoe department) and her boyfriend Robert Cummings (the main union organizer) and Spring Byington (who becomes his love interest).  Although not really laugh out-loud funny, Coburn’s reactions to the situations he finds himself in (while pretending not to be himself) are always amusing and the film has plenty of charm and a message we shouldn’t forget. Escapist fare for challenging times.

 

If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You (2025) – M. Bronstein

Rose Byrne has been nominated for the Best Actress Oscar and this film is entirely hers.  It’s also a return to directing for Mary Bronstein after 15 or so years off.  Bronstein (who also plays a small role as a pediatric doctor) tends to keep the camera tightly framed around Byrne who plays Linda, a therapist at the end of her rope, coping with a seriously ill young daughter, a husband away on a work trip, a handful of peculiar clients, an awkward relationship with her own therapist (played by Conan O’Brien), and a burst pipe/mysterious hole in the ceiling of her apartment that has left her living out of a cheap motel. To say the film is chaotic and intense might be an understatement – there may need to be a warning to anyone suffering anxiety to avoid it.  It’s impossible to do anything other than to let the film’s cascading hassles wash over you. Byrne has our sympathy/empathy even when she doesn’t seem to act in her own best interest. At one point, she states that she’s the type of person who never should have become a mother -- but viewers might be right to question this and instead ponder whether the circumstances of her life might overwhelm anyone. If some of this is intended to be “dark comedy” (when some events are too ludicrous to believe), it is dark indeed.  Kudos to Rose Byrne.

 

Heretic (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Heretic (2024) – S. Beck & B. Woods

I don’t think I’ve ever sought out a Hugh Grant film, but I’ve always found him an engaging personality. Here, in this horror movie from A24, he plays a contrarian character, Mr. Reed, who invites two young Mormon women (Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East), doing their missionary work, into his house after they knock on his door to proselytize. Therein begins an in-depth discussion of religion that puts the women on the back-foot, as Mr Reed gradually reveals his cards (while remaining enthralling/ingratiating, if also creepy), and showing him to be disdainful of religion (not just Mormonism but more widely). Obviously, the girls worry that he is a predator (especially as his wife never materialises). Eventually, he offers to show his guests the one true religion, that he has discovered through careful study – and also through the words of a prophet that he has mysteriously on hand.  Did I mention that this is a horror movie? Writer-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods (previously known for writing A Quiet Place, 2018) keep things creepy and tense (and often ambiguous) for much of the film, although as it proceeds, implausibilities in the plot start to accumulate. So, some suspension of disbelief (hah!) is required -- and even if the ending might be disappointingly typical (and the philosophical points never very substantive), the film overall is an enjoyable sometimes heady experience.    

 

Frankenstein (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Frankenstein (2025) – G. del Toro

For me, director Guillermo del Toro has been hit-or-miss. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) and The Shape of Water (2017) were high points whereas other films looked great but suffered from overlength or uncertain plotting. Unfortunately, Frankenstein also falls into this latter category. Not unlike what Robert Eggers did with Nosferatu (2024), del Toro takes the basic Frankenstein story and then fashions his own plot around it (for better or for worse, in both cases).  Of course, the general theme – about responsibility for creating life with science -- remains intact but del Toro broadens it into an examination of parent-child relations (or specifically poor parenting). We begin with a new framing story, where Oscar Isaac’s Victor Frankenstein has been rescued by a clipper ship heading to the North Pole; he’s being hunted by his monster and tells his tale to the ship’s captain (also an obsessive, disregarding his crew’s wishes as he presses northward under harsh conditions). We are then in flashback, learning about Victor’s childhood (and distant disparaging father), his controversial experiments (with horror genre special effects), his patronage by rich arms manufacturer Christoph Waltz, his interest in his brother’s intelligent fiancée Mia Goth, and of course, the birth of the monster (Jacob Elordi) and their subsequent relationship. Later, we see the same story from the monster’s perspective, which brings us forward to the present time. As to be expected, the film often looks great (reviewers are describing it as a gothic fantasy, which is apt) and that extends to the costumes, art design, set decoration, etc. (del Toro claims to have relied on practical handcrafted effects rather than CGI, although this seems sometimes doubtful). But the plot, occasionally verging on Shakespearean (tragedy), lingers too long in some scenes, and the dialogue sometimes feels turgid and pretentious. (I wonder whether there is a Mexican or European sensibility influencing this). That said, Jacob Elordi manages to acquit himself very well in an unusual part.  Ultimately, this is the kind of film that sticks with you for its wondrous elements, even if those elements sit within a flawed whole.

 

Sinners (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Sinners (2025) – R. Coogler

Watching this on the tiny airplane screen with disposable headphones probably did this film a disservice, especially because so much of the plot is driven by the music: classic blues played by Miles Caton’s Sammie Moore (or in old age by Buddy Guy) and by (Oscar nominee) Delroy Lindo’s Delta Slim. There’s also some Irish folk music played by white people (led by Jack O’Connell) who may have appropriation on their minds when they approach the African-American roadhouse/dancehall opened by twins Smoke and Stack Moore (played by Michael B. Jordan). OK, more than just musical appropriation, because it’s at this point in the film, more or less, when the narrative shifts from a coming-home story about the twins who left their jobs working for Al Capone in Chicago to come back to Mississippi in the 1930s into an action-horror film.  I guess the plot had already been mostly telegraphed for me by the media (at least the presence of a particular horror staple) so I wasn’t surprised at this tonal shift. The characters who were best established before the horror started mostly survived the transition.  Hailee Steinfeld, as the mixed race (but white-appearing) former lover of either Smoke or Stack, has a tough role, playing the outsider who is nearly accepted back into the fold until she’s really very clearly an outsider again later on. Obviously, Jordan is tasked with playing the two twins, one more gregarious/dominant than the other, and then a virtual third role after the transition. Wunmi Mosaku (also Oscar-nominated) plays one of the twins’ ex-wife (or partner), a woman with knowledge of herbs and maybe witchcraft. Of course, one of the central goals of the film is to outline the terrible effects of racism in America (but also to portray the strength of the community that is targeted and their care for one another). Nothing here is didactic because, after all, 16 Oscar nominations aside, Ryan Coogler’s film is really designed for a wide mainstream audience (with big budget feel).  I did dig the coda though!

 

The Amazing Mr. X (1948)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Amazing Mr. X (1948) – B. Vorhaus

With stunning black & white cinematography by John Alton (then working his magic for Anthony Mann in a string of heralded films noir), this unusual film, part mysterious supernatural quest and part twisty noir, took me by surprise. At the start, viewers cannot quite be sure whether Christine (Lynn Bari) really does hear the voice of her dead husband while walking alone by the ocean at night. Sure, the “psychic consultant” Alexis (Turhan Bey), who she meets soon after, seems suspicious – but it isn’t clear how he could be influencing her weird dreams about her husband. When she meets him at his house/office, he isn’t shy about telling her that he knows she is thinking of remarrying, to boring lawyer Martin (Richard Carlson), and that her dead husband is not happy about it. As she gets sucked into ongoing sessions with Alexis, her younger sister Janet (Cathy O’Donnell) joins with Martin to hire a detective to look into his operations, suspecting him to be a shady conman (although Janet soon falls for him too, given his sensitive and sultry nature).  Soon we learn that their suspicions are correct, as director Bernard Vorhaus quickly gives us a tour of Alexis’s house and its instruments of deception and duplicity. But even as the detective is ready to turn the screws on Alexis, the appearance of Paul’s ghost throws everyone for a loop. To say more would spoil the film, but suffice it to say, that even Alexis finds himself in a tricky situation going forward.  Overall, the film isn’t a masterpiece but it is a dreamy unpredictable affair that tantalizes with its spooky look at spiritualism.