OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006)

☆ ☆ ½

OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006) – M. Hazanavicius

Supposedly, this was a big hit in France at the time – and this is the team that went on to Oscar success with The Artist (2011) – but somehow this James Bond spoof didn’t touch my funny bone.  Yes, another James Bond spoof, although the hero, Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath, alias OSS 117 (played by Jean Dujardin), has a bit more in common with Maxwell Smart than with 007, even if he is made up to look like the young Sean Connery.  He’s not the brightest bulb and he sports an unreconstructed 1950s set of attitudes (the film takes place in 1955 but the filmmakers and screenwriters have at least updated their views).  Specifically, he takes a seriously colonialist approach to Egypt (and its women) but no one quite takes him seriously (fortunately).  The film is slick, with good production values, and had me wondering whether the actual Bond franchise is not all that dissimilar (in plot, at least).  OSS 117 is sent to Cairo to stop a religious uprising and find a missing Soviet ship carrying weapons.  His sparring partner is Larmina El Akmar Betouche (Bérénice Bejo, who went on to star in Asghar Farhadi’s The Past, 2013).  There are some recurring gags, a bunch of heavies, and the jokes are about the hero’s sexuality and his failure to understand Islam.  No one embarrasses themselves but it just isn’t funny. Perhaps that is enough said. 

Kill! (1968)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Kill!  (1968) – K. Okamoto

This is not your ordinary chanbara/samurai film – the plot seems the same (rogue samurai inserts himself into a political struggle and rights wrongs) but the action is often played for laughs rather than (or in addition to) something more serious.  Tatsuya Nakadai, so often the righteous hero, is instead a rather sly (though outwardly tramp-like) ex-samurai who helps those who need it while also fooling (and occasionally killing) those who seek to exert power wrongfully. Etsushi Takahashi plays a country bumpkin who wants to be a samurai but ends up assisting Nakadai, although ostensibly working for the other side. The source novel is by Shûgorô Yamamoto who also wrote the one used for Kurosawa’s Sanjuro (1962), a not dissimilar film (also with comedic elements).  I suppose the only drawback is that the plot seems rather overly convoluted and the many different characters are not always easily clear in terms of their role in the story.  Yet, Nakadai with his gentle ease and surprising comic presence carries the film.  That said, it wouldn’t be the same without Masaru Satô’s quirky spaghetti western-like soundtrack and Rokurô Nishigaki’s eye-catching widescreen cinematography. 

Confessions of an Opium Eater (1962)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Confessions of an Opium Eater (1962) – A. Zugsmith

Vincent Price plays the early 20^th century descendent of 17^th century author Thomas De Quincey (who is famous for writing about his experience of opium addiction), newly arrived in San Francisco’s Chinatown but already familiar with the Tongs and their warfare.  He meets a captive woman, abducted from China and about to be sold as a “foreign bride” (i.e., he discovers a human trafficking syndicate), and he determines to free her.  That’s the bare bones of the plot but the treatment of this subject matter (by producer turned exploitation director Albert Zugsmith) is seriously loopy.  For one thing, we start aboard a Chinese junk where Asian women (actually played by Asian women) are being thrown into a net, soon to be hoisted into the air and dumped unceremoniously on a smaller ship, headed for the shore.  When they arrive, the seafarers engage in hand-to-hand combat with a small group waiting for them on the shore.  This turns out to be a useful scene because we are shown a key figure (George Wah) being killed – it turns out that he was a newspaper editor working hard to stop the slave trade.  With his death, his enemies (led by Linda Ho) have free rein to keep up the trafficking – until Price wanders in.  The film is crazy with bizarre camera angles, over-the-top art direction featuring lots of Chinese masks, screens, and artworks, and a bizarre opium-induced slow-motion escape/battle scene.  Of course, the slave women are forced to do exotic dances (exploitation but tame). Despite the well-paced weirdness, there is a general unseemliness to this affair, given its sordid and shocking topic, and the racist overtones that are hard to ignore.  Even Price must have been wondering how he wound up here! But still, it’s worth a look for some sheer insanity that somehow never quite falls apart.

Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (2006)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (2006) – S. Kijak

Musician Scott Walker died in March this year (2019), so I took the opportunity to watch this documentary about his career (up until his first 4AD album, The Drift).  I was more or less oblivious to Walker’s music (including his chart-topping British hits of the 1960s with The Walker Brothers) until I bought a used CD of Scott 4 (1969) sometime around the turn of the century.  What I found there was gloomy portentous singing over sixties adult contemporary pop/rock – but not sounding like anything else I knew (particularly the lyrics).  This album proved to be the last of Scott’s self-composed songs (influenced we are told by Jacques Brel) until the Walker Brothers reunited with a strange album, Nite Flights (1978), that led to further opportunities for Scott.  His subsequent solo records were spaced far apart but became progressively weirder and more unique, as Walker simultaneously became a recluse seen only with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.  Surprisingly, then, he is very engaging and accessible when interviewed by documentarian Stephen Kijak for this film.  He offers some interesting insights into his way of working and his goals (artistic and not commerical, of course).  There are the usual famous talking heads, mostly British rock celebrities, who have nothing but praise for the iconclast (except for Marc Almond who hated the later work, particularly Tilt, 1995).  Of course, the real reason to treat yourself to the film is to hear the work of Scott Walker – although we get only excerpts, it does convey his musical journey aptly (at least up until 2006 – he subsequently released several more albums, including one with Sunn O)))!).  Worth a look, if you are curious.

Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far On Foot (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far On Foot (2018) – G. Van Sant

Joaquin Phoenix plays cartoonist John Callahan (you’ll probably recognise his style when you see it) who is paralysed in a car accident while drinking and subsequently joins Alcoholics Anonymous and goes through the twelve steps.  If this sounds like “after school special” material, well it probably is – but director Gus Van Sant and Joaquin Phoenix work hard to provide enough “edge” to keep viewers interested.  Callahan seems to have been quite a character, although the twelve steps are suggested to have sanded some of the edges off  -- if not in his controversial humour, then at least in his dealings with people (a positive thing).  Jonah Hill plays Callahan’s AA sponsor and it is probably a testament to the film’s acceptance of all of its diverse characters that I didn’t realise he was gay until it started to become featured in the dialogue and his AIDS diagnosis is revealed – the film takes place mostly in the 1980s).  Van Sant keeps things interesting with film technique – lots of split screens (and moving split screens) to indicate the passage of time.  He employs a lot of eccentric character actors in small parts who help to liven up the proceedings (Kim Gordon, Udo Kier, Jack Black, Rooney Mara, Carrie Brownstein).  And of course, you can’t help but confront your own hypothetical “what if” about being a quadriplegic (and your attitudes toward disability) or think about alcohol’s negative role/influence/impact on society and our lives (and the excuses we employ to rely on it).  Phoenix’s acting is stupendous (as usual) and he disappears into the character – but it is hard not to feel that the film is designed to be “good for you” at some level.  But who said that’s a bad thing?

The File on Thelma Jordon (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The File on Thelma Jordon (1950) – R. Siodmak

Assistant D. A. Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey) is unhappy in his marriage and meets Thelma Jordon (Barbara Stanwyck) when out on a bender.  She is seeking to report a prowler at her rich aunt’s house to a local private detective (Paul Kelly).  But soon the two fall in love, an obsessive love that takes Marshall away from his wife and kids and into noir territory.  Soon, the aunt is dead with a recently changed will leaving everything to Jordon, now the chief suspect.  Naturally, Marshall is appointed to prosecute the case in court.  We don’t know if Jordon is bad but there are many clues (including a shady “husband” lurking around).  We also don’t know if she really loves Marshall – she may.  Director Robert Siodmak (Phantom Lady, The Killers, and many other great noirs) takes a leisurely approach to the developing relationship, with enough time spent with Marshall’s wife (Joan Tetzel) to feel his guilt.  But of course, viewers can’t help but compare this film to Billy Wilder’s earlier Double Indemnity (1944) in which Stanwyck convinced hapless Fred MacMurray to kill her husband.  Stanwyck is a bit more ambiguous here and you never do know whether Marshall will redeem himself by putting his all into his courtroom appearances or throw the case to help her.  MacMurray never had a chance; moreover, Stanwyck never had a streak of good in her in the earlier film.  Still, in true noir fashion, it only takes one mistake to turn the dark corner.

The Wife (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Wife (2017) -- B. Runge

Watching Glenn Close begin to burn with resentment as her husband (Jonathan Pryce) receives the Nobel Prize for Literature is a sombre affair.  As he meets various Swedish officials and other celebrated figures, he is quick to acknowledge his wife, Joan, and his debt to her.  We learn that she gave up her own writing career to raise a family, a sacrifice so many women have made (to the detriment of society?).  Despite his efforts to include his wife, it is clear that Joe Castleman (Pryce) is insensitive and self-absorbed (which also impacts his son, Max Irons, who is a fledgling writer).  As played with great control by Close, Joan is attentive to her husband’s needs and whims, but clearly losing patience.  When she declares a desire to be by herself, she is stalked by aspiring biographer Christian Slater, who seeks some dirt on Joe, raising the possibility that Joan herself had ghost written some of her husband’s novels.  She brushes him off but the tension within her starts to mount. Swedish director Björn Runge doesn’t quite make it to Bergman territory here (where couples really do tear each other apart); although the acting is strong from the leads, the dialogue doesn’t quite keep pace.  Moreover, the plot becomes increasingly far-fetched, undercutting the focus on the very real power imbalances within families, by portraying an extreme example.  Flashback scenes (featuring Glenn Close’s real daughter Annie Starke) don’t operate at the same level of quality as the modern scenes.  But there is no doubt that Glenn Close deserved the kudos she received for her work on this film – and this theme deserves closer scrutiny.