* Anatomy of a Fall (Justine Triet, 2023): 5/5

A couple is having a disagreement, and the husband ends up dead (relatable). The rest of the movie seems to be about whether the wife killed him or it was a suicide, but it’s actually about how mysterious and unknowable a relationship is, even to its participants—or even how very unknowable a person is. Triet manages a delicate equilibrium of ambiguity throughout, urging multiple interpretations, even with so much emotional weight in balance. So many great scenes, including the argument, the what-will-happen ending scene with the lawyer/past and potential lover, and the ending scene where the kid says he was “afraid of you coming home” and she agrees. These can mean so many things—and do! I liked the way there were all these symbolic impediments to understanding, including three different languages, the son’s “blindness,” and the fact that the suspect is a person who blends reality and fiction for a living. The movie starts and ends with the dog, and I think this means we understand our world about as well as a dog does. Insightful, true and always riveting.

 

Passages (Ira Sachs, 2023): 4/5

No particular method or agenda—beyond perhaps a bit of a character unraveling—but lots of pure emotion expressed by two great performances Franz Rogowski (a revelation, even after seeing Transit) & (Bright Star’s own) Ben Whishaw. Quite a leap forward visually and thematically from Love is Strange, which I remember as being pretty sit-commish (older gay people in Brooklyn in bunkbeds!), to something that feels like Olivier Assayas. Great last sequence. 

 

Godland (Hlynur Pálmason, 2023): 4/5

Novelistic, which here means that it moves from drama to drama over time, resetting the stakes and the relationships among the characters, including who is the protagonist. Jaw dropping Icelandic production values. People have cited Aguirre, but I was reminded of the (beloved, to me) The Immigrants/A New Land—a long and hallucinatory journey and a new fellowship in a remote location. Our original protagonist is a hopeless idiot, but the film finds new people of interest to center the film, over time. 

 

The Killer (David Fincher, 2023): 3.5/5

Familiar territory (see Point Blank, Le Samouraï) but well told. The first bit is very Palahniuk and fun but the revenge section becomes more tight lipped and, for long stretches, silent (always good). it is interesting that our killer is pretty incompetent and not strict about acting within his own supposed code. This makes the self-seriousness of the voice-over (and the idea that this movie is autobiographical) increasingly ironic. It’s also interesting that Amazon and WeWork have made his life (like ours) so frictionless, screaming, “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism.”

 

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar/The Swan/The Rat Catcher/Poison (Wes Anderson. 2023): 3.5/5

Despite my well-documented adoration of Anderson, I was “disappointed” upon first viewing—overwhelmed by these films’ speed and intensity. Moving too swiftly through so many levels and interludes, all packed and potentially hilarious, plus many beautiful tools of set design and acting and animation, not to even mention people looking at the camera and saying “He said” all the time. A second viewing of each rendered them more coherent but still ecstatic and exhausting—and a gauntlet thrown at the feet of adaptation itself. So you think you want to see a recreation of the actual book? Here you go. Of course, many adaptations emphasize the original work’s emotions, but this one instead revels in the satisfying clockwork and ever-evolving drama in these complex stories. 

 

NYAD (Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, Jimmy Chin, 2023): 3.5/5

Benning’s performance is completely without vanity; I especially loved the parts when she is in the middle of her one of her swims and is disoriented, grunty, bloated and ugly. Foster is also surprisingly terrific. Script rings all the bells.  

 

Flora and Son (John Carney, 2023): 3/5

Not as good as my beloved Sing Street but not as bad as the condescending and narrowminded Begin Again (although it does take a snarky swipe at James Blake, of all people). All the musical parts here worked gangbusters for me sob sob sob. But a lot of the drama did not. Flora’s hollow-eyed, anti-social son just wanted to make sunny pop music with his mom?! 

 

Gran Turismo (Neill Blomkamp, 2023): 2.5/5

Cliched sports film but doesn’t spend unnecessary time on exposition. Racing scenes are effective, and Jack liked it a lot.

 

* Next Goal Wins (Taika Waititi, 2023): 1.5/5

Cliched sports film but spends way too much time on broken White savior Fassbinder instead of on the colorful Samoan team and, you know, the sport. Jack did not like it a lot. Fassbinder is miscast and horribly awkward and robotic. Can he only play sociopaths?  

 

* PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie (Cal Brunker, 2023): 2/5

A yardstick for mediocrity. Requested by Jack but subject to the inquiry “why am I the oldest kid in this theater?” 

 

Reality (Tina Satter, 2023): 2/5

The real hook is the use of actual FBI transcripts for the script, and it is interesting to see how everything truly went down. Although of course, face gestures and body movements (not explicit in the transcript) are crucial to how the words are received. I believe that the movie thinks it’s about how the FBI too-zealously persecuted this woman for her mishandling of classified documents—and indeed the film is largely devoted to emphasizing their micro-aggressions (although generally I found them pretty respectful and kind). But I wonder how the super-lib (I’m assuming) filmmakers and intended audience changed their minds when this same sin of mishandling top secret docs was weaponized against Trumph. 

 

Welcome to Hell (Toy Machine, 1996): 4/5

A skateboarding video that serves as a profound document on the subject of flow state as well as on urban architecture. Feel free to turn off the sound and provide your preferred soundtrack. 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tx2Q9pNxPc

 

Howard’s End (James Ivory, 1992): 3/5

I just read this novel, and it’s a weird book/story. There are two half-romances but it’s not really about love like A Room with a View is—although Ivory piles on the beauty as if it is. Instead, its interest is in class, depicting a wealthy family that accidentally (and to some extent blithely) ruins a lower-class man’s life while trying to help him. Whoops! Oh well!

 

Manhatta, 10 mins (Paul Strand, Charles Sheeler, 1921): 3/5

10 minutes of Manhattan in 1921. Who doesn’t want to see that?

 

Sonny and Jed (Sergio Corbucci, 1972): 3/5

A Spaghetti Western with amazing zooms in and out all over the place—heightening intensity and emotion. Corbucci is unrepentant about putting a chaotic, repugnant rapist in the usual protagonist role and making us deal with it. Between Mandingo, Dirty Larry and Crazy Mary, and this one in the last couple of months, I have come to really like Susan George: a nice naturalism and A+ teeth. 

 

Gone in 60 Seconds (H.B. Halicki, 1974): 3.5/5

Has a surprising verisimilitude around the subject matter of car thievery—as well as when heavy pieces of metal start flying around the screen. Great to see some real fucking physics on screen. Our protagonist is an asshole, but he’s also professional, competent and principled (he won’t sell heroin). The camera ogles the beautiful luxury and sport cars, polished to a sexy sheen. The last 45 minutes are a shaggy chase scene from Long Beach across the bridges to Pedro and up the “Harbor” freeway (do we still call it that?) and around Carson. Amazing and pleasurable time travel, then-vs-now footage of fields and open skies where there are now billboards, blimps and buildings. 

 

Buffalo 66, rw (Vincent Gallo, 1998): 5/5

Je suis San Fernando Valley 67. I recognize so many of these behaviors and tantrums in my own worst behaviors. I am this weak, abrupt, angry, childish, demanding, frustrated and little. And it is reassuring that a make-upped angel like Melissa (here played by Christina Ricci) loves me anyway and actually wants to help me. As for Ricci’s character, I think she is just taking a ride and tripping out on the experience. In a similar way, I have recently discovered the joys of simply agreeing, in conversation with difficult people. 

 

Whiplash, rw (Damien Chazelle, 2014): 5/5

Serious daddy issue movie for me (in a good way; it’s why I forgive the teacher his trespasses).  Plus, yeah I kind of would like this guy to bully my bandmates into practicing a bit more and keeping time better. Miles Teller is terrific here and has yet to fulfill the promise of this film. 

 

Howl’s Moving Castle, rw (Hayao Miyazaki, 2004): 5/5

Perhaps his most mysterious work (and that’s saying something). The viewer is so often in the middle of some experience that we don’t know the rules for—and we just have to go with it. Watched with Jack and later he said it was his new favorite movie (after Deadpool, a film that completely fascinates him, especially as I would not let him see it for years). 

 

Design for Living, rw (Ernst Lubitsch, 1933): 4/5

The three-way love affair here would still be taboo 90 years later. Playwright Frederic March (so great in The Best Years of Our Lives 13 years later) is aces, but the MVP is painter Gary Cooper—gangly beauty, with huge hands (!!) and excellent timing. Miriam Hopkins’ character is way ahead of her time, hustling to help make the men she loves a success while also charting her own idiosyncratic fate. 

 

 

The Thrilling Conclusion of This 1001 Greatest Films Project

After some investigation several years ago, I settled on this list and finally—to my great satisfaction—I have watched every film on it. As you may have read, many of them were really good and some of them I didn’t like at all. From now on, if someone suggests an older movie I haven’t seen, I’m just going to make a disgusted face and tell them that it’s not even one of the best 1001 movies, so fucking forget it!! (No, actually of course I already have a new list of the 153 movies that made four or more lists in the most recent Sight and Sound poll that I haven’t yet seen.)

The Bridges of Madison County (Clint Eastwood, 1995): 4.5/5

Absolutely expert middlebrow. Streep in her imperial phase, casually incorporating accent and unique facial expressions for the character. Eastwood is also great, doing almost nothing and relying solely on great sense of ease, relaxation and presence. The last half hour is a cascading succession of emotional moments and yes sob sob sob. 

 

The Best of Youth, 6h6m (Marco Tullio Giordana, 2003): 3.5/5

Follows four siblings and their friends from late adolescence through when they are grandparents, with all the love affairs, parent deaths, and other perfectly ordinary dramas of a lived life—such an obvious idea for a film and one wonders why it is not done more often. It’s pleasant to watch these beautiful people trip, Gump-style, through post-war Italian history (this is when we reformed mental health treatments, this is when we fought the mafia in Sicily). And in the final hour, remembering back through their lives: sob sob sob. 

 

Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore, Ross Stewart, 2020): 3/5

Tremendously lovely hand drawn animation and production design. Routine story, more or less like Disney’s Pocahontas, Pixar’s Brave or DreamWorks’ How to Train Your Dragon. (Outsider group not trusted until our protagonist joins them, then shows everyone how great they are). 

 

Whirlpool (Otto Preminger, 1950): 3/5

What year in America history is it when a movie is, without irony, built around the power of psychiatry and hypnotism over female “you must believe me” hysteria? Gene Tierney outacts Richard Conte and Jose Ferrer and makes it look easy.  

 

A Silent Voice (Naoko Yamada, 2016): 3/5

Extremely sensitive, let’s say emo, teen drama expressed with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. It makes me happy to know that there are so many Japanese youths feeling everything so deeply and trying to be good people. Female director!

 

An Affair to Remember (Leo McCarey, 1957): 3/5

Filled with all kinds of completely normal moments between strangers—then lovers—that throb with feeling. Cary Grant is deeply relaxed (and deeply tanned) and brings a reality to the whole affair. The last half hour devolves into a musical as McCarey kills time the best he can before finally gets to reunite his lovers. McCarey’s third-to-last film, of 95.

 

Son of the White Mare (Marcell Jankovics, 1981): 2.5/5

Packed with ecstatic and intense psychedelic images, but it never really transcends that in terms of narrative or character. I think some people (wrongly) want Yellow Submarine to be more like this. 

 

The Tiger of Eschnapur (Fritz Lang, 1959): 2/5

A German-language evocation of India, with romance and intrigue. What could go wrong?? Combines some beautiful travelogue footage, with studio-bound scenes of the worst theatrical nature, plus racism. Brown face everywhere, but the love interest is a blue-eyed Eurasian. Worst of all, it’s ugly—green, red and purple lighting abounds. For a flavor of the “authenticity” and exoticism here, here’s what the protagonist stumbles up in a secret temple. Sheesh!

 

 

The Ladykillers (Alexander Mackendrick, 1959): 3/5

In the dumb criminal genre also populated by Big Deal on Madonna Street, Ruthless People and Snatch—all movies I find tiresome. Lots of fake teeth and actorly business. Shockingly it’s the old woman’s intelligence, poise, grace and good humor that persists in the mind. Also shockingly, the Coens found no way to improve on this material.  

 

The Red Light Bandit (Rogério Sganzerla, 1968): 2.5/5

Follows the exploits of a thief, rapist and murderer. Or as the movie puts it “A Brazilian in the last phase of capitalism.” Nihilistic, and largely declarative rather than dramatic. Over and over we get descriptions of this monster we are watching, obviously contradictory, about his philosophy, his passions, his methods—over rapid-fire Godardian pop visuals. Our bandit is later contrasted with a Trumpian populist politician, pals with Nazi Martin Bormann himself. "Within the garbage can, one must be radical." — Rogério Sganzerla

 

Anatomy of a Fall (Justine Triet, 2023): 4/5

My first Triet, and I'm now very curious. Thoroughly gripping, loved the forensic attention to detail, both in the case at hand and in relationship dynamics, and the fastidious lack of score. Also the way it interweaves objective, near banal coverage with intensely subjective and empathic rough camera movements (a double take in the courtroom is particularly striking, and a zoom at a key moment got what I believe to be intended laughs) seems wholly unique. Aided by Sandra Huller's five star performance (an acting masterclass) and a brilliantly layered script, Triet has delivered one of the most morally attuned critiques of the fundamental dysfunction at the heart of the current zeitgeist that nails what Todd Field and Cate Blanchet sought to achieve in TAR without resorting to that film's more overtly confrontational and controversial schematics.

This is one of the most emotionally intelligent films you're likely to see this year. Well worth a look.

Killers of the Flower Moon (Scorsese, 2023): 4/5

Another sprawling Late Marty epic as both an elegy for a forgotten American tragedy and an American master of crime films lamenting on the true cost of evil. Leo’s Ernest Burkhart is a dimwitted ex-soldier led to moral ruin by smarter men for whom they became willing pawns. Scorsese has never been more Shakespearean than here. Of course this film belongs to Lily Gladstone, the magnificent actress who plays a wealthy Osage woman besieged by an orchestrated wave of death meant to steal her tribe’s wealth. Gladstone’s prodigious gifts bring this woman to life and express love and fear in a way that belie the words she utters. And the story calls on her to create crushing grief usually reserved for Greek Tragedy. She astonishes. Robert De Niro won’t get the attention he deserves here but his turn as William Hale is some of his best work in years. It is striking how different this film is from the mid-career crime epics that have come to define Martin Scorsese. This film eschews the propulsive drive and violent excess that once was the director’s signature. Instead we get a compelling portrait of the moral damnation that sprang from America’s Original Sin. It’s a rough ride, but we can’t look away. Doing that has led us to this. Sad. Moving. Infuriating. And the genius and emotional gut-punch of that fucking ending cannot be debated.

rewatched The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973): 5/5

"What an excellent day for an exorcism."

Few films are celebrated as the preeminent in their respective genre, even fewer deserve the title. But unlike others, horror is such a sweeping genre brimming with a multitude of sub genres— to dub a single film as the best is far more difficult.

Fortunately, The Exorcist makes it easier. Would be a shame if someone tried to make a legacy sequel 50 years later...

The Exorcist: Believer (David Gordon Green, 2023): 1.5/5

Or, THE EXORSISTERS.

Possibly the lamest one in the Exorcist franchise, the demons weren't cunty, there's the whole "town is experiencing trauma so let's get together and pray" storyline. And like characters will just be existing in a normal situation and suddenly stare off into the distance and start monologuing like "do u know what evil really is!? I think It's not having hope!!" and you as an audience member will be like um ok? Who asked!?

The most frightening thing about this movie is that David Gordon Green is supposed to make a trilogy of this. Speaking of which, you can tell he was never bullied in high school and all I’m saying is it’s not too late to start.

Passages (Ira Sachs, 2023): 2/5

I continue to find Sachs badly wanting; his instincts are commendable, but I never fundamentally believe anything that I'm seeing in his films. Also didn't like how neither Martin nor Agathe ever comes across as more than an empty vehicle for Tomas to repeatedly, narcissistically sideswipe, and Passages isn't disciplined enough (despite some excellent individual shots, e.g. one in which Tomas' body completely obscures Martin's as they argue in bed at night) to make that dynamic compelling to me. Nice to see frank sexuality onscreen for a change, but that's the only level on which anyone connects.

The Royal Hotel (Kitty Green, 2023): 3/5

Two Canadian female backpackers travel to the Australian outback to earn a bit of money working in a bar, in order to support their backpacker lifestyle. The locals are a bit shifty and trouble ensues.

I didn't really like how the movie kept walking right up to the point at which a conventional gnarly genre film would truly kick in and then warily retreat. Just seemed to tiptoe around its fundamental purpose and visceral draw. There's constant nerve-shredding tension, yes, but then nothing ever quite crosses the line into actual horror.

But having another young woman, Liv, in the same circumstances roll with toxic masculinity, and often appear to be having way more fun as a result, keeps the film from feeling overly didactic, even as we're generally recoiling alongside Hanna.

rewatched The Magnificent Ambersons (Orson Welles, 1942): 4/5

Mildly amusing when thinking of Orson expecting mass audiences to empathize with George Amberson Minafer.

Constantine (Francis Lawrence, 2005): 2.5/5

Tilda Swinton. Gavin Rossdale?!

rewatched Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958): 4/5

I remembered this as an unassailable classic, but nothing about the desert hotel plot thread really worked for me on this viewing - performances, motivations, awkward timing necessitated by cross-cutting between two storylines, Vargas leaving his wife out there, the sodium pentathol in lieu of heroin (what, it's legal to inject people unwillingly with non-lethal doses?) - apart from some nice shots (duh, it's Welles). Rest is aces, bravura, essential cinema, give or take the brownface.

rewatched It (1990): 3/5

I would rather wake up to the 2017 Pennywise next to me than the 1990 Pennywise, I feel like the 90s Pennywise would try and do some freaky shit to me not gonna lie, and the 2017 one would just kill me.

Chimes at Midnight (Orson Welles, 1965): 3.5/5

Of all his films, Chimes at Midnight was reportedly Orson Welles' own personal favorite of his work. I can see why— the ornate Shakespearean dramaturgy is an overwhelming indulgence of his grandiose and decadent thespian proclivities. There’s a lot to admire on a shot-by-shot basis, but I never could quite fully engage with it. It could be that I don’t have a strong ear for Shakespeare, but that’s exactly why I’ve always valued cinematic adaptations of his works; the visuals fill in the story for me in a way that a handful of actors milling about a stage simply can’t.

Sound of Freedom (Alejandro Gomez Monteverde, 2023): 1/5

*sharts loudly*

That's the sound of freedom.

This is the type of movie your christian xenophobic aunt tells you to watch because the concept of empathy finally hit her at age 60.

Basically: black and brown people are the villains, American prisons are great, the US government should be able to act however it desires all over the world in militaristic ways because they have a divine right to “liberate”. Pro-state nationalistic propaganda all hidden under the facade of “heroic acts”.

You'd think this vaguely faith-based anti-child trafficking hagiography would amount to some sort of ironically amusing late-night AM QAnon wankery, but this is so monotonous and self-serious that it becomes simply an interminable dirge that hops episodically from one canned movie-subplot to another. Styleless filmmaking as well, drab acting, and hollow cinematography. If you need a movie to convince you that pedophilia and child sex trafficking are a problem, then here you go.

Santa Sangre (Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1989): 2.5/5

After having both arms cut off by her philandering husband, a circus performer compels her adult son to stand behind her and serve as her hands as she embarks upon a murderous, vengeful rampage. Like all Jodorowsky films, there's a ton of arbitrary weirdness I don't get: why does Concha's disfigurement need to reflect the patron saint of a bizarre church/cult that she apparently runs in her spare time? Why the operatic crane shot of young Fenix mourning a dead elephant? Why does one key sequence involve a bunch of folks with Down syndrome whose sole function is to be offered cocaine and hookers (merely as a means of reuniting Dark Fenix with the Tattooed Lady)? WHY at one point some random dude literally peels one of his ears off of his head and starts smacking Alma about the face with it???

Well, it's certainly not a movie one forgets, I guess. But Jodorowsky's particular brand of surrealism has always struck me as fundamentally empty, for whatever reason. Perhaps I'm too much of a rationalist to appreciate a by-any-means-necessary approach to the ostensibly visionary. I think Jodorowsky just ain't my bag. He's plenty singular, but not in a way that I find appealing.

Mandingo (Richard Fleischer, 1975): 4/5

One of the greatest and most essential exploitation films ever made. Gleefully does away with any pretense to good taste and lets the rules of propriety that allow oppression to thrive expose themselves. Everything here is a hypocrisy.

The Sound of Music (Robert Wise, 1965): 4/5

Almost entirely visually organized by the Alps, the lines of the mountains...though rigid still a part of nature. They're a representation of the harmony that Maria brings out of her new family. Her love of the world is frivolous but pure, still Godly, and the structure and sacrifice of religion is unusually but crucially contrasted with the Captain's discipline, a micro version of the larger conflict between love and fascism.

Also just a ripping good musical, just one hit right after another.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (Wolfgang Reitherman, John Lounsbery, 1977): 3.5/5

 The strong tug of nostalgia that I felt here has little to do with Milne's beloved characters, and almost everything to do with preferring pre-Pixar picture-book flatness. Not that I didn't love Toy Story and its immediate successors, but who wants EVERYTHING to be so damn tactile? At this point I might even get all misty-eyed watching The Fox and the Hound. 

Reptile (Grant Singer, 2023): 2/5

Worst title in cinematic history.

All the right ingredients are here in Reptile to deliver a serviceably creepy crime story replete with True Detective detachment and Fincher atmosphere. But it never comes together to create any real tension, stakes or pathos. The result is derivative, lifeless, characterless…

 rewatched Anaconda (Luis Llosa, 1997): 1.5/5

Screaming snakes, Danny Trejo committing suicide up a mast, Jon Voight going full 'Hopkins', Eric Stoltz choking on a wasp, Owen Wilson's jungle horniness, Ice Cube and Jennifer Lopez bathing in monkey blood ... it can only be Anaconda.

Ghostwatch (Lesley Manning, 1992): 3/5

Remarkably deft mockumentary. Imagine Paranormal Activity as a live episode of something like Ghost Hunters crossed with 60 Minutes. 

It Lives Inside (Bishal Dutta, 2023): 1/5 

More like It Lives Inside.....the TRASH! 

The Burial (Margaret Betts, 2023): 3/5

Jamie Foxx is electric.

The Lady from Shanghai (Orson Welles, 1947): 2.5/5

Bastardized Irish accent notwithstanding, this is such an uninteresting and incoherent mess.  Just watch the final 5 minutes for some innovative camerawork and nifty editing.

Talk to Me (Michael and Danny Philippou, 2023): 3.5/5

Plotwise, nothing you couldn’t see in (say) Ouija 6, but as presented, I found it pretty creepy and compelling the whole way. Certainly the child of Hereditary, complete with ample head trauma, older sibling/younger sibling guilt, and a character on a journey of self-abnegation and ascendance. 

 

V/H/S/85 (Scott Derrickson, David Bruckner, Mike P. Nelson, Gigi Saul Guerrero, Natasha Kermani, 2023): 4/5

Quite a lot of exciting and audacious, splattery images. Since it’s an anthology of shorter pieces, one never really knows how soon the beats will land, resulting in a lot of surprise. The Hamburger Lady sequence at 1h19m is the most horrific thing I will see this year (I hope).

 

Spies/Spione (Fritz Lang, 1928): 2.5/5

Lang’s follow-up to his huge bomb, Metropolis—a nifty thriller with car chases, bombings, kidnapping, gunplay, and a train wreck. Not a hard watch, but these silent action movies have almost exclusively historic value. 

 

Providence (Alain Resnais, 1977): 2/5

Old, dying writer John Gielgud, getting drunk in his room, seems to be composing the scenarios and dialogue for the other drama’s characters, settling old scores and chortling to himself in a self-satisfied way. Then in the not-at-all-meta third act, the characters turn out to be his real sons and his daughter in law. No particular payoff for the (tiresome) meta games. 

 

Godard’s Passion (Jean-Luc Godard, 1982): 1.5/5

A nonsensical grab bag of images and tones: you know, Godard. A director is trying to make a film that appears to revolve around lovely recreations of famous paintings (with ample nudity) but is harried by the movie’s funders and by labor strife. It generally fritters away the geniuses of Isabelle Huppert, Michel Piccoli, and Hanna Schuygulla (Fassbinder’s Maria Brown). “Maybe it’s not that important to understand,” Godard self-justifies in the script. “It’s enough just to take.”

 

Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach (Jean-Marie Straub, Danièle Huillet): 1/5

A confounding experience. What possible utility/meaning does this movie have? There are loads better ways to hear this music and watch it being played, and there are much better Bach biographies. Yet this film is profound and important? I’m at a loss.

 

America America (Elia Kazan, 1963): 3.5/5

An immigrant’s tale more or less about how one must degrade and erase oneself in every way to manage to get to America. I liked its novelistic form, which here means there are five or six distinct parts with their own dramas. Shot by Haskell Wexler and cut by Dede Allen (Bonnie and Clyde, Dog Day Afternoon, Serpico, the Hustler), but unfortunately lead actor, newcomer Strathis Giallelis, is no Brando, Dean or Clift (but who is). 

 

Burnt by the Sun (Nikita Mikhalkov, 1994): 3/5

Charts the moment when the golden morning sun of Soviet-era Russia, full of war heroes, tips into the crispy late afternoon of betrayal, recrimination, denunciation, retribution, extermination.  

 

The Big Clock (John Farrow, 1948): 3/5

A crime reporter is put in charge of solving a homicide where all the clues point to him—Costner-fied as No Way Out. This version is a bit more broad/humorous/silly, but it does feature Ray Milland, Charles Laughton, and some high-wire camerawork that had me saying, “Wait, what year was this made?”

 

Millennium Actress (Satoshi Kon, 2001): 3/5

A typically phantasmagorial effort from Kon. Tells the life story of a Japanese actress, using scenes from her films to illustrate parts of her life. So, if the actress is running, we see her running across battle zones, through samurai landscapes, across the moon, etc. A golden key serves as our Rosebud, an emotional ground zero that helps understand her emotional life.

 

Tokyo Godfathers (Satoshi Kon, 2003): 3.5/5

Takes as it’s starting point Ford’s Three Godfathers (not to mention Three Men and a Baby) and complicates it with the godfathers being three homeless people, including a trans woman and a teen, each with their own baggage. Broad, but also true and emotional. The baby exudes a heavy Baby Yoda vibe, manifesting hope and change all around. The most straightforward Kon, and maybe my favorite.

 

Song of the Sea (Tomm Moore, 2014): 3/5

Cartoon Saloon hand-drawn animation with heavy Miyazaki influence. The second in the “Irish Folklore Trilogy” (after The Secret of the Kells and before Wolfwalkers). Some interesting and unique animation, but not a particularly compelling narrative. Childish but still contains dead mother and dog abandonment. Generally graded on a curve on the concept that this authentic Irish gibberish.

 

Tavern Man/O Tasqueiro, 14 min (Aki Kaurismaki, 2012): 3/5

Acts as the first 15 minutes of a movie that probably should delve deeper into one or more of the issues set up here in (knowing Kaurismaki) 65 more tragicomic minutes. 

 

White Lightning (Joseph Sargent, 1973): 3/5

Pretty entertaining Burt Reynolds-in-a-vehicle vehicle. 

 

Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, rw (John Hough, 1974): 3.5/5

It’s meaningless and dopey, but it also provides a steady stream of sensation relevant to 7- and 77-year-old alike—from expert car chases and car accidents to sexy/misogynist adult augments plus a hippy-ish Vic Morrow cop (Susan George very hot? Yes!). 

 

The Last American Hero (Lamont Johnson, 1973): 3.5/5

Bad title for a lively, shaggy story that starts with moonshine chases and ends as a racing picture. Bridges is of course the real draw, and he brings innocence and naturalism to every frame.  

 

 

Fifth Generation Film Fest

I’m impressed by Zhang Yimou’s willingness to try different styles. His early works are classical Hollywood-ish stories, usually from novels, adorned with jaw-dropping color. Later he pares back his stories and experiments with a more documentary or neo-realist tone. Finally, as we know, he embraces a big-budget wuxia populism.

 

Yellow Earth (Chen Kaige, 1984): 3/5

A movie where the horizon line placement, very high or low in the frame, expresses so much about the relationship between these people and their land—sometimes they are drowning in it and sometimes it presses them ecstatically against the white sky. It’s simple: the people grow out of the land and the songs grow out of the people—all made of the same meager, parched, but resistant materials. The people can no more leave than could a tree pull up its roots and walk off. What supposedly characterizes the Fifth Generation films compared to what came before in Chinese cinema are the films’ lack of didacticism; however, this one ends with a crowd of citizens chanting “Save Our People! Save Our People!” Zhang Yimou serves as cinematographer. 

 

Red Sorghum (Zhang Yimou, 1988): 4/5

Entertaining story of a widow trying to run her ex-husband’s remote sorghum winery, beset by bandits, jealousy and other emotional currents, and the Japanese. One of the most extraordinary uses of red I’ve ever seen. 

 

Ju Dou (Zhang Yimou, 1990): 3.5/5

The Postman Always Rings Twice but now there’s a child of the affair. Everything worked out great in that story, right? Setting the tale in a dye factory ensures that color once again plays a pivotal role both visually and thematically. 

 

The Story of Qui Ju (Zhang Yimou, 1992): 3/5

Four years before La Promesse, Yimou adopts a (for him) new documentary style for this Dardenne-esque story about a character on a quixotic quest for what she considers justice for a minor offense (the mayor kicked her husband in the balls). The result is a looser and more natural look and acting style.  

 

Farewell My Concubine (Chen Kaige, 1993): 3/5

The titular Peking Opera work is the story of a King and his Concubine; after the King has lost everything, the Concubine refuses to leave him and instead kills herself. The movie is about two (male) Peking Opera performers, one who is raised to play the King and one who is raised to play the Concubine—and about how these prescribed roles affect their fates over the course of half a decade of Chinese history, including the whims of various patrons, the second Sino-Japanese war, and the Cultural Revolution. Although the drama is programmatic, the size of the production (crowds everywhere), a frankness about queerness, and a harsh and prolonged criticism of the Cultural Revolution all surprised me.

 

To Live (Zhang Yimou, 1994): 3.5/5

Structurally, this film is very much like Farewell My Concubine—a couple of characters are dragged through key events in the history of 20th century China. But whereas Farewell follows artists who are involved with politicians and rich and influential patrons—and who therefore find themselves at the center of all the changes—To Live depicts a small family of little interest to anyone (and is all the better for it). To Live ends up feeling more like soapy, weepy family drama through history (a good thing) and less like historical recreation. 

 

Not One Less (Zhang Yimou, 1999): 3/5

Reminds me of Iranian neo-realistic films like The White Balloon and Children of Heaven, where a character, usually a child, is single-mindedly attempting to complete a simple task. Here a 13-year-old girl from a nearby village has been hired as a substitute teacher for a month and is told not to let any of the students drop out. This directive takes her to the big city where she tries to find one of her students who has been taken there and then lost. Simple and moving. 

 

 

October Frightfest

Hard to know exactly what criteria to use to rate these films. Several movies below filled me with dread and self-loathing (Terrifier, I Stand Alone, Angst and especially A Serbian Film), but isn’t that the point? Shouldn’t I give higher scores to the films I found the most horrifying? For better or worse, I instead seem to privilege the films that are the most fun.

 

Häxan (Benjamin Christensen, 1922): 3.5/5

“And a meal of toads and unchristened children was cooked.” The filmmakers clearly have a blast creating witches’ kitchens (with hanging cat skeleton), self-scourging inquisitor monks, mad nuns, various hairy tongue-waggling long-fingered big-eared horned horny dancing devils, and what seems like some pretty fun Devil’s Sabbath celebrations. 

 

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Rouben Mamoulian, 1931): 4/5

A movie about compartmentalization. We love it! A young, respected scientist intellectual is engaged, but her father is making them wait to be married—so he sends his “bad side” out to get a side-piece of his desires. The girl is given a hot pre-code sexy scene of enticement but is arguably coded gay (at one point a post-coitally contrite Jekyll vows to his mincing manservant that he “will not use the back door of the laboratory anymore.”) The actor’s first transformation to Hyde (a one-shot using only makeup, filters and lighting) is one of the most beautiful and startling special effects in cinema history, and there are some epic long, long dissolves (which I am a sucker for: #APlaceintheSun). 

 

Rose Hobart, rw, 20 mins (Joseph Cornell, 1936): 3.5/5

Rose Hobart herself plays a small (and thankless) role in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which inspired this rewatch. The short film is a bit of a blank slate for one to project ideas into, but I see a lot of manly violence and Rose largely afraid and sad while wearing gowns and jewelry (consistent with her role in DJ&MH)—followed by communion with monkey-self, then mystic union with the universe. #Lynch

 

Quatermass and the Pit (Roy Ward Baker, 1967): 3.5/5

A G-rated, very English sci-fi flick with heavy Saturday afternoon Family Film Festival with Tom Hatten on KTLA vibes. (This is where I watched all the Abbott and Costello and Bob Hope movies along with loosies like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Munsters Go Home, The Incredible Mr. Lippett, etc.) This one, the third of a series of Quatermass films, has some intrepid, witty scientists and ghostbuster professors dealing with an ancient, unearthed extraterrestrial ship with psychic powers, for some old-fashioned fusty fun. Zero denouement. Discovered on Edgar Wright’s fun top 1000 Letterboxd list. 

 

Witchfinder General (Michael Reeves, 1968): 3/5

Repeats some of scenes from Häxan, especially those involving men wielding their power with sadism, torture and rape. It’s essentially the “She’s a witch” sequence of Monty Python and the Holy Grail but taken dead seriously. Nice use of the pink skies, deep green grass, and black trees of the stormy English countryside.  

 

Flesh for Frankenstein (Paul Morrissey, 1973): 3.5/5

Campy, horny, gory, omni-sexual, satiric, and in 3D. All a bit much and both flat and lugubrious. Lots of boobs, both nice and not as nice (Leering and loving it!)—along with loving shots of Joe Dallesandro’s lovely gyrating butt and impressive dong. He is truly handsome and surprises every time he speaks and demonstrates his high-pitched Bronx accent. Frankenstein’s monster is here a hot, bored guy like all the Factory dudes, and he foils the Doctor’s Monster/Bride plot by being gay.  Pretty droll! Udo Kier is Frankenstein and totally gets it. I’m making it sound better than it is. 

 

Blood for Dracula (Paul Morrissey, 1974): 3.5/5

Plays like an even more gay version of a Hammer movie, a definite improvement. Joe Dallesandro, with a perpetual scowl and that accent, is nevertheless pretty hot as our naive, Communist vampire killer. Udo Kier kills it as the sick, sniveling and petulant Count, and the last 10 minutes couldn’t be more satisfying.

 

Piranha (Joe Dante, 1978): 3.5/5

A pure pleasure that embraces, displays, parodies and, in some ways, surpasses all the slasher and lake and shark movies (but one) of the 70s.  

 

Arrebato (Iván Zulueta, 1979): 2/5

One of the movies like The Hunger where you’re asking yourself whether these characters are heroin addicts or vampires (the answer is always both), except these heroin addicts also have a thing about film—the desire to disappear into a film and the pursuit of an ecstasy that can’t be captured on celluloid or some such shit. 

 

Demonoid: Messenger of Death (Alfredo Zacarías, 1981): 3.5/5

Fun and swiftly told Mexican exploitation recommended by Tarantino and Avery on their Video Archives podcast. An ancient devil hand (the left one) wants to merge with a person and possess them. But as soon as they are possessed, they are compelled to chop off their hand (in gruesome and imaginative ways) so that said hand can scurry to the next victim. You can imagine the possibilities and so could the director. I’m making it sound better than it is.

 

The Changeling (Peter Medak, 1980): 3/5

George C. Scott’s wife and daughter are killed, then he moves into a house that is haunted (but, weirdly, not by his wife or daughter, just another random ghost). He solves the mystery of who the ghost is and what it wants, much like the characters in Ringu/The Ring. Scott is excellent.

 

Angst (Gerald Kargl, 1983): 4/5

A cold, horrifying and sadistic little story of a conscience-less killer. An uncanny mise-en-scene—locked into the way the killer holds his head—really pulls you towards identification, however uncomfortable. A big factor in horror is verisimilitude, and this one has it. A movie that’s like a cold drip of water into a reeking half-filled sink.

 

Street of Crocodiles, 21 mins (Stephen Quay, Timothy Quay, 1986): 3/5

Investigates the creepy, lonely and enigmatic possibilities of doll heads, grimy windows, animate rusty screws and boobs.

 

I Stand Alone (Gaspar Noé, 1998): 3.5/5

This is a pretty realistic portrait of the headspace of many angry, aggrieved people, which is a really dark thing to say. I especially loved the scene where our protagonist commits a particularly heinous crime, and we get to hear his racing and contradictory thoughts. Also loved the Leave Theater Now warning and countdown—I’ve never seen that before. One of those movies where discomfort, panic, anger and pain shine like greasy yellow light on every image. 

 

Carne, 38 min (Gaspar Noé, 1991): 3/5

Turns out the breakneck first 10 minutes of I Stand Alone is a summary of this prequel. Very much a dry run for the even more bleak and exciting full-length. 

 

Trouble Every Day (Claire Denis, 2001): 3/5

In summary: lust. A typical half-scenario from Denis, but this one does have the frisson of sex and blood, and Vincent Gallo is fun to watch. 

 

A Serbian Film (Srđan Spasojević, 2010): 1.5/5

I had heard this movie was vile and, by god, it was. A male ex-pornstar takes a job from a mysterious stranger, and his directives keep getting more and more and more violent and more personal. Two words: newborn porn. What surprises most are the technical competence and high production values for something so wretched. 

 

Ouija: Origin of Evil (Mike Flanagan, 2016): 3.5/5

Mike Flanagan shows again how he is able to hustle some pretty good scares into a solid relationship drama with an ensemble cast. 

 

Terrifier (Damien Leone, 2016): 3.5/5

Frightening and upsetting. Although I’m not the biggest fan of women-in-peril slashers, this is a really good version of one, and especially has a horrifying and fun big baddie. Our Commedia dell’arte clown killer is silent and seems to think all the carnage is really funny. Which it is not.