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.