We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021) – J. Schoenbrun

I had to ask myself: “Is the world really like this?”  Director Jane Schoenbrun’s first feature feels like part of the “slow cinema” movement even though it is only 82 minutes long. It is marketed as part of the burgeoning horror genre merger with internet content (possibly related to “creepypasta”). (The marketing may be misleading some viewers who expect something other than an arthouse first feature). Here, teen Casey (Anna Cobb) has signed up to an online role-playing horror game where, as I understand it, participants take the basic premise and then enact it for themselves, creating and uploading videoclips to document their engagement. In this case, the game is called “We’re Going to the World’s Fair” and the premise is that you watch a weird online video (not shown) which subsequently and reportedly has mysterious mental and physical impacts on the viewer.  Given that director Schoenbrun is transgender herself, it is hard not to make a connection here to the kinds of transformations that might take place for those assigned an incorrect gender at birth. But any changes that take place for Casey are relatively subtle – there’s a bit of childish acting out of monster-like behaviour and, more importantly, depression-like symptoms and suicidal ideation.  This attracts the attention of another player, JLB, who demands that Casey skype with him. The film then seems to shift gears to tell the story of their relationship (as it were).  As a viewer, I spent much of my time trying to understand what was happening (not necessarily a bad thing) and, like JLB, it became hard to sort out fantasy and reality. The take-home point seemed to be about the opportunities and risks for attaining social connection and belonging via the internet for lonely and isolated youth (or adults). Are these back alleys and hidden spaces of the internet a good thing or a bad thing (or both at the same time)?  And “Is the world really like this?”

 

Tomorrow is Another Day (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Tomorrow is Another Day (1951) – F. Feist

Steve Cochran plays Bill Clark who has just been released from prison after serving 18 years (entering at age 13 as the youngest ever murderer in his state, we soon learn). He’s lost and confused given how much has changed; the treatment he receives in his hometown makes him leave for New York City. His luck is no better there – he throws himself on taxi-dancer Cathy/Cay Higgins (Ruth Roman), a tough bleached-blonde who finally relents to show him around the city.  Given this is film noir, bad things happen and soon they are on the run. This first half of the film feels genuinely edgy or at least a bit desperate before the film settles down to something resembling domesticity, albeit on a shoestring (the lettuce harvesting scene is startling). Bill never quite loses his wariness although we know he’s a decent human being; on the other hand, Cathy seems to transform from hard-edged to something much softer, in line with her move from blonde to brunette.  Although the film never really gets its edge back (and concludes in ludicrous fashion), there’s enough here to chew on for fans of the genre.  

 

Disclosure Day (2026)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Disclosure Day (2026) – S. Spielberg

I’m looking back at the Disclosure Day poster now – the one with Emily Blunt’s blue eye in the centre.  You can see her eye has some unusual aster-like pattern in it.  Only on second glance did I notice that her eye and parts of her face are framed by the outline of a bird, presumably a cardinal.  Cardinals do have some symbolic meaning, having to do with a message from a lost loved one or perhaps hope in hard times or even Christian references to the blood of Jesus.  There are some nuns in this film but I’m not sure that’s the link (or is it? There’s some baked-on theology here, questioning whether the presence of life out there means God doesn’t love only us or maybe doesn’t exist, but it doesn’t take).  Perhaps the cardinal is bringing a message from Spielberg’s own past – specifically, a reminder of Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977).  In many ways, Disclosure Day feels like a sequel or replay of that earlier film, where Richard Dreyfuss and Melinda Dillon are incomprehensibly drawn to Devil’s Tower, Wyoming, just in time for an alien spacecraft to land (and take Dreyfuss inside – oops, spoiler). In this film, Josh O’Connor and Blunt instead are mysteriously and incomprehensibly drawn to each other (and then to a television studio), in the same way.  Maybe it isn’t that far from Escape from Witch Mountain (1975) where kids with supernatural powers are chased by Donald Pleasance and evil millionaire Ray Milland.  Here, evil corporate mastermind Colin Firth is trying to stop O’Connor and Blunt, particularly O’Connor who is poised to release evidence that the government has been suppressing knowledge of extraterrestrial life (and that crash landing in Roswell, New Mexico).  We see some of the video that he shows his girlfriend, Jane.  It looks just like you would think (if you ever watched an alien autopsy video). Firth also has an alien device that allows him to mind-meld with people, if he can see their social media accounts. I started to get some faint echoes of De Palma’s The Fury (1978) here and there. But whereas De Palma never was afraid of going freaky, Spielberg keeps his masterful control even though the plot itself feels pretty schlocky. He is good at directing the action scenes – at times it feels as though the movie is one long car chase -- and there’s even a Jackie Chan-styled leap from a car to a train too.  The lead characters make some inexplicable choices though – or really their choices are being guided by, uh, aliens. (Most other characters don’t really have much to do).  Are aliens the Macguffin here? Knowing that Spielberg and writer David Koepp started with the ending (and that youtube clip where the air force flyers see something inexplicable buzz them) and then moved backwards trying to figure out a plot that gets you there tells you a lot about this film.   

 

One Girl’s Confession (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

One Girl’s Confession (1953) – H. Haas

Hugo Haas was a Czech actor who fled the Nazis to the US and became a minor league B-movie writer and director, often starring in his films in supporting roles to his female stars. (Apparently, he was a much bigger star in the 1930s before moving to Hollywood). The films he wrote and directed are known as the Fate and Irony cycle – they seem to have a biggish following. This one, often cited as the best, stars Cleo Moore, a blonde bombshell ogled by other characters and the camera alike (her career does not seem to have taken off and she died young, of a heart attack).  Here, she plays a waitress who steals 25 G’s from her employer (because he had exploited her father in business) and promptly turns herself in to the police (after hiding the money).  After her release from prison (good behaviour), she meets up with Haas, who plays a seedy and sleazy gambler who owns a café/bar.  She agrees to work for him (after fending off his advances) while laying low awaiting her chance to retrieve the money from its hiding place.  A local fisherman woos her but she holds back.  After this, things take a turn for the worse, partly due to Cleo/Mary’s misperceptions – hence the “fate and irony” label. Overall, the acting is pretty flat (apart from Haas himself who is charismatic, if sleazy), the sets are low budget, and the plot feels far too leisurely for a 75-minute feature. I’m not sure I understand the appeal… but perhaps, for the 1950s, there is a sense of female empowerment here? 

 

Are You Lonesome Tonight? (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Are You Lonesome Tonight? (2021) – S. Wen

I guess Eddie Peng may be a star in Taiwan and this may have been a vehicle especially for him, directed with a good deal of panache by first timer Shipei Wen.  Peng plays an air conditioner repairman, Xue-ming, a loner it seems, and, in 1997, he hits a man with his van; instead of leaving him dead in the road, he drags him into the tall grass by the river. We then follow Peng as he suffers moral recriminations, especially when he sees the missing person flyers being distributed by Sylvia Chang, playing the victim’s wife, Mrs Liang. She’s much older but still kind of sexy.  When Xue-ming arranges to fix her air conditioner, you don’t know what’s going to happen. The film feels humid and languid. Are we heading in the direction of Visconti’s Ossessione? Fate hangs heavy on Xue-ming and on the film – from the opening shot, we know he ends up in prison. He lurks around Mrs. Liang’s neighbourhood. The title comes from a scene in a half-deserted bar where a blind singer tells Xue-ming that he once sang a song for the dead man and he will sing it again (“Are You Lonesome Tonight?”). It seems the victim may have been involved in the criminal underworld. Xue-ming overhears people talking and starts to piece things together.  Eddie Peng lost weight for this film and his method acting shows. It’s a slow-burning neo-noir.  Director Wen keeps things visually interesting, with a grungy mise-en-scene and lots of shots from unusual angles or using reflections; lighting and colour schemes reflect the noir theme. Like the Coens’ Blood Simple, this doesn’t try to innovate, necessarily, it tries to emulate.  A bleary-eyed detective and a cold-blooded killer show up rather matter-of-factly later in the picture. No surprises here but Xue-ming’s moral code keeps him on solid footing even as these complications enter.   

 

Hokum (2026)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Hokum (2026) – D. McCarthy

Irish director Damian McCarthy’s third film – and the first after his breakthrough success with Oddity (2024; streaming everywhere near you) – stars Adam Scott, who I guess is an American TV star, but I’d never heard of him (although his latest Netflix film does seem to star Robert De Niro, so “my bad”).  Scott plays a decidedly unlikeable character, Ohm Bauman, a successful writer but rude and willing to punch down on those less fortunate. He’s come to this remote Irish hotel to bury his parents’ ashes, since this was where they had honeymooned decades earlier. However, the honeymoon suite is locked up and no one is allowed to enter, given that there is supposed to be a witch trapped inside.  Bauman isn’t against breaking in but he’s pretty ambivalent about everything (and haunted, perhaps literally, by events earlier in his life). McCarthy creates a lot of atmosphere in this old hotel, especially once we are actually in the honeymoon suite and its environs, but the characters remain rather thin. Throw in a few jump scares and some folk horror references and you’ve got a solid horror outing – full of dread and spooky without requiring gore -- but not something I need to watch again.   

 

Village of the Damned (1960)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Village of the Damned (1960) – W. Rilla

The film starts mysteriously with all of the residents of the tiny British town of Midwich falling asleep, instantly, mid-sentence as it were.  The British military investigates and finds an invisible line encircling the village where to cross it means falling unconscious (even in a low-flying plane).  Months later, all of the women of child-bearing age fall pregnant, eventually giving birth to platinum blond children with piercing eyes. As they grow up, these children prove exceptionally intelligent and, as a group, possessed of a “hive mind”. The “son” of Professor Zellaby (George Sanders) and his wife Anthea (Barbara Shelley) is played by Martin Stephens, who subsequently used a similarly evil tone to play Miles in The Innocents (1961), an adaptation of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. (I knew I recognised him, even with the blond wig).  This film is an adaptation of the John Wyndham novel, "The Midwich Cuckoos", drawing from the bird’s strategy of laying its eggs in the nests of other species who then raise the offspring as their own. Prof. Zellaby hopes to harness the children’s intelligence for the betterment of the world -- but alas, they are just too evil (with supernatural powers, of course). The bizarre plot is held in place by a script which has characters act realistically, responding logically and sometimes emotionally, in reaction to the strange presence in their lives and village. Suitably creepy.

 

Private Hell 36 (1954)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Private Hell 36 (1954) – D. Siegel

Despite starting his career as a “montage” specialist in the editorial department (and notwithstanding his long association with Clint Eastwood in the ‘60s and ‘70s), I find Don Siegel to be among the least flashy of directors (Eastwood himself follows in his mentor’s footsteps).  Private Hell 36 could just as easily be a TV production with its plain sets and matter-of-fact staging, camerawork, and direction. The editing serves the function of telling the story straightforwardly, without distraction, because I didn’t notice it. Perhaps this basic invisible approach to craft by Siegel allows the story to take centre stage: substance over style.  Here, L. A. cops Steve Cochran and Howard Duff stumble onto $50 bills from a NYC robbery now being circulated in the West.  They trace one to Ida Lupino, a bar singer, who eventually agrees to work with them to collar the fellow who passed it to her, a man who spends time at the races.  There’s a fair bit of legwork and staking out. Eventually, though, Duff and Cochran reach a moral crossroads and a choice which places stress on their relationship, with added pressure for Duff (a family man under financial strain at home) and Cochran (who falls for Lupino and her expensive tastes).  The title references the number of a trailer home, perhaps the most clever thing about the film, which nevertheless does build up a fair amount of tension, as the screws tighten on the characters.

 

Backrooms (2026)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Backrooms (2026) – K. Parsons

Underwhelmed, I guess, but it isn’t that clear why.  High expectations? As longtime readers know, I’m certainly open to surrealism and weirdness generally.  Backrooms set up its premise well and I was intrigued – when sad/frustrated Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) pushes through the wall of his discount furniture store’s basement into the yellowy maze of hidden fluorescent-lit rooms, I wanted to explore with him.  The shadowy figures in the distance, the possible danger – it was alive with possibilities.  But somehow those possibilities turned from intrigue to tedium and then to incomprehensibility.  Is there a metaphor here about memories (never accurately recalled, only reconstructed via the present), about past traumas (and how they might gather strength and defeat us), about frustrated dead ends? It seems either too glib or too hard to fathom.  The film felt somehow incomplete, less encouraging me to fill in the gaps with my own interpretations and more missing essential information. Perhaps though it is just my awareness that there’s lore galore lurking somewhere on youtube, available to some but not all viewers (certainly not this one), ahead of time.  A connected story featuring Clark’s therapist, Mary (Renate Reinsve), holds promise for revealing needed detail but ends abruptly (as does the film). A briefly involved scientist remains unexplained (in the film proper).  Of course, I’ve tried to reflect whether my reaction to the film is unfair – after all, I’ve eventually come round to David Lynch appreciation, even if my initial reaction to Lost Highway was similarly uncomprehending.  (Mulholland Drive, in contrast, was immediately recognisable as a masterpiece).  These Lynch films, while bizarre and without clear explanations, provide more details to let the dream logic kick in. Backrooms seems to require a third act, just to provide more fodder for our imaginations (and not necessarily to provide some sort of explicit explanation).  Otherwise, am I supposed to go to youtube to flesh this out?  Some commentary suggests that this is a Gen Z movie -- possibly because director Kane Parsons is so young, but maybe because this generation faces the kind of disrupted trajectories (career and life) that the characters in Backrooms also face (even if the film might be set in 1990 when my own generation was trying to find their footing in what may have been a more predictable world). Speaking of unpredictability, as the film ended, I couldn’t help thinking that most of the replicas of things in the Backrooms felt like artificial intelligence versions of our reality – not quite right and possibly not really serviceable, if they start to stand in for what used to be there.   

A Samurai in Time (2023)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Samurai in Time (2023) – J. Yasuda

Good-natured family fare (although probably too introspective for actual kids) with a high concept: samurai hit by lightning ends up 140 years in the future – around 2007 for some reason (those flip phones tipped me off). Despite the not-so-original (fish out of water) premise, there were a few real laughs in the first half, as Kosaka-san (Makiya Yamaguchi) experiences the shock of the future.  The only job he is suited for is as an extra in TV jidaigeki productions, so it is lucky he’s landed right on a set in Kyoto. Ayako kept remarking that everyone was using different dialects in Japanese, so there are bound to be other aspects to the film (funny or otherwise) that natives will take away that foreigners will not. And just when you think the film has no place to turn, its gentle comedy dissipating, there’s a surprising twist that takes us through the second half of the film (which is more drama than comedy).  This does require a bit of Japanese historical knowledge, about the end of the Shogunate and the move toward the modern era, but not much more than to sympathise with Kosaka-san, whose clan ended up defeated. The screenplay builds to one final twist and ends in a relatively satisfying place. Nothing too threatening or challenging here but enjoyable nevertheless.  And it is fun to say the original title:  Samurai Taimusurippa (“timeslipper!”).

Fracture (2007)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Fracture (2007) – G. Hoblit

Anthony Hopkins works a lot but his projects seem to be all over the place.  In this one, he’s back to evil-genius mode, not quite Hannibal Lecter but smart enough to outwit the legal system after killing his wife and clearly enjoying tormenting public prosecutor Ryan Gosling with taunts and head games. The internet recommended this as a twisty legal thriller (one that I had somehow missed) but as directed by Gregory Hoblit (who got his start with Hill Street Blues), it feels rather passé or cliché.  This might be due to the music (too familiar) or cinematography (too slick) or sets (too boring, despite what is supposed to be amazing architecture or engineering delights).  There might actually be a clever script under there but that too feels very pat by the end. Critic Jonathan Rosenbaum (of the Chicago Reader, back in the day) saw this as an interesting duel between Hopkins’ classical acting style and Gosling’s method approach. Perhaps.  Gosling is supposed to be cocky then contrite but I’m not sure he pulls it off.  Hopkins is a little more subdued than I would have expected for this part.  So there – average at best.

 

Thirst (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Thirst (1949) – I. Bergman

Returning to Criterion’s massive Ingmar Bergman boxset after a bit of a hiatus, this is the 34^th (out of 41 or so) film in the boxset but only the 7^th in Bergman’s career. Critics suggest that this is the first film where Bergman’s longstanding themes and directorial style start to emerge and, yes, it is a film about people experiencing relationship problems. Although not scripted by Bergman (instead it was written by Herbert Grevenius, adapting short stories by Birgit Tengroth who herself plays a supporting role in the film), it feels like it could have been, as it charts the relationship dissatisfaction felt by a young woman played by Eva Henning, both in a past affair with a married military officer (Bengt Eklund) and in her marriage to Bertil (Birger Malmsten).  After these two episodes, the film diverts to the experiences of Bertil’s former girlfriend (played by Tengroth) who is pursued by both her doctor and by a lesbian former ballet school classmate.  Add an unfortunate abortion to the plot and this must have been quite controversial for 1949 -- but Bergman was just getting started. Overall, not without interest, but you’d be silly to start here if you want to explore the great Swedish master’s works.

 

My Name is Julia Ross (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

My Name is Julia Ross (1945) – J. H. Lewis

Director Joseph H. Lewis may be best known for Gun Crazy (1950) or The Big Combo (1955), two great noirs, but this 65-minute thriller from 1945 is also a gem. Nina Foch plays the title character who is tricked into accepting employment as a live-in secretary for the Hughes family (mother Dame May Whitty and son George Macready) who subsequently try to gaslight her into thinking she is someone else.  Essentially she is trapped in the Hughes mansion and everyone is led to believe she is crazy.  Great premise but not for those prone to paranoia.  Macready is a perfect edgy villain (with Gilda and Paths of Glory yet to come) but it is a shock to see Dame May Whitty on the dark side, since I identify her strongly with her heroic spy in The Lady Vanishes.  As directed by Lewis, this is a tight film, suspenseful, and ultimately fulfilling.  Is it noir? Perhaps but Julia Ross does not deserve any of this (perhaps that is exactly why it is noir!). 

 

Exhuma (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Exhuma (2024) – J.-H. Jang

Can I be forgiven for not recognising the lead actor from Oldboy (2003), Min-sik Choi, in the title role?  Perhaps I haven’t spent as much time with Korean cinema as I should (although I have seen Oldboy, of course, and Choi is twenty years older, after all).  In this film, Choi plays a “geomancer” who uses the principles of feng shui to recommend gravesites for wealthy clients with partner Hae-jin Yoo, who seems to be a Christian funeral director.  They sometimes work with the shaman team, Go-eun Kim and Do-hyun Lee, who get engaged to purify unclean areas or when there are unruly spirits with which to contend.  The film introduces the characters as though this was the pilot for a TV crime series and in some ways, it feels like it could very easily spin-off into an ongoing TV show.  The film itself might be broken into two episodes, with the first focused on an elderly patriarch ghost who, once accidentally released from his sealed coffin, seeks to revenge himself on the descendants who wronged him (including a baby in the USA), and the second focused on a demonic samurai ghost leftover from the Japanese occupation who protects a particular plot of land, slaying anyone who comes near, once freed. (Including a Japanese villain seems to be standard practice for Korean films, not unlike the Nazi villains who still crop up in Hollywood; not sure this is useful for world peace at this stage, but alas). The film wants to be spooky/scary, wants to be a folk horror describing Korean traditions, wants to endear us to the central team, and desires a linear plot with clear resolution (and hope for a sequel or two – or that TV series?).  It mostly succeeds but misses that magic ingredient that might elevate it further into a horror classic.  I’d tune in each week though.

 

The Ninth Gate (1999)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Ninth Gate (1999) – R. Polanski

Is this a guilty pleasure?  I’ve returned to it more than once -- but it isn’t exactly challenging fare and some may call it trashy.  Somehow director Roman Polanski evokes both the detective story and the devil (providing nods to two of his greatest films, Chinatown and Rosemary’s Baby); a more recent antecedent is probably Alan Parker’s Angel Heart (1987).  Frank Langella hires freelance bookdealer Johnny Depp to determine whether his copy of a rare book (“The Nine Gates…”), a book apparently used to conjure Lucifer himself, is authentic or not, as compared to two other copies in Europe.  How Langella got the book away from Lena Olin whose husband has just committed suicide isn’t really clear but she wants it back and pursues Depp for it.  So, they all run to Europe where Depp visits each of the other book owners, unravelling the mystery of the books while also being stalked by a mysterious witchy woman (Emmanuelle Seigneur, Polanski’s wife) and leaving death and destruction in his wake.  Of course, we know that Depp isn’t really pulling the strings here but what mysterious forces are driving things (whether controlled by Langella or someone/something darker) remains out of the viewer’s grasp. And the film ends at a sort of beginning (much like Rosemary’s Baby again?), leaving viewers only to imagine what comes next.  Based on Arturo Pérez-Reverte’s The Club Dumas.  

 

The Mystery of Chess Boxing (1979)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Mystery of Chess Boxing (1979) – J. Kuo

Not from the Shaw Brothers’ studio nor from Golden Harvest, this independent production from Joseph Kuo famously inspired the Wu-Tang Clan (the main baddie is called Ghost Face Killer).  But what struck me first is how closely this film is modelled on Jackie Chan’s earlier hit (for Golden Harvest), Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow (1978).  Li Yi-Min takes the Jackie role of wet-behind-the-ears youngster who wants to join a famous kung fu school but is bullied by the senior student and then trained in secret by the school’s cook – played by Simon Yuen, who also comically played the old man who trained Jackie in both Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow and Drunken Master (also 1978).  I found out today that Simon Yuen (Yuen Siu-tien) was also the real-life father of director Yuen Woo-ping who did the choreography for the fight scenes in The Matrix (1999).  In any event, The Mystery of Chess Boxing follows the same general plot of Snake in that Li Yi-Min ultimately needs to fight the final boss (Kuan Wu-lung) with the help of his ailing master (Jack Long); perhaps it isn’t entirely fair that they double-team the Ghost Face Killer, but he needs defeating by any means necessary.  The old-school hand-to-hand fighting here is outstanding which helps the film rise above its copycat origins; the comedy feels ordinary at best (but as I only had access to a dubbed version, that brought some unintentional (?) humor too). Chess boxing itself, as a new style, does not really make much sense!

 

Wife (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Wife (1953) – M. Naruse

If this were the first film by Mikio Naruse that you watched, it might floor you.  But as someone who has now seen 20 of his films, I think it isn’t quite in a class with his best films.  Yes, it draws you into its world and its ordinary characters experiencing ordinary human drama. It might be interesting for you to see Japan in the 1950s, where characters still talk about having lost their husbands or brothers in the war. Some women still wear kimonos but others have taken to Western dress. There’s a certain desperation about economic circumstances that pervades this film (the central couple runs a boarding house) and many of Naruse’s works (in almost every one of his films characters talk about money). This is heightened because women are the leads and focus of his oeuvre.  His best films often star Hideko Takamine (or sometimes Setsuko Hara, who was Ozu’s muse) but this one features Mieko Takamine (no relation) who took the part when Hideko declined.  She plays the titular wife and Ken Uehara (another Naruse regular) plays her husband.  Their 10-year-old childless marriage is coming apart.  Both are unsatisfied with the other and with their lives.  Eventually the husband starts an affair with his widowed secretary which continues even after she moves away to Osaka (from Tokyo), when they travel to visit each other.  The film shows us what happens when the wife finds out.  Naruse’s point-of-view seems to be that everyone has their reasons and no one is completely right or wrong.  Yet, society has (or had) strong views about this situation and how it should play out. Naruse’s films have a strong vein of pessimism and there’s a melancholy feel that can’t be avoided when you see how society’s shackles block characters from pursuing their dreams. People end up in dead ends and inertia keeps them there.  It’s no different in Wife but the bluntness of the ending might catch you by surprise (if this were your first Naruse film).  For mature audiences.

Groundhog Day (1993)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Groundhog Day (1993) – H. Ramis

I suspect it has been 30 years since I saw Groundhog Day, which does cast a different light on its take home message (that we need to live each day as if it is the only one we get – or possibly to use each day productively so they add up to a more meaningful life).  Have I achieved this? (Does anyone ever feel they have?). The plot famously involves arrogant weatherman Phil Connors (Bill Murray) getting stuck in a time-loop where he has to re-live the same day over and over and over again; that day is Groundhog Day (2 February – also my wife’s birthday) with its portentous omen about the future being wintry or nice depending on whether the rodent sees his shadow. The film takes place in Punxsutawney, PA (NE of Pittsburgh), a small town, presented as they were in the early ‘90s.  As directed by Harold Ramis (who takes a brief cameo), it is pretty mundane, even cheesily cringeworthy. Phil is above it all, but his new producer Rita (Andie MacDowall) is on a different wavelength, open to finding positivity in everything.  Cameraman Larry (Chris Elliott) is around to provide Phil-deflating comments.  So, what would you do if each day was just a repeat of the previous day with every moment fully predictable? The screenplay (by Ramis and Danny Rubin) intelligently conjectures what the average person might do: freak out, then take advantage of the lack of consequences for one’s actions, then fall into despair, then try to use time more wisely (to learn skills and stuff).  Phil decides to pursue Rita who he comes to know in depth (even if, for her, it is still just one day), with expected results, given she thinks he is an arrogant jerk. But eventually, he grows as a person, becoming his better self.  This helps him with Rita.  Amon (aged 13) felt the film was corny.  I liked the “high concept” but it feels dated, sentimental, with little edge (and not really too many laughs).  That said, it is probably a good thing to take a moment to reflect on a more existential way of being. In this way, the film “works”.

The Red House (1947)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Red House (1947) – D. Daves

The Red House is loosely categorized as “film noir” (a very broad category, as we know) but it begins rather cheerfully with some high school kids (real ages: 19 to 24) flirting on the school bus (albeit with a voiceover noting that kids take longer to finish school because of farm chores that take them away from their studies).  Nath Storm (Lon McCallister) is one of those kids who takes up a job working for odd Pete Morgan (Edward G. Robinson) and his sister (Judith Anderson) at the insistence of their adopted daughter Meg (Allene Roberts), even though Nath is going steady with Tibby Rinton (Julie London), a “bad girl” who also flirts with older Teller (Rory Calhoun).  So far, a bit ordinary, unusual family structure aside.  But when Nath tells Pete about his plans to take a shortcut through the nearby woods to get home in the evening, Pete over-reacts (there are rumours that his wooden leg is a result of an incident in the woods).  Of course, Nath goes anyway and something whacks him on the back of the head.  This only makes him want to investigate further, especially after hearing about a haunted red house somewhere in the middle of the woods.  He and Meg and Tibby search for it to no avail.  Later Meg sneaks in there on her own and gets shot at.  All the while, Pete may be losing his grip on reality, Tibby hooks up with Teller, and Nath is falling for Meg (who is keen).  Director Delmer Daves builds up suspense around the red house and its secret, somehow making it seem almost Freudian, with the not-so-hidden sexual motivations of the teens and the creepy obsession of Pete for Meg hanging heavy over the proceedings. The teens want to find the red house but Pete won’t let them!  The tension builds and eventually we learn all, which fortunately doesn’t feel anti-climactic but more like an inevitable culmination as the pieces fall into place.  Uneven but weird enough to recommend.  

WarGames (1983)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

WarGames (1983) – J. Badham

No doubt this film is making the rounds of the streaming services now to remind us that Artificial Intelligence is hardly new (although the accessibility of Gen AI programs surely is bringing on the next industrial revolution).  I suppose I must have seen this in the cinema back then (since this was the time in high school when we didn’t have a VCR) but I hadn’t thought much about it since then.  Matthew Broderick is the computer whiz with the complete set-up in his bedroom (including 12 bps modem) which, when he isn’t playing Galaga down at the local arcade, he uses to hack into his high school’s computer to change his failing grades.  (Did our high school even have a computer in 1983?  That was contactable via phone lines?) Reality constraints aside, it is probably true that NORAD (North American Air Defense Command) would have had some honking big IBM machine hooked up to nuclear missile launchers, as in the film. But would said computer play anything more complicated than chess? In this film, it is ready to play global thermonuclear war with Broderick, featuring the USA vs. the Soviet Union. (The Day After was shown on TV this same year, featuring the consequences of such a war).  Director John Badham avoids dwelling on any consequences and seems to be channeling E.T.-era Spielberg here, as the film slowly morphs from small-town family/school life (with Ally Sheedy as sidekick/girlfriend material) to a sort of PG action-adventure when Broderick is arrested by the FBI (oops, spoiler) and needs to track down the computer scientist who created the AI computer (called Joshua) in the first place (on an island off the coast of the Pacific NW). It all comes down to retraining the computer using a series of games of tic-tac-toe. If only averting the end of the world were so easy.  Less than 20 years later, filmmakers were already positive that sentient machines would be treating humans as batteries instead (solving two problems at once).

Bring Her Back (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Bring Her Back (2025) – D. Philippou & M. Philippou

I liked the first feature by Australian brothers Danny and Michael Philippou (Talk to Me, 2022) enough to check out this, their second, although I knew there was a risk that it might have more blood and gore than I would like.  I was right, but I gritted my teeth and occasionally looked away. The plot finds 17-year-old Andy (Billy Barratt) and 12-year-old Piper (Sora Wong, who is blind) orphaned when their dad is found dead in the shower. Social Services find them a foster mother, Laura (Sally Hawkins), who is more than a little intense. Very quickly she has Andy offside, showing a preference for Piper; another foster child Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips) acts bizarrely and is often kept locked in his room. Andy becomes our identification figure as he (and we) puzzle out what Laura is up to; we see a bit more than he can, so we know she is up to no good.  A disturbing VHS tape seems to be a sort of blueprint for Laura’s actions, as she may be invoking a ritual of sorts.  Since this is a horror film, the supernatural is at hand. The directors ratchet up the tension and things spiral out of control. I might have preferred more spooky, less gross, but there is no denying Hawkins’ acting chops here. And as with their first film, the Philippou brothers know that horror lies in our vulnerabilities (emotional as well as physical) and they don’t let the audience off the hook.

 

Cover Up (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ½

Cover Up (1949) – A. E. Green

The vault of films noir runs very deep and you never know what gems are left to be found (after all the prime viewing has been done).  I thought a film starring Dennis O’Keefe (T-Men, 1947; Raw Deal, 1948) and William Bendix (Lifeboat, 1944; The Blue Dahlia, 1946) had got to be good but alas t’was not so.  What looked like noir on the surface, judging by the time, the stars, and the plot (insurance investigator discovers that apparent suicide is actually a murder being covered up by seemingly a whole town), turns out to be quite jaunty and even light-hearted rather than the dark existential fare I sought.  In retrospect, director Albert E. Green might have been better known for musicals.  Perhaps O’Keefe was looking for something to change his image into more of a romantic leading man type. He seems to have demanded that the Christmas setting be kept (another ingredient tipping this toward sentimentality) when a producer threatened to jettison it.  Only Bendix maintains his edge, as the sheriff who may or may not be in on the conspiracy (and could even be the killer) – he’s got the sly sense of humor that he flashes in his best films while also not afraid to be rough-edged or a bit of a lunk. Barbara Britton is fine as the love interest/daughter of the town banker. But viewers looking for “menace meets small town norms” in their noir had best start with Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943).

 

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.