Black Moon (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Black Moon (1975) – L. Malle

Befuddling…in a good way; although the film could also be maddening to those trying hard to understand it (or who require a more linear plot).  A young blonde girl straight out of Alice in Wonderland is driving through what appears to be a warzone (and the war might just be between men and women).  After some unpleasant encounters, she makes it to a seemingly abandoned farmhouse (seemingly in France, although everyone speaks English; in reality it was Malle’s home).  Upstairs she finds an old woman talking to a giant rat (or possibly a marsupial of some kind); the woman uses a radio to communicate with others and seeks to keep Lily (not Alice) prisoner.  And then she seems to die and Lily escapes out the window where she sees Joe Dallesandro and a unicorn.  Later, Joe’s twin sister breastfeeds the old woman; subsequently Lily does the same and also maybe breastfeeds the unicorn.  Of course, this is all surreal, but played rather straight.  There are farm animals and naked children everywhere.  The animals sometimes speak (including the unicorn).  The landscape is autumnal and beautiful (shot by Sven Nykvist).  There is no clear way to understand the plot although some have alluded to a coming-of-age or sexual awakening that is occurring for Lily.  That is, if this is a dream to be interpreted psychoanalytically, then sometimes a unicorn is not a unicorn but Little Joe is the more obvious symbol.  Then again, a black moon in pagan times may be a chaotic period or a time for heightened magic.  Both are happening here.  Moreover, the backdrop of the seventies and the women’s movement and other social changes may have also influenced Malle.  Or so they say.  But your guess is as good as mine!  

Thunderbolt (1995)

☆ ☆ ☆

Thunderbolt (1995) – G. Chan

Jackie Chan always wanted to prove that he could star in serious fare and not only action comedies.  After Rumble in the Bronx (1995) proved a surprise hit in the US, Chan made this action-drama that never made it to American cinemas.  (His return to action comedies proved a better career move and Rush Hour finally broke him through in the States in 1998).  Here, Jackie plays a mechanic who works with the police to get illegally modified cars off the Hong Kong streets.  He pisses off a criminal race car driver who kidnaps his sisters and challenges Jackie to a race (in Sendai, Japan) in order to get them released.  There is a fair amount of hand-to-hand combat (but apparently Jackie used a stunt double in some scenes due to a sprained ankle); however, most of the action depends on fast moving cars that sometimes crash and blow up.  I noticed in the credits that Sammo Hung was one of the stunt drivers (!?!).  As usual with Jackie’s films, the plot is secondary (and strains credibility) and the stunts are primary.  They do hold one’s attention but the decision to go “gritty” rather than “funny” means that the film suffers as a whole.  

The Sea Inside (2004)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Sea Inside (2004) – A. Amenábar

Javier Bardem turns in another remarkable performance as Ramon Sampedro, a paraplegic right-to-die campaigner from Spain.  Acting primarily from the neck up (in middle-aged make-up), he is charismatic, bitter, and steadfast in his desire to die.  Director Alejandro Amenábar inserts Ramon into his relationship context: brother and sister-in-law taking care of him, impressionable nephew, and two potential love interests.  There are also flashbacks to his accident (diving into a shallow tidepool) and fantasy sequences where he is no longer paralysed (which break the film out of its one-room set and given the cinematographer a chance to zoom over the beautiful landscape).  Of course, all viewers will be waiting for the inevitable money shot (Sampedro died in 1998).  The arguments about euthanasia seem to take a backseat to the human drama in the foreground, except for a comical argument between a paraplegic priest and Sampedro shouted up and down the stairs (due to wheelchair inaccessibility).  I think the film would have been better as a whole if Amenábar had found a way to get more philosophical and political substance into it, but there is no denying Bardem.      

The Unholy Three (1925)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Unholy Three (1925) – T. Browning

Lon Chaney (Sr.) plays a ventriloquist who joins with the strong man (Victor McLaughlin) and a little person (Harry Earles, who later appeared in Browning’s Freaks) to create a band of thieves, the Unholy Three, when the circus breaks up.  As a front, Chaney opens a bird store, disguised as an old woman, and they rob rich customers who buy parrots; parrots who funnily talk when they are in the store but never talk at home – until Granny (Chaney) comes to visit them (and case their homes).  But things begin to go sour when Chaney’s girl (Mae Busch) falls for the employee of the bird shop and the other members of the Unholy Three kill someone in the midst of a robbery.  They try to pin it on the employee, resulting in a court case with his life hanging in the balance.  A gigantic and ferocious chimp plays a key role in the action (apparently shot with camera tricks to look larger). The whole shebang is well-paced (as in all silence features, the music plays a big role) and suspenseful – but then it wraps up with an unexpected happy ending. Passed by the Board of Censors indeed!  Browning and Chaney push things into much darker territory subsequently with The Unknown (1927), also set in a circus and featuring Chaney as an armless knife-thrower and Joan Crawford as the woman he desires – the latter film is more highly recommended.

Tattooed Life (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆

Tattooed Life (1965) – S. Suzuki

Seijun Suzuki (who died earlier this year at 93) was famous for his wackily surreal yakuza flicks (Tokyo Drifter, 1966, and Branded to Kill, 1967), so it comes as some surprise that this earlier film is rather lacklustre.  That isn’t to say it doesn’t contain some inventive sequences, particularly the climactic battle at the end, but too often it plays like a 1950s drama splashed on the widescreen but with little edge to the proceedings.  Or perhaps I was just disappointed relative to my expectations– there is eccentricity here but not enough!  Hideki Takahashi plays Tetsu, a yakuza everyman on the run after he and his brother Kenji (Kotobuki Hananomoto) kill a rival gangster.  Tetsu has been raising (and sheltering) sensitive Kenji since their parents died but Kenji has ideas of his own once they settle down as small town construction workers (coveting the boss’s wife and causing problems as a result).  In the end, Tetsu reveals his yakuza past (previously hidden) and stands up against another rival gang threatening to take over the construction business (after Kenji meets foul play).  And thus we get the climactic battle, shown from all angles.  Start elsewhere with Suzuki (or perhaps start here and be pleasantly surprised by the other films).

The Spider Woman (1944)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Spider Woman (1944) – R. W. Neill

Action-packed instalment of the long running series with Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson.  Holmes very nearly meets his match in Gayle Sondergaard’s Spider Woman (potentially drawn from Conan Doyle’s Irene Adler who was Holmes’ great female adversary and possible love interest).  She almost does him in on more than one occasion as he attempts to solve the mystery of the “pajama suicides” – men awakening in the middle of the night and killing themselves.  Of course, Holmes suspects foul play – and he both fakes his own death and goes undercover as an Indian gambler to try to gather evidence about the crimes.  In the end, the script draws liberally from several Conan Doyle’s stories and also inserts Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito into the plot (as targets at a shooting gallery) as a tip of the hat to modern wartime audiences.  Bruce is his usual bumbling self, Rathbone is cunning and playful, and Dennis Hoey is all bluster (though with a sentimental streak) as Inspector Lestrade.  The plot has enough twists and moves swiftly. Indeed, all of the elements of the franchise are here and they make for rip-roaring fun.

Cloak and Dagger (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆

Cloak and Dagger (1946) – F. Lang

Lesser Fritz Lang effort that was apparently subject to some post-production tampering by Warner Brothers to remove some pointed anti-nuclear bomb sentiment (presumably since the US had already dropped the bomb and showed no intention of backing away from holding a nuclear arsenal).  Gary Cooper plays a nuclear scientist who is recruited by the OSS to go overseas to Europe to contact other nuclear scientists who have been forced by the Nazis to contribute to their bomb-making initiative.  Things move reasonably swiftly until the action moves from Switzerland to Italy and Cooper meets his love interest (Lilli Palmer).  But then everything drags as they wait for offscreen events to occur.  Basically, the Allies hope to convince an Italian nuclear physicist to escape with them but they need to first free his daughter who is being held hostage by the Nazis.  Why we don’t get to see this action beats me but instead we hang out with Cooper (who is not the most dynamic of actors at this stage in his career) and Palmer.  The film wraps up soon after and when I discovered later that a fourth reel may have been deleted, this made sense.  However, even so, the film doesn’t really seem to link with any of Lang’s major themes (a pessimistic view of societal forces that entrap the protagonist – as in the classic films noir that he directed); instead it is a straight adventure yarn, albeit with some serious consequences.