Skinamarink (Kyle Edward Ball, 2022): 4/5

An immersive lo-fi microbudget horror and largely experimental art film that taps into the primordial fear of the unknown and of being a child having to go to the bathroom at 3 a.m. with a gnawing feeling that there's someone/something waiting for you in the shadows. Kyle Edward Ball’s debut Skinamarink tells the story of two small children who wake up one night to discover both of their parents are missing and all of the windows and front/back doors in their house have inexplicably disappeared, leaving them trapped inside with a malevolent supernatural entity. The film grain in Skinamarink is a character in itself. It perfectly recreates that sense of hallucinogenic darkness where your eyes create shapes out of the nothingness and see things that aren’t there, except, in the case of Skinamarink, something is definitely lurking in the darkness. Maybe it has always been there. To experience the true terror of this film, watch it on the biggest screen you have, kill the lights, turn up the volume, switch off your phone and commit to no distractions for 100 minutes. Pure nightmare fuel. The amount of tension and dread that builds is nothing short of suffocating.

Histoire(s) du Cinema (Godard, 1989): 2.5/5

Godard’s rambling and echoing voice, repeating phrases, words and names without really connecting them. The staccato of his electric typewriter which is nice and annoying at the same time. It’s more often than not difficult to follow this, it appears like demented jabbering that occasionally amounts to some coherence and (sometimes even poetic) poignancy. It’s like a bad dream really, Godard spitting this chewed up pulp in our faces.

Nazarin (Luis Bunuel, 1959): 3/5
Based on Benito Perez Galdos' distinguished eponymous novel, Nazarin follows the excursions of Father Nazario (Francisco Rabal), a priest who experiences several episodes that echo incidents in The Gospels. The film, which was awarded the Palme d'Or and denounced by the Pope, strikes a restrained yet profound tone and is certainly sober by Bunuel standards; nevertheless, the film illustrates the catholic education he rejected, the imprint of which never left him.


El (Luis Bunuel, 1953): 3/5
Like an early Hong Sang-Soo exploration of wounded masculinity with the cruelty button pushed to the max. Arturo de Cordova performance has the unlikely perfect mix of funny and tragic. Recommended double bill: this and Akerman’s La Captive.

Mephisto (Istvan Szabo, 1981): 3/5
Or, THE FAUST AND THE FURIOUS
You could totally remake this film just set in the Trump era with one of those token hack right-wing "I'm one of the good ones" grifter YouTube personalities like the Candace Owens, Dave Rubin, Blair White types.

Judgement at Nuremberg (Stanley Kramer, 1961): 4/5
‘Iconic actor gives an all-timer monologue’, but make it every other scene. A reconciliation of the unanswerable.


Yellow Earth (Chen Kaige, 1984): 4/5
A masterpiece that I am ashamed to have not watched earlier. Yellow Earth is a film that drips aesthetically with slow sorrow, regret, and barrenness. A bright, young communist soldier goes into a village to collect information on rural folksongs. He meets a young girl who despises the idea of arranged marriage but does not know any alternatives - until she meets him. Inspired by his ideas of gender equality and free love, her life is reinvigorated. But alas, changing the landscape of a barren yellow earth is much harder than one thinks...

Wonderful performance, cinematography, and ugh, the music .

rewatched Aguirre, the Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972): 5/5
A bunch of idiots go to South America and pack the wrong clothes.

rewatched Double Indemnity (Billy Wylder, 1944): 5/5
“I wonder if I know what you mean.” “I wonder if you wonder.”

I too would kill Barbara Stanwyck’s husband if she asked me to.     

When You Finish Saving the World (Jesse Eisenberg, 2022): 3/5

A Noah Baumbach adjacent dramedy about a mother and son failing to connect with one another. Extremely cringe and annoying but it's got Julianne Moore so I kinda enjoyed it.

You People (Kenya Barris, 2023): 2/5

Script would have been better if ChatGPT wrote it.

Jacob's Ladder (Adrian Lyne, 1990): 3/5

Purgatorial languishing and the search for solace in death. What Jacob’s Ladder lacks in structure and coherence, it makes up for with jarring visuals, a potent commentary on PTSD and unethical military experimentation, and a riveting central performance from Tim Robbins.

River of No Return (Otto Preminger, 1954): 3/5

A western directed by Otto Preminger, and starring Marilyn Monroe and Robert Mitchum? Sure, why not! It's actually at its best, ironically, before the wilderness adventure commences, with Preminger's mobile camera expertly prowling the cramped settlement; the precise choreography involved when Mitchum circles the stage as Monroe performs is breathtaking. Process shots predominate on the river, for obvious reasons, and the story gets a mite soggy as well, though the two leads are well paired in the sense that his nonchalance offsets her effusiveness. Not thrilled that the romance flirts with both rape and abduction, but the times, etc.

Some Came Running (Vincent Minnelli, 1958): 3.5/5

I totally thought this film was going to be a lark, a pleasant pick-me-up on a day I needed one. Instead, it's eviscerating. And great.

Floating Clouds (Mikio Naruse, 1955): 3.5/5

Devastating in so many ways, largely because there’s nothing quite as soul-crushing as a completely lopsided rendition of love. And not even love really, just the remaining fragments of something that was once considered “love,” loosely resembling it but void of any other vital signs -- like how a firefly’s abdomen stays illuminated for a while after it’s dead.

See the Sea (Francois Ozon, 1997): 3/5

Creeping sense of dread for the win, but it feels incomplete and lacking any real meat to the story. Still shows off the exciting young talent that Ozon clearly was with this debut feature.

Infinity Pool (Brandon Cronenberg, 2023): 3/5

Just weird, horny vibes throughout. Trauma is just a small price to pay to be dominated by Mia Goth.

Sick of Myself (Kristoffer Borgli, 2022): 3/5

Petition to swap titles with The Worst Person In the World.

A dark, nasty battle between two narcissists, one of whom is an absolute psychopath. Kristine Kujath Thorp is really fantastic in this movie. The lengths that she goes to for attention are absurd, yet they also feel so familiar in our current cultural economy where attention is the primary currency and people will do stupid dangerous shit to earn it.

I'm not sure the film itself ultimately says much about these issues, but it's an extreme and entertaining depiction of pathological narcissism anchored by a memorable lead performance.

Dinner in America (Adam Rehmeier, 2020): 1.5/5

This cruel, charmless suburban satire sacrifices warmth, depth, and coherent storytelling in favor of provocative gross-out gags and empty shock value. One of those Sundance comedies that attempts to pass itself off as “quirky” and “different” when it’s really just a big ‘ol dumpster fire with half-baked ideas all cluttered together. Already one of the worst movies of the year but definitely the best movie of 2003.

Detainee 001 (Greg Barker, 2021): 2/5

Fascinating subject; terrible documentary.

You know there’s an issue with a documentary when the Wikipedia article you Google on the subject in the middle of the film gives you more background and insight than the documentary itself. Showtime continues to have a weird way with documentaries. While the core, middle section of this doc is worthwhile for its detailed information and perspectives of the timeline surrounding the prison uprising, it is bookended on both sides by a terribly unfocused introduction and an end that is lost with where to take this information. So much surrounding it is powerfully unnecessary and confuses the narrative even more while also messing up any sense of pacing.

The Pale Blue Eye (Scott Cooper, 2022): 2.5/5

Quoth the raven, "What a bore."

Extra half star for my dear Gillian Anderson.

The Banshees of Inisherin (Martin McDonagh, 2022): 2.5/5

I'm just completely immune to McDonagh's charms. Well acted, but apparently people are finding this riotously funny and despairing instead of schematically yoking a character-based concept that seems pulled from a cocaine-dusted yellow pad of log lines from the post-Tarantino 90s. Combined with McDonagh's earnest conviction that people repeating things to each other is automatically funny and Farrell/Gleeson can't save things for me. But seriously, ignore me, I didn't even like IN BRUGES.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (Joel Crawford, 2022): 3/5

This and Tarkovsky's Stalker (1979) have the same plot.

The Wonder (Sebastian Lelio, 2022): 3/5

Nurse Lib Wright (Florence Pugh) is called to a rural village to observe Anna O'Donnell (Kila Lord Cassidy), an 11 year old girl who it is claimed hasn't eaten for 4 months. Her skepticism encounters resistance from the community that wants to believe in a miracle. Flounders a bit in its execution, but an interesting central mystery and great performances help elevate the material above your standard dreary period-piece enigma.

The Menu (Mark Mylod, 2022): 2.5/5

The supervising sound editor on The Menu is named Rich Bologna, which is also a pretty good way to describe this movie.

M3GAN (Gerard Johnstone, 2022): 2/5

LET M3GAN SAY FUCK.

Anyway, 'classic pawn your orphaned niece off on the AI doll you created' story. I wish Matthew Broderick did the voice of the doll.

This Place Rules (Andrew Callaghan, 2022): 2.5/5

A YouTube video essay that was distributed by A24 for some reason. Empty entertainment that doesn't add anything new to the Jan 6th conversation. Also hated the random zooms every 5 seconds keep that shit on tiktok.

To Leslie (Michael Morris, 2022): 3/5

A fairly standard indie plot (alcoholic comes home to try to put her life back together, meets some wacky characters along the way who become her found family and help her redeem herself) elevated by another great performance from Andrea Riseborough and a ridiculously stacked supporting cast.

Starfuckers (Antonio Marziale, 2022, 14 mins): 3.5/5

More like WhattheFuckers! No wait, more like GAYvid Lynch! All kidding aside, Antonio Marziale: you have my attention.

 

December 2022: A 3.5/5 Fest

Damning with faint praise.

 

The Banshees of Inisherin (Martin McDonagh, 2022): 3.5/5

“Well, maybe I’m not a happy lad, so.” Best ensemble acting of the year, and just go ahead and give the supporting nod to Barry Keoghan. A literate and “written“ script (a la Mamet). Priest: “Do you think God cares about miniature donkeys?” Colm: “I fear he doesn’t, and I fear that’s where it’s all gone wrong.” And later: “If punching a policeman is a sin, we may as well just pack up and go.” Ultimately, I think it’s about how artists are depressed narcissist.

 

The Fablemans (Steven Spielberg, 2022): 3.5/5

Tony Kushner can really write, and I found it conventionally entertaining: funny and full of emotion. But damn the direction and tone are so broad and cartoonish. For a movie that seems to be based on real life, everyone comes off as a “character” instead of a human. Look at poor Michelle Williams’ bowl cut for Christsake!

 

Avatar: The Way of Water (James Cameron, 2022): 3.5/5

For the first hour, I was sorely disappointed in the visuals—for me, the high frame-rate stuff was absolutely disastrous. The underwater second act works much better, and the third act is a solid hour of cascading action sequences, masterful and overstuffed. The movie is finally redundant to the original, not bringing much new to the table in terms of image, tone and strategy. I was surprised to realize that Avatar (and this one) is actually a war movie—a fact had eluded me until now. I always remember the beauty and calm, but this one really ratchets up the sadism, complete with torture and whale-massacre, somehow making me like the original a little less. 

 

Triangle of Sadness (Ruben Östlund, 2022): 3.5/5

Östlund’s broadest and most traditionally entertaining. But I missed the squirmy discomfort that comes from the feeling that the movie is taking aim at me and people like me. In this case, the film is at the expense of “the other” (extremely rich folks and influencers, the easiest possible target).

 

White Noise (Noah Baumbach, 2022): 3.5/5

Only about half of it works but that half is pretty good. Funny and permeated with DeLillo-recognizable observations and tone—satiric and somehow flat & torrential at the same time. Like Amsterdam, the third act threatens to burn all the (tentatively granted) goodwill earned thus far. 

 

Lady Chatterley’s Lover (Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre, 2022): 3.5/5

Lots of hot sex—always very welcome. I understand it diverges from the book, which I haven’t read. 

 

Athena (Romain Gavras, 2022): 3.5/5

If you watch, say Intolerance, you soon get the idea that cinema is about movement—about men and women (or groups) running from left to right and right to left. Here is a movie that harnesses that basic power in a riot situation, with multiple long-ass tracking shots involving huge crowds, fireworks and movement from room to room, situation, mood to mood. Loads of help from CGI I’m guessing. If not, a massive accomplishment. Either way, engrossing and ambitious. This is the action-packed movie I think I want while watching, say, Aftersun. But while watching this one, I missed the cogency and thoughtfulness of most adult movies. Shrug emoji.  

 

Hit the Road (Panah Panahi, 2022): 3/5

Moves gradually toward the cosmic, but doesn’t quite achieve the outer atmosphere.

 

Kimi (Steven Soderbergh, 2022): 2/5

A calculated nexus of hot button issues from techno-paranoia, to COVID-induced isolation sliding into agoraphobia, to MeToo-style believe-her virtual-signaling. Zooey Kravitz is not even close to being good. Written by David Koepe, an extremely successful screenwriter who has never once written a good movie—look it up!

 

Atlanta, seasons 3 & 4 (Donald Glover, etc., 2022): 4/5

Super-creative and ever-evolving. I never once got the feeling that they were just doing the easiest thing. Always going for it. There seem to be a lot of complaints about the scatter-shot and anthology-ish third season, but I loved never knowing what to expect next.

 

 

Sight and Sound Rewatch Party

I had previously seen all but two movies on the new list(s), so I knocked those out first. Overall, none of the movie’s ratings moved more than a half star one way or the other—rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. 

 

Daughters of the Dust. #60 (Julie Dash, 1991): 1.5/5

Amateurish and of little value beyond the anthropological. 

 

Histoire(s) du Cinéma, 266 mins, #84 (Jean-Luc Godard, 1988-1998): 3/5

In strategy and effect, this feels like all of Godard’s later, essayistic works. This one (besides being quite a bit longer) just uses images from cinema instead of cruise ships or a 3D dog on a shore. As in all these works, he proclaims stuff (using voice over or text on screen), some of which is pretty interesting and some of which doesn’t make much sense to me. For example, we get this nice image: “For nearly 50 years in the dark, moviegoers burned imagination to heat up reality. Now reality is seeking revenge.” But then later, this: “Only the hand that erases can write.” (?)

 

Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, rw, #1 (Chantal Akerman, 1975): 3.5/5

I just don’t understand this character. What more does she want? She has a nice apartment, nice wallpaper, nice yellow tile, a nice tub and sink, a nice son with an interest in literature, nice dishrags and stiff green dish-scrubber, nice hallways and light switches, a nice hair style, nice potatoes and meatloaf, a nice blue smock and a really nice seagreen housecoat to wear over her sweater because it’s cold. I know this movie is supposed to be boring—and it is, it is. But I couldn’t help also thinking that it’s more interesting even on a basic pitch level than, say, Endgame which such a nil. Let me add that Matthias Müller’s Home Stories is also great, and only six minutes long.

 

Close Up, rw, #17 (Abbas Kiarostami, 1990): 5/5

Setting aside the casually brilliant formal choices, the film’s protagonist powerfully expresses his own humanity, suffering, and love for art. And it’s perhaps this directness and eloquence that raises the movie to greatness.

 

Daisies, rw, #28 (Věra Chytilová, 1966): 3.5/5

Like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, these two women step outside not just the mores of their time but the outside the frame itself. Full of crazy bits, of which the scissors thing is probably my favorite. 

 

Mirror, rw, #31 (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975): 3.5/5

Remains opaque for me. Much of it is obviously about his childhood on some level and his mother in particular—but why we are shown certain things, I have no idea. Contains a handful of breathtaking cinematic images—the shot of a single wave of wind moving towards us across a great field of grass is an all-timer.

 

Bicycle Thieves, rw, #41 (Vittorio De Sica, 1948): 4/5

Marxist not only in its critique of capitalism but in its reverence for work and all it provides. Lack of work can’t be soothed by family, friendship, religion, food, music, sport or the law. 

 

The Battle of Algiers, rw, #45 (Gillo Pontecorvo, 1966): 4/5

Extremely contemporary concerns, including colonialism, terrorism, and being an Arab who wants something that Europeans don’t want them to want. Still amazing to discover a movie where our protagonists are Muslim people who murder innocent Europeans (although not pointlessly). The filmmaking is shockingly realistic-feeling and on a huge scale. Stanley Kubrick: “All films are, in a sense, false documentaries.”

 

Ordet, rw, #48 (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1955): 5/5

Its power is obviously borrowed/used by Silent Light and Breaking the Waves but also by Tarantino in Inglorious Basterds and Once Upon a Time, where faith (in the power of cinema) can change the past and raise the dead. The square compositions, glowing white light, and slow and hypnotic line-readings and movements are not only beautiful but entrance the viewer in a way that surely was not lost on (late) Kubrick. 

 

Sans Soliel, rw, #59 (Chris Marker, 1983): 5/5

It has no strong thesis, but instead presents a steady flow of engaging and worthwhile images, observations and reveries.  

 

L’Argent, rw, #72 on directors’ list (Robert Bresson, 1983): 4/5

An obsessive interest in hands and feet emphasizes the mechanistic (as opposed to the rational, much less the “soul”ful) nature of existence, calling into question the existence of free will. Using this strategy, the film answers some ultimate questions in a blissfully simple and crystal-clear way: “I expect nothing.” Which is exactly what the next nihilistic five minutes delivers. Still, it’s not our man who commits the terrifying final acts, it’s those hands and feet.

 

Sansho the Bailiff, rw, #75 (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1954): 3/5

A simple story of cruelty and misfortune. 

 

Pierrot le Fou, rw, #84 (Jean-Luc Godard, 1965): 3.5/5

Jean-Luc, pitching fastballs—scattershot, funny and casually creative. “It’s a good thing I don’t like spinach, because if I did, I’d eat it, and I can’t stand the stuff.” And: their combined list of what they “like and want:” “Flowers, animals, the blue of the sky, the sound of music, ambition, hope, the way things move, accidents.”

 

Yi-Yi, rw, #90 (Edward Yang, 2000): 4.5/5

Nashville but in Taipei. A huge family, with 8-10 separate emotional arcs, full of drama and artfully handled. The city itself is also a character (cliché be damned), seeping in through windows and reflections, playing upon the characters’ face, and most of all in the signature long shots (in the sense of the camera remaining far back from the characters, ensuring that they are framed and engulfed by their environment.)

 

The Color of Pomegranates, rw, #93 on directors’ list (Sergei Parajanov, 1969): 3/5

Idiosyncratic, beautiful and mysterious—if not meaningful. Symbolic weight imbues each image with great gravity. Is it cultural appropriation if I project this movie on a wall at my next party? (Just kidding, I don’t throw parties). 

 

Throne of Blood, rw, #93 on directors’ list (Akira Kurosawa, 1957): 4/5

Intimate, intense, dreamy, primal and large-scale. A cast of (perhaps) 400, plus 400 horses and 400 fog machines, yet also very interior/psychological—since, for all that we ARE shown, there is still so much that we are not. The killing of the Lordship, the primal sin, is conducted off screen, and the Lady Macbeth character barely moves a muscle, serving as the demonic, paranoid and tempting inner voice of ambition. 

 

While we're at it, I managed to scrape together a top 10 of 2022 list. A much more difficult exercise in its own way given the dearth of good cinema in a single calendar year, but here's what I loved/didn't hate.

 
1. Marcel the Shell With Shoes On (Dean Fleischer-Camp, US)
2. Memoria (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Colombia/Thailand)
3. Tár (Todd Field, US)
4. Petite Maman (Céline Sciamma, France)
5. Rien à foutre (Julie Lecoustre, France/Belgium)
6. We're All Going to the World's Fair (Jane Schoenbrun, US)
7. Les Olympiades, Paris 13e (Jacques Audiard, France)
8. Official Competition (Gastón Duprat, Mariano Cohn, Spain)
9. Vortex (Gaspar Noé, France)
10. EO (Jerzy Skolimowski, Poland)

 

My 2022 Sight & Sound ballot

Late Spring, Ozu, 1949 - Kids/adults grow up/old so fast, part 1.

Au Hasard Balthazar, Bresson, 1966 - The world is just hands doing stuff.

Playtime, Tati, 1967 - If you back up far enough, the chaos of the world becomes graceful. 

Aguirre, the Wrath of God, Herzog, 1972 - You can follow your philosophies and ambitions to their end, but it only ends in a raft-full of monkeys.

Apocalypse Now, Coppola, 1979 - I like my emotions like I like my women: huge, spectacular and confused.  

My Neighbor Totoro, Miyazaki, 1988 - The quiet, innocent, simple moments of life are magical, powerful, and more than enough.

Mulholland Drive, Lynch, 2001 - What will you do to avoid thinking about something you regret? 

There Will Be Blood, Anderson, 2007 - Anger and self, flowing from the core of the earth, shooting into the air, and lying in a thin layer over everything and everyone. 

Silent Light, Reygadas, 2007 - Rapturous beauty, literally.

Boyhood, Linklater, 2015 - Kids/adults grow up/old so fast, part 2.

 

 

Also Good (The Cheat)

The General, 1926

Aparajito, 1956

Through a Glass Darkly, 1961

The Godfather, 1972

The Bad News Bears, 1976

Rivers and Tides, 2001

School of Rock, 2003

Sweetgrass, 2009

Mr. Turner, 2014

Roma, 2018

My Sight & Sound 2022 ballot

 

With each passing decade, choosing only ten "greatest" films becomes an increasingly perverse exercise.  But since perversity is the only exercise I'm getting these days, here's my ballot.  Most important criterion: I love all of these films, and with every viewing I continue to find new meanings and insights within them.

 

Sherlock, Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1924)

Can you find 45 minutes with more cinematic innovation and comedic genius?  Perhaps only in Keaton's The General (1926).

 

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Took murder out of the hands of gangsters and detectives and dropped it squarely in the lap of middle-class America, even providing a step-by-step guide narrated by its smirking insurance salesman turned cold-blooded killer.  Enormously influential on postwar American cinema and the hundreds of domestic crime films that followed in its wake.  Also, the best film ever made about claims adjusting.

 

Bicycle Thieves (Vittorio De Sica, 1947)

"A society is unjust when an honest man must steal to provide for his family." – Casare Zavattini, screenwriter.  What could have been a Marxist screed is made poignant, tender, heart-wrenching.

 

Diary of a Country Priest (Robert Bresson, 1950)

When one is fully devoted to the power and purity of The Word (or Art), the petty cruelties of daily life can be a terrible burden to bear. The first of Bresson's several spare, somber masterpieces.

 

Belle de Jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967)

Proves the old adage, If sex is dirty, then you must be doing it right.  The most artistic of Bunuel's many films examining the neuroses resulting from civilized society’s containment of human desire.

 

The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972)

First spoken line: "I believe in America." –Amerigo Bonasera, mortician.  America is a nation of immigrants—and violence.

 

Aguirre, the Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972)

On location in the Amazon, Herzog lays bare the hubris and madness of the conquerer's impulse to impose culture upon nature.

 

Yellow Earth (Chen Kaige, 1984)

Demonstrates a truly non-Western cinematic language—such as its framing of earth and sky and its narrative use of folk music—to tell a tragic story of arranged marriage in a poor, rural community of ethnic minorities.  Spearheaded China's brilliant and innovative Fifth Generation of filmmaking.

 

Vagabond (Agnes Varda, 1985)

Deliberately structured like Citizen Kane, but examining a life at the other end of the economic spectrum—a vagrant woman found dead in a ditch—to show how she too could profoundly impact many lives.

 

There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007)

Anderson, adapting the socialist Upton Sinclair, excavates the origins of Big Oil and unearths two dark forces—monopoly capitalism and fundamentalist religion—that have undermined modern American democracy.  Audacious and breathtaking, with a haunting score by Jonny Greenwood.

 The Fabelmans (Steven Spielberg, 2022): 2.5/5

When David Lynch appeared, I finally understood how Marvel fans feel. Anyway, it's heavy-handed middle-brow schlock but had its moments here and there, I guess. Ultimately too corny and saccharine. Not for me.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (Rian Johnson, 2022): 3.5/5
Delightful fun with a fine ensemble cast and largely better than the first. Extra half star for the sweatpants joke.

All Quiet on the Western Front (Edward Berger, 2022): 3.5/5
Elaborate, intense, rich in futility. Stunningly beautiful cinematography and the score is modern and oftentimes jarring.

rewatched Clerks (Kevin Smith, 1994): 2/5

I’ve watched Clerks twice now and enjoyed it even less the second time around. It just lands somewhere between 'disappointing' and ‘rubbish’ for me. The best joke: "MY GIRLFRIEND SUCKED THIRTY SEVEN DICKS" "in a row??" After that, the movie is mostly a logarithmic transgression into mediocrity.

Talladega Nights (Adam McKay, 2006): 2.5/5

"So when you say psychosomatic do you mean like he could start a fire with his thoughts?"

Not like stubborn American masculinity isn't a fairly soft target but this is indeed a solid diagnosis, especially for a relatively tightly structured comedy that still maintains the loose Apatow improv-y style.

An American Tragedy (Josef von Steinberg, 1931): 2.5/5

Apparently Sergei Eisenstein was slated to direct as his first American feature (Now THAT would've been interesting). But once it was passed to von Sternberg, he intentionally scuttled the critique of American capitalism and the futility of class strivings that Eisenstein, as well as Dreiser in his novel, emphasized. Instead he turned it into a standard murder/courtroom drama. But without the hallmark von Sternberg exoticism. Mostly a disappointment, but not without its moments. I’d be willing to bet that few spoken lines in early-1930s cinema ring as piteously as Roberta (Sylvia Sydney) whispering, ”Clyde, please don’t go,” to herself, head down, eyes closed.

Avatar: The Way of Water (James Cameron, 2022): 3/5

Moana, Moby Dick, and Titanic collide as Cameron's project makes a much needed location change. Ultimately, just a big beautiful creature with a pea sized brain (as expected). Must be seen on the big screen to fully appreciate the technical mastery (duh).

rewatched Avatar (James Cameron, 2009): 3/5

Its politics of otherness are all kinds of cluelessly reductive, and Cameron has always had problems when attempting to ground his truly awesome tech fetish and his command of spectacle and design with often tin-eared "human" stories.

rewatched Eyes Wide Shut (Stanley Kubrick, 1999): 5/5

Wowwowwow I forgot how stunning, forgot how the vibes in this are so unbelievably fucked. A flawless film from beginning to end. Larry Smith's DP work is unreal. All of the warm, diffused interiors are at a contrast with deep, luminous blue hues. Such opulent, sinister extravagance. Score is perfect. It still scares me shitless, too. Eyes Wide Shut is the perfect closure in the career of one of cinema's greatest directors. And dare I say essential Christmas viewing?

Jeepers Creepers (Victor Salva, 2001): 1.5/5

This is just plain moronic—even insulting, arguably, given that our heroes repeatedly make inane bad-horror-movie decisions ("Let's see, the creepy figure who previously nearly ran us into a ditch and then got in his scary truck and chased us when we saw him dump what looked like bodies into a big pipe just kept on driving when we pulled into a field. He's probably gonna grab some lunch now. Let's check out his place!") while arguing about whether they're behaving like characters in a bad horror movie. Does not absolve!

Irma La Douce (Billy Wilder, 1963): 3/5

Dumb, but no dumber (and arguably less dumb) than Some Like It Hot, one of the all-time great comedies.

rewatched Murder on a Sunday Morning (Jean-Xavier de Lestrade, 2001): 4/5

An outstanding, telling case of police incompetence and the outstanding work of two public defenders.

rewatched The Staircase (Jean-Xavier de Lestrade, 2004): 5/5

Easily one of the best, most engrossing and most focused documentaries on the American criminal justice system out there.

The Whale (Darren Aronofsky, 2022): 2/5

“People are amazing.” Did eighth grade Ellie write this whole script, too? So much of the story is about the value of empathy, while the leering camera feels strangely aligned with the characters around Charlie who regard him with disgust. A few too many moments are seemingly played for shock value (dark comedy, even?) related to Charlie's otherness as a fat person. But the screenplay, adapted from a metaphor-laden play, never really centralizes Charlie as a complex human being. He feels like a classic self-sacrificing character who gives audiences a better appreciation for their lives and gets lauded by the Oscars for "bravery." The surrounding players don't fare much better, though Hong Chau brings some needed grounding to her portrayal as Charlie's nurse and closest friend. While I'm usually quite taken with Darren Aronofsky's visceral character studies, his style just isn't the right fit for this material.

ALSO: here are the things you see Brendan Fraser eat in this movie:

-Bucket of fried chicken
-1.5 3 Musketeers candy bar
-Meatball sub (extra cheese)
-Turkey sandwich (no mayo)
-2 extra large pepperoni and sausage pizzas (no crust, some with extra slice of American cheese and ranch)
-Doritos sandwich with grape jelly

EO (Jerzy Skolimowski, 2022): 3/5

Through the eyes of a donkey, we are transported to different places where we see varying facets of humanity. Bresson would approve. Isabelle Huppert has a fun flirty step-MILF cameo.

Emancipation (Antoine Fuqua, 2022): 2/5

Will Smith does his Oscar face for 2 hours and has some type of French/Haitian accent that changes from scene to scene. Anyway, you’ve seen this movie before, only not as boring or ugly. Antoine Fuqua has to be the greatest example of a one hit director I have ever seen in my life.

The Staircase (Antonio Campos, 2022): 3.5/5

Owl theory all the way, baby. And yay Juliette Binoche is in this!!!! Also, Parker Posey is perfect as Freda Black.

Can't Get You Out of My Head (Adam Curtis, 2021): 3/5

Stop the conveyor belt of doom, I want to get off! This 8 hour doc is a towering, kaleidoscopic journey through life in the modern era - from the collapse of the British Empire to Brexit, from the radicalism of China's Cultural Revolution to its modern surveillance state, from the original Black Panthers to BLM - posing its central question early on: does anything really change? Curtis posits that the individual has become disillusioned with wanting to bring revolutionary change and, through the shifting power dynamics, populism has weaponized that disenchantment with a desire to return to a nostalgic fabrication of the past created by the elites.

This is more of a collage of sight and sound than a proper documentary (utilizing pretty fantastic b-roll/odd archive footage from the BBC and an AMAZING soundtrack). It's told in fragments and shards of glass, the type of series that will hit you with a dozen names each entry. I can't completely gush about the end product itself like many have done but I can respect what an immense undertaking this was.

The Talk of the Town (George Stevens, 1942): 3.5/5

A lovely mix of Capra style civics lessons (done in a far more palatable fashion than Capra IMHO) and romantic comedy. Grant, Coleman and Arthur are one of the most adorable trios I've ever seen on screen - respect, friendship and maybe more (Hays Code subtext!) blossoms between the two philosophically adverse men whilst an absentminded Arthur scurries about the house trying to keep them both happy. And having two leading men on board means you're left guessing which one she'll choose right until the very end. African American actor Rex Ingram also appears in a not-so-stereotypical role, admittedly he is still playing a valet, but he gets sensitive treatment in several significant scenes.

The Eternal Daughter (Joanna Hogg, 2022): 2.5/5

Joanna Hogg: please stop making autobiographical movies. (It's weird that she finds her life so fascinating that it warrants a trilogy.) Stars for 2x the Tilda though, who plays both the director and her mother.

rewatched Suspiria (Luca Guadagnino, 2018): 5/5

Tilda Swinton be like " yes i will be in your movie but only if i can also play a man" androgynous queen!!!

Also I forgot how next level the nightmare sequences in this are, they SEND me

The Stranger (Thomas M. Wright, 2022): 2/5

Like NITRAM (2021), I just couldn’t shake the feeling of WHY. Aussies sure love a gritty color drained crime drama based on true events with lots of pensive music and characters deep in thought and a bloated runtime and small artistic flourishes that don’t really contribute anything.

The Woman King (Gina Prince-Bythewood, 2022): 1.5/5

I only saw this because of the high Rotten Tomatoes score. There could be something great here but you'd need at least a couple more drafts from capable writers and a director that understands pacing. Just mediocre and tedious. I smell a Best Picture nomination!

Mass (Fran Kranz, 2021): 3/5

Fran Kranz's debut is modest in scale but massive in ambition, seeking nothing less than to explicate an unimaginable horror. The film isn't particularly cinematic, but its emotional weight is staggering. Kranz's script avoids theatrical temptations; there's no rat-a-tat, flowery turns of phrase are rare, monologues are brief and frequently interrupted. Instead, he simply places us in a room with his four-piece symphony of suffering, trusting the viewer as much as he trusts the fearless cast, dreaming of some epiphany to cut through the bullshit and make us remember that we have more in common than we think.

She Said (Maria Schrader, 2022): 1.5/5

Or, This Would Have Made A Much Better New York Times Article Oh Wait

Also, take a shot every time there’s a phone call (I’m in the ICU).

Just artless, soulless, monotonous, derivative, uninspired, severely lacking. Zoe Kazan: please go away.

TÁR (Todd Field, 2022): 3.5/5

The title character and the film itself are highly intellectual and cultured—the script is among the most erudite and highbrow I’ve ever experienced (a real pleasure, for me at least). Unfortunately the film doesn’t give her much to do, really. 

 

Amsterdam (David O. Russell, 2022): 3.5/5

Madcap and funny. Christian Bale nails it. Admittedly, horrible third act problems.

 

Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022): 2/5

I did not connect to this bummed-out story. Boo hoo, I’m too sad to be a parent. But in talking to other people who have seen it, I am retroactively intrigued by the idea that at the end of the movie, you know exactly what happens next, although it is never, never mentioned in the text.

 

Don’t Worry, Darling (Olivia Wilde, 2022): 1.5/5

Melissa and I really enjoyed the first half hour, which features lots of sexy sex-time, so rare in mainstream American movies these days. The rest lies somewhere between dumb and embarrassingly dumb. Harry and Florence Pugh are fine. The script is not.

 

See How They Run (Tom George, 2022): 1.5/5

A dumb title for a dumb movie. How would one guess it’s a “super-clever” whodunnit? This bag of smirky quirks is how many people think about Wes Anderson these days, I’m afraid.

 

Wendell & Wild (Henry Selick, 2022): 3/5

Detailed and brilliantly odd. Why are all these characters black. Why not?

 

My Father’s Dragon (Nora Twomey, 2022): 3/5

Surprising original. Displays a real desire to escape from (some) narrative cliches.

 

Viva l’Amour (Tsai Ming-liang, 1994): 2.5/5

Can one make an interesting movie about boredom? This one, depicting aimlessness and loneliness among the Taiwanese young people, doesn’t succeed. Ends with a 6-minute, unbroken take of our protagonist crying on a bench. How/why is the movie title in French?

 

Él (Luis Buñuel, 1953): 3/5

Our protagonist begins as a love-struck man of the community and rapidly devolves, Breaking Bad-style, into a jealous and murderous monster. I have read comparisons to Vertigo, but the jealousy and pain of Obscure Object of Desire is much closer analogy. What’s more intriguing is the film’s interest in sex and the church. It begins with a priest washing and kissing feet. Then our protagonist falls in love with the sexiest feet/shoes in the church, and it’s over. The film’s climax features our protagonist violently attacking a priest at the altar in from of all his parishioners. Very satisfying. 

 

Nazarin (Luis Buñuel, 1959): 4/5

A heartfelt retelling of the life of Christ, sincerely empathetic for the very poorest sinners. The Jesus character is beautiful and righteous, with real compassion and a St. Francis-like communion with all life, etc. Includes philosophy, miracles, cavorting with prostitutes, plus the passion. As with Pasolini’s Gospel According to St. Matthew, the real question is, “How serious is this movie by this notorious rabble-rouser and kicker of lick-spittle priests (see Él)?” Answer: As a heart attack. 

 

Drunken Angel (Akira Kurosawa, 1948): 3.5/5

A drunken gangster meets a drunken doctor, and redemption in pursued. Mifune is suave and tubercular in a hot-ass white suit, but Takashi Shimura (who appears in 21 of Kurosawa’s 30 films) rips apart his fantasy, calling all the gangsters on their “feudalistic loyalty crap.”

 

Ikiru, rw (Akira Kurosawa, 1952): 4.5/5

A beautiful movie in the tradition of Capra about what we can really accomplish in this short life. I love how the narrative structure of the last 50 minutes provides an answer, as the inspiring story of our protagonist (Takashi Shimura again) is told with contributions from all the people at his funeral. Meaning that one’s life is (perhaps) measured by all those one has moved, however briefly.

 

The Bad Sleep Well (Akira Kurosawa, 1960): 3.5/5

A tale of revenge and corporate corruption. Long, but narratively strong à la Leone or Melville—continually setting up confrontations and revelations among the many characters. Full of bravura sequences, including an ironic and amusing opening wedding where reporters are waiting for some of the guests to be arrested.

 

Little Stabs at Happiness, 15 mins. (Ken Jacobs, 1953): 3.5/5

Raw-boned, inventive and narcissistic in a TicToc closed-feedback sort of way. 

 

 

Brazilian Film Fest

Cinema Novo: um verdadeiro busto.

 

Black God, White Devil (Glauber Rocha, 1964): 2/5

Nonsense at a high aesthetic level. A spiritual journey and playful within the Western genre à la Jodorowsky, but more austere. Our protagonist kills his boss over a money dispute, then joins up with a babbling mystic Christian, then a bloody-minded outlaw. But the film is dragged down by lots of strange and senseless speechifying and a languorous second half. They call it avant-garde, but I don’t know…it reads as incompetence.

 

Entranced Earth/Terra em Transe (Glauber Rocha, 1967): 2/5

Poetry and politics, neither one of which I really understood. An idealistic politician says he’s going to help the people and is elected—but he soon compromises and betrays his ideals, then is buried by conservative and corporate forces. And yet nothing really moving, and there are long, dull passages of incoherent and hysterical political rhetoric or lamentation for a failed revolution.

 

Antonio das Mortes (Glauber Rocha, 1969): 2/5

At best, you could say Rocha is putting genre, Brazilian myth and legend, and revolutionary zeal into a blender and splashing it around the scrubby desert. At worst, you could say this is fucking nonsense, barely interested in anything other than songs, dances and other crude rituals. Revisits the Cangaceiro bandits of Black God, White Devil—Brazilian folk heroes/outlaws fighting for the people. Antonio is our protagonist, I guess, but he’s fighting against the outlaws for a government trying to bring stability to the country. General muddiness abounds.

 

Barren Lives/Vidas Secas (Nelson Pereira dos Santos, 1963): 2.5/5

A Beckett-level of devastation, ruin and emptiness. A family looks for work in the desert of Northeast Brazil, with everything stacked against them from exploitative employers, to government taxes, to the police and army. Poor people are, indeed, poor.

 

A Dog’s Will/O Auto da Compadecida (Guel Arraes, 2000): 1.5/5

A manic and tiresome comedy, incorporating limp farce, toothless satire of religion, and sub-Three’s Company misunderstandings. Absolutely beloved in Brazil.

 

 

Bicycle Thieves-based Iranian Film Fest

The Iranians somehow all excel at these simple stories, mining real drama out of the real world. As if the whole country took the Dogme 95 pledge.

 

The Cyclist (Mohsen Makhmalbaf, 1989): 3/5

A man needs money for his sick wife’s hospital stay, so he agrees to ride a bicycle around a courtyard for a week without sleep. A circus atmosphere arises, as this poor nobody becomes the focus of a whole community, including gangsters betting on him, people taking advantage of the crowd to sell their wares, as well as groups of school children, old people and so on using him as a learning moment.

 

A Moment of Innocence (Mohsen Makhmalbaf, 1996): 4.5/5

A funny and compassionate little Möbius strip of a movie, like Close Up in a lighter tone. A director is making a movie recreating and examining the time when he stabbed a policeman at the age of 17. But memories are tricky and young people have changed so much that the actors don’t really even want to pretend to commit this act of violence—which leads to a perfect last frame. 78 minutes. Available on YouTube.

 

The Silence (Mohsen Makhmalbaf, 1998): 2/5

A lovely experimental, drama-light film about a blind boy who also likes to walk around with his fingers in his ears. He gets lost or led astray several times but then just cuts to him being back and safe. Shrug emoji. 

 

The Song of Sparrows (Majid Majidi, 2008): 3.5/5

A man who lives in the countryside outside of Tehran loses his job and must travel to the city on his motorcycle daily to make a living. Rather than concentrating on the anxiety, difficulty and pain of the situation, however, the movie generously sees this circumstance as opening new opportunities, challenges and ideas for the poor guy. 

 

Homework (Abbas Kiarostami, 1989): 2.5/5

The emphasis on education for these kids is beautiful but perilous. The education seems focused on rote learning, always with a religious bent, instead of on creativity. Students are put under a lot of pressure to succeed, and the parents are not in a good position to help them, since many are illiterate themselves and ignorant of changing learning techniques (although experts in corporal punishment). This is interesting as far as it goes, but considering this is a film by Kiarostami, the thesis is disappointingly unambiguous. 

 

Ten (Abbas Kiarostami, 2002): 3/5

Women (in Iran, etc.) are fucked. The film is just six women (and one boy) talking but I’m not sure it passes the Bechtel test, since they almost exclusively speak about the men who define them and dictate how they should/must behave. 

 

 

Farhadi Film Fest

Farhadi didn’t get the memo about neo-realism and instead seems to be modeling Bergman, Mike Leigh or even more classical dramatists like, let’s say, Arthur Miller. These are well-plotted and at times intense potboilers, full of drama often brought about because of the smallest of decisions—and often heightened by cascading third-act revelations. Farhadi doesn’t shy away from the big images, either. At the beginning of The Salesman the feuding couple’s apartment building literally collapses around them. And the soundtrack of Fireworks Wednesday sounds like constant random gunfire (like the Alfred Molina scene in Boogie Nights, but for two hours).

 

Fireworks Wednesday (Asghar Farhadi, 2006): 4/5

The first third is a sneaky variation on Yojimbo/For a Few Dollars More/Hammett's Red Harvest/Miller’s Crossing, where our protagonist keeps switching allegiances, sharing information and pitting rivals against one another on the way up the ladder. Thereafter, she becomes more of a Marlowe, passively observing and noticing all the multigenerational betrayals, lies and pain caused by the character’s’ infidelities, while also serving as an ironic framing device representing the naive first experience of love. In other words: heart pounding, complex and literate.

 

About Elly (Asghar Farhadi, 2009): 4/5

A group of friends vacation at the beach, but the newcomer to the group disappears. Did she drown or just leave? Did any of them really know her? Some terrifically dramatic and emotionally charged situations, and damn that’s just the best. 

 

A Separation, rw (Asghar Farhadi, 2011): 4/5

Once again, the drama is precipitated by tiny actions, lies or decisions that initially seem inconsequential but eventually blow up everything. 

 

The Salesman (Asghar Farhadi, 2016): 4/5

Evolves into a sort of Iranian Death Wish—a revenge tale that indicts everyone involved. Stars a terrific Shahab Hosseini, who has appeared in three (out of 9) of Farhadi’s films, playing very different people.

 

 

Kubrick I Haven’t Watched for a While

Wherein the director decides: “Let’s take out all that clarity that you like and replace it with ambiguity.”

 

Fear and Desire, rw (Stanley Kubrick, 1953): 3/5

Radical interiority and editing. Kurosawa, Dostoyevsky, Huston’s Red Badge of Courage and The Thin Red Line are influences/fellow travelers. The 20 mins that involve the girl suck. 

 

Paths of Glory, rw (Stanley Kubrick, 1957): 4.5/5

Quite a critique of the intellect, for a chess-enthusiast like Kubrick. In the end, all those beautiful, elegant, refined rooms are the setting for the utmost stupidity. One understands why war is a turn-on not for dumb kids (the subject of many a war movie) but for governments and lawyers—fun and guilt-free displays of ultimate power. Rather than a star vehicle for Douglas, the script makes room for as many as 15 memorable non-lead roles including those played by Ralph Meeker, Adolph Menjou, Tim Carey, etc.  

 

Barry Lyndon, rw (Stanley Kubrick, 1975): 4/5

Possibly informed by my recent readings of George Elliott’s Middlemarch, Dicken’s Bleak House, and Hardy’s Jude the Obscure, I (newly) found this film funny, brilliant and beautiful—full of wit and event. Its slowness invites viewers to just momentarily breathe in the colors and geometry. But it also lends the film a sense of hypnosis, as in The Shining, where the historic moment vibrates. And here the long arc of the narrative invites a “god’s eye view” that permits Kubrick to justify his emotional remove as a sin of the original text, not his own. (Akin to Pasolini’s “It’s not me” strategy in Arabian Nights.) The “moral” of Barry Lyndon (stated clearly up front) is that all these people, good or bad, happy or sad, died a long, long time ago—and that their lives, despite their drama as depicted, had no meaning. Perfect.

 

Eyes Wide Shut, rw (Stanley Kubrick, 1999): 4/5

The movie has a completely unique look and feel—dreamy, slow and hypnotic (a characteristic that annoyed me when I last saw it, during its theatrical run). As Nicole Kidman dances with a debonaire stranger in front of what David Ehrlich calls “a million Christmas lights,” her line-readings become slower and more sing-songy, following the sway of the dance and music rather than underlining the meaning (which feels odd in a way that perhaps only the 80^th take of something could). She is seduced and deeply considers accepting his offer of sex, but ultimately refuses—an act that is repeated over and over by both parties in the film. Originally, I saw the film as being too judgmental of Kidman’s character, who hasn’t actually done anything beyond having an intense fantasy (something that is completely OK, even beautiful). But now I can see that it is only Cruise’s character who can’t handle her complexity, not Kubrick. Sydney Pollack is perfect and very welcome—since his line-readings are allowed to be more traditionally realistic, and cut through the naive and narcissistic dream of the last two hours.