Fourteen movies from 2023, in descending order of preference.

Will-o’-the-Wisp, 1h7m (João Pedro Rodrigues, 2023): 4/5

A musical and (another) retelling of Henry IV, featuring the second gayest fire brigade in cinema history (after Ron Howard’s Backdraft). I would be fine if all movies just moved from mood to mood like this or Discrete Charm/Phantom of Liberty. Like Bunuel, this is very much concerned with desire and its power to make people act. How can we defend the forest if it’s not an object of desire? We need more shorter movies, such as…

 

Happer’s Comet, 1hr2m (Tyler Taormina, 2023): 4/5

Dug this short(ish) art piece, wandering through a community of people in rural America and the things they do at night. Moves loosely through mood, scene, tableaux, and sequences, reminding me of a more humanist Roy Andersson. Unique, poetic and catnip for a tone junky like me. The images flow from diffuse to increasingly more narrative, to a crescendo of eros, and finally to (post coital) relaxation and peace. 

 

The Curse (Nathan Fielder, David & Nathan Zellner): 4/5

Comes together for me in the final episode, with its turn toward the cosmic and metaphorical. Good choice, to bring a feeling apotheosis to some pretty unpleasant and unresolvable hypocrisies of modern living. Social media (or any public persona) breeds soul-breaking hypocrisy and self-delusion, and no purchase or exchange is innocent under capitalism, no matter your intentions. 

My thoughts about what’s happening in that final episode: Asher has been feeling increasingly cut off from the people around him. He has been told over and over that his natural reactions are bad and that he needs to change them, but he doesn’t know how. Late in the show he realizes that everyone is making fun of him and that he is not liked, even by his wife. So the floating upwards is just a metaphor for all that. He’s has floated away from himself, and his wife, and from everyone on Earth. The image of himself as a baby is, if anything, a hopeful one.

 

Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer, 2023): 3.5/5

I left the room less than impressed, but continues to grow on me. Its method is both obvious and sneaky. The experience never moves past the film’s one-line description, and everything you’re shown seems unsurprising partly because it’s so downplayed. Only later, when I was describing some parts to Melissa did it occur to me how absolutely brutal it all was. It didn’t seem brutal at the time! It’s the ultimate treatise on the power of what is not shown.

 

The Adults (Dustin Guy Defa, 2023): 3.5/5

Well-calibrated sibling relationships. It’s true that part of what makes my relationship with my brother so unique is all the weird inside jokes and shared memories, snatches from shared media, and lines and bits from our shared life that only come from passing most of the first 18 years of our lives together—something this movie understands deeply. The movie doesn’t overreach nor overstay its welcome—a positive miracle in this day and age. Cera is excellent in (yes) a truly adult performance, and Sophia Lills is even better. Extra points for incorporating the Madison.

 

Fallen Leaves (Aki Kaurismäki, 2023): 3.5/5

As usual from Kaurismäki, a simple story told in the most pared-back way possible way. Its characters don’t have a cent for anything that isn’t critically important, and the sets and script work the same way. I would say the style makes it a kind of parody of a musical or melodrama. In fact, there is a lot of music and singing in it (as is Kaurismaki’s wont). A Finnish rendition of Gordon Lightfoot’s Early Morning Rain is especially impactful. 

 

Civic, 19m (Dwayne LeBlanc, 2023): 3.5/5

An impressionistic and atmospheric search for identity. A young man returns to and drives around a very recognizable South Central LA, reuniting with some old friends. Shot completely from the inside of the titular Honda (although the pun with “city” is right there also). Watched because it landed on Richard Brody’s Top Movies of 2023 list.

 

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt (Raven Jackson, 2023): 3/5

A jumbled narrative, charged with emotion rather than with dramatic sense. Each scene is like a deep and languorous immersion in physical sensation. Indebted to Ter(r)ences Malick and Davies. 

 

The Covenant (Guy Ritchie, 2023): 3/5

Has an authenticity of setting, which is both dramatically exciting and personally interesting. I wish the morally simple drama and video game-ish, hawkish, dick-swinging action sequences felt as real and consequential. 

 

Suitable Flesh (Joe Lynch, 2023): 3/5

Fun, low-production-value horror flick about a demon jumping from body to body. Subject enjoys heightened libido and satisfaction of mate and other aggressive and powerful changes.

 

All Of us Strangers (Andrew Haigh, 2023): 3/5

I liked all the time tripping, and our protagonist is great—such a sweet and smiley character, but also so anxious, lonely and sad. But I’m afraid we don’t share the same issues, and I couldn’t really relate. I get that our protagonist needs closure with his parents, but the result is all pretty easy wish-fulfillment stuff, with everyone saying, “I love you and we’re so proud of you, son” and “Really sorry I was hard on you that one time, son.” Baloney 

 

Saltburn (Emerald Fennell, 2023): 3/5

Some good lines: “Some fucking hideous Rubens.” “Men are so lovely and dry.” Also, Jacob Elordi: the hottest. But in the end, it is unforgivably drawn out at 2h10m and exceedingly silly. What, there are no police in this universe? Keoghan gets to fulfill every man’s true desire, which is to dance around a mansion wearing a large fake cock.

 

Brooklyn 45 (Ted Geoghegan, 2023): 2.5/5

An irrelevant dredging up of post-WWII German immigrant paranoia, set in a single room, with mild horror elements. 

 

Eileen (William Oldroyd, 2023): 2.5/5

I liked the first 2/3, which spotlights an especially feral, stinky, horny little mouse of a young woman falling in love with glamorous, educated and free Anne Hathaway, in a career best (?) performance. I’m not really a fan but here she reminds me of Bradley Cooper in that it’s all up there on the face in a Meryl Streep way (although less lived-in). Meaning she expertly delivers pre-plotted micro-emotions on a line-by-line basis. It’s fun to watch! Third act boldly changes tone and is inexcusably bad.  

 

Quince Tree Sun/Dream of Light (Victor Erice, 1992): 4/5

Made me think about how much I liked Kelly Reichardt's Showing Up, another movie about making art. It’s a weird thing to do! And it usually happens over a long period of time as the artwork evolves, so you end up incorporating your changing emotional life into the piece. Here we see an oil painter working on a canvas of the titular tree, and the film is a quiet and blissful hang-out with visual artists as they discuss other artists, such as Michelangelo, and think about what they were like when they were younger and what they only now understand. Finally, a contemplation of time passing, the sun changing, fruit ripening and falling.

 

Plastic Bag, 18m (Ramin Bahrani, 2009): 3/5

Didactic and droll, follows a plastic bag from the grocery store to the sea and beyond, with Werner Herzog intoning the musings of the bag itself. Lots of images of this panty-hose-colored plastic, full of moments of serendipitous beauty and spiritual searching, and I’m praying there was no CGI involved. 

 

Nathan For You S4E8: Finding Francis, 1h24m (Nathan Fielder, 2017): 3.5/5

Fielder has found a genuine lunatic who we know is for real; everything else is up for grabs. Fielder himself is the spectrum-y observer first and participant second, always pushing the scenario forward into confrontation and if possible, exposure and humiliation. He will say the most sympathetic thing to his characters, but he and we are also cognizant that it’s just for the show and he is happy to mislead whomever—so all his statements are ironic and uneasy. Of course, this is also the source of the humor.

 

The Story of a Cheat (Sacha Guitry, 1936): 3/5

Told completely in voiceover, with on-screen actors pantomiming the action. Funny and quirky, with clever and fussy use of mise en scène that reminded me strongly of Wes Anderson, especially The Grand Budapest Hotel. Recommend by Justine Triet in a recent Criterion Closet episode. 

 

I Hired a Contract Killer (Aki Kaurismäki, 1990): 3/5

Kaurismaki applies his droll deadpan to a kind of crime story. Our protagonist only learns to live after he has hired someone to kill him. In English (!) and starring Jean-Pierre Léaud (!!).

 

La Grande Bouffe (Marco Ferreri, 1973): 2/5

One of the most unpleasant, even disgusting movies I’ve seen. It’s like Husbands but instead of a drinking bender, Marcello Mastroianni, Michel Piccoli and Philippe Noiret (!!!) just stuff themselves constantly with gourmet food. Shit and vomit are eventually involved, naturally. Obviously, it’s a satire of consumerism (literally) but Ferreri doesn’t establish that these people deserve his vituperation. They seem fine to me.

 

La Nuit du Carrefour (Jean Renoir, 1932): 3/5

A locked door mystery wherein a jewelry dealer is murdered at a crossroads that has a gas station and about 10 residents. Based on one of George Simenon’s popular, slim Maigret mysteries. Surprisingly primitive for 1932, and presenting a car chase so ill-shot it would make Griffith or Lang barf. 

 

 

Coppola Film Fest

My theory is that Coppola had a serious and personality-shifting nervous breakdown during or after Apocalypse Now. Still, catching up with these later films, it’s interesting to notice that he offers three films about failed artists. (As well as three films about suddenly getting younger, if one includes Jack and Peggy Sue). 

 

One of the Heart (Francis Ford Coppola, 1981): 2/5

Beautiful and inert. 

 

The Outsiders (Francis Ford Coppola, 1983): 3/5

Propelled by early rock and rockabilly sound, it’s a fundamentally nostalgic, conservative and adolescent vision of sensitive, weepy young hoodlums, with some nice expressionistic touches (but not enough). Patrick Swayze, Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, and my future wife Diane Lane are all present, but we mostly hang out with C. Thomas Howell and Ralph Macchio.  

 

Rip Van Winkle (Francis Ford Coppola, 1987): 2/5

Made as an episode of Shelley Duvall’s Fairy Tale Theatre, this makes good on Coppola’s love for ultra-artificial story book worlds such as those in Tales of Hoffman (or One from the Heart). Clarifies the limits of Letterboxd, since this piece of crappy product has people arguing for its quality and depth. Having said that, I zipped through a couple of random other episodes of the show, and most are set-bound, whereas this does expand the mise en scène to include a sound-stage-amount of space, with lighting playing a dramatic part.  

 

Youth Without Youth (Francis Ford Coppola, 2007): 1.5/5

Well-appointed, dreamy, narratively loose Eurotrash reverie. An old man suddenly becomes young again, is working to “understand memory and consciousness,” is pursued by Nazis. Raul Ruiz and Manoel de Oliveira would be proud. 

 

Tetro (Francis Ford Coppola, 2009): 2/5

Sibling rivalry, family secrets revealed. Completely lacks dramatic tension and drive as well as thematic resonance. Even Vincent Gallo is as inert as I have ever seen him. The (pretty stupid) brothers have a conversation about how great The Red Shoes and Tales of Hoffman are, and it doesn’t make a bit of sense for these characters. 

 

Twixt (Francis Ford Coppola, 2011): 2.5/5

Evidence that Coppola is best when elevating genre rather than trying to make an art film. Still it’s weighted down with clunky color effects, bad pacing, and a clumsy and flat performance from Val Kilmer. He hasn’t got the juice and neither does Coppola. 

 

 

Bunuel in (Mostly) Mexico Film Fest

Bunuel goes to Mexico and puts in his 10,000 hours on low budget potboilers, often involving perverse desire, with the occasional inspiration to indulge fetish, which here means presenting mysterious and sexually charged images with an uncanny exactitude and precision.  

 

Ensayo de un crimen/ The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz (Luis Buñuel, 1955): 4/5

Our protagonist has a formative memory where he’s listening to a music box and wishes his pretty young governess was dead—when suddenly she is shot through the window, and he looks down and sees her dead and sees her garters. Later, as an adult, he comes across the music box again and…it’s all over. Lots of fantasy sequences (and generally living in one’s own head) and black comedy/bitter irony. Fetishes include: panties drawer, plus fondling of bra and panties. Fondling and kissing a manikin. Manikin boobs. Manikin’s leg comes off. The mystery of desire. Shoes.

 

Suzanna (Luis Buñuel, 1951): 3.5/5

A beautiful woman breaks out of a reformatory (with the explicit help of God) and takes refuge with a family at a ranch, where she stirs the lust of the father, the son, and the caballero who oversees the ranch. What could go wrong? Fetishes include: religion, muddy legs, legs with egg running down them, a woman being whipped and then dragged by the hair. Man looks at boobs and immediately grabs his shotgun and begins stroking it with a rag to clean it.

 

El Bruto (Luis Buñuel, 1953): 3/5

A landlord wants to evict all the tenants of his building, so he hires a low-intelligence but strong Lenny-type to scare them. This strongman ends up killing one of the ring-leaders but later falls in love with his daughter. Amazingly, this is just one thread of this ironic and sad story. Fetishes include: chicken-killing, slapping women across the face. 

 

Illusion Travels by Streetcar (Luis Buñuel, 1954): 2/5

Two lovable drunks take a streetcar on a joy ride. Some beautiful, warm and humanist passages, sentiments unusual for Bunuel the ironist and provocateur. Ultimately covering a lot of ground and unfocused.

 

Abismos de Passion (Luis Buñuel, 1954): 2.5/5

A very Bunuel title for what is an adaptation of Wuthering Heights. Ok, the weird problem with Wuthering Heights is that the first half is charming and sexy and in the second half Heathcliff returns as a demon, making it comparatively less enjoyable. Bunuel solves the issue by beginning at the halfway point where Heathcliff’s (here Alejandro's) first gesture is to smash through a window. 

 

The Young One (Luis Buñuel, 1960): 3.5/5

The first 45 minutes sets up a perfect, lurid exploitation scenario. Three characters on an isolated island. A 15-year-old girl whose grandfather has just died. A racist white dude who has noticed her and wants to make her his wife (ie, a Cracker child molester). And a black guy who has escaped a hanging mob and we don’t know if he wants the girl too or wants to protect her. The last half hour squanders all the possibilities by sending in another racist and a preacher to dilute the drama. Fetishes: Closing a dead person’s eyes with your fingers. Calling a 14-year-old a “real woman” then biting savagely into an apple. Shoes, boobs and feet. 

 

And for context and great pleasure, these rewatches

 

The Phantom of Liberty, rw (Luis Buñuel, 1974): 5/5

To Bunuel, liberty means various emus, dirty postcards, soldiers fox hunting in a tank, poker playing monks, old ladies with beautiful young bodies, stuffed foxes, being found guilty and going free, and permission to flip around through episodes, dreams and memories as he damn well pleases. There should be a channel where beautifully nonsensical, irrational situations and behaviors like these just flow 24-7. 

 

Un Chien Andalou, rw, 16 mins (Luis Buñuel, 1929): 5/5

Sexual desire/repression/predation, death, and whatever mysterious, dreamy thing you’ve got inside your little zig zag box of yours. Her underarm hair appears on his face, over his mouth!! I could not show this to Jack. Too horrible and deep.