* Spirit Untamed (Bogan & Torresan, 2021): 3/5

Jerry guessed it: the first movie I saw in the theatre after the pandemic was with Jack. The popcorn was not bad! Girl meets horse with a decidedly emo-boy haircut/mane. One of her friends rides a boy horse and another rides a girl horse. Is this meaningful on a symbolic level?

* Peter Rabbit 2: the Runaway, 2021): 3/5

Second one too. Did I mention the popcorn?

Shiva Baby (Emma Seligman, 2021): 3.5/5

A painful and hilarious horror movie where every interaction at a family party is fraught with self-loathing and the possibility of further humiliation. In other words, exactly like the Fourth of July at my mom’s house!

Riders of Justice (Anders Thomas Jensen, 2021): 3/5

A wry, Coen-like take on nerds, millennials, and revenge flix. Like in a Wes Anderson movie, the characters are both cartoony and psychologically deep, comically dealing with trauma and grief through community-building. 

Wrath of Man (Guy Ritchie, 2021): 3/5

At times loud, it’s also narratively ambitious. We are introduced and sympathize with Statham’s character who is trying to catch a group of thieves for personal reasons. About half-way through, the movie backs all the way up and starts again with the thieves, and we sympathize with them as well. As the conclusion approaches, who does one root for? 

Those Who Wish Me Dead (Taylor Sheridan, 2021): 2/5

Sheridan has some fun with Nicholas Hoult and Aidan Gillen Jolie as hitmen, but once the plot gets rolling, it’s all bad fire and lightening special effects. Horrible title too, since no one really wants Jolie’s firefighter (!) protagonist dead (besides the audience).

You Only Live Once, rw (Fritz Lang, 1937): 3/5

Simple, expressionist use of fog and light as well as its born-bad, fated main character points to early noir, before the movie pivots to an early Lovers on the Run movie in final 20 minutes. Silvia Sidney gives birth all by herself in a cabin, while Henry Fonda sits on a log with some wilted flowers. 

When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (Mikio Naruse, 1960): 2/5

…expect yet another tale of pseudo-prostitution (here, bar hostesses) full of shame, regret, compromises, debt, suicide, betrayal, resignation. 

Funeral Parade of Roses (Toshio Matsumoto, 1969): 4.5/5

A phantasmagoria, terrifically free in its plot and camera as well as its treatment of sexuality, drugs, gender, violence. Full of dazzling sequences of subjective interiority—dreams, reverifies or zone-outs, including a memorable LSD-fueled orgy where masks are cast aside, exposing more masks beneath.

Hair (Milos Forman, 1979): 3/5

A Broadway/theater-kid version of NYC hippies, plus some decent ditties that are meant to be enjoyed once—so super-catchy. The LSD sequence is a flop. Like Greetings, this is a movie partially about trying to get out of the draft, but this one has a slightly more acute geopolitical grasp. 

The Hot Rock (Peter Yates, 1972): 3.5/5

A droll tale of at least four capers/heists. Funny and relaxed, Redford is expert at holding the center while generously letting the others do their things. Watching him, I now see what Brad Pitt has been doing for the successful part of his career.  

City of Sadness (Hou Hsiao-Hsien, 1989): 3/5

How to review this? “Mommy, this Monet painting has no plot!!!” Gaping narrative elisions and assumption of knowledge of historical reference make this a challenge, but it’s obviously aiming for something closer to the gallery than narrative cinema. Nothing much happens (in a beautifully, still manner) for a long time, then you might hear word someone has died, then nothing happens some more. 

The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1939): 3/5

Focuses on male pain, so maybe I forgive/relate, relative to (say) Street of Shame miserabilism. Its long-take style leads to intimacy and realism, but I really miss closeups, which this movie completely eschews. Even a nice medium shot is seized upon and relished. In the end, it proves to be another remake of A Star is Born, where the ascending star psychically sucks the life out of his/her partner on the way to stardom. 

Street of Shame (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1956): 2.5/5

Prostitutes in 1950s Tokyo are in debt, estranged from their families, and commonly being almost murdered and descending into madness. Like Grapes of Wrath, but in this case the bordellos are the labor camps where escape is impossible, since everyone is in debt to the company. 

Detour (Edgar G. Ulmer, 1945): 4/5

An inescapable nightmare, devastating in its brevity. I couldn’t bear to click on the accompanying documentary that purported to flay out the meaning from this mysterious object—and that used Bogdanovich as its screen capture and was 11 minutes longer than the movie itself. 

The In-Laws (Arthur Hiller, 1979): 4/5

Features two geniuses (Falk and Arkin) working near the top of their game, plus the always able Arthur Hiller doling out vivid and realistic (if comic) action sequences. North by Northwest if Cary Grant was a panicky but otherwise realistic dentist.  

Berlin Alexanderplatz (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1980): 2/5

Michelle said this about it, and I can’t disagree: “For RWF completionists only, otherwise don't bother because it’s neither a game changer nor a masterpiece.” I think ultimately the length is the point, as we are forced to just marinate in the movie’s juices as it goes around and around like a boring nightmare. Completing this movie has freed my mind: if I can make it through this, I can truly make it through any movie, including the 4-hour….

The Iceman Cometh (John Frankenheimer, 1973): 3/5

12 Angry Drunks. Robert Ryan’s and Frederic March’s final performances, and indeed the Iceman came for Ryan before the movie was even released. The length here serves a similar purpose as it does in Berlin Alexanderplatz—allowing the artist to wallow, to make a work that is indulgent and immersive. 

Moonrise (Frank Borzage, 1948): 3/5

Crime and Punishment in the swamp. Stunning deep focus and deep blacks. The film’s first five minutes are especially startling and beautiful. 

Fat Girl (Catherine Breillat, 2001): 3.5/5

Yeah, sex is pretty disturbing from the outside. I totally bought the crazy ending that pushes the titular character’s life-outlook to its limit, exposing and indicting everything. 

The Tale of Princess Kaguya (Isao Takahata, 2013): 2/5

Episodic and surprisingly unengaging, despite its reputation. The plot resets every 20 minutes but never hits on anything I cared much about. Some nice evocations of nature with simple animated lines. 

L’humanité (Bruno Dumont, 1999): 3.5/5

Are these characters (or actors) actual developmentally disabled, and does it matter if they are? They do seem capable of feeling—including even ecstatic and previously unconsidered ways of feeling—when not staring blankly into space for periods of time. Also, pretty funny. 

Placido (Luis Garcia Berlanga, 1961): 3.5/5

A black comedy of frustration with overlapping dialogue, prefiguring Sour Grapes by decades. The rich invite the poor (whom they distrust and are disgusted by) to dinner, meanwhile thoughtlessly insulting, debasing and harming them. A laff riot savaging class and religious hypocrisy. 

Orlando (Sally Potter, 1992): 2.5/5

Impressionistic, capricious, free-wheeling pageant across the centuries. Billy Zanes it up. 

DePalma Film Festival

I’m not going to be able to dive deeper than this. 

Greetings (Brian DePalma, 1968): 2/5

Richard Lester crock o shit. De Niro fails to distinguish himself in his first credited performance. Kind of a sketch review and not at all funny (any more?) Draft dodgers, Kennedy assassination conspiracies, peeping Toms, all in a blabby improv style. DePalma pretty much just comes out and admits he just got into film so he could get girls to take off their clothes. Tap dancing pornographer: “Oh gee you’re not feeling very patriotic. Why is that?”

Obsession (Brian DePalma, 1976): 2/5

A foggy, groggy, ponderous Vertigo/Rebecca variant, where the last beautiful gestures in Vertigo are blown out to a full-movie fantasia that includes a non-healthy amount of incest. 

The Fury (Brian DePalma, 1978): 3/5

Kirk Douglas is stuck in a half-baked adventure spy scenario, but Amy Irving and Andrew Stevens are in a much more interesting teen psychic twin-lover movie. This movie is barely competent and instead swirls a dozen moods and references in a blender (this is not necessarily a criticism). It’s much more fun and interesting, than, for example…

Casualties of War (Brian DePalma, 1989): 2/5

A completely rote script, lacking in a single moment of surprise or novel insight. 

Mission to Mars (Brian DePalma, 2000): 1.5/5

Like a space adventure but slower. DePalma makes good use of some massive rotating sets and a camera that rotates 360 as well, but unfortunately there are actors on screen talking, too. 

Robert Ryan Film Fest

Expert at playing an asshole, god love him.

Crossfire (Edward Dmytryk, 1947): 3/5

Stuffed with incident, dialogue and characters. Still, it’s an odd mixture of problem film (racism, specifically hating Jews) and noir. All the Roberts (Young, Mitchum and Ryan) are expert and in their lanes.  

Caught (Max Ophüls, 1949): 3/5

I’m pretty sure that the title is referring to when Robert Ryan gets Bel Geddes pregnant. Then he’s really got her. Lots of big, beautiful rooms full of spider web shadows. Would be fun to see the same movie but with James Mason as the sadistic rich asshole and Ryan as the saintly doctor. 

On Dangerous Ground (Nicholas Ray, 1951): 3.5/5

Dirty Harry-ish city cop Ryan joins a manhunt in the snowy mountains. Blind girl Ida Lupino (whom Imdb also credits as a co-director) talks to him about loneliness and lack of trust. Lots of emotions flying around, some rational and some not. The father of the murder victim picks up the fallen murder and carries him like a child, Dardenne-like. 

Odds Against Tomorrow (Robert Wise, 1959): 4.5/5

I’ll bet you $100 that this movie shows up in Marclay’s The Clock at 6:05 pm. The time when all honest people have knocked off work. Chock full of jaw-droppingly blunt and forceful racism, much of it spilling out of Robert Ryan in full-on asshole mode. Plus, Shelly Winters, Gloria Graham and Ed Begley Sr. Capped by an honest-to-god pulse pounding caper and startling high contrast photography. And I rarely notice soundtracks but I liked this jazzy one, with ample vibraphone that Harry Belafonte is at one point shown playing. Under-discussed!

The Set-Up, rw (Robert Wise, 1959): 5/5

A boxing picture, see. Begins on a clock showing that it is 9:05 pm. A bit early for anything too crazy—maybe just a little routine pressure on a poor patsy. A normal Wednesday (says the sign) at the Paradise City arena next to the Dreamland bar, across the street from the hotel where a washed-up bum is sleeping. Everyone is betting against him, but is he smart enough to take the dive? 1:12 minutes later the clock shows 10:17, verifying that the movie was in real-time, a normal and routine Wednesday. Ryan’s best performance.

Sidney Lumet Film Festival

Most of these are very interior dramas. You rarely see a real antagonist on the screen. Instead, you’re dealing with a world of thoughts, memories, feelings and inner conflict. 

Tragedy in a Temporary Town (Sidney Lumet, Feb. 1956): 3.5/5

The Alcoa Hour. A young girl is touched/frightened in the woods outside of a temporary-workers camp, giving Jack Warden and his friends an excuse to start taking names, intimidating the people of color, etc. Warden is a live wire, and I’ve never seen Lloyd Bridges this loose and intense. If this aired today, people would say it was Woke, dismissingly. Meaning, I guess, that we haven’t woken up much in my lifetime. 

The Hill (Sidney Lumet, 1956): 3/5

The same setting and most of the homo eroticism, mental illness and sadomasochism of Beau Travail, plus a pre-toupee Sean Connery sweating through his khaki shorts. Surprisingly, the film muffs the big, central, titular symbol—a phallic nub the warden of this desert prison uses to march his prisoners up and down. It’s never really used as the promised crucible. Similar to but not as good as Cool Hand Luke or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

Long Day’s Journey into Night (Sidney Lumet, 1962): 4/5

Did Katherine Hepburn ever portray a junky? Why yes, she did, and at times excellently, especially during the highs. The dreamy, live, long takes of Act 2 place this among the greatest film performances, period. Drunk-ass Ralph Richardson and Dean Stockwell are also worth watching. Surely, Bergman is greatly influenced by the play. 

The Pawnbroker (Sidney Lumet, 1964): 4/5

Powerful movie with a deep character, capable of great suffering. The plot pushes him to the limit of his own hypocrisy and his need to integrate the normal, corrupt world (and in one memorable sequence, sexuality) with the horror of his own memories. He is still and always in a cage. Lots of great, very free documentary footage of New York buildings and people. Naturally it’s about the search for meaning in a world full of suffering, and what could possibly be more important than that? Schrader would have made this God’s Lonely Man conflagrate, but here he just keeps turning inward and turning inward.

The Offense (Sidney Lumet, 1973): 2/5

Lumet in Scotland and working again with Sean Connery. A police procedural with grey skies and a burnt-out cop beating people up then getting drunk, which devolves into angry young man poetry about how hard it is to be a cop. Boo hoo. An admirably dark protagonist, but it’s expressed through an awful lot of speechifying. It was a play, of course, but that’s no excuse.

Serpico, rw (Sidney Lumet, 1973): 4/5

Really all about how cool it would be to walk into your boss’ office in a flowy polka-dot shirt, leather vest, full-on beard, soulful eyes and bucket hat, put your Cuban-heel boots up on his desk and yell FUCK YOU while someone is trying to tackle you. An all-time great and charismatic performance, which is good since it’s a very internal drama that doesn’t give his character much to do besides brood and shout at the ones he loves the most. Always very real-feeling while obviously being method-y and dramatic. 

Running on Empty (Sidney Lumet, 1988): 3.5/5

River Phoenix is so great and cries in almost every scene. River must have been a weepy guy naturally, because he’s not really acting. He’s just being very emotional up there on the screen, and it’s powerful. The movie places him into a drama about how hard it is, in some families, to be allowed to go off to college, and I could relate. Hersh and Lahti are game, but their story is not very sympathetic, as their failed 60s idealism is sublimated into self-involved parenthood. Also: terrible title. 

Karel Reisz Film Fest

All three share an underlying feeling of dread that this is all going to end badly—which for the most part, it does. 

The Gambler, rw (Karel Reisz, 1974): 5/5

“What do you want? Some clams? They’ll fix you some clams. Jerry, bring over two-dozen Little Necks.” Caan plays basketball, boxes, plays tennis, dances. Paul Sorvino, Burt Young, M. Emmett Walsh, James Woods and Vic Tayback shine in small but piquant roles. Beautiful use of Mahler’s 1st. In the end, our protagonist seems satisfied if not exactly happy, having finally brought some of his hidden injuries out into the real world. 

Who’ll Stop the Rain (Karel Reisz, 1978): 2/5

The concluding standoff takes place in an old hippie compound psychedelically wired for sound and lights—heroin once and for all blowing up the Kesey acid-test dream. 

French Lieutenant’s Woman (Karel Reisz, 1981): 3.5/5

Jeremy Irons just loves to play the obsessive lover who ruins his life with desire. See also: M. Butterfly and Damage. At one point, Irons and Streep begin to mack out, and he carries her to the bed, takes 20 long seconds to remove his vest while Streep visibly passes through four distinct emotional states, and they fuck. I thought, during most of the film, that the contemporary stuff was postmodern fiddling, but soon the parallels and doubles start paying off. The conclusion satisfyingly resolves the happy-ending question. 

 The Disciple (Chaitanya Tamhane, 2020): 3.5/5

THE DISCIPLE has some of the more striking structural decisions and elisions I've encountered recently. A must watch for all film students not just for the exquisite craft (the writer-director also edited the film which was shot by 3rd generation Polish cinematographer Michal Sobocinski whose late dad shot THREE COLORS: RED) but also for the parable about dedicating your life to a craft.

rewatched Interstellar (Christopher Nolan, 2014): 4.5/5

Kubrick: The drives that generate violence among men will someday slingshot us to a higher evolutionary plane where we may or may not transcend them, if we can first abort the rival ascent of artificial life.

Tarkovsky: Technology makes real what we want, but it cannot make what we want significant; and perhaps being shown what we want, divorced from meaning, will only drive us further into our own psychological prisons.

Nolan: Alright gang, tech's put us in a bit of a bind, but to save the world, we're gonna have to travel FASTER THAN THE SPEED OF LOVE.

Jokes aside, I hadn't seen this since its theatrical release, and I'm happy to say that my initial lukewarm read was wrong; this movie is a visually monumental, thought-provoking space opera and mind-enriching human odyssey into the unknown that is first of all a heart wrenching family drama. Not to mention a stunning realization of some of the most profoundly difficult-to-grasp scientific concepts known to mankind.

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

Imagine the response had Noe saved "You have 30 seconds to leave the theater" for IRREVERSIBLE, and employed it toward the end of the film. There's actually nothing else left that’s upsetting...but what if you didn't know that? What if you were sitting there thinking "Wait wait wait wait wait, now he warns us?!?" Would've been a magnificent joke. Also that bang/zoom effect remains brutally effective, and is so sui generis that it's never been copied as far as I know.

Those Who Wish Me Dead (Taylor Sheridan, 2021): 2/5

Unmercifully almost entirely free of incident save for a 20-minute stretch towards the end.

The Killing of Two Lovers (Robert Machoian, 2020): 3/5

Basically if David Lowry made MARRIAGE STORY.

French Exit (Azazel Jacobs, 2020): 2.5/5

Basically if Wes Anderson were a chaos gay

Infinite Football (Corneliu Porumboiu, 2018): 3/5

Appreciated this on an intellectual level but still found it kinda dull. Not being a sports fan admittedly didn't help—I'm fuzzy on the precise nature of the rule changes Ginghina advocates, and honestly couldn't discern how the experimental game we see at one point differs from a regular game. It's all just dudes kicking a ball around the field to me. Still, the basic idea comes across: Having endured a traumatic soccer-related experience as a child, Ginghina is now weirdly obsessed with reconfiguring the sport in ways that might have prevented his injury, oblivious to the fact that this "problem" is hardly widespread.

Martin Eden (Pietro Marcello, 2019): 3/5

Eh… como si dice… “leftist mimbo”

The Price of Everything (Nathaniel Kahn, 2018): 2/5

Unfocused contempt does not make for meaningful critique. Awful music cues and manipulative camera reveals end up highlighting a hollowness of filmmaking that rivals the hollowness of its subjects.

Mortal Kombat (Simon McQuoid, 2021): 0.5/5

It’s not very good, but it’s also quite bad. If tramp stamps were a movie it would be this.

My Octopus Teacher (Philippa Elhrich, James Reed, 2020): 1.5/5

I’d watch this again, but ONLY with audio commentary by this guy’s poor wife.

Stowaway (Joe Penna, 2021): 2.5/5

GRAVITY meets THE MARTIAN, basically. (And I didn't care for either of those films.)

Honeydew (Devereux Milburn, 2020): 2/5

More like HoneyDON'T. Only watched this because of Mary Karr and Barbara Kingsley's involvement. (Milburn is Karr's son.)

Lured (Douglas Sirk, 1947): 3/5

Brassy taxi dancer Lucille Ball goes undercover to help Scotland Yard track down a serial killer who's been taunting the police with Baudelaire parodies. Along the way she winds up exposing slave traders, madmen, and possibly... her heart!

Boris Karloff steals the show in a one-off scene that is utterly bizarre and then never mentioned again.

Where Is My Friend's House (Abbas Kiarostami, 1987): 4/5

Soul-soothing simplicity and inherent goodness viewed through the lens of a child. Probably the most empathetic showcase of the childhood experience that I have seen in a movie thus far.

Fourteen (Dan Sallitt, 2019): 4/5

Time, as a symptom. Minimalistic filmmaking at some of its best and brightest, FOURTEEN is a brutally honest, tenderly written contemplation of female friendship that wouldn't be as wonderful as it is if not for Dan Sallitt's understated direction and sensitive, empathetic script and Tallie Medel and Norma Kuhling's beautiful performances.

Jailhouse Rock (Richard Thorpe, 1957): 1.5/5 

A movie where Elvis kills a man, spends about 12 days in jail, then takes over the music and film industries while being a jerk to everyone in his path, and then gets punched in the throat for his troubles. Just shut up and play "Jailhouse Rock" already!

The Chaperone (Michael Engler, 2018): 2.5/5 

There are virtually no surprises in this film. It's schlocky, and the dialogue is simplistic and corny, but I came across it on PBS on a mellow Sunday afternoon and it hit the spot. Also, I love anything related to Louise Brooks. 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeelen (Souleymane Cissé, 1987): 3/5

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

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

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

The Von Sternberg/mostly Dietrich Film Fest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unwatched Howard Hawks Fest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hatari (Howard Hawks, 1962): 4/5

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

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

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

 The Man Who Sold His Skin (Kaouther Ben Hania, 2020): 3/5

I can see the appeal, I can see why it was nominated; Yahya Mahayni gives a strong performance, the cinematography is rather good, the concept - exceptionally original. It ultimately feels more like a canvas of interesting ideas that are never properly explored or further delved into though. Also still not sure how I feel about the ending.

The Mauritanian (Kevin MacDonald, 2021): 2/5

Another addition to the "reasons to hate the United States" canon.

Things the movie wanted me to learn: how an inexcusable abuse of human rights stemmed from a fragile post 9/11 America

What I actually learned: Guantanamo Bay has a McDonalds and a gift shop.

Sword of Trust (Lynn Shelton, 2020): 3/5
The story is simple but screwy and enticing with plenty of little turns peppered into its short runtime.

You Can't Take It With You (Frank Capra, 1938): 3/5

Sometimes Capra's naivete and compulsive idealism works for me, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes his films are infused with so much charm and sincerity, so many tender moments that they're close to magic. Here, it doesn't really work. The ideas are just a little too simple and the way he spreads the message - the old "follow your dreams, live life to the fullest" stuff. Which I can be a supporter of, but topics like these just tend to fall a little flat in the hands of someone who maybe wasn't the most complex of thinkers, nor the most subtle of cinematic prophets. (Capra does have a bit of Oprah in him)

I'll mostly remember this for Lionel Barrymore. He's terrific, and a total sweetheart.

In the Earth (Ben Wheatley, 2021): 2/5

Simultaneously overwritten and underdeveloped. It’s an unpleasant sledgehammer of a movie. Points only for Clint Mansell's synth score and one really great sequence of genuine terror.

Human Desire (Fritz Lang, 1954): 3/5

It doesn't benefit from how easy it is to compare to LA BETE HUMAINE, a far more feeling and poetic work (it's the difference between Renoir investing himself 100% and Lang comfortably coasting along). Gloria Grahame is great, and when the film is focused on her woozy, frustrated femme fatale at her wit's end, it's almost as good as the previous year's THE BIG HEAT, made with the same leads working a similar dynamic under the same director. Generally, though, it needs a bit more fury and a bit less coziness with playing to formula. Definitely one of Lang's more sedate films, enormously competent but only interesting when he gets to play with trains.

Zeroville (James Franco, 2019): 1.5/5

I can't wait until James Franco makes a sequel to THE DISASTER ARTIST but it's based on the production of this movie.

Jamaica Inn (Alfred Hitchcock, 1939): 2/5

Hitchcock's most un-Hitchcock film. Two stars for Charles Laughton's eyebrows.

Copycat (Jon Amiel, 1995): 1/5

Has zero atmosphere plus a predominantly loud score that overemphasizes everything that's going on and two serial killers that act like they are in a Wes Craven slasher, which makes them instantly laughable.

U Turn (Oliver Stone, 1997): 2/5

Pretty ostentatious, glibly nasty thing. There's also a very thin thread about the exploitation of Native Americans, bizarrely articulated in a character's gruesome sexual abuse and a race-bending Jon Voight as a Wise Old Indian. Weird shit, with an unresolvable knot of tones.

The Tempest (Julie Taymor, 2010): 3/5

Put this off forever, but it's not so terrible—excellent cast, decent script (yuk yuk), spectacular Hawaii locations.

Planet Terror (Robert Rodriguez, 2007): 2/5

Rose McGowan dancing around a stripper pole in the opening credits, and posing next to the credit of 'Produced By Bob and Harvey Weinstein' aged just terribly.

Radioactive (Marjane Satrapi, 2019): 2/5

Yet another mediocre and stock biopic. While there's ambition and visual flair, it's gravely vapid and excruciatingly uninteresting.

QT8: The First Eight (Tara Wood, 2019): 3/5

Nothing much new here, and the Weinstein stuff feels a little desperate and half-assed, but a lot of nice interview footage, and what am I gonna tell you, I'm sort of in the tank for the guy anyway.

Leviathan (Lucien Castaing-Taylor, Verena Paravel, 2012): 3/5

No dialogue, no musical score, no storyline, no commentary, nothing. Just angry ocean vibes through and through. Watching it gave me the sensation of being an internal organ. Maybe a spleen. Insistent, exhausting, alive.

Kid 90 (Soleil Moon Frye, 2021): 2/5

Quite literally reading a stranger's diaries. Soleil Moon Frye (PUNKY BREWSTER) looks back on hundreds of hours of footage she shot of her and her friends as Hollywood brats in the 90s. Seeing all those stars in their teen years is arguably the biggest (and only draw) of the doc.

The Reckoning (Neil Marshall, 2020): 1.5/5

About what you'd expect from a guy who directed a bunch of Game of Thrones and then saw THE WITCH.

The Tale (Jennifer Fox, 2018): 3.5/5

Horrific. The only comfort here is that it’s skillfully told by a woman from her own experience and on her own terms. and in her own words. I know this is a bit of a hot take but ALL RAPISTS AND SEXUAL ABUSERS AND PEDOPHILES NEED TO FUCKING DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Land (Robin Wright, 2021): 2/5

Vanity project bogged down by the presence of an ambiguously melodramatic angle. It’s not tragically incompetent, but it has no idea how to evoke emotion and it offers absolutely nothing unexpected - I was able to see every beat coming from just the trailer/premise alone. Minimal progression or development with lots of learning to be woodsy scenes.

WeWork: The Making and Breaking of a $47 Billion Unicorn (Jed Rothstein, 2021): 3/5

I like watching men fail at things they think they’re good at.

Okay, but begs the question: when are we going to get the only hot-new-business-blows-up-then-crashes doc we actually want? MoviePass.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan, 2020): 2.5/5

Margot Robbie has a scene where she skates to "barracuda" by heart, just like she did in I, TONYA.

White Lie (Calvin Thomas, Yonah Lewis, 2019): 3.5/5

Or, The Complete and Utter Exhaustion of Lying: The Movie

rewatched House of Flying Daggers (Zhang Yimou, 2004): 4/5

To this day carries the reputation of a CROUCHING TIGER coattail rider, but while it never reaches those emotional heights it's so much more traditionally Shaw, despite its formal modernity. The bamboo forest fight is as good as contemporary wuxia gets.

Shiva Baby (Emma Seligman, 2020): 3/5

"YOU LOOK LIKE GWYNETH PALTROW ON FOOD STAMPS."

Every Breath You Take (Vaughn Stein, 2021): 1.5/5

You're better off just listening to The Police song for 105 minutes straight, than to sit through this.

Falling (Viggo Mortensen, 2020): 1.5/5

Viggo Mortensen’s directorial debut is a look into a father-son relationship where a father does not accept who his son is. (He also didn’t seem very accepting of pretty much anyone or anything and really was a hate-filled character that I quickly got tired of.) Everything here is either deeply earnest or turned up to 11 to the point where it’s impossible to invest in it as something genuine.

The Last Cruise (Hannah Olson, 2021): 3/5

The couple that complained about the decline in friendliness among the staff during a deadly outbreak on a boat where the staff is working 13 hour days and not being taken care of...those people were definitely the villains of this documentary. While they lounge on their balcony and hope for chocolate, we cut to the woman making their desserts crying, overwhelmed. This is a true upstairs, downstairs look at how COVID impacted the whole country, really.

Godzilla vs. Kong (Adam Wingard, 2021): 0.5/5

BANG BANG SMASHY SMASHY MONKEY MAN AND LIZARD BOY GO BOOM BOOM !

Kong's fur looked really good in this though. Good job to the vfx people in charge of that.

rewatched The Ten Commandments (Cecil B. DeMille, 1956): 4/5

It's interesting how they take like one minute for the plagues, but take the first hour and a half for just Moses realizing he’s not Egyptian.

The Father (Florian Zeller, 2020): 4.5/5

Honestly one of the scariest films I have seen in a while. Plays from Hopkins's perspective like a slo-mo psychological thriller, which is the perfect move to depict something as disorienting and torturous as dementia. Truly fucking heartbreaking to watch, especially with one cruel moment near the end that pushed me into hot angry tears. Big "used to be a play" energy but I don't mind it. Made me really glad I used my final genie wish to never ever ever grow old.

No but really just put me out of my misery if this happens.

The World to Come (Mona Fastvold, 2020): 3.5/5

Pioneer lesbians be like "You smell like biscuit."

Violation (Dusty Mancinelli, Madeleine Sims-Fewer, 2020): 2.5/5

Eschews the standard conventions of a rape revenge thriller: the rape is not brutal, but quiet, and filmed in soft focus and extreme close-ups. The victim's resistance is hard to detect. The rapist is possibly under the impression that he is not committing rape. He is not a neanderthal, but instead a baby-faced loved-one of the victim. It's the rapist who is sexually objectified, in one scene the camera lingers for an uncomfortably long time on his trembling hard-on. The revenge is messy and nauseating, and does not bring the expected catharsis. The structure is not the expected two-act split that is common to this genre and instead conflates the rape and revenge with a non-linear back-and-forth cross-cut. The cinematography is not crude and ugly and instead frames the violence with heavily saturated shots of idyllic nature, as if suggesting that such acts are at home in the wild.

Some of this works, and some of it feels like a couple of yuppies trying to gentrify a slum. Also, the characters were underdeveloped, dialog was all mumblecore, and the disjointed plot turned the film into a slog.

Crisis (Nicholas Jarecki, 2021): 2/5

The easiest comparison here is to call this TRAFFIC but with opioids instead of cocaine, and not as good. An inert thriller that neither excites nor captivates.

Breaking News in Yuba County (Tate Taylor, 2021): 2.5/5

Better than I expected. I mean it's not great and the stellar cast is better than the film deserves. It's a breezy enough 90 minutes though. MVP to Regina Hall's wig. Or Wanda Sykes' wig.

Woman on the Beach (Hong Sang-soo, 2006): 3/5

Simple story. One asshole director, two similar girls. Some obvious metaphors (her car is stuck, then it’s not stuck any more). 

Nobody (llya Naishuller, 2021): 3/5

Not much there there, but it’s fun to watch Odenkirk really enjoy himself while (righteously) beating the shit out of, say, a group of five youths on a bus. 

The Father (Florian Zeller, 2021): 3.5/5 

There are some clever bits that help make the story more intellectual and visceral, both a relief from the natural surplus of emotion in a story like this. Nevertheless, the overall effect is that of pain, so you have to decide whether that’s something you want to put yourself through. 

Citizen Ruth (Alexander Payne, 1996): 3.5/5

The satire of both sides of the abortion debate (kind of) is as broad as shit, but Laura Dern, going from zero to feral possum in two seconds is movie magic. And When Burt Reynolds steps off the plane in full curly toupee with 30 minutes left: now that’s how you intensify the drama and raise the stakes. The most potent and American image comes near the end, when she puts a zippered gym bag in her lap, reaches down into vertical orifice with ecstasy, and produces not a baby but bundles of cash, which she presses to her breast. Now I’ve seen all of Payne’s seven features. 

The Ladykillers (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2004): 2/5

Probably Hanks’ worst performance on top of a very deliberate script. You can recognize stuff that works better in other Coen films. I’ve now seen all 18 of their features.

Four Nights of a Dreamer (Robert Bresson, 1971): 3/5

Adapting the same Dostoyevsky novella as Visconti’s Le Bianche Notti, with the same connection to a river. This version is even hornier and has way more French hippies, musicians and artists. Some top shelf hand shots, as always. 

Moana (Robert J. Flaherty, 1926): 3/5

in this land of plenty, the primitive joy also exhibited by Nanook seems facile, leaving us with blowholes, tree climbing, dress making, fishing, catching a turtle by drowning it and a boar with a snare, building a fire, prepare local delicacies like a little fish in a big leaf with taro and green bananas ($29.95), tattooing with needles of bone (the result looks pretty sweet), and toplessly anointing your man with perfumed oil. 

A Little Princess (Alfonso Cuarón, 1995): 3/5

Quite a beautiful and fairy tale version of the world that still contains flat out racism and WW1. At one point our princess becomes a maid, making it the first of Cuaron’s angelic servants. Lots of set design. 

Great Expectations (Alfonso Cuarón, 1998): 3/5

Modernizes the novel. Another tale about love among the very rich from Cuaron 

McCabe & Mrs. Miller, rw (Robert Altman, 1971): 4.5/5

Altman, noticing the end of 60s idealism pretty early. The small businessman is fucked, and the small businesswoman best just smoke more dope. What’s remarkable is that the main character is dead meat halfway through and knows it. The movie ends with a 20-minute action sequence that also serves as a tour of one of the greatest location sets in cinema history. Very influenced by Foreman’s Fireman’s Ball, probably. Great use of the community experience as the cause of and solution to all our loneliness and other problems. 

California Split, rw (Robert Altman, 1974): 4.5/5

Somewhat renews my fondness for losers. Nearing the climax, Elliot Gould suddenly sings along with a non-diagetic song as if only he can hear it or maybe we’ve been listening to what’s been playing in his head. Elliott’s highly taped busted nose makes a nice entry into Jerry’s (nascent) investigation of main characters with face injuries, kitty-cat.  

Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti, 1971): 4.5/5

I was surprisingly moved. Very stylized and quite naughty and nasty. Made up of beautiful, long, languorous, dialogue-free crowd scenes, like Tati or (some) Altman. Visconti lets long passages of Mahler’s 3rd and 5th Symphonies play out, to enormous emotional effect. 

Le Notti Bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957): 3/5

In sharp contrast to Death in Venice, this one is just a couple of long conversations, with some slightly more pictorial flashbacks. Filmed on an amazing set in Cinecitta. 

The School for Postmen, 16 min. (Jacques Tati, 1947): 3/5

Dry run for Jour de fete. A couple of excellent silent movie type gags. Contempt for modern efficiency is already present. 

Traffic (Jacques Tati, 1971): 4/5

I had always heard this was second-grade Tati, but no way. After a pokey start, stuff from earlier in the film start to pay off, 10 or 40 or 70 minutes later, and the whole thing picks up steam as it goes. Full of great characters/communities and barely-there comic observations. Lots of French hippies. 

Parade (Jacques Tati, 1974): 1.5/5

Like when you would see Truman Capote on the Merv Griffin Show. One generally understood and believed that he was a genius; there was just no evidence of it. 

Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2003): 4.5/5

The visual conceit never bothered me, which is guess the point. I actually found the movie to be very beautiful, and the gradual and self-righteous exploitation then demonization of the outsider/woman is, of course, extremely on point. The bareness emphasizes the metaphoric or mythic levels of the story. Still: nasty bit of business and overall very despairing and hard to watch. Kidman’s best performance?

Manderlay (Lars von Trier, 2005): 2/5

Von Trier wades into how we treated black people immediately post-Civil War and race relations in general. What could go wrong?? Murkier than Dogville in its lighting scheme as well as in its thesis.

Europa (Lars von Trier, 1991): 2/5

Full of artifice and unmotivated style: unmotivated spots of color, unmotivated back projection, unmotivated shots straight down and spinning, unmotivated voice over talking about “you” did this and that. No wonder he stripped all that shit away. 

Elaine May Rewatch Fest

Difficult-to-like people we love. 

A New Leaf, rw (Elaine May, 1971): 3.5/5

A rom com where he’s planning to kill her the whole time. The tone is funny and unique:  madcap and improvisational, with much acceptance of the clumsy and anti-social among us. He just wants to be left alone. She’s maladroit. I want Matthau and May to be my parents—oh wait, they were. 

The Heartbreak Kid, rw (Elaine May, 1972): 4.5/5

I related to this one HARD. When I watched it 20 years ago (while still in my first marriage), I felt sorry for his wife and was saddened and revolted. That’s all still there, but now I also see in her a pathetic anchor and am cheering for him tearing his stupid life down. Funny how things change. Only time will tell whether the last moments of the movie will also be prophetic. Contains a couple of the funniest long-takes ever (when he tells his wife his new plans, and when he tells his potential new father-in-law his new plans), as our clueless main character thinks he’s impressing everyone. He’s a completely dumb asshole, although a nicer guy than the one in A Place in the Sun. 

Mickey and Nicky, rw (Elaine May, 1976): 5/5

An enormous pleasure to watch great performances by Falk and Cassavetes. Extremely lived-in, physical, present, and full of accidents, improvisations and spontaneity. What a contrast to Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly (e.g.), who were born under a snow globe! As in Bergman, each scene contains things that connect the two characters and things that drive them apart. Although, as in McCabe, it’s an outside force that does them in—it’s the thing that’s shaking these two rats in the same cage. It feels similar to a Cassavetes movie, but it’s much lighter and funnier. (Which greatly improves it). May filmed 500 hours and edited it for 2 years. It does feel slightly stitched together, but it’s also all killer no filler. 

Ishtar, rw (Elaine May, 1987): 3/5

There are many movies in film history that are unfunny in much less interesting ways. It’s fun to see Hoffman and Beaty riff together. The best moments have a madcap energy, and there are a couple really funny bits (especially if you’re able to set aside the problematic Arab stuff.) Not everything works, to say the least. 

John Carpenter OK Fest

These movies are OK!

Dark Star, rw (John Carpenter, 1974): 3/5

It’s 1972 and a bunch of stoned out hippies are on a 10-year space mission. Parodies Star Wars and Alien 5 and 7 years, respectively, before their existence. The alien here is a droll balloon with feet. 2001 and Strangelove are the real touchstones. 

Christine, rw (John Carpenter, 1983): 3.5/5

I saw this movie twice in the theater when I was 16, and I still enjoy it today. Completely competent and well-paced like Spielberg, but raunchier. Robert Prosky and Harry Dean Stanton hang around being low-key perfect. 

In the Mouth of Madness, rw (John Carpenter, 1994): 3/5

Steven King and Dario Argento fight for attention within a sitcom-level mise-en-scene. The villain is clearly styled after Cronenberg. Charleston Heston’s 10 mins of screen time = pure production values.

Vampires (John Carpenter, 1998): 2/5

Did you ever wonder what James Woods, Daniel Baldwin, and Sheryl Lee were doing in 1997? Me either!

Ghosts of Mars (John Carpenter, 2001): 2.5/5

Full of state-of-the-art special effects…if it was 1962. A western on Mars that turns into a siege movie and a zombie movie. Ice Cube makes Natasha Henstridge look like Meryl Streep.