2020 and recent

First Cow (Kelly Reichardt, 2020): 5/5

The last time I experienced so much drama and suspense about milking a cow was when I tried to milk a cow.

Kajillionaire (Miranda July, 2020): 2/5

I like MJ's interest in the "feral" outsider (the cat in The Future, Evan Rachel Wood here), but exploring why this family lives outside the system (not really explained) would be far more interesting than the daughter's search for human kindness.  We're entering the post-human age now, so maybe her parents are doing her a favor, training her to co-exist with the robots and Asperger's types running the world?  The frequent tremors/earthquakes don't captivate and are overfamiliar in California movies/parodies.  And false notes all over the place: nothing about the Gina Rodriguez character suggests she would be interested in these deadbeats for more than 2 minutes.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but can the lack of MJ weirdo magic be attributed to the absence of MJ herself--her first feature film in which she doesn't appear?

Ammonite (Francis Lee, 2020): 3/5

Kate Winslet's character is just too brittle and stubborn to elicit much empathy, and the film's eroticism suffers from everyone being so diseased and/or forlorn.  The French Lieutenant's Woman remains the great novel/film dealing with fossil collecting at Lyme Regis, because it uses fears about Darwinism and modernity to add layers of meaning and revelation to the central issue of gender role subversion.

Rebecca (Ben Wheatley, 2020): 2/5

The only conceivable reason to remake this is the freedom to name Max de Winter as R's murderer, which the Production Code forbade unless he was punished.  But the novel and Hitchcock's version still have so many final act plot convolutions that the evasion becomes a mere trifle.  Needless to say, Hammer/James are no Olivier/Fontaine, and even Kristin Scott-Thomas can't come close to Judith Anderson's cross-eyed obsessive.  So we're left with some sharp color photography that only diminishes the gothic vibe; a traditional folk song by Pentangle; and a remake that's 20 minutes shorter but feels just as long, and leaves out the wonderful moment when Mrs. Danvers lovingly displays R's underwear to a stunned Mrs. de Winter: "they were made especially for her by the nuns in the convent at St. Clare."

Beanpole (Katemir Balagov, 2019): 4/5

Miserabilist to be sure, but we can always use a reminder of the Russians' WWII mass suffering at a time when half of America refuses to wear a mask because it might compromise their free-dum.  Beanpole is merely a vessel for her fiery sidekick who steals the picture and is the film's heart and soul.  Add one point for stunning red and green art direction/costume design; subtract one point for unnecessary shaky-cam.  Director was 28 when he made this.

 

Corpus Christi (Jan Komasa, 2019): 4.5/5

One of those stories that explores the kinship of convicts and priests--as students of sin, isolation, daily ritual, and homosocial relations--which so fascinated artists like Dostoevsky, Bresson, JP Melville, and Genet (and viewers like me).  This film takes it to a literal level, with convict posing as priest and managing to pull it off--for a while.  The problem, of course, is that ex-cons don't have much patience for deprivation and routine.

Non-Fiction (Olivier Assayas, 2019): 3/5

"Okay, Boomer" in French.  Assayas is now a middle-aged curmudgeon skeptical of technological disruption--does this signal his Woody Allen phase?  Everyone is so good looking and thin and fashionable and articulate and white, it's hard to believe they could be disrupted by anything. Discussions of "democratization of media" come off as theoretical and hypocritical.  Still, I don't get to rub elbows with European intellectuals anymore, so I'll take what I can get.

Dark Waters (Todd Haynes, 2019): 3/5

Haynes is to toxic wastewater as Gus Van Sant (Promised Land) is to fracking: heart in the right place, but desperate to demonstrate commercial viability after too many flops.  This won't help much.

Seberg (Benedict Andrews, 2019): 2/5

Kristen Stewart, to my surprise, isn't bad; the script, focusing too much on the FBI side of the story, is much, much worse.

Thunder Road (Jim Cummings, 2018): 4/5

Looks like I'm late to this party, but Holy Shit! Cummings' unhinged monologues are reminiscent of a young, wiry Jim Carrey--absolutely electric performances in which seemingly anything can happen.  The film feels like a series of improv sketches strung together, but Cummings' charismatic presence keeps it all together.  Bonus: we never actually hear Springsteen's "Thunder Road."

 

Nico, 1988 (Susanna Nicchiarelli, 2017): 4/5

Nico moves through the last year of her life as a junkie artist with the weary dignity of a survivor: "I've been at the top and I've been at the bottom--they're both empty."  Strong, moving lead performance by Trine Dyrholm, who was the cute servant girl in Dogme #1 (Festen) some twenty years ago.  One of the best films of the "last days" bio-pic subgenre (Judy, Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool, etc.).