Wednesday, October 13, 2021 Epilogue at October 13, 2021

 

 

It's over?  It's really over?

What you've just read wasn't the result of a lack of effort.  I'm going to estimate conservatively and say that the average length of the 30 Flicks was two hours.  Right there, that's 60 hours.  It takes me roughly 90 minutes to plan and write a review, so that's an additional 45 hours, bringing us to a grand total of 105 hours to create this here blog.  That's just a hair short of four days of my life, people, and I did it in just a hair under two months.  I love watching movies and I love writing reviews for people, but I would do one review a week for my previous blog.  By my standard, this was a sprint.  Right now, I never want to look at my keyboard again, but I must attempt to put a nice little bow on this whole thing.

I suppose I should open up the curtain about what led to me taking this project on.  It probably goes all the way back to last summer, when I made it a point to buy a ticket for Christopher Nolan's Tenet.  I've never been the biggest Nolan fan, finding his movies to be all brain, no heart, but I wanted to support this film as it was the first big-budget movie to be released in theaters since the Coof came along and made everything illegal.  To make a long story short, I hated this movie, finding it to be the personification of everything wrong with modern cinema.  I mean...the name of the protagonist in this movie is Protagonist.  If that alone doesn't tell you that character and investment are secondary to blowing shit up in modern films, I don't know what will.  I walked out of the movie somewhere around the halfway point.  To me, this was unwatchable, a new low even in an era where endless franchises, sequels and reboots are all we get spoon-fed.

This incident got me thinking about the last time that I was truly blown away by a modern movie, and it likely goes back to Zodiac and Gran Torino, the last two films that I saw more than once in theaters.  With the knowledge that the new slate of movies just isn't for me anymore, I knew I had to go back to the past to find what I wanted.  This realization is what led me to the Criterion Channel streaming service in June of this year, at which point the rough outline for 30 Flicks with Lick formed in my brain.  I could review classic movies in my classic dumbass way, occasionally digging deeper when a movie connected with the analytical part of my brain and giving my interpretation of what a particular film and/or film-maker was trying to convey.  I then went about selecting the films, finding 20 of them on the Criterion Channel and going out of my way to purchase the remaining 10 on physical media.  It was hard to fall back into my Lick Ness Monster rhythm, but I eventually settled in to a nice regimen of three films a week.  Finally, after plenty of blood, sweat and tears, the reviews were written and I'd beaten my self-imposed October deadline.

For me, watching these films was an enjoyable experience.  On the classic Ebert scale that I've never strayed away from in my entire history of reviewing movies, three stars and up equals a "Thumbs Up."  By that definition, I would give 19 of the 30 films a positive review.  The average star rating at the end of it all was 2.83.  One thing that I was very curious about when this started was whether or not any of the films I saw would crack my all-time 50 favorite films list.  Alas, one did - True Stories, the truly wonderful, truly unique look at small town living from David Byrne that wound up being one of the most entertaining films I've ever seen.  It wears the crown as champion of the 30 Flicks, followed closely by Walkabout, Picnic at Hanging Rock and Mystery Train, the three other films to get the coveted (in my own mind and no one else's) four-star rating.  If I was to list the films in order of preference, it would go like this:

True Stories
Walkabout
Picnic at Hanging Rock
Mystery Train
Barry Lyndon
The 400 Blows
Minority Report
The Last Seduction
Dark City
Gone With the Wind
Blood Simple
A Fistful of Dollars
Chinatown
Gosford Park
In the Mood for Love
Great Expectations
The Seventh Seal
Five Corners
Eraserhead
Clueless
The Brood
Belle de Jour
Blow Out
Godzilla
The Graduate
The Hidden Fortress
The Third Man
The Adjuster
8 1/2
Casino

And now for a few words about what I've learned from the 30 Flicks.  I intentionally picked films that sounded like they would challenge me, taking me out of my comfort zone of '70s and '80s horror films that I've watched almost exclusively for well over a decade now.  They say that you're not learning if you're not fucking up, and films that fuck your world up are the ones that make you learn.  I touched on this in my Overture post, but it bears repeating: modern cinema isn't challenging.  It is completely safe and politically correct to a point that I can't believe any of the auteurs of the past who made it a point to thumb their nose at conventional thinking could possibly approve of it.  Modern film and television is amazingly shallow.  They're safe products designed to not offend people and turn a profit...and that's pretty much it.  There were elements in every one of the 30 Flicks that went deeper than the surface; even in the ones that I strongly disliked, they made me think.

Good cinema is timeless.  They can teach us things seemingly from beyond the grave, with subsequent generations finding meaning in them that could not possibly have been gleamed from the audience they were designed for.  There were times where I saw parallels to today's world in some of these films, and this discovery confirmed a suspicion that I've had for the last few years that yesteryear's progressive thought has now turned decidedly regressive.  The same people who were once champions of blue collar workers, free speech and color-blindness are now all about corporate power, censorship and diversity quotas.  In addition, virtually all of the messages being conveyed in entertainment today are carefully engineered.  In the films that I watched, the themes and points were enjoyably subtle.  They left things up to the viewer for interpretation, presenting us with characters and situations that garnered audience empathy as a way for the film-maker to say what they wanted to say.  So this goes out to everyone who argues with memes on Facebook - embrace art, not politics, because art changes minds.  Politics just destroy your soul.  The proof?  It has destroyed entertainment.

Finally, these 30 Flicks reinforced something that I learned a long, long time ago, starting with the Roger Ebert books that set this entire story in motion:  pay attention to a movie's opening credits, particularly to the name that comes after "Directed by."  I'm a big supporter of actors; when I dislike a film, the actors are usually the last people I'll blame, because they do the best they can with what they're given.  But a director, a film-maker, is the person who makes a film what it is.  The director has the vision and executes what is laid out in the technical document known as a screenplay, adding their own personality and flair.  I have something like 200 films on my Criterion Channel watchlist right now, and the ones that I'm seeking out first are the works of Jim Jarmusch, Peter Weir and Francois Truffaut.  I've just written 30 movie reviews, but I can't wait to watch more movies!

My horror blog wasn't heavily read.  Odds are this one won't be, either.  But if it encourages anyone, whether they be family members, my sparse group of friends, or total strangers to venture  beyond the safety of modern content and challenge themselves, I'll call this project a success.  Just because something is old doesn't mean it sucks.  I've lived by this, and it's led to some great discoveries.  Challenge yourself, make some of your own discoveries, and thanks for reading!

Tuesday, October 12, 2021 Minority Report (2002) at October 12, 2021

 

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Starring Tom Cruise, Colin Farrell, Samantha Morton, Neal McDonough, Peter Stormare and Max von Sydow

Here we are, at long last.  The final film of 30 Flicks with Lick.  Another film that topped out Roger Ebert's end-of-year Best Films list (this time for 2002), a big-budget science fiction film from the most successful director of all time and starring probably the most famous actor in the world.  Minority Report was a film that had enormous buzz at its release and was a massive hit.  For whatever reason, it has faded into relative obscurity since then.  I still remember the gargantuan pile of unsold DVDs at my local ShopKo, and wondering how a movie that did so well theatrically and had such a cool DVD could sit on the shelves and collect dust.  I wanted to see the film then, but kept putting it off.  And putting it off.  And putting it off some more, until brainstorming a particular project designed to make me see films that I had never seen before finally made me stop putting it off.

Steven Spielberg is essentially the man who perfected modern film-making.  He accomplished this to a point that you can also make a compelling case that he ruined cinema, by creating the blockbuster formula and drawing so much money with his films that an entire generation of studio executives would take his template and remove all the difficult steps that went into his movies, like character arcs and imagination, in favor of the action that the bigwigs believed was the draw.  But it can't take away from just how adept this man was at connecting with audiences.  Jaws is my favorite film of all time, a story that comes as close to perfection as a film can possibly get.  From Indiana Jones to Jurassic Park, he's done it all.  With Minority Report, Spielberg took a deep script from Jon Cohen and gave it his trademark Spielberg Glow (credit to Joe Bob Briggs for that term).

The film opens with the kind of opening sequence that Spielberg has perfected when it comes to grabbing your attention.  Jaws began with Chrissy Watkins getting devoured in the water, Jurassic Park had the unnamed guard getting mauled by a raptor, Raiders had the sequence in a South American cave.  Here, we pay witness to D.C. cop John Anderton (Cruise) going to his place of work and arresting a jealous husband before he can kill his wife.  The scene is simultaneously a thrilling opening and an introduction to the ingenious premise that author Philip K. Dick laid out.  In this future world of 2054, Anderton works for the "PreCrime" division.  Utilizing three omniscient psychics, the powers-that-be are able to deduce murderers before they commit their murders and apprehend them.  This leads to a lot of technobabble in the early goings of the film that comes dangerously close to going overboard but doesn't quite jump off.

The character of Anderton is reasonably well fleshed.  He is given a tragic back story in the disappearance of his son and the breakup of his marriage, information given to us via a few holographic memories before the real plot of the film comes into motion.  The psychics send forth their latest projection (in wooden ball form, no less) - a murder committed by Anderton.  This news is greeted with great glee by Danny Witwer (Colin Farrell, back when it looked like he was just about to become Tom Cruise-level famous), smarmy DOJ agent who has a strong bias against the PreCrime program.

The concept of Minority Report is a home run, and the script makes genuine attempts to explore it.  There are extended breaks where we gain additional background information on what led to the creation of PreCrime.  First and foremost is a visit to the inventor of PreCrime.  This sequence is similar to the early technospeak in that it almost grinds the movie to a screeching halt but ends just before it can. The scene serves a purpose, leading Anderton to abduct the most powerful of the three psychics (dubbed "Precogs" in the film) in an attempt to prove his innocence.  There is also a long sidebar where Anderton visits one of his former arrests (Peter Stormare, who is always aces) who must give him an illegal eye transplant.  I will admit that I do not understand why this guy helped Anderton out, since he spent time in prison and now makes his living as an ILLEGAL EYE SURGEON.  Maybe there was something that I missed?  Possibly.

I also haven't even talked about the fact that this is an action movie.  Essentially, the film is a fugitive story, with Anderton on the run and evading his captors by any means necessary.  The initial chase sequence through an empty warehouse (or something that looks remarkably like an empty warehouse) is great stuff, although it does show the first use of shakicam cinematography in a Spielberg film that I can place.  We've crossed over into the 21st century, and it made me a little sad.  However, the movie is much more restrained than the Rob Cohen and Michael Bay megadoom flicks and the films inspired by them that would eventually take over the action landscape.  The camera work is kinetic, but it flows with the momentum of the events and doesn't, you know, give you goddamn sensory overload.

It goes without saying that the movie has a very heady theme, one that seems downright prophetic when we look at today's brave new world.  The film was released not even a year after we got the Patriot Act, a piece of legislation granting the U.S. government frightening power to spy on its citizeny that was much reviled...but still passed overwhelmingly in Congress both initially and when it was up for extension in 2019.  Over the past 18 months, we've seen many real-life unconstitutional measures being enacted in the name of safety.  Finally, we have courts made up of private citizens on social media websites who determine what is and isn't appropriate speech/opinion.  Many of these things can be interpreted from the film as contemporary versions of PreCrime.  Folks, any sentence that starts with "I'm all for Freedom, but..." or "I'm all for free speech, but..." is one that you should immediately distrust.  This film carries that as its central message.  Safety is important, yes, but so is freedom and, more importantly, free will.

From an execution standpoint, the film is also strikingly done.  A drak and gray color palette is utilized throughout, and while we get some amazing pieces of fictional CGI technology in this future world, there are also times where the future of 2054 looks remarkably like our own.  It's an interesting juxtaposition, a symbol f how some things stay the same no matter how much the cosmetics may change.  The acting is also almost uniformly great, especially by Cruise, who turns in his usual superstar performance in his first collaboration with Spielberg.  I've never thought of the guy as a particularly great actor, but he knows how to pick projects that get the most out of his ability without stretching it too far.  Here, he plays a guy who goes through a very real and personal redemption story, and he pulls it off perfectly.  So +2 points to the guy here, along with his stunt double.

Rating time: *** 1/2 out of ****.  For my money, this was the perfect film to close the project, a thoughtful action film swept in just before action films went completely to hell, with a fascinating central idea and a moral lesson for days.  Check this one out.

Monday, October 11, 2021 Goodbye, Mr. Bond at October 11, 2021

 

Various YouTube channels that I follow have been posting videos lately with some very similar titles.  A whole slew of “Nice knowing you, Bond” and “R.I.P. Bond” posts, all of which being responses to the latest cinematic offering in the venerable franchise, No Time to Die.  These guys and gals are all up in arms at the moment, crying foul about the latest big-budget movie release in a long running series to go full woke and tell an existing fan base to screw in order to appease the Twitter PC gods who now rule the universe.  And while I’m entertained by these creators and would love to join in the chorus, I just have to say…where were you until now?  They've been killing this character for 15 years.

Thanksgiving Day, 2006.  I was in my final semester of college, nearing the end of a period of my life that still qualify as my darkest days.  I remember getting back to where I was living then after a nice turkey lunch and with a long night in front of me, and a light bulb going off in my head when I realized that there was a new James Bond film in theaters.  But not just any new James Bond film.  A new JAMES BOND, period.  Pierce Brosnan was out and Daniel Craig was in, and this was a movie that had some amazing advance buzz conveying that this incredibly prolific, incredibly successful franchise was about to raise the bar even higher.

Those were my expectations when I watched Casino Royale that day.  I expected the best Bond ever, based on everything I had heard.  What I got was something very different from what I expected.  It was certainly a competently made thriller, with nothing to complain about from a scripting or film-making standpoint.  But I remember walking out of the theater that day feeling that something was off.  In the ensuing days, I played the movie over numerous times in my mind, picking up more instances of occasions where the story COULD have given us one of the series’ classic tropes but intentionally chose to go a different direction for no other reason than the fact it could.  Did I…not like this movie?

Want to know something that I can acknowledge as extremely stupid in retrospect?  I was in denial over how I felt about this movie for the next two years.  I couldn’t not like this movie.  I mean, it was Bond!  There were conversations with friends during this time where I would voice some of my critiques of Casino Royale and then rationalize them away, telling myself that this was just the setup movie in a new series that would surely rock my world the next time around.  At one point, there was an honest friend who interrupted one of these soliloquys with “dude, you clearly did not like this movie.  Why are you convincing yourself that you did?”  Once again, I rationalized the astute observation away.

I did a pretty good job of it, too, because I remember that familiar excitement being back in my mind when the follow-up film Quantum of Solace neared its release date.  Surely, this film would tie everything together from the first movie and give us something we all could cheer for.  And it was sitting in the theater watching that film that something inside me finally snapped.  "What the fuck is this?" I thought to myself.  "This isn't James Bond!"  It was drab, it was uninspired, it was filled with uninteresting side characters and villains, it was populated with that ridiculous shaki-cam that all modern action films have fallen in love with.  Oh, and Q and Moneypenny were still nowhere to be found.  I gave this series one more shot in 2012, and while I found Skyfall to be an improvement, I was done watching the mental anguish of a character who was never meant to be anything more than a male projection fantasy.

Ordinarily, this is where I would be posting a movie review.  There will be no review of No Time to Die, and the reason for that is simple.  I refuse to watch it.  And to anybody who wants to stampede in here and call me a raging -istophobe who won't give this movie a chance because it tries to replace Bond with a black chick, I genuinely could not care less about that.  I never watched Spectre, either.  As far as I'm concerned, race- and gender-swapping is the least of the problems when it comes to these films.

We’re seeing a lot of think-piece articles right now on the legacy of the Daniel Craig era of James Bond films.  To me, that legacy will forever be one of betrayal.  I had been a huge Bond fan for many years by the time that Craig came along, watching all of the Connery and Moore classics in middle school, lapping up each Brosnan film at the multiplex on multiple occasions.  Why?  Because these films were FUN, in every sense of the word.  They were funny, both intentionally and unintentionally.  They were preposterous, with their impossibly awe-inspiring world of international espionage and ridiculously hot women who somehow always wound up attached to these major world political situations.  They were memorable, with their over-the-top villains and intricate Q gadgets that 007 got to test out in the field each time out.  More than anything, this character was an unapologetic male icon, one that every guy watching – myself included – could watch and fantasize about what it would be like to have this life.

The Craig films stripped all of that away.  They came along and told us that this guy, this character, was nothing worth getting behind or cheering for.  They took a patriotic, stealthy ladies’ man and turned him into an emo sourpuss.  They made the mantle of James Bond into a curse.  The fun, the humor, the gadgets, the women…yes, they were all gone, but it went deeper than that.  These films subverted your expectations by every definition of that term.  They came, and they perverted the series with laser-like focus, sniping away every franchise hallmark and comforting thing that you had come to expect.  This was clear to me by the time I had finished watching Skyfall.  If this was Bond 2.1, I preferred Bond 1.0.

Inevitably, someone always comes along right about now and says that art needs to evolve and that things can’t stay the same forever.  I agree.  The series had successfully reinvented itself multiple times over before Daniel Craig came along.  Let’s just look at the last great James Bond renaissance, when GoldenEye was released in 1995 after a six-year hiatus.  The film has clever dialogue scenes that comment on Bond’s place in a changing world, how the Cold War is over and the character is a relic of the past, but it presents us with a compelling situation and villain where Bond is needed once again to save the world for free democracy.  Most importantly, the character of Bond himself was unchanged; he still had the funny quips, the cool Q gizmos, and his way with the ladies.  This was how to adapt a familiar property to a new era, and I find no reason why this method could not have been utilized in the mid-‘00s.  James Bond resonates in any era.  Hell, right now, the wiseass, ladykilling James Bond might be needed more than ever.

The world needs escapism.  That is what entertainment is supposed to be, a portal out of the real world and a ticket to something much more interesting and wonderful.  This is what the James Bond films were until 2006.  But it's not even 2006 anymore.  Unfortunately, we live in 2021, where escapism is not allowed.  In 2021, everything must be punishment, and this mindset has taken over every major franchise like a virus.  Terminator, Ghostbusters, Star Wars, Star Trek, even the Marvel movies.  In that regard, Casino Royale really was a movie ahead of its time.  Given that the Bond franchise was, at that point, the longest-running stalwart in motion picture history, it really shouldn’t surprise me at all that it was the first target marked for destruction.  Well, they succeeded by every measure.  So I guess what I'm really trying to say is…Goodbye, Mr. Bond.  It was nice knowing you.

Gosford Park (2001) at October 11, 2021

 

Directed by Robert Altman

Starring Eileen Atkins, Bob Balaban, Alan Bates, Charles Dance, Stephen Fry, Michael Gambon, Richard E. Grant, Derek Jacobi, Kelly Macdonald, Helen Mirren, Jeremy Northam, Clive Owen, Ryan Phillippe, Maggie Smith, Kristin Scott Thomas and Emily Watson

I can enjoy films of any genre.  That much has been established 29 films deep into the project.  I'm a horror fan first and foremost, but I'm also keen on dramas, comedies (back when they were legal), action films (back when they were coherent)...hell, even romances, as established by the previous film In the Mood for Love.  If it has a solid structure, satisfying character arcs and hooks me emotionally, I'm in regardless of what a film set out to accomplish.  Regardless of the genre, however, one type of film has always been a tough sell for me: large cast ensemble pieces.  

Gosford Park was directed by Robert Altman, a man who specialized in films with abnormally large casts of characters.  I've seen a decent number of his greatest hits, and the majority of them share a few common themes.  From M*A*S*H to McCabe & Mrs. Miller to Nashville to even Popeye, the Altman method of making a film is to take a script, casually toss it aside, throw everything up to his actors when it comes to characterization and build a community.  As a result, his films are extremely unconventional and at times even sloppy, but he has a great gift when it comes to creating film characters that stick with you after the ending credits.  Gosford Park is Altman to the letter, with the central plot point of two distinct large groups of characters under one roof and a murder mystery.  As per usual, there is no clear-cut plot beats or traditional character development.  We're thrown in as mere observers, for better or worse.

The setup for Gosford Park is simple.  We are placed in early 1930s England where a group of aristocratic people are gathering at the home of William McCordle (Michael Gambon) and his wife Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas) for a shooting excursion.  The execution of that setup is where the movie becomes an extremely complex, layered tale, with a massive collection of rich folks arriving at the home.  It does me little to no good to list all of their names; I'm not going to go so far as to say that they are interchangeable, but there is a remarkable samey quality to the endless parade of Countesses, Lords and Ladys that populate the film.  The movie saves its deeper traits for the army of servants that the stuffy people bring with them, a number just as big as the first group who are quartered downstairs and not allowed to cross the barrier into the sacred tabernacle of upstairs where their masters sleep.

The movie subverted my expectations with just how LONG it takes to build to the actual murder of William McCordle.  It occurs more than halfway into the film's 137-minute running time, after we have been given a few possible motivations from people who might want McCordle dead.  There is Anthony Meredith (Tom Hollander), who finds himself financially ruined when William withdraws from a business deal.  There is Rupert Standish (Laurence "Based" Fox), boyfriend of the McCordle's certifiably hot daughter (Camilla Rutherford) who is worried that he may not meet the family's stiff standards for a son-in-law.  The other man who stood out to be as a possible suspect to me was Robert Parks (Clive Owen), the films' resident rebel without a cause who has an attitude and a certain moral code.  Since he is also played by the most famous person in the cast at the time this movie was released, that also counts for some points in the killer pool.

Once the mysterious figure has knifed McCordle, the movie becomes a bit more streamlined.  If there is one type of character that the British love, it's bumbling detectives, and Stephen Fry plays a great one here.  For my money, the best scene in the entire film is the introduction of this character, where Sylvia introduces all of the guests to the detective and interrupts him every time he tries to speak.  It's one of those little things that is hard to pick up on, but if you do, it spells out the entire meaning of the film better than any dialogue ever can.  Show, don't tell.  Great stuff.  The investigators uncover that McCordle was actually murdered twice, as it were, being initially poisoned before we see a mysterious figure essentially stab a corpse.  

All of the fun in a movie like this isn't actually in the identities of the killer (or killers, in the case of this film).  It's in the journey to get there, and Gosford Park is a movie that gets stronger as it goes along.  The final 45 minutes concern the economics of the death, with Meredith finding himself ironically saved by the death of his rival and the various plays that are made on Isobel for her inheritance - or lack thereof.  There is a pair of effective scenes as Mary (Kelly Macdonald) deduces the entire plot all by herself.  While there are always things going on in the background, this character is really the centerpiece of the film.  She is the Winston Zeddemore of Gosford Park, the everyperson who takes the audience along for the ride and spells things out.

I'll admit that I spent the early portions of this film desperately trying to think of other things to do.  The group of characters is so large that I gave up very quickly on trying to learn all of their names, their occupations, who was a servant of who and the sexual underpinnings of some of the relationships.  Boredom was creeping in mightily quick, and I already had my synonyms for that word holstered as that description is one that I have virulently tried to avoid using throughout the 30 Flicks.  The narrative was giving me no central protagonist, no hook to bite into as it were.

That changed as soon as the murder took place.  Altman did something very uncharacteristic for him and calmed down.  The constant background conversations muddling the dialogue scenes were dialed back, and I was able to be drawn into this story of class difference and long-standing vengeance.  The film does have likable charcters, first and foremost among them being Mary and Robert.  They are very much a yin-yang duo, two of the people who live below the stairs and have very different outlooks on the people above them.  One is an observer, the other has a very personal stake.  Saying that alone is probably a spoiler, so I apologize, but it's how the film reaches its conclusions about humanity rather than what actions of humanity are presented.  

Rating time: *** out of ****.  Gosford Park starts slow, but give it time and this will be a rewarding watch.  I also wanted to post a video of Ryan Phillippe's horrendous Scottish accent but couldn't find one, so here's Kelly Macdonald and the man who should be hosting The Late Show right now being very, very Scottish:

Sunday, October 10, 2021 In the Mood for Love (2000) at October 10, 2021

 

Directed by Wong Kar-wai

Starring Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung

I'm...not a fan of romances.  Which is shocking, I know.  You're reading (but probably not) a guy who's written something like 400 reviews of horror movies.  I enjoy romance as a part of other genres, your actions and your dramas and your comedies (except for specifically designed romantic comedies - those things are the spawn of the devil) and even your horrors.  Because The Fly rules!  But the truth remains that I'm unmarried, extremely jaded and extremely unlucky-in-love.  Thus, there's nothing that pisses me off faster than the bad fanfic Twilight and the bad fanfic version of the bad fanfic 50 Shades of Gray.  Ick.  Just keep it away.

So, here we are with a true-blue romantic film.  The first and last of the project, and one of the most praised movies of the 2000s.  Seriously, look up the Rotten Tomatoes page for In the Mood for Love and you'll read some of the most over-the-top fappening of the mouth that you ever done will read.  You can definitely tell that I'm writing this review in a severely sleep-deprived state.  Anyway, this movie was released in 2000, a joint French-Hong Kong production directed by Wong Kar-wai.  Normally, this is the part where I go through the director's filmography and talk about other films that I'd seen of theirs, but in this case, I got nothing.  I did know of this film in a very special way, however, via a book by Mystery Science Theater 3000 producer/writer/puppeteer Kevin Murphy called A Year at the Movies where he recounts his hilarious experience watching this movie, falling asleep three times, and finding the movie so repetitive that he initially thought he'd slept through the whole thing and was watching it again.  That was what I thought I was in for with this flick.  Lo and behold, I actually liked it.

In the Mood for Love is is an exercise in minimalism, a movie where the setup, execution and payoff are all done in a way that wastes as few beats as possible.  There are only two characters of real consequence within the film.  The first one we meet is Su (Maggie Cheung), also known as Mrs. Chan, who has just moved into an apartment with her sometimes heard but never seen husband.  Almost simultaneously, Mr. Chow (Tony Leung) moves into the same complex with his rarely seen and rarely heard wife.  Most romantic films tend to pile on side characters, and this movie has its fair share (coworkers, bosses, neighbors, etc.), but they're all window dressing to Su and Chow.  This movie is all about being lean and mean, and the screenplay trims all the fat around its main story.

The first act of the film is a series of vignettes showing the two characters piecing together that their respective spouses are, in fact, sleeping together.  This leads to the initial conversation between Su and Chow where they do something other than exchange courtly greetings - but not what you think.  One line that I remember vividly from Kevin Murphy's review of this film in his book was that any American movie would have them humping like rabbits at this point, and he's right.  Nothing in this film is quick and easy.

Writer/Director Kar-wai shows great invention at this point with how to present the story he wants to tell.  The most important word in that title is "Mood," and he milks it for all it's worth.  At the beginning of their friendship/romance, Su and Chow act out the parts of their counterparts, performing the scenes that they imagine in their mind as their unseen cheating spouses make their initial moves.  This breaks the ice, and from here the relationship slowly builds to the pair developing a strong bond.  Chow is an aspiring writer who has given up on that dream but enlists Su's help in coming up with a martial arts serial.  They wind up renting a hotel room to write together so as not to rouse the suspicions of their neighbors.  Considering how Maggie Cheung looks in those amazing form-fitting dresses, +2 points to Chow for his sticking to the duo's "we're not going to be like them" moral commitment.

The film continues to pile on the mood, with the characters clearly showing their romantic interest in each other without ever saying a word.  It's all about glances and occasional hand holds - that's how much adherence the script pays to its formula of restraint.  The narrative takes some sudden twists, with Chow getting a job in Singapore and asking Su if she wants to come with him.  Spoiler alert: she doesn't, and the rest of the film deals with this near-miss and what could have been.  The movie flashes forward in time twice, leading up to a conclusion that goes on for eons but serves as a fitting closure to what we've seen for the last 90 minutes.  Su and Chow are the equivalents of two people passing each other in the night.  Heavy-handed, yes, but very effective.

When I was watching this film, I couldn't help but think that a person's enjoyment of a movie depends more heavily on where the viewer is in life than people think.  I can think of no better example than Ju-On, my favorite horror film of all time.  I bought a cheap used DVD of this movie sometime in the winter of 2008, just a few months after my brother passed away, and was blown away by the movie's non-linear storytelling and sad-yet-fun tone.  I watched the sequel the next night, and then repeated the whole process again countless times in the ensuing weeks.  Ju-On got me through some tough times, and because of that, I don't know if I'll ever like another movie as much as that one.  I think that if I saw In the Mood for Love at that same time, I likely would have hated it, viewing it as a maudlin and frustrating story that I wanted no part of.

But this isn't 2008.  It's 2021, where I'm 38, lonely, and feeling some occasional bouts of longing myself.  As a result, this movie connected with me.  This bias was enough to make me look deeper into the film than just its surface level as a romantic film that takes place in 1960s Hong Kong.  I was able to see the wonderful performances by the two leads and the moral and emotional dilemmas that they go through.  The cinematography is also top notch, painting everything in a strangely colorful palette for such a dreary and somber film - first and foremost the floral dresses worn by Cheung.  The film is pleasing to look at, but it goes deeper than surface beauty and makes you want to see what comes next for its main characters.  This is a film that will get you invested.

Rating time: *** out of ****.  This definitely isn't my type of film, and that might be the heaviest praise of all since it was able to hold my interest and get me to care.  Maybe things would have turned out differently for Su and Chow if one of them had broken this out:

Saturday, October 9, 2021 Dark City (1998) at October 09, 2021

 

Directed by Alex Proyas

Starring Rufus Sewell, Kiefer Sutherland, Jennifer Connelly, Richard O'Brien, Ian Richardson and William Hurt

I will admit to cheating somewhat with this review.  This was actually my THIRD attempt at watching this film.  It's not like I disliked the flick and gave up on it - far from it.  The first time was during my college years, when I sat down to begin watching it and got called away to go to work.  For whatever reason, I just never came back to it.  Flash forward several years, when I was staying over at a friend's house with the movie on in the background.  I was insanely tired and slept through the entire thing, waking up only to see the movie's finale.  So the film's middle 100 minutes were a complete mystery to me until now.

Dark City is one of the most famous cult movies of all time, a film that garnered a great deal of buzz among my circle of middle school friends when it was released in early 1998 and was promptly in and out of theaters, barely covering its budget at the box office.  It topped Roger Ebert's list of his best films of 1998, and is one of the movies that was probably saved from obscurity due to interference from the eponymous critic.  Such high-profile praise resulted in people slowly picking up on it and the film gradually gaining the following that it enjoys today.  It is the brainchild of writer-director Alex Proyas, the man behind the similarly dark-themed The Crow and I, Robot.  I don't consider Dark City to be a near-perfect film, but it is highly enjoyable, he kind of movie that sticks with you long after the ending credits have rolled.  How so?  Well, allow the Strangers to put you under so I can tell you.

At its core, the movie is a neo-noir film that features that most cherished of all neo-noir mystery tropes - an unnamed protagonist waking up with no memory of who he is.  Our lead character is John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell).  He's in a bathtub, disheveled, and completely unaware of his prior life and what brought him to this particular squalid apartment.  He also discovers a murdered woman in the room and a nearby blade that was no doubt used to do the deed before running off into the night.  It's a trope for a reason, because it generally works.  Discovering who someone is - especially your main character - is a tried-and-true way of getting the audience invested into the action.

Fortunately, it's not just a trope in Dark City.  Memory is the key theme of the film, and all of the craziness that ensues is connected to it somehow.  Murdoch is being trailed by the Strangers, flying super-beings with telekinetic powers who seem to be controlling everything that goes on in the city.  The lead stranger is played by Richard O'Brien, Riff Raff himself from Rocky Horror, and he is a splendid and memorable lead villain.  As John goes on the run and getting to know the other people inhabiting this world, he gleams that no one in town can really remember their past with any detail.  It isn't exactly a leap of faith to figure that the bald black-cloaked bad guys are somehow involved.

While Murdoch makes for an engaging lead, the movie shines with its side characters.  First and foremost among these is Dr. Daniel Schreber, played by Kiefer Sutherland in what I consider to be his best onscreen performance.  Yes, better than Jack Bauer, and I know from experience because I watched the first seven seasons of 24 religiously (I refuse to watch the last, because I'm 100% certain that I will hate how it ends).  He's very reminiscent of Peter Lorre in his mannerisms, speaking in stilted patterns and skulking around like R.N. Renfield as he assists the Strangers while also granting occasional hints to Murdoch about who and where he is.  William Hurt is also great as a police inspector tracking a serial killer who has bumped off several of the city's prostitutes, and believes Murdoch may be the man responsible.  Murdoch's would-be wife Emma is also an interesting character, although I found Jennifer Connelly's performance to be a little underwhelming.  Come to think of it, I'm ALWAYS underwhelmed by Connelly.  While she is strikingly beautiful, she always seems bored and almost annoyed to be acting in movies.  Is it just me?  Probably.

Caution: spoilers ahead.  As the movie progresses, bits and pieces of the mystery are revealed to the audience.  The Strangers are actually extraterrestrial beings who use the bodies of dead humans as their vessels, and the entire city is in fact an experiment to find the individuality of the human spirit.  The sun never comes up in the city, and this is by design.  Every night at midnight, the inhabitants' memories are erased and swapped, with the buildings being altered according to the Strangers' whims as they search for humanity's core.  Murdoch is the Neo of the film, a guy who has acquired the power to be able to resist the changes and must utilize his talents to stop them.  Did The Matrix rip this movie off?  Probably.

The premise demands that almost the entire running time of Dark City takes place at night.  This is a motif that can either work really well to serve a film's atmosphere (Escape from New York) or be a major hindrance (Highlander II).  This movie is an example of the former.  Proyas is a really skilled director, a savant when it comes to the visual style that was looking for with the film, and he creates a world that rivals Tim Burton's Gotham City in terms of sheer atmosphere.  It's a world of shadows and steam that seems to be retrograded to a modernized version of the 1930s, and it is a character in and of itself.  It is broken up only occasionally by some brief bits of bad CGI.  The climax of the film is an epic fight high above the city that should have been thrilling but made my eyes glaze over because what I was watching looked far too much like a modern Marvel film.  Had this scene been done with practical effects, it would have undoubtedly carried more punch.

Everyone in this movie gave it their all, but I walked away from Dark City thinking that this was undoubtedly Sutherland's movie.  Sewell is also interesting as a hero with no actual heroic qualities, as everything that he thinks he remembers could all just be imprinted into his brain.  This guy clearly had the goods to be a much bigger star than he turned out to be.  I can only surmise that it was his name that held him back - Rufus.  It's just a not a cool name, and this is coming from a guy whose last name is Lickness.  If this dude changed his first name to Michael, I'd be willing to bet that he'd own his own solid gold island by now.  Really, though, the characters of the film are secondary to the premise that it throws at you and the world that it creates - but NOT in the way that it overwhelms you with a bunch of senseless gobbledygook.  It knows when to slow down and simplify.  This is the film that Christopher Nolan's films all attempt to be but fail at.

Rating time: *** 1/2 out of ****.  It's occasionally illogical and clunky, but you don't watch a movie like this for biting realism.  This flick has inspiration, creativity, and villains that are almost as creepy as this guy:

Friday, October 8, 2021 Casino (1995) at October 08, 2021

 

Directed by Martin Scorsese

Starring Robert De Niro, Sharon Stone, Joe Pesci, Don Rickles, Kevin Pollak and James Woods

In my review of The Third Man, I briefly talked about the love affair that critics have with crime dramas.  For the life of me, I've never understood why this subgenre gets SUCH praise from the high-minded intelligentsia responsible for those holy Rotten Tomatoes numbers.  I've never understood it and likely never will.  It's strange, in a way, because I'm a huge true crime buff who loves reading about serial killers and the grisly details associated with them.  But yet, films about life in the mafia leave me eternally cold.  In book form, the author can be a partial observer, giving you glimpses into the minds of bad people.  The films, though, come across to me as painful chores.  Film is visual, and watching people make bad choices and do bad things over and over and over until their eventual poetic justice moment is the cinematic equivalent of beating me over the head with a sledgehammer.  

There are no directors who personify this more than Martin Scorsese.  He's considered the greatest living film-maker, and from a technical standpoint I can't debate this very much.  I've seen a decent amount of his films and even enjoyed some of them.  Taxi Driver is undoubtedly my favorite, a movie that presents us with a strangely likable psychopath in Travis Bickle and drops us into his life.  It's one of my favorite movies of all time.  I initially hated Raging Bull, but now appreciate it much more as a character study of a guy who has the ability to do great things and squanders it because of his violent jealousy.  GoodFellas is even good fun for what it is.  The rest I can more or less forget, none moreso than The Last Temptation of Christ, a.k.a. the movie with the unintended hilarity of Harvey Keitel braying out lines as Judas Iscariot with his thick Brooklyn accent.   

Casino - the 1995 film that followed Mean Streets and GoodFellas in his pantheon of movies about the Mafia - is more of the same, a hopelessly repetitive 180-minute slog of bad people doing bad things.  Our lead bad guy here is Sam "Ace" Rothstein, professional gambler and handicapper who is so successful at what he does that the Chicago mob sends him to Vegas to run the newly-opened Tangiers Casino.  If you've seen Robert DeNiro in any mob movie going all the way back to The Godfather Part II, you know what to expect with this character.  He's a hard-nosed dude who expects everyone to worship him for his ability to make money by any means necessary and gets very mad when people don't.  Having said that, no one plays the role better, and I respect the hell out of this guy's acting commitment, no matter how much of an insufferable ivory tower douche he has become in recent years.  Separating the art from the artist has never been harder for me than it is with him, but it can be done.

Casinos are a dirty business.  They're designed by the very laws of probability to take your money, and Sam is all about the money, baby.  The movie throws in additional spice via the two main side characters.  First is Nicky Santoro, with Joe Pesci playing Joe Pesci once again as a short man who can beat up anyone he meets and has a temper that makes Gordon Ramsay envious.  He serves as the muscle to Sam's casino operation, and his criminal activities eventually bring law enforcement to the Tangiers.  The other character is Ginger McKee, played by Sharon Stone in what I found to be a very overblown and melodramatic performance.  She was pitch-perfect in Basic Instinct; I don't understand how this is supposed to be the pinnacle of her acting career.  The character is a hustler who Sam falls in love with and eventually marries, leading to all sorts of wonderful scenes involving domestic squabbles and cocaine use.  Everything eventually builds up to bad news for Sam, who winds up losing everything in his empire.  The end.

When compiling my notes for this review, it occurred to me that it does me no use to talk about the plot of this film and bitch about why I don't like it.  Instead, I'm going to try something different.  I want to dive deep and try to explain WHY critics have such a boner for movies like this.  Why are films like Casino, GoodFellas and The Godfather so highly regarded?  

I can't deny that these films are well-made.  Starting with Francis Ford Coppola's execution of Mario Puzos' source material in The Godfather, the movies are almost universally beautifully shot and executed.  They're also very well-done in the planning stages.  From a screenplay standpoint, the famous crime drama movies have an intricate structure that demands the attention of the viewer, rewarding you for listening intently to the dialogue and picking out the traits of each main character.  Which are usually hot tempers and drug use.  The acting in these films are almost universally wonderful, with Bobby D, Joey P and company diving fully into their Strasberg method manuals and inhabiting the characters that do these bad things.

But they are just SO amazingly redundant, even with what I can acknowledge to be their good qualities.  Let's go through a typical crime drama formula.  We meet an opportunistic character when they are on the borderline of the criminal world and see them get initiated into that world.  The character or characters commit their first bad deeds, maybe even being slightly put off by it but easily seduced by the money and power perks that their new profession provides.  The film's ever-present, grating voice-over introduces us to a vast network of hired goons and professionals associated with the main character as they dive headlong into their new lifestyle, picking up a drug or alcohol habit while also cheating on their spouses and violently threatening anyone who is a minor inconvenience to their position of power.  It is because of these vices that the character is eventually either killed, imprisoned or totally alone, a lesson in the dangers of greed and giving in to your id.

  

That outline, which fits almost every crime drama that I've seen, is Casino.  It hits the beats just like all of the films that came before and after.  They run counter to the traditional hero's journey narrative that most films take, and I can only guess that this is the reason why critics publicly applaud these films to such a degree.  They're different, and when your job is to see as many movies as possible, different must undoubtedly be good.  This mindset is understandable.  And it's for this reason why, for as much as I personally have never been a big fan of Martin Scorsese, I believe that he's totally right about Marvel movies, because every single one of those goddamn things is the same way more than mob movies ever will be.

Rating time: * out of ****.  Casino is wonderfully shot, executed, and acted.  But I just have to ask, what is the value here?  I repeatedly said, out loud, "alright, WE GET IT!" while watching this film.  For the record, this is my least favorite film in the project thus far.

Thursday, October 7, 2021 Clueless (1995) at October 07, 2021

 

Directed by Amy Heckerling

Starring Alicia Silverstone, Stacey Dash, Brittany Murphy, Paul Rudd, Dan Hedaya, Wallace Shawn, Donald Faison, Justin Walker, Breckin Meyer and Jeremy Sisto

Teen movies.  When I was a teen - which really doesn't seem like all that long ago, since I'm a member of a generation of overgrown man-children anyway - the cinema landscape was being peppered with these things.  Classic boner comedies like American Pie (cutting out the 17,000 unnecessary sequels and reboots), Road Trip and Eurotrip were always fun destinations for Friday nights at the multiplex.  Overall, I feel that a good film where a group of kids either goes on a cross-country trip or throws a big party is a necessity at least every few years.  So go figure that this is one of the subgenres of film that has more or less completely vanished over the years.  Because they're fun, and fun is something to be ashamed of and feel guilty about in 2021.

It struck me while watching Clueless - amazingly for the first time - that this particular film may have come out just a bit too early in my life.  I wasn't interested in it at all upon release, since all of the resident popular girls in my grade immediately gravitated to it and I wanted nothing to do with anything that they were into.  Yes, my days of being a general social outcast and dickhead go back pretty far.  It's kind of a shame, because I think if I had seen the film in middle school, I likely would have really loved it.  It's got Alicia Silverstone in her prime, and wow was she a looker back in the day.  It's also got the type of dialogue that I can easily commit to memory and a rocking soundtrack of '90s pop rock.

Alas, despite all of those positives, the movie did not quite live up to the lofty expectations I had for it as a curmudgeonly 38-year-old man.  Enough wishwash.  Let's get to the plot.

Clueless is a film that has a very clear protagonist - Cher Horowitz (Silverstone), who might just be onscreen for every scene.  Early on in the film, we learn essentially everything we need to know about this character via a series of comic vignettes that show us the daily life of this Beverly Hills high school student and an omnipresent voice-over that clues us in on all of the rest.  Pun not intended.  The character is a classic valley girl ditz, from the "as if" catchphrases that dot her speech to the very loud mid-'90s fashions.  Her father Mel (Dan Hedaya) is a wealthy litigator, meaning that Cher lives in a gigantic mansion and has a tricked-out Jeep that she drives alone despite only having a learner's permit.  Her best friend Dionne (the incomparably sexy Stacey Dash - and she still is!) is named after a fellow singer who now does infomercials.  Since these are examples of dialogue that I remember after watching the movie, that speaks well for the quality of the conversation scenes.

Cher has a way with talking her way out of situations.  There is an early dilemma in the film where the character receives a low grade that she feels she doesn't deserve.  The script simultaneously shows its invention and contrivance in how she manages to improve the grade as she takes an interest in her unlucky-in-love nerdy teacher (Wallace Shawn, the man who once shared a dinner with Andre).  Discovering that she is adept at playing match-maker, Cher decides to take an interest in some of the other characters in her life.  In between the bouts of walking around, making voice-over quips and going shopping, of course.

First-time viewers initially get the impression that the title of the film comes from the character of Tai Frasier (Brittany Murphy), frumpy new girl at school who becomes Cher's big project to work on.  You know the classic cliche of the makeover montage sequence followed by the recipient of said makeover immediately becoming a knockout that everyone notices?  This would be one of the forefathers of that cliche.  Brittany and Dionne take Tai under her wing, and thus begins a series of romantic interludes as they try to hook Tai up with a popular classmate (Jeremy Sisto) and keep her away from the stereotypical skater boy (Breckin Meyer, an actor who somehow managed to play teens and college kids throughout the entire decade of the '90s) that she seems to match up with much better on paper.  What the title ACTUALLY refers to is Cher herself, as she inserts herself into everybody else's business but has no clue about what she actually wants.  Shakespearian, I tell ya.  In execution, it's a rotating door of party scenes that all kind of feel a bit samey after a while, always accompanied by a catchy musical number designed to help sell that soundtrack album.  

OK, kids, time for a patented Lick Ness Monster side rant.  Whatever happened to soundtrack albums?  And what is the deal with airline food (/Jerry Seinfeld)?  Films used to be much more of an EVENT than they are now, and soundtracks were often a part of the movie experience.  In these times, where 99% of films are referred to as "content," well-thought out soundtracks populated with new songs by current artists designed to be an additional source of revenue are unfortunately a thing of the past.  It's yet another shame of modern cinema, because some of my favorite movies of all time had soundtracks that were a character in and of themselves.  Beverly Hills Cop, Ghostbusters, and The Karate Kid are movies that come to mind.  Some films even took the next step, having a single artist do a single album - think Prince's amazing collection of Batman songs and the Dust Brothers' groovy Fight Club industrial score.  The point?  If done right, an enjoyable soundtrack that fits the atmosphere can do wonders to cement a film in the audience's mind, and this one is no different.  Even if I'm not really that into the movie to begin with.  Spoiler alert.

Before I get into my bitching points with Clueless, let's get to what I enjoyed about it (apart from the soundtrack).  The film was written and directed by Amy Heckerling, a gifted comedienne who has produced other things I have enjoyed.  I really like her earlier teen film Fast Times at Ridgemont High with the exception of that weird rape-abortion subplot that is glossed over like it's no big deal and never mentioned again, and she definitely has a gift for writing funny dialogue.  Clueless is filled with it, as characters come up with similes and metaphors that are about 30 IQ points above their heads.  Not that I'm complaining; there's a ton of quotable lines to be had here.  In addition, the acting is amazing with one notable exception.  This was Silverstone's shot at the title in the mid-'90s, coming off a run as the MTV dream girl in Aerosmith's music videos.  For a brief time following this film, she was THE babe of the moment in Hollywood.  Dash is also great as the likable sidekick, as is Donald Faison as her boyfriend and the always aces Dan Hedaya as the father who has the line of the film.  Hey, just because Sammy Davis Jr. died doesn't mean they're looking for a replacement in the Rat Pack.

My main issue with Clueless, as it is with so many of the other films in this project that I haven't been as fond of, is one of structure.  As the movie enters its second half, it veers off in far too many subplots and directions that don't go anywhere.  As Cher looks at her handiwork, all of whom seem to be so much happier than herself, she decides to get in on the action and look for a boyfriend.  This is where we get the aforementioned Rat Pack wannabe, and this character is unnecessarily goofy and over-the-top.  It's also where Paul Rudd becomes much more involved in the film.  I've liked Rudd in other things, especially as the misanthropic asshole in Wet Hot American Summer, but I didn't like him at all here.  Romantically, he also has less than zero chemistry with Silverstone.  Like, we're talking Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman levels of chemistry here.  As a result, the film's ending sequences comes across really flat.  Oh, and the voice-over.  I liked it at first, but the CONSTANT voice-over got grating to me after awhile.  Mall speak tolerance has reached critical mass.

Rating time: ** 1/2 out of ****.  There are parts of Clueless that I simply adored, and lines that I'll remember for the rest of my life.  From a story standpoint, though, it's kind of a mess.  Tighten this script up just a little bit and you've got an A+ film right here.  With a soundtrack album on repeat.

Wednesday, October 6, 2021 The Last Seduction (1994) at October 06, 2021

 

Directed by John Dahl

Starring Linda Fiorentino, Peter Berg and Bill Pullman

There is no subgenre that I miss more dearly than the erotic thriller.  It undoubtedly peaked with 1992's Basic Instinct, one of the most perfectly scripted and executed films of all time for my money, but there are plenty of other movies that fit this bill that qualify as classics.  The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, Fatal Attraction, Body Heat...it simply doesn't get any better than this stuff, with Joe Eszterhas penning the script and subverting your expectations better than any hack could hope to do today and a soundtrack of enjoyable Cinemax sex jazz.  

For the life of me, I can't understand why the erotic thriller vanished from the face of the Earth.  Other than maybe the fact that movies with budgets between $5 and $200 million aren't allowed to play in theaters anymore.

The Last Seduction is yet another film that has been on my radar for a long time.  Almost a quarter-century, to be exact, when I first read about it in the Ebert companion.  I've obviously seen star Linda Fiorentino in plenty of other things, and what I'd seen of her was no doubt enticing enough to make me want to see this movie.  I was familiar with director John Dahl, with the 1993 crime film Red Rock West and the 1998 poker epic Rounders being personal favorites.  He's a master of gritty neo-noir, and this film was neo-noir at its almost finest.  Originally airing on HBO, the movie gained enough traction and word-of-mouth goodwill that it was eventually released in theaters, becoming one of the most critically-acclaimed films in the incredibly stacked film year of 1994.  Folks, this was a year where Pulp Fiction, Forrest Gump, Natural Born Killers, The Shawshank Redemption and Hoop Dreams were all released, so competition was fierce.  

The film tells the story of Bridget Gregory, played by Fiorentino in a powerful, intense performance.  And wow, is she sexy!  Everything about her, from her perfectly sculpted face to her slim physique to even her voice and body language, she radiates sex with every beat.  She garnered Oscar talk for the role, but amazingly was disqualified due to the film airing on HBO originally.  As the movie begins, Bridget's husband Clay (Bill Pullman) is selling stolen cocaine in an attempt to pay off a loan shark while Bridget pays the bills with her gig as a hard-assed telemarketing supervisor.  An argument breaks out in their apartment, leading to Clay slapping Bridget and Bridget absconding with $700,000 of Clay's cash.

The majority of the plot takes place in Beston, New York, a small town near Buffalo that serves as Bridget's new base of operations while on the run.  There are "fish out of water" elements here as the New York City female stands out from the pack in Beston.  She does, however, become the object of affection for local Mike Swale (Peter Berg), local boy who is debating with himself whether or not he wants to leave town and is nursing emotional wounds after a marriage gone bad.  In short, this is low-hanging fruit for Bridget, who promptly puts her hooks into Mike for the first in a series of tastefully-done yet titillating sex scenes.  Later, for plot convenience sake, she gets a job with an assumed name at the same insurance company that Mike works at.

Rather than tell its story through a series of twists, The Last Seduction allows the audience to be voyeurs and watch everything unfold through the lens of the Bridget-Mike relationship.  I heard a theory recently that audiences have problems remembering the plot of a film, but they will remember the characters.  Screenwriter Steve Barancik undoubtedly subscribes to this theory and gives us plenty to work with here.  It is helped by fantastic chemistry between Fiorentino and Berg; their interactions and dialogue feel completely natural, with Bridget leading the smitten Mike around and direct him like a puppeteer according to her whims.  The film has also aged very well in this regard.  I've become desensitized completely to movies that require 120 pages of kinetic fight scenes and explosions.  It is very refreshing to see a movie that reveals its tension and plot through dialogue instead of boring action scenes.

What we have here in this film is a parable about making moral choices.  As Clay begins tracking Bridget down and doing his best to recapture his cash, Bridget seems to have an answer at every turn, utilizing every bit of her brains and beauty in the process and making Mike predictably fall into place with the maneuvers that she wants to make.  Characters like this, to me, are much more progressive and feminist than the overpowered superhero chicks we see in movies today.  There is mo power more formidable in the world than the power of sexy.  This reaches its apex in the movie's climax.  The last word of the previous sentence is both figurative and literal, and it gives us the meaning of the film's title.

I will admit that some of what takes place in The Last Seduction is a bit far-fetched from a plot standpoint.  I've talked ad nauseum to people in my real life in the past about how the Joker has psychic abilities in The Dark Knight, to the movie's detriment.  While there isn't anything quite as stark in this film, some of Bridget's schemes just play out a bit TOO perfectly to not make you scratch your head.  She seems to have the ability to predict not only what people will do, but how people will REACT to things and leave her with the exact situation that she had hoped for.  Fortunately, the execution of these schemes is always entertaining, with Dahl never wavering in his focus from Bridget.  Every time this character seems to be softening, we can see from Fiorentino's facial expressions and line delivery that she has not changed at all.  It's fascinating, and it pulls us through the more unrealistic stuff.

The erotic thriller is a film that depends much more on execution than structure.  By their very nature, these neo-noir films aren't big on a typical three-act structure.  The Last Seduction has execution in spades, not only from director Dahl but also the people in front of the camera.  In addition to Fiorentino, both principal males opposite her are pitch-perfect, with Berg getting us on his side as a man who believes he is in love, endlessly frustrated by how Bridget constantly keeps him at an arm's length.  Pullman is also aces in a sleazy bad guy role, especially in a scene where he does a celebratory dance as a private detective attempts to trace a call from his estranged wife.  Great stuff, no dialogue required.  Of course, the movie also does more than hold your attention visually.  From a sex standpoint, the film isn't as exploitative as a Joe Eszterhas epic, but it is undeniably hot.

Rating time: *** 1/2 out of ****.  This isn't QUITE up to the gold standard Basic Instinct level that the erotic thriller has reached, but it is undoubtedly a classic that mystery and noir fans will love.  Check it out.

Tuesday, October 5, 2021 The Adjuster (1991) at October 05, 2021

 

Directed by Atom Egoyan

Starring Elias Koteas, Arsinee Khanjian, Maury Chaykin, Gabrielle Rose, David Hemblen and Jennifer Dale

Here is a review that I struggled mightily coming up with a place to start.  I absorbed the entire 100+ minutes of the film and had no idea how to accurately depict how I felt about it.  This involved an exhaustive research regimen by yours truly where I went online and read a bunch of reviews...none of which seemed especially lengthy.  I even looked up the Roger Ebert review, a modestly positive three-star appraisal that went into the absolute bare bones of what it was about and nothing more.  It was one of the most sparse Ebert summaries I've EVER read, and I think that's telling.  My theory?  There just isn't a whole lot IN The Adjuster, and waxing about it for longer than a couple paragraphs feels like masturbation for masturbation's sake.  Since I'm a masochist who likes punishing people, none of that will stop me from delivering my standard eight paragraphs of (maybe) fun material.

The director in question this time around is Atom Egoyan.  I'm familiar with the name, and in going through his filmography I had seen two of his previous efforts.  1994's Exotica is a pretty damn good experiment in voyeurism and the people involved in the voyeurism trade, helped by a fantastic performance from certified hottie Mia Kirshner.  The 1999 thriller Felicia's Journey is one of the best (and more accurate) depictions of a serial killer I've seen in cinema, with a seemingly nurturing psychopath played by Bob Hoskins who befriends and eventually murders young women.  Spoiler alert on that film.  The point is that I've enjoyed other films I've seen by this guy.  When you follow a film-maker's career trajectory, you can see growth, and since The Adjuster was an early effort from Egoyan I can only conclude that he got better with time.  This 1991 arthouse film left me cold in every way that a film can leave a person cold.  Why?  Read up and find out.

The title character of the film is Noah (Elias Koteas), insurance adjuster for an unnamed agency who shows up to assist clients whose houses have just burned down.  The film takes great pains to show just how much Noah cares about his clients, especially the good-looking women.  He nobly sleeps with all of them, mostly at the dingy hotel where he chooses to house them.  He constantly repeats the mantra of his company, dictating the news to his clients about their always oustanding claims with a sort of calm detachment.  The film's poster promises a heaping helping of eroticism, a recurring theme in Egoyan's work, and the one sex scene in the film between Noah and a client who has just lost her home is done in a way that takes the hotness completely out of the act as they discuss the mundane details of her claim.  In a way, the character serves as a modern stand-in for Robin Hood, which is driven into the audience's skull with his penchant for shooting arrows at a real estate sign located near his home.

The other lead is Hera (Arsinee Khanjian), Noah's wife who works as a censor of pornographic films.  While Koteas does his best with the limited dialogue he is given (and his status in my mind as the forever Casey Jones), I found Khanjian's performance to be very limited, her face going from one level of mild concern to another level of mild concern.  It's really a shame, because there is the potential in this character for some really gripping stuff.  She secretly videotapes the movies that her job requires her to watch and is implied to be turned on by them, no doubt a commentary on the hypocrisy of small boards of people who arbitrarily decide what is suitable for public consumption.  These days, we celebrate these folks and call them corporations.  While watching, I couldn't help but think that a film entirely about this character (with perhaps Jennifer Dale, the actress who played Noah's sex scene recipient, in the lead role) with the satire pumped up to 11 could have been electric.

The film is a three-legged table of story structure, and said third leg comes to us in the form of sex pervert ex-footballer Bubba (Maury Chaykin) and his wife (Gabriella Rose).  They like to act out their fantasies in public, and we get one of the more bizarre scenes I've seen in the project thus far where Rose pretends to be a cheerleader for the high school football team.  You haven't lived until you've seen a 36-year-old woman cavorting around for horny teenagers.  If you want to imagine the exploits of these characters, they're essentially a darker version of this:

The one saving grace of The Adjuster occurs in the film-making aspects rather than the screenplay and story structure.  From a visual standpoint, Egoyan does a good job making everything look stark and gray, granting a decent representation to the humdrum existence of this group of wholly unlikable people.  In addition to Koteas, Maury Chaykin is also aces in his role as the sex pervert.  He has one soliloquy during the film that might be the movie's single best scene; it occurs after the character of Bubba has scouted Noah's house as the location for his next project, and it is one of those scenes that lets you know everything about a character without telling you every single aspect of his past.

No matter what praise I throw at The Adjuster, it is about a group of people that I would never, ever want to know.  I CAN like stories where there are no traditional protagonists; Barry Lyndon from this very project comes to mind.  That film, however, was very entertaining and unfolded in a way that made you want to see what happened next.  I did not care, in the least bit, what happened to any of these people.  The script seems to hold a great deal of regard for Noah, viewing him as an idealistic man who does everything he can to help people through difficult situations, but the execution shows us simply a man who seems to be bored in everything he does.  Every time the movie picks up steam, such as the late scene where a rookie censor comes on to Hera during a film viewing, it pulls back, reverting to each character's default status as a depression factory.

The Adjuster is a maddening film, one that actually does have a lot of potential to be something great in my own mind despite every negative thing I've said about it thus far.  The problem is that it is so uneven and unfocused.  It contains three different stories - an insurance adjuster who sleeps with his clients, a censor who secretly enjoys what she is supposed to decry, and a depraved couple who will do anything for sexual thrills - and muddles them together into a mess that never quite gels.  A movie about any ONE of these three stories has the potential to be something very special, especially the censorship angle.  As it stands, the movie is a black hole of substance.  It tries to say so many things that it winds up essentially saying nothing.

Rating time: * out of ****.  Atom Egoyan would go on to do things that I enjoyed a great deal, but this one...ehhhh.  Call it the Dark Star that would eventually give us Halloween.

Monday, October 4, 2021 Mystery Train (1989) at October 04, 2021

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Directed by Jim Jarmusch

Starring Youki Kudoh, Masatoshi Nagase, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Cinque Lee, Nicoletta Braschi, Elizabeth Bracco, Rick Aviles, Joe Strummer and Steve Buscemi

In the summer of 2018, I took a road trip to Memphis.  It was a vacation that I had envisioned in my head for years before actually doing it, owing to my huge early rock n' roll fandom and general Elvis Presley obsession.  I finally decided to take the plunge for a few different reasons; it took place right after I turned 35, and it actually marked the end of my first blog.  I enjoyed everything on the trip, from Graceland to Beale Street, but the thing that I arguably liked the most was sitting in the hotel lobby at night, in a location that seemed far, far away from my small Midwestern hometown watching the traffic go by on the streets below.

This was undoubtedly a very different kind of Memphis than the one depicted in this film.  It's also a very different kind of America than the one that usually gets shown in cinema.  However, it's different in a wonderful way.  I LOVED Mystery Train, one of the early films from director Jim Jarmusch and the first one to be given any kind of significant budget - in this case a little under $3 million, most of which came from JVC electronics.  Based on what I saw, I really need to check out more films by Jarmusch, because he shows a level of invention with a still-very-limited budget and an ear for dialogue that I'll never have.  It's also an anthology film of sorts, telling three different stories with three different groups of characters that all converge in the end, so keep that in mind as we go about expounding on the story.

The first characters we meet are Jun (Masatoshi Nagase) and his girlfriend Mitsuko (Youki Kudoh), teenage tourists from Japan who are out to see all of the standard sights in Memphis as a title card reading "Far From Yokohama" appears on the screen.  A running gag with these characters involves Mitsuko's obsession with Elvis Presley and Jun's insistence that Carl Perkins is the superior performer, an assurance that somehow sneaks up on you at just the right moments.  Early on in this film, we gleam just how REAL the interactions between the characters seem, even when the characters themselves are just a little off and unrealistic.

Story #2 is called, fittingly, "A Ghost."  Italian widow Luisa (Nicoletta Braschi) is stuck in Memphis overnight while transporting her husband's body back to Rome.  She encounters a trio of interesting characters on her night: an unscrupulous magazine salesman, a creepy restaurant patron (played by the always awesome Tom Noonan), and finally down-on-her-luck Deedee (Elizabeth Bracco).  There's one particular bit of dialogue between Luisa and Deedee, with the latter going on and on and on about her life situation and how her boyfriend never talks that hits EXACTLY right, followed by a guest appearance from the man who watches over this entire film like the specter that he is.

Everything comes together in the third story, "Lost in Space," featuring Steve Buscemi as a barber who gets sucked in to a violent crime and its awkward aftermath.  We also become well-acquainted with Deedee's boyfriend Johnny (Joe Strummer), who goes by the nickname of Elvis much to his own chagrin, and their mutual friend Will Robinson (Rick "The Rat Man" Aviles).  One guess as to how this story got its name.  While buying a couple bottles of liquor, Johnny does something incredibly stupid that forces the trio to seek shelter at the run-down Arcade hotel and ride out the storm.

Mystery Train has an excellent framing device that never gets old no matter how many times we come back to it.  The Arcade hotel is actually where ALL of our groups of characters wind up, with a few events being repeated in every story.  There's also some excellent humor provided by the hotel's employees: the very flamboyantly-dressed night clerk portrayed by Screamin' Jay Hawkins and Cinque Lee's suffering bellhop.  The fun in a film like this generally comes from piecing together what we're given in each new story and wondering how the characters will eventually converge.  This film actually makes a bold leap of NOT having them all meet in a grand chance despite the grand chance of them all showing up at the same hotel on the same night; its finale is satisfying in every way, with the characters remaining separate and facing their own future.

Slight peak behind the curtain: while I watched most of the movies in this marathon in chronological order, I actually skipped ahead and watched this one right after Godzilla to give myself something to look forward to after a film I was dreading.  The move paid off, big time, as Mystery Train is a movie that fires on every cylinder.  Jarmusch's direction is fantastic, showing a desolate, almost ghost-town version of Memphis that seems to welcome each new inhabitant in with the hospitality of an Old West saloon.  The music becomes a character in and of itself, with Elvis' version of "Blue Moon" being one of the repeated motifs that every group of characters encounter on their long night in the city.

A low-budget movie based heavily around dialogue is a dicey proposition for many viewers; it's also a dicey proposition for me, admittedly.  But this is a movie that makes you want to keep watching, engaging you with a stable of characters that come across as quirky without ever veering into the pretentious.  Hell, EVERY main character in this movie is likable.  We leave this movie not knowing where they wind up after leaving Memphis but grateful for the time that we got to spend with them, being allowed a voyeuristic look into their lives.  Now who's sounding pretentious?

Rating time: The Memphis Train is rolling...**** out of ****.  How much did I enjoy this movie?  I ordered the Blu-ray immediately after watching.  Now THAT'S a recommendation!  Oh, and here's Screamin' Jay doing what he does best.

Sunday, October 3, 2021 Five Corners (1987) at October 03, 2021

 

Directed by Tony Bill

Starring Jodie Foster, Tim Robbins, Todd Graff, Elizabeth Berridge and John Turturro

Time for a little inside baseball on the 30 Flicks project.  I initially selected the 1982 film Eating Raoul as one of the films to be viewed.  It was a movie that I knew about for a long time and had been putting off watching it for reasons that I'm not entirely unsure of.  But as time went on and the writing of this here blog ticked by, I became aware that the films that I've liked the best (Walkabout and Picnic at Hanging Rock) fit a similar description.  And True Stories?  As mentioned, I'm a huge Talking Heads fan and had a pretty good idea that I would enjoy it.  Thus, I decided to roll the dice and pick a film that was also in my Criterion Channel watchlist - one that I never even knew existed until August of 2021.

When doing my initial browse through the Criterion Channel, Five Corners seemed like an interesting proposition for several reasons.  It definitely doesn't hurt to have Jodie Foster on your marquee; nobody plays the relatable, likable girl-next-door better than Ms. Foster, even in movies where she is supposed to be a badass feminist.  The description also seemed intriguing, as an anthology film taking place in a small neighborhood is generally a safe bet.  Tonally, the movie is VERY different from what I expected, for better or worse.  Surprise is a good thing.  Five Corners mixes emotionally fulfilling surprises with a somewhat messy story, ultimately converging into a fairly middle-of-the-road experience.  My milquetoast criticism has reached its apex with that previous sentence.  Onto the movie!

Film critics often like films with unconventional structure.  This must be clear to any unfortunate soul who may or may not have read this blog thus far.  On some level, I understand this, as a person whose job description is to see as many movies as possible must get bored with seeing the typical three-act beats over and over again and will grow to appreciate movies that try to break the mold.  Five Corners is one of those films that seems tailor-made for critics.  It essentially tells two very different stories with two different groups of characters, smash cutting between them with the finesse of a penguin on roller skates.  Two events set the stories in motion: the release of lifelong criminal and attempted rapist Heinz (the always awesome John Turturro) from prison, and the murder of a dickhead algebra teacher via bow and arrow.  Points for the accurate movie poster.

Let's talk about Movie A first, since it is by far the more interesting of the two plots.  The film takes place in the Bronx of 1964 in a neighborhood where Heinz has just returned after serving his prison sentence.  He is initially a likable character, more in line with the path that I anticipated the movie would take as a parable of rehabilitation and redemption.  Spoiler alert: it isn't.  His alleged rape victim was Linda (Jodie Foster), tough-yet-sensitive girl who works in a pet store and is still dating the man who tried to stop her attack.  Said man now also walks with a slightly humorous gait due to his ineffectual heroism.  The guy who REALLY saved her ass is Harry (Tim Robbins), who has since recanted his violent ways and is dedicating himself to pacifism and the rising non-violent black rights movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King.

Without a doubt, the character of Harry is the best thing about the film.  There is a stunningly well-done sequence where he meets with two activists in a diner, offering his services to go to Mississippi and essentially get beat up (and possibly killed) for his cause.  He relays the story of how his policeman father died a hero, and when asked if the killer was black, he states that he doesn't remember.  Great, great stuff that tells us a LOT about this guy without spending five minutes giving the audience boring exposition.  There is a nice little arc that Harry goes through as well, given credence from an early great performance from Robbins.  As much of a condescending douche as I've always thought this guy is in real life, I can't deny that I really enjoy him as an actor.  Separating the art from the artist and all that.

Do I have to talk about Movie B?  Alas, I must.  It begins with the aforementioned teacher taking an arrow to the back, and then Random Greaser Guy driving around at night with two girls in the back seat getting high.  No longer wanting to look at their faces (really), he offers two random high school passer-bys five bucks to take them off of his hands.  Thus begins a day of weird adventures where they share wholly uninteresting conversations, go bowling, and talk some more.  There's also an endless bit in an elevator shaft.  The only other thing worth mentioning about this group of characters is that one of the girls is played by Elizabeth Berridge of Amadeus fame, who has some of the most unreal natural assets that any actress could ask for.  See her in Tobe Hooper's classic slasher flick The Funhouse if you want to know what I mean.

Five Corners is a very uneven film.  The two main stories could not possibly be any more different in terms of tone, made all the more jarring by the film's editing which often smash cuts between them with the finesse of a buffalo on roller skates.  Worst metaphor ever?  Possibly.  The audience generally expects a movie that unfolds in this manner to gradually bring the two stories together, but they never really do.  I mean, they ultimately DO in a rather ham-fisted way in the film's climax, but we never really get that conflagration of events that CLICK.  Also, the third act of the film is shockingly simplistic, turning from a story about people to a rather conventional chase, fight and shootout movie.  Maybe if 30+ years hadn't passed and I hadn't become so bored of chases, fights and shootouts that I could shoot someone myself this wouldn't bother me, but it does.

I went back and forth about my overall enjoyment of this film.  Ultimately, I DID enjoy watching it because the movie has some amazing scenes and performances.  Every time either Turturro or Robbins are onscreen, the movie takes on a whole new life, although the former does eventually become a cartoon character by the end.  Foster is also great, despite her (and several other cast members, in all fairness) horrible Bronx accent.  Director Tony Bill also does a great job evoking the overall mood of life in the 1964 Bronx, painting everything with grays, blacks and muted colors meant to convey the overall grind of daily humdrum existence that gets interrupted by some very unexpected events.  And you've also got to give it to any movie that features a character scooping up an elderly woman and gingerly throwing her out of a window.  Double spoiler alert.

Rating time: Five Corners gets *** out of ****.  It's just enough for a Roger Ebert thumbs-up recommendation.  Still, those shifts man...