The Southerner (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Southerner (1945) – J. Renoir

One of a handful of films from Jean Renoir’s American Period (roughly 1941 to 1947) that saw him tackle American themes but never straying too far from his interests in class and economic justice (that were most prominent in his greatest film, The Rules of the Game, 1939, and even La Grande Illusion, 1937).  Here, Zachary Scott plays a cotton picker with a young family who decides to strike out on his own as a sharecropper (renting some of his former boss’s land and including a share of the crop as payment).  His wife, Betty Field, enthusiastically throws herself into fixing up the farm and sowing the field.  His grandmother, Beulah Bondi, complains endlessly but is sweet deep down.  Renoir manages to lend some human feeling to the proceedings and the relationships among the family and between Scott and his mean-spirited neighbour (J. Carroll Naish) seem authentic enough.  It’s a tough life but Scott and his family tackle it in a good humoured way (most of the time). In some ways, this is almost a neo-realist view of the (poor white) South, though I reckon things would have been even harder for some.

The Big Sick (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Big Sick (2017) – M. Showalter

Subtitled “An Awkward True Story” which sort of sums it up.  This is a romantic comedy based on the real experiences of star and co-writer Kumail Nanjiani (from Pakistan originally) who wrote the script with his European-American wife Emily Gordon about the difficulties at the start of their cross-cultural relationship. Kumail is a comedian but the humour here comes less from his stand-up show and more from the situations that he finds himself in (and his funny retorts).  Awkward, yes. But more important is the fact that the script allows some excellent actors (Zoe Kazan, Holly Hunter, Ray Romano, Anupam Kher) to create some rich multi-faceted characters who face difficult situations humanly (and humanely). You see, the plot finds Kumail and Emily (Kazan) falling in love (with some cheesy moments) but then facing difficulties due to the influence of his parents who want him to marry a Pakistani girl.  They break up just before she gets really sick.  This makes things pretty heavy (lots of hospital time).  Fortunately, the emotions seem true even if the script doesn’t always find the right words.  Your heart is supposed to get touched…and it does.  Also, I did laugh.  So, a winner from this often justly maligned genre.      

Ringu (1998)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ringu (1998) – H. Nakata

The harbinger of the J-Horror wave seems to have lost a little bit of its punch, seeing it again 20 years later.  I guess it is difficult to put yourself back in the same thunderstruck frame of mind, trying to grasp the bizarre plot as it unfolds with very few clues and only weird facts (such as the urban legend that watching a certain videotape could lead to your own mysterious death 7 days later).  I forgot just how much the movie holds back, saving its shocks for very late in the running time.  Instead, we follow erstwhile reporter Reiko Asakawa (played by Nanako Matsushima) as she investigates the links between the videotape and a series of simultaneous teen deaths.  Creepiness builds up, particularly when she calls on her clairvoyant ex-husband (played by Hiroyuki Sanada) to assist and they travel to distant Oshima Island, which seems to be the setting for some of the scenes in the spooky video.  Of course, they learn about Sadako and her mother Shizuko, both now deceased, and their sad fates.  Will putting their spirits to rest end the curse of the videotape?  Probably not.  I saw this as a double feature with Ringu 2 back in the day and recall the sequel as being weirder (and perhaps more confusing) but also scary.  Indeed, the whole J-Horror genre seems to be predicated on a lack of logic that American remakes just can’t seem to replicate – it’s all about the sensation of horror, the images and situations, rather than any rational storyline that matters.  That said, Ringu manages to maintain coherence pretty far into the piece; if only one could return to that naïve state and watch it again as if for the first time.

Where Danger Lives (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆

Where Danger Lives (1950) – J. Farrow

Robert Mitchum gets himself into trouble by falling for a suicidal femme fatale who is brought into the hospital where he works as a doctor.  He really falls hard, ditching his steady nurse girlfriend and spending all of his time with the mysterious and very wealthy young Margo (played by Faith Domergue in her debut picture).  Soon, Mitchum is in a direct confrontation with her father (Claude Rains, in a brief but showy turn) that leaves him on the run to Mexico with Margo by his side.  They get waylaid in a few hick towns and nearly caught by the police (or were they?) until, in the end, fate catches up with them (as you knew it would).  Straightforward noir with no real frills but Mitchum is always great to watch, with his devil-may-care attitude and constant nonchalance – even here where he spends half of the movie concussed.  Director John Farrow (Mia’s dad) directed a few noirs (The Big Clock and Night has a Thousand Eyes, 1948) but was more of an all-rounder.  Worth a look for aficionados.

  

I Was a Male War Bride (1949)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

I Was a Male War Bride (1949) – H. Hawks

The title may say it all but it takes over an hour for the punchline to materialise.  Before that, Ann Sheridan and Cary Grant are, respectively, a US WAC and a French Captain on a mission in post-war Germany to help a scientist to escape to France.  They have one of those antagonistic wise-cracking relationships that you know will lead to love as soon as they stop fighting.  Director Howard Hawks allows the stars to find their own rhythm, which seems to keep Grant on the wrong foot while Sheridan gets the breaks.  After the plot sees the couple tie the knot, there is the little matter of getting Grant a visa to the United States (absurdly, you must remember he’s French).  Fortunately, there is a Congressional order allowing “war brides” of US service personnel to enter the US and thus begins Grant’s comic predicament and, wait for it, the final punchline.  Hawks somehow manages to sustain an epic gradual build and the film doesn’t disappoint.  Not laugh aloud funny but better than expected; I suspect audiences in the 1940s found it amusingly transgressive.

Our Little Sister (2015)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Our Little Sister (2015) – H. Kore-eda

Kore-eda makes mature family dramas that are filled with warmth and sensitivity, not as serious as Ozu often got and with less rancor and hurt than Naruse let in.  Perhaps things sometimes get too mushy, as the films yearn to touch your heart, but they never lose their grasp on realism.  Our Little Sister, based on a manga called Umi-Machi Diary, shows us three sisters, abandoned by their parents but living fine under one old roof in Kamakura, Japan, who take in their younger half-sister when their father dies up north.  We observe their relationships with each other, with the boys/men in their lives (relegated to bit parts), with their absentee mother, and with the dying owner of a local café.  Loss, betrayal, forgiveness, and our common humanity are on display. The four actresses (some who are popular celebrities in Japan) create distinctive characters with different foibles and trajectories, although the plot does not bring any of these trajectories to a resolution. We partake in this slice of life. All the while, Kore-eda creates sublime images, often in the quiet spaces between scenes, and Japan looks stunningly beautiful (cherry blossoms, fireworks, and all).  

The Flame and the Arrow (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Flame and the Arrow (1950) – J. Tourneur

Fun swashbuckler with Burt Lancaster in the Robin Hood-styled role (presumably meant for then broken-down Errol Flynn) demonstrating his real acrobatic talents after a few years in films noir at the start of his career.  Here, he is an Italian rascal drawn into fighting the Hessians after his wife leaves him for the evil Ulrich the Hawk and they kidnap his son.  Virginia Mayo plays the Hawk’s niece who inevitably falls for Dardo (Lancaster).  Naturally, there are lots of fight scenes in the castle including some swordfighting and Lancaster’s partner from his days as an acrobat (Nick Cravat) plays a key role as a mute (apparently because his Brooklyn accent was too thick for period pieces).  The director was Jacques Tourneur who worked across many genres (starting with Val Lewton in horror but making excellent westerns and war pictures as well as Night of the Demon, an all time great, later in his career) and doesn’t miss a trick in this one.  In the end, we have nothing more than a rip-snorting genre picture that knows its audience, winks a few times, and offers a lot of cheeky and bravado entertainment -- and often that’s enough.