Lake Mungo (Joel Anderson, 2008): 3/5

Spooky ghost photos and video. It did get under my skin a bit. 

Samurai Rebellion (Masaki Kobayashi, 1967): 3.5/5

It has the same beautiful contrast of exquisite stillness and explosions of movement/violence as Kobayashi’s Hara-Kiri. The conflict until the last 25 minutes is incredibly internal: the moment a gunslinger pauses, his hand hovering over his weapon. 

The Sword of Doom (Kihachi Okamoto, 1966): 4.5/5

Traditionally entertaining while still being serious about ritual and not at all cheekily pop. After so many arty samurai films, it is a pleasure: Western music and a more Western pace, with a cool and nihilistic anti-hero (who is also a murderer and rapist). The last 12 minutes are one of the most beautiful and bonkers action sequences I’ve seen—and what a whammo ending! 

The Servant (Joseph Losey, 1963): 3/5

Blimey, it’s as if the servant was the master the whole time. Something about James Fox seems to scream that he’s easily corruptible. 

Wake in Fright (Ted Kotcheff, 1971): 4/5

The beeriest movie of all time. Quite a descent into depravity, like a sweaty Australian Blue Velvet with actual buggery and a prolonged kangaroo massacre. In so doing, the filmmakers 100% nailed what it was like to grow up in the San Fernando Valley. 

Yeelen (Souleymane Cissé, 1987): 3/5

Me watching Yeelen: “Man, this movie’s depiction of black people is so racist.” (Which demonstrates … something).  Straight outta the ageless myths of Mali. Anthropology and images. Since it is impenetrable, it’s a pageant, and a rare and valuable one — damnable praise. Serious question: has Beyoncé watched this? Has Solange? 

When I Get Home (Solange, 2019): 3.5/5

Striking visuals encourage a full-album listen or two of this artsy, ever-modulating, proggy R&B and gospel.

The Von Sternberg/mostly Dietrich Film Fest

In von Sternberg’s universe, since all women are prostitutes, the uber-woman wears the designation proudly but also doesn’t care what others think, taking frank pleasure in herself (at least until she, at the (literal) last minute, submits to a more traditional role, usually with a weak and vanilla ex-lover that she previously wronged.) 

Underworld (Josef von Sternberg, 1927): 3/5

Von Sternberg is (typically) more interested in men and women destroying one another than in the gangster stuff. Rehabilitated drunk Clive Brook is subtly expressive, standing out much more than in his lead(ish) turn in Shanghai Express. 

The Blue Angel, rw (Josef von Sternberg, 1930): 4/5

A younger, plumper Dietrich seen in her natural element: thoughtlessly playing with a guileless idiot. This is the version of her persona that she is paying for and seeking redemption for in the rest of her roles. Although, it begs the question: what does she get out of this but some jollies? Watching it when I was younger, I can remember thinking he was a normal guy ruined by this cruel woman. But in fact, he is a dumb and mean schnook, and worst of all a hypocritical scold. Loathed by his students, one of his first acts in the movie is to punch down on the classroom’s only nerd who probably loves him. In other words, he deserves (and even wants) to be torn apart. Thereafter, we are presented with Dietrich’s magnificent power that we all succumb to.  

Dishonored (Josef von Sternberg, 1931): 3.5/5

Dietrich brims with sexy Bugs Bunny insouciance. A long flirtation/cat-and -mouse with a handsome Russian antagonist. “I’m sorry I’ll have to search you X-27. Take your things off.” Are these the longest cross-fades in cinema history? Glorious! At the climax Dietrich’s character makes an enigmatic decision that either ruins the movie or makes it 10 times better. 

Blonde Venus (Josef von Sternberg, 1932): 4/5

The location is less exotic than usual (not wandering farther than Louisiana). Basically, it’s a woman’s picture where Dietrich is put through trials trying to keep her family intact. At one point, on stage, she doffs a gorilla costume, dons a blonde Afro and sings “Hot Voodoo,” accompanied by a dozen women in blackface and tribal face markings. Later she sports a riding outfit with shiny boots and crop. Also she sings cabaret and conducts sex work on several occasions. 

Shanghai Express, rw (Josef von Sternberg, 1932): 5/5

Puts front and center the morality of a woman’s right to own her own body and to have relations with anyone she likes—as well as wear amazing outfits and possibly be either a spy or a prostitute or both. Full of intrigue, glamour and exoticism. No one has ever been lit (up) like Dietrich in this movie before or since. Who is Shanghai Lil? Was she a famous singer or prostitute or was she just the Dietrich of The Devil is a Woman or Blue Angel: someone who drove a bunch of men wild, moving one to the other?

The Devil is a Woman, rw (Josef von Sternberg, 1935): 4/5

The duo’s most broadly comic movie, where Dietrich is a ravishing and soulless doll, pursuing pleasure and money while ruining the lives of everyone around her, and bobbing her head and rolling her eyes like a parrot. In her bawdy opening number, she describes sex as being “nice,” “good” and “sweet.” But she doesn’t seem to care as much about sex here as about power. Here’s the same weak, jealous man—and will she, in the end, submit this time? Yep!! All actually pretty amusing and nihilistic. 

Anatahan (Josef von Sternberg, 1953): 2.5/5

Twelve Japanese soldiers and one woman, who is not much but a token to be fought for. An all-Japanese cast, but their lines aren’t translated, just explained by a voice over in English, which robs them of their agency and personhood. Compounded by the fact that the narrator often foretells what will happen next, the movie has an indifferent, gods eye view of the fate of these folks. Von Sternberg’s last film if you don’t count Jet Pilot with John Wayne, which many do not. 

Unwatched Howard Hawks Fest

Highly watchable stories, which at their best are simply about the pure pleasure of watching competent men at work.

Air Force (Howard Hawks, 1943): 3/5

Contemporaneous WWII adventure, following the crew of a B-17 through Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, then on to Wake Island and Manila. Lots of manly interactions that are surprisingly affectionate and even loving. 

I Was a Male War Bride (Howard Hawks, 1949): 2.5/5

One of the worst titles in cinema history. This actually begins as a perfectly charming “first they hate one another, but after a romp across post war Germany they fall in love” rom-com. Then follows up with some feminine panic and Catch-22-lite jokes about military red tape. 

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Howard Hawks, 1953): 1.5/5

Another terrible title, but at least this is for a terrible movie. Monroe plays a gross cartoon of an idiotic, cynical and solipsistic gold digger (Dietrich would approve), quite a contrast to the strong, silent, warm Hawks men. Monroe’s acting is absolutely the worst (as always, other than possibly in The Misfits.)

Hatari (Howard Hawks, 1962): 4/5

Wayne playing grab-ass with fellow no-homos in Tanzania. Men at work, catching big animals alive for zoos. Made directly after Rio Bravo, cinema’s greatest hangout movie, this, at 2:37, is even more slack and relaxed. A girl in bath mistaking a pet cheetah for a wild one, a jazzy “Swanee River” on a piano, a giraffe hunt, a shooting contest, a dislocated shoulder treated in the field, a zebra hunt, an orphaned baby elephant, getting the ostriches back into their pens, a romance between Wayne and an Italian photographer half his age (named Dallas), and always plenty of hard liquor once the sun goes down. There is no antagonist, and the rhino that injures “The Indian” (a white dude with an English accent) becomes the saga’s Moby Dick. Chock full of glorious animal footage, and they are all fucking real with zero CGI and it’s a pure pleasure. I hated the last 12 minutes, which thankfully relieves me of the need to justify an even higher rating for this nothing of a masterpiece. 

Rio Lobo (Howard Hawks, 1970): 3/5

The third (and least successful, obviously) Wayne/Hawks pairing that has a river in the title (after Red and Bravo). Hawks’ last film. Competent and full of action sequences. Half of the scenes end with Wayne looking at the camera, swirling some brown liquor and ice in a highball glass and intoning joyfully and with satisfaction: “Welp, I guess it’s time for me to get shitfaced.”