Titane (Julia Ducournau, 2021): 4/5

Multi-layered & uncompromising. Cronenberg gets tossed around a lot in these parts, but this is truly New Flesh. Extra half star for the car show opening.

The Many Saints of Newark (Alan Taylor, 2021): 2/5

Mediocre. Unfunny. Blandly directed. The film tries to tell three different stories and botched them all. Deeply unsatisfying. Young Gandolfini is good. So is Nivola (although Dickie is just not that interesting as a character). Liotta’s double role is great (and I appreciated how he becomes Dickie’s Dr. Melfi). But what a waste of Farmiga, Bernthal, and Stoll. And finally, Junior Soprano is not a Fredo!

Ishtar (Elaine May, 1987): 2/5

Hoffman's original assertion that the story should never have left New York is indeed spot-on. He and Beatty are having a lot of fun with these roles, and their "bad" songs are catchy as hell, but the movie dies a witless, convoluted death the moment they arrive in Ishtar, and it never recovers.

Tea and Sympathy (Vincent Minelli, 1956): 3.5/5

fellas, is it gay to hang out on a beach with three hot women and get a little sewing done?

With a Friend Like Harry...(Dominik Moll, 2000): 4/5

Hitchcock meets Tom Ripley European thriller. Engaging without relying on flashy camera work or cheap scares. It’s pure character work for the most part, and sharply done.

The American President (Rob Reiner, 1995): 3/5

Sure, it’s basically just Caffeine-Free Diet West Wing Sweetened With Splenda, but sometimes that’s all you need to quench your thirst.

Wag the Dog (Barry Levinson, 1997): 2.5/5

Despite a great premise and a first-rate cast, it just never quite takes off; it's consistently clever but almost never funny. Certainly a step up for Levinson following disastrous crap like TOYS and JIMMY HOLLYWOOD and DISCLOSURE, and worth seeing, but it's still a trifle.

Malignant (James Wan, 2021): 2.5/5

More like BENIGN!!!

That jail scene had me cackling so hard though, I'll give this an extra half star, bravo. Imagined a far better movie where the two detectives are Wanda Sykes and Nathan Fielder.

Cry Macho (Clint Eastwood, 2021): 1/5

More like SNORE MUCHO!!!

Fallen (Gregory Hoblit, 1998): 1/5

More like FALLEN ASLEEP!!!

Dear Evan Hansen (Steven Chbosky, 2021): 1/5

Or, How Do You Do, Fellow Kids: The Movie

Has the aesthetic of an HP laptops commercial.

The Power of the Dog (Jane Campion, 2021): 2.5/5

Lovely to look at, but Campion's aiming at some soft targets here, and with some pretty stale powder. Hardly the "she's-back" coup de grace I was hoping for. Benedict was good, but one can't help but wonder what Michael Fassbender could've done with it.

The Card Counter (Paul Schrader, 2021): 2.5/5

John Yoo is a tenured law professor at Berkeley. He teaches class, has office hours...just a horrible thought I had after seeing this movie.

THE CARD COUNTER is a mixed effort from Schrader. Starts off strong with Oscar Issac’s mysteriously slick on the outside, tormented on the inside performance leading the way. But once the plot begins to unfold, Schrader can’t quite put the cards together for a winning hand.

rewatched The Player (Robert Altman, 1992): 4/5

More amusing than scathing, I would like someone to show me the unemployed screenwriter in Hollywood who would tell a studio exec to fuck off when offered a deal.

Pret-a-Porter (Robert Altman, 1994): 2/5

In his review Gene Siskel said that "you could've gone shopping instead" during the runtime. Jokes on everyone it's 2021 and I was shopping while watching this. Recurring theme of people stepping in dog shit seems moderately apt.

El Norte (Gregory Nava, 1983): 4/5

Guatemalan siblings Enrique and Rosa seek refuge from hostile militia in the titular North of Uncle Sam's land of milk and honey. They come to discover that first world crises of employment and classism amount to merely another form of social malaise, maybe more complex and insidious than that from which they believed they were extricating.

Divorce Italian Style (Pietro Germi, 1961): 2.5/5

For a sixty year old movie about a douchebag plotting to kill his wife so he can bang his 16 year old cousin, it’s actually not that terrible. Having Marcello Mastroianni attend a screening of La Dolce Vita invented meta-comedy.

Flower Drum Song (Henry Koster, 1961): 2.5/5

This Rodgers & Hammerstein musical, which closely preceded The Sound Of Music, is reportedly their only financial flop, and it isn't that hard to see why; the songs just don't have that sing-along-friendly quality, and many of them are artificially brassy, unnatural, and out of place.

Still, it's a fascinating artifact: a big mainstream 1961 movie with a cast that's almost entirely Chinese, and a plot dealing with the generation gap and old-world/new-world values conflicting in the Chinese-American community in San Francisco in the ’60s. It's very broad—big, declarative performances, in some cases aimed directly at the camera—and there's a lot of love-at-first-sight shenanigans and very abrupt turnarounds. Basically, it's clumsy and overdone—but it's also unique, and that alone makes it worth a watch.

Bulworth (Warren Beatty, 1998): 2/5

A mostly bad movie and an utterly fascinating artifact. How Beatty managed to secure studio financing for this lunatic project is beyond me.

The Year of the Everlasting Storm (Jafar Panahi, Apichatpong Weerasethekul, 2021): 3/5

I’m determined to make this the last COVID movie I watch. This omnibus film pretty much covers all the bases: narrative work set during the pandemic, documentaries of life during lockdown, films that are more tangential to the pandemic, and impressionist, experimental work.

Sorry, Laura Poitras: bugs are more compelling to watch than Zoom calls and data visualizations, especially after the year we just had.

POWER RANKINGS:

1. Jafar Panahi, Iran - "Life"

2. David Lowery, US - "Dig Up My Darling"

3. Apitchatpong Weerasethekul, Thailand - "Night Colonies"

4. Anthony Chen, China - "The Break Away"

5. Laura Poitras, US - "Terror Contagion"

6. Dominga Sotomayer, Chile - "Sin Titulo"

7. Malik Vitthal, US - "Little Measures"

The Keep (Michael Mann, 1983): 1.5/5

No, Mannboys, just no. You can tell this was sliced and diced to filth and is just an incoherent, total mess. Basically it's a lot of nazis bickering and then every once in a while a fog demon makes someone's head explode to Tangerine Dream. Would actually benefit from a remake though!

Who You Think I am (Safy Nebbou, 2019): 3/5

Fuck yeah Horny Juliette Binoche Cinematic Universe!

French psychological drama starring Binoche as a frustrated teacher hitting her midlife crisis when she falls into catfishing a younger man on Facebook. It’s perhaps a decade too late for a film like this to really gain traction with the concept so openly out there to really buy into the whole “young man falls head over heels for online avatar” premise. But like most things, if Juliette Binoche wasn't the lead, this would be trash.

Goddamn it and why am I only just now discovering Nicole Garcia???

Gunpowder Milkshake (Navat Papushado, 2021): 1.5/5

Corny, derivative, retrograde. The shit I watch for Michelle Yeoh.

Memories of Murder (Bong Joon Ho, 2003): 3/5

ZODIAC before ZODIAC. (With like sixteen dropkicks.)

La Grand Bouffe (Marco Ferreri, 1973): 1/5

Completely frivolous and without any value I can ascertain. Lots of eating and sex and still absolutely dull from start to finish. Crass, low brow trash masquerading as social commentary.

rewatched Certified Copy (Abbas Kiarostami, 2010): 4/5

"If we were a bit more tolerant of each other's weaknesses, we'd be less alone."

A glorious and fascinating integration of metatextual themes, that a replication of art might be just as, if not more “worthy” than the original: Kiarostami bleeds them slowly into his film and after laying the groundwork for his thesis, begins to directly integrate it, sans explanation, as if to form a cognizant experiment to test his hypothesis.

The Mother and the Whore (Jean Eustache, 1973): 2.5/5

As Roger Ebert put it: "this one could have been titled 'The Man Who Loved to Hear Himself Talk.'" Basically a three and a half hour cinematic endurance test not of attention span but of tolerance for unlikeable characters loafing and loathing.

The Many Saints of Newark (Alan Taylor, 2021): 2/5
A rushed attempt to cover too many backstories in 2hr runtime, while adding black revolutionary awakening as atonement for past sins.  The pleasure and poignancy of The Sopranos came from its leisurely pace and finely observed moments.  Here, no pacing, no poignancy.  A disappointment.

Annette (Leos Carax, 2021): W/O

I couldn't make it past an hour of this.  Another post-classical musical by an auteur who thinks visual spectacle can compensate for the lack of good songs, engaging story, and leading actors' romantic chemistry (see One From the Heart, Moulin Rouge).  Leave it to a French director to pick Sparks as a musical muse--I'm old enough to remember when Sparks were a British cult band known more for their quirky album covers than their lousy music.

Mare of Easttown (HBO, 2021): 2.5/5

Another premium cable show in which a small-town female detective falls into a cesspool of serial murder, suicide, incest, molestation, and addiction.  Unilke the relentlessly icky and awful Sharp Objects (Amy Adams) and Top of the Lake (Elizabeth Moss), this series at least offers Kate Winslet a small window of breathing room and redemption.  Like Adams and Moss, Winslet will get award noms for making herself ugly and disheveled, and the additional labor of learning an obscure Pennsylvania accent might get her a win. (Yep, it did.)

Nomadland (Chloe Zao, 2020): 2/5

Underwhelming.  Wants to expose very real current social problems, but opts for poetic, toothless homilies rather than pointed critique.  These middle-aged white folks are just a little too accepting of their exploitation and doomed futures, which they gladly exchange for perceived freedom from commitment.  Too often uses the scenic romance of the open road to gloss over the insanity, violence, and inhumanity that turn people into drifters (and eventually just homeless) in the first place.  You could say the same thing about Kerouac, but at least his younger characters weren't condemned to resignation and still sought kicks and ecstatic truths along the way.

Sunset Song (Terrence Davies, 2015): 2/5

The miserable travails of a young Scottish woman on a desolate farm who must endure a brutal, abusive father and then a nice guy who enlists in WWI and becomes a brutal, abusive husband.  Not much to be learned here, other than out of desperation she becomes "one with the land."  The novel probably provides more interior perspective.  I've yet to see a Davies film I liked.

Renoir (Gilles Bourdos, 2012): 3.5/5

Another "artist at end of life" docudrama (painter Auguste in 1915), but with the added dimension of portraying another artist near the beginning (his son, filmmaker Jean).  Livened up considerably by the radiant (and often topless) Christa Theret as the artist's model who inspires (ahem) both of them.

The Comedy (Rick Alverson, 2012): 1/5

Tim Heidecker's independently wealthy character tools around Williamsburg and uses clever passive-aggressive riffs to condescend to women, immigrants, people of color, and the disabled, without retribution or humor.  As such, the title is obviously a dare.  Allegedly critiques the social problem of white privilege, but actually demonstrates the social problem of assholes. Probably an iconic film for self-pitying incels.

The Prestige, rw (Christopher Nolan, 2006): 3.5/5

Hugely intriguing and entertaining until it pulls one too many tricks and betrays its viewers.  (Another example of bad-faith storytelling: Clouzot's Diabolique.)

Memories of Murder (Bong Joon-Ho, 2003): 2/5

Awkward mix of bumbling detectives, juvenile humor, and grisly serial killing of women, leading nowhere.  As with most of Bong's films, there's some social context and commentary lurking underneath, but I've yet to see one (and I think I've seen five) that provided anything socially enlightening or artistically satisfying.

The Road to Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002): 2.5/5

A crime story as magisterial as a beautifully embalmed corpse.  Mendes would dunk Revolutionary Road into the same tub of formaldehyde a few years later.  Like the neo-Spielbergian Frank Darabont, Mendes strives for "epic" and "classical" by slowing stories set in the past to a crawl, telegraphing every symbol and plot twist, and bathing it all in a soft, warm glow.

Safe, rw (Todd Haynes, 1995): 5/5

I used to think Carol White (Julianne Moore) was simply a wealthy suburban housewife with too much time on her hands.  Now, after experiencing the medical establishment's ambivalence about Long Covid, I have more empathy for her struggle to be believed.  The real horror, of course, is that Sartre's observation, often quoted cynically and comically, is actually true: Hell is other people.

Casa de Lava (Pedro Costa, 1994): 3/5

This gets by on the scenery alone (volcanic landscapes of Cape Verde Island).  It's supposedly modeled on Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie, which gives Costa the latitude to confound narrative expectations and make the islanders' behavior inscrutable, which I suppose is a way of telling the European exploiting classes that we'll never understand their history and suffering.  But benefitting from the stardom of French actress Edith Scob by giving her a minor (or maybe major?) role as a mother on the island shows Costa having it both ways.  Anyway, like the Portuguese protagonist, I was able to gather clues but no answers.

Death in Venice, rw (Luchino Visconti, 1971): 3/5

Exquisite rot.  In 1913, Mann's real plague was the dissipation of Belle Epoque Europe's moribund aristocracy.  The following year, militaristic types would begin a bloodletting as an antidote.  It would not go well.

The Comfort of Strangers, rw (Paul Schrader, 1990): 1/5

Boring, vapid movie about boring, vapid people who happen to be rich and beautiful, which seems to be their only sin.  And by this logic, only the one deemed most beautiful has to die.  Seems to aspire to the operatic grandeur of Death in Venice, but settles for second-rate Hitchcock.  Did this really require the services of Harold Pinter?

Old Boyfriends (Joan Tewkesbury, 1979): 2/5

Talia Shire, as per title, looks up and sleeps with three old flames: Richard Jordan (documentary filmmaker, kinda cool, kinda smartass); John Belushi (manager of formal shop and singer in a pathetic cover band--but you gotta see him belt out ZZ Top's "Tush"); and Keith Carradine (mentally ill, still lives with mother).  What's missing here is a coherent and compelling reason why she'd go to all the trouble.  Script by Paul & Leonard Schrader, hardly known for their insight into female psyche; Tewkesbury, an Altman acolyte, leaves it vague.

The American Friend, rw (Wim Wenders, 1977): 5/5

Astonishing color palette by Robbie Muller.  Hopper makes for an unbalanced, weirdo Ripley.  Bruno Ganz is every bit his equal and gives a deep, nuanced performance.

 

Ripley's Game (Liliana Cavani, 2002): 2/5

Malkovich is an oily, menacing Ripley, but his stooge is one-dimensional, and this quickly devolves into routine action tropes with European art cinema trappings.

Thief, rw (Michael Mann, 1981): 2/5

In his first theatrical feature, Mann shows great aptitude for photographing shiny cars on rainy streets.  The rest is a series of cable-TV crime movie cliches, from the lone wolf safecracker who'll retire after his last big score to the ludicrous slo-mo killings accompanied by Tangerine Dream synthesizer cheese.  Over time Mann will get bigger budgets and bigger stars, but this rot will remain at the core of everything he does.

11 Harrowhouse (Aram Avakian, 1974): 2/5

Upon Charles Grodin's passing in May 2021, several Criterion discussion board members recommended this British comic heist film as an underrated gem that both starred and was adapted by Grodin.  But a cast that includes Candice Bergen, James Mason, Trevor Howard, and John Gielgud can't make up for the lazy voice-over narration that ruins the film with Grodin's shy-guy musings.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle, rw (Peter Yates, 1973): 4/5

A policier as low-key and assured as Robert Mitchum's central performance, with every frame shot on location in and around Boston.

Charley Varrick, rw (Don Siegel, 1973): 3/5

Solid, understated 70s bank robbing film, marred by a Lilo Schifrin score that sounds like an episode of "Charlie's Angels."

The Hot Rock, rw (Peter Yates, 1972): 4/5

A comic heist film that is consistently witty and tries to do nothing more than entertain, with a script by William Goldman based on a Donald Westlake novel.  Redford, Segal, Liebman, and Sand are fantastic as a gang of hard-luck criminals.  I saw this in the theater with a Planet of the Apes film when I was 12, and I was the only one of the group who thought The Hot Rock was better.  A half-century later, I stand by this still-controversial opinion.

Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, rw (George Roy Hill, 1969): 4/5

I still don't like how much it panders to make the leads so charming and lovable, but there's lots to like in William Goldman's quiet, wise screenplay and Conrad Hall's cinematography.  And the leads are charming and lovable.  I was surprised to learn how much this adheres to the true story, with one major exception: the real Butch Cassidy, when surrounded by the Bolivian army, killed Sundance and then himself--an ending only Polanski would have insisted on.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller, rw (Robert Altman, 1971): 5/5

This: "Beatty's reluctant hero and Christie's matter-of-fact five-dollar whore are nudged from bumptious farce through black comedy all the way to solitary tragedy imbedded in the communal indifference with which Altman identifies America.  However, Altman neither celebrates nor scolds this communal indifference but instead accepts it as one of the conditions of existence."  --Andrew Sarris, Village Voice review, July 8, 1971

The Wild Bunch, rw (Sam Peckinpah, 1969): 3.5/5

The gunfight scenes are still impressive, and it's still great to watch William Holden and Robert Ryan in late, valedictory roles.  But I had forgotten the flashbacks being as embarrassingly sophomoric as those in Leone (e.g., For a Few Dollars More): sentimental, soft-focus memories of boudoir affections with pretty whores.

Midnight Cowboy, rw (John Schlesinger, 1969): 5/5

Many say it's about sex or friendship, but ultimately it's about loneliness.  How many times have I sat alone in a room watching Joe Buck sit alone in a room watching TV, while that haunting harmonica theme pierces the silence?  Too many to count.

Uptight (Jules Dassin, 1969): 3/5

Black revolutionary group in Cleveland, days after MLK assassination, decide to arm themselves and take it to whitey--but they're tripped up by an informer.  Lots of persuasive talk about how non-violent protest only solidifies white power.  Loosely based on John Ford's The Informer.  Dassin returns to America after Blacklist exile in Europe and makes a revolutionary film--who knew?

Budd Boetticher: The Ranown Cycle

I watched one a day on Criterion Channel for six days, probably to their detriment, as it made me notice generic conventions more than individual strengths.

Seven Men From Now, rw (Budd Boetticher, 1956): 5/5

So little is spoken and so much is implied.  A model of narrative economy, maturity, and visual splendor in 78 minutes--a perfect movie.  This remains my favorite BB because it's the only one I've seen on the big screen (with BB and writer Burt Kennedy in attendance), and it has the best bad guy: Lee Marvin.  After seeing it 20 years ago I knew there was a major plot twist coming somewhere, but it still surprised me.

The Tall T (Budd Boetticher, 1957): 4/5

Follows same plot as Seven Men:  greenhorn couple (pretty wife, weak husband) happen upon strong silent type (Randolph Scott) who helps them fend off bad men in the desert.  In the process, weak husband is eliminated and good guy walks into sunset with pretty widow.   Bad guy: a surly but smart Richard Boone.

Decision at Sundown (Budd Boetticher, 1957): 3/5

Starts well, but hindered by R Scott surrounded in a town and general moralizing about importance of community doing the right thing to take down a charismatic bully masquerading as a do-gooder (likely inspired by Joe McCarthy's death that year).  Here, low budget means using too many actors already overexposed on TV westerns.

Buchanan Rides Alone (Budd Boetticher, 1958): 3/5

While adhering to a length of less than 80 minutes, the back-and-forth kidnapping/ransom shenanigans start to wear thin, and the ending resorts to mining some cliches (e.g., the gunned-down man waking up to take one last shot with his pistol).  Craig Stevens (TV's Peter Gunn) has complex role as seemingly honest man among the bad guys who must intervene on behalf of good guy Buchanan.  To my chagrin, Randolph Scott, a magnificent physical specimen, was my age when he made this (that's right, he was born in 1898).

Ride Lonesome (Budd Boetticher, 1959): 3/5

RS as bounty hunter with a conscience, Pernell Roberts good in the complex role of colleague with criminal past trying to go straight.  Wish there was more from a young James Coburn and Lee Van Cleef.  But the whole thing involves too much revenge/redemption macho crap while they steal glances at bleach-blonde Karen Steele's anachronistic push-up atomic tits on the range.

Comanche Station (Budd Boetticher, 1960): 3/5

RS is another bounty hunter with a conscience and a haunted past.  Claude Akins is the bad guy waiting to make his move, and he waits until the film's final minute.  Thankfully, that's only the 72nd minute, but it seemed much longer.

Documentaries:

Spaceship Earth (Matt Wolf, 2020): 3/5

Doc about the Biosphere project is too in thrall with participating subjects, but has understandable empathy for a time when science and intellect were valued and put into action.  Elides any discussion of sexuality among these science nerds and theatre people living together for years at a time.  Messy corruption issues feel glossed over, esp. kicker in last 10 minutes when Steve Bannon arrives, characteristically, to destroy all hope in the name of Wall Street enterprise.

The Green Fog (Guy Maddin, et al, 2017): 3/5

Hour-long found-footage film of San Francisco settings.  Supposedly an homage to Vertigo, but its overuse of schlock TV productions and stars (Rock Hudson, Chuck Norris, Michael Douglas), offers more tongue-in cheek amusement than poetry or insight.

Notfilm (Ross Lipman, 2015): 3/5

Fascinating doc by former UCLA archivist Lipman about the 1964 collaboration of Buster Keaton, Samuel Beckett, Boris Kaufman, and Barney Rossett on their disappointing and unwatchable experiment "Film."  Too bad Lipman is long on philosophizing and wears out his welcome as the doc goes past two hours.

Ornette: Made in America, rw (Shirley Clarke, 1986): 3.5/5

Unsatisfying as biographical portrait or musical document, but does attempt to get under Coleman's skin.  Funny how inadequate video is for conveying futuristic ideas about the intersections of outer space, art, and humankind.  Maybe reducing the universe to binary code has leveled the playing field?  Doc concludes with Ornette telling his infamous story about his wish to be castrated (he had to settle for circumcision) and then, post-concert, being greeted by a line of white Texan women who kiss, hug, and arrange meetings with him.

The Times of Harvey Milk, rw (Rob Epstein, 1982): 5/5

Still shocking, tragic, and moving.  Milk is just so genuine, passionate, and articulate.  I had forgotten that Dan White pulled a George Costanza: quit his supervisor job and then decided he made a mistake and wanted it back... and his boss refused, setting him off.

A Well-Spent Life (Les Blank, 1971): 4/5

Beautiful doc about country blues songster Mance Lipscomb just hangs out with him and his share-cropping family in rural West Texas and gives a full-blooded  environmental portrait of the man and the roots of his blues.  Blank has a great eye for vibrant B-roll to visually complement Lipscomb's nimble songs and philosophising.  44 minutes.

 

Festival (Murray Lerner, 1967): 3/5

Attempting to cover several Newport Folk Festivals, this falls prey to the typical music doc problem:  too many clips of amazing performances, but never is a song shown in its entirety--not even when Dylan goes electric.  That's why the outtakes (many full songs) available from Criterion are more satisfying.

 

Monterey Pop, rw (D.A. Pennebaker, 1967): 3.5/5

Pennebaker does at least feature many entire songs, and who would have guessed that after milestone performances by Redding, Joplin, and Hendrix, it was Ravi Shankar who brought down the house?  Spin-off films focusing on Hendrix and Redding's entire Monterey performances are also welcome, although both stars exaggerate their showmanship to the detriment of their music.

The Card Counter (Paul Schrader, 2021): 3.5/5

Much to like and appreciate, including some cool and daring camera stuff. Issac’s performance is noteworthy—some Travis Bickel intensity but also a Bressonian, mannequin-like stillness and monotone. Unfortunately the traumatic subtext (merely hinted at in Taxi Driver) overwhelms the text (poker), which is actually more compelling.

Malignant (James Wan, 2021): 3.5/5

Non-elevated B-movie schlock. A bit too long due to second act problems as we stretch toward a third act reveal, but gonzo and fun.

The Golden Coach (Jean Renoir, 1952): 2/5

A completely empty display of chintzy theatrics with fairy tale archetypes. 

The Long Day Closes (Terence Davies, 1992): 3/5

As much of a museum piece as A City of Sadness. I think Davies must have a very good memory, saying of 1956: these are our songs, our clothes, our customs, the rain and how time moved. It reminds me of the all-time great ending shot of Tarkovski’s Nostalghia (I think), where we are shown his mother posing in a meadow with a white dog (I think) and the camera pulls back for several minutes until we discern that the whole scene, barn and meadow, is inside a massive church.

2046 (Wong Kar-wai, 2004): 3/5

A movie about having sex with a lot of extremely hot girls because you’re sad about how in the past you loved an extremely hot girl. There’s also some future stuff, but that doesn’t add anything beyond (even more) stunning visuals, including the most beautiful greens. Some last-second voiceover during the end credits intimates the whole thing is about missing the way Hong Kong was before the hand-off to China: ok! 

La Piscine (Jacques Deray, 1969): 3.5/5

Frisky and sensual in the first act. History, temptation and, finally, murder complicate the second act. The third act is morally shocking yet satisfying. 

Belladonna of Sadness (Eiichi Yamamoto, 1973): 2/5

Art house animation with exploitative violence, nudity and rape, lots of rape. Obviously made for heads, but i feel sorry for anyone who dropped acid and then watched this massively upsetting bummer.  

Clint Eastwood Film Fest

In a scene where other directors would've had him on his knees at someone's bedside, grasping their hand and crying and begging for forgiveness, Eastwood shoots himself just standing there stock-still. Nothing fancy. Eastman never writes his own scripts of course, and I would even say he has poor taste or skill in picking them. Still, Eastwood does have a thing for bad/absent dads seeking redemption and forgiveness—a theme in four of the six movies below.

Cry Macho (Clint Eastwood, 2021): 3/5 

After-school-special level of complexity in terms of narrative and character. But its straightforwardness and lack of adornment—it’s one-take unfussiness—is a feature not a bug. “I don’t know how to cure ‘old,’” says 91-year-old Eastwood’s character, who travels down to Mexico City to rescue the 13-year-old child of a friend of his from the drug-dealing mother. They end up hiding out in a Mexican village community and staying there. So: pro-Mexico? Eastwood’s presence and acting chops are diminished but still quite a pleasure. 

The Mule (Clint Eastwood, 2018): 3/5

This also is not a sophisticated or well-written movie, but it’s not a bad one. Eastwood is a frail and naive old guy who is knowingly yet innocently running drugs across state lines. Over a series of road trips he encounters lesbian bikers, black youths, scary cartel Mexicans, etc., and he engages them all with bemused but warm acceptance. This is not a red state tract and even explicitly points out that a Mexican-American being pulled over by the police is experiencing the most dangerous five minutes of his life. Is this too didactic? A loose and easy-breezy feeling ensure it doesn’t feel that way. Honestly, this is one of most unsentimental and normal portraits of a very old character I’ve seen. Eastwood is barely acting, just training the camera on himself while breathing (this is a compliment). 

Sully (Clint Eastwood, 2016): 3.5/5

The movie could have been, and even pretends to be, an investigation as to whether Sully made the right call to land on the a Hudson instead of returning to LaGuardia. The simulations said he could have. But the movie biases you to believe Sully because the first thing the audience is shown is the plane not making it back and crashing into a building (Sully’s nightmare)—plus there’s Hanks. Ultimately we are shown two versions of the events. One a big budget movie version that corroborates Sully’s (and America’s) version of events. The other a 80s video game version where he made the wrong call. Cinema trumps video games, so Sully is vindicated. Is Eastwood-the-director aware of this formal, meta-textural argument? Doubtful. “We did our job” is the movie’s very Boomer theme, in a universe where Boomers are being doubted and questioned on every side by Gen X, Z and Millennials. 

Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood, 2004): 3/5

I thought all the boxing stuff was excellent, and the turn in the third act maudlin and unnecessary. 

Flags of my Father (Clint Eastwood, 2006): 3/5

Eastman does Iwo Jima with 90s CGI and bunch of pretty good actors, including Barry Pepper. Deserves (unfavorable) comparison to Private Ryan and The Thin Red Line, although it’s a million times better than 1914. After 45 minutes it mostly shifts focus to be about the selling and fundraising of the war (bail bonds) via the marketing of that famous raising of the flag image, with all the accompanying irony and cynicism. Also about the imposter syndrome and survivor guilt of its subjects, the vast gulf between legend and reality, and how history must be simplified to be remembered. Everything is clear, but in last 30 minutes we suddenly get a voiceover narrator explaining the themes and conclusions of the film. Thanks, filmmakers! 

Absolute power (Clint Eastwood, 1997): 2.5/5

Eastwood, Gene Hackman, Lara Kinney, Ed Harris, Scott Glenn, and Judy Davis gamely wrestling with routine material. The president antagonist here is an exaggerated Clinton (being into rough sex/murder)—although one scene also pointedly takes place at the Watergate.

Jia Zhang-ke Film Festival

The strength of Jia’s movies lies in their open-ended feel, where we’re just hanging out in these symbolically weighted mileaux and wondering whether anything will happen to or around these characters. This leads to both authenticity and a documentary value. 

Xiao Wu (Pickpocket) (Jia Zhang-ke, 1997): 3.5/5

Bresson or Schrader would certainly recognize this story of compulsion, degradation and disintegration. But here we are denied the interiority of a diary, and instead the characters are given depth and meaning by their role/place in the sweep of history. Like Wes Anderson (for example) Jia takes seriously the simple, deep and pervasive lyrics of pop songs. Like Hard Eight and Bottle Rocket, this movie is like an egg, containing nascent versions of the director’s style to come (although this is better than either of those films).

Platform (Jia Zhang-ke, 2000): 4/5

Mostly medium-to-long shots emphasize environment over character and give the movie an unengaging feel in its first hour. But very slowly one realizes that years are passing—eventually about a dozen—and changes are afoot. A bunch of theater kids escape the brown and resourceless town in a parade of increasingly rickety vehicles (although unfortunately they find little to interest them outside of the city’s walls either). At first they present only state-approved songs, but soon are singing bad pop tunes slavered in bad guitar solos—hardly an improvement. A character named Sianming is unable to jump on the artistic party tractor because he feels he has to work in a mine to earn enough money for his sister to get educated. By the end of the movie, change comes to the town, bringing nicer teapots and the color red, if not actual hope and fulfillment. Jia parents were intellectuals who were relocated to the remote town in the film, making this document an actual testament to the power of art to help one (Jia) escape and dream, one of the themes of the movie.

Unknown Pleasures (Jia Zhang-ke, 2002): 3.5/5

Jia’s first feature using video, so the image is at times rough (and other times quite beautiful) but high-wire long takes proliferate. Powerful use of off-screen space, with, for example, characters walking out of frame but still being regarded by people in the shot. I did not realize that Zhao Tao was in all of Jia’s features (she’s also his wife since 2012), but this idea is already paying off in this second role, as we bring feelings about her and a sense of her history into this film. Noteworthy use of ambient sound/sound pollution as well: a constant flow of radio announcements, music, traffic noise. Contains a Jaw-dropping reference to Pulp Fiction. Supposedly shot in three weeks.

The World (Jia Zhang-ke, 2004): 3/5

A third film about The Life of an Artist in China. The text itself is perhaps not as sharp as in the last two movies. However Beijing World Park itself—with its “see the (fake and diminished) world without leaving Beijing” motto and some of the most beautiful landmarks of the world presented at 1/3 size—is one of the all-time most powerful free-floating metaphors and just keeps paying off. Later in the movie, relatives show up from the town in Platform in their Mao-era caps and jackets and their lack of affect, looking like visitors from a univers undreamed of by the architects of the World Park. 

Still Life, rw (Jia Zhang-ke, 2006): 5/5

Love in (the) ruins, with amazing authentic building destruction and the sprawling green landscapes of Three Gorges—that’s what I call production values. A real sense of documentary persists, with mostly medium shots, and heavy-duty symbols are in full force, with the protagonist’s former life literally underwater due to the transformations China is undergoing. A stronger narrative than usual as Sianming, whom we know from Platform and The World, searching for his estranged wife and daughter (he won best actor at Venice). A UFO in the middle magically passes the narrative center/POV to a (different) wife searching for her own spouse. She drinks from a water bottle in almost every scene, trying to fill herself up with water like the gorge. Kiarostami and Antonioni vibes. 

24 City (Jia Zhang-ke, 2008): 2.5/5

Jia finds another powerful central conceit—an old munitions factory being torn down and replaced by high rise apartments. But instead of placing a narrative inside this symbol, here we have a series of (recreated) direct address testimonies from previous factory workers and eventually their children, making this more of a documentary tapestry and a bit unsatisfying, cathartically. 

A Touch of Sin, rw (Jia Zhang-ke, 2013): 4.5/5

“Shooting guns isn’t boring.” All of Jia’s movies present people struggling in environments that do not suit them or, indeed, anyone. But for the first time, characters here are overtly critical of the corruption and frankly pissed, making for easily the most angry, violent and direct of Jia’s works. The narrative is open and wide-eyed, with a large cast of destructive and self-destructive characters, yet it also has moments of traditional genre movie intensity. Contains the following bit of chit-chat between two carefree workers at a spa: First girl: “Did you know animals commit suicide?” Second girl: “Don’t they know the saying ‘better to live miserably than die happy?’” First girl: (Smiling brightly) “Animals wouldn’t agree.” (Bounces off with a cheery smile).

Mountains May Depart (Jia Zhang-ke, 2015): 3/5

Medium shots and western mise en scene have taken over. Close-ups, tranquil guitar music on the soundtrack, and even bad CGI. A much more traditional love triangle, the death of a father, a mother separated from her son, and other melodramatic elements.