Month: October 2018

Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie [The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie] (1972)

Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie [The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie] (1972)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(In French, On TV, October 2018) I liked Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie quite a bit more than I expected, which is saying something given my usual reluctance toward surrealism and/or French cinema of the 1970s. Writer/director Luis Buñuel does have a few surprises up his sleeve, though, the best of those being the dry black humour of a film in which anything and everything can happen. Once you accept that Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie is pure surrealism (which doesn’t take all that long, even taking into account that 1970s French bourgeoisie was weird enough), the rest is simple joy as the film zigs and zags between dreams and absurdity. Violence abounds, but the film remains riotously funny even as the black comedy gets even darker. The flipside is that nothing means much, so it’s not really worth watching the film for characters or plotting as much as a series of sketches featuring more or less the same cast. Which isn’t to say that the film is meaningless comedy—while it’s strongest when it’s at its funniest, there’s enough of a graphic (at times unsubtle) illustration of hypocrisy to keep thematic engines running. Even for plot-centred viewers such as myself, meaningless isn’t the same thing as worthless, and Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie gives us enough narrative breadcrumbs to sweeten its own surrealist intent. I liked it more than I thought I would. In fact, I may even enjoy a repeated viewing in a few years.

Dinosaur (2000)

Dinosaur (2000)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On DVD, October 2018) At fifty-some movies and counting, the output of Disney Animation Studios has been inconsistent at best—some of them are classics, and others have been nearly forgotten along the way. Even if it was a box office hit back in 2000, Dinosaur now languishes in the Disney bottom shelf, plagued by the absence of a princess, visually dated technological choices and overtaken by later movies (i.e. The Ice Age series) reusing similar concepts to better effect. It’s true that by choosing to focus on a photo-realistic representation of a dinosaur at a time when it was barely achievable to do so, Dinosaur shoots itself in the foot. Overlaying CGI characters over real backgrounds was a plausible choice before 2000—It would take fifteen more years, until The Good Dinosaur, before entirely computer-generated scenery could be mistaken for real-life photography. Still, it does look weird at times: Dinosaur is best watched today in as low a quality as you can tolerate, so pick that DVD over the Blu-ray version if you can. It doesn’t help that the film looks better than it sounds—or, more accurately, that it goes from an intriguing dialogue-free film to a kid’s comedy as soon as the animals start talking like teenagers. That, more than the dated special effects, dooms the film to third-tier status: It’s not even interesting dialogue, and it doesn’t really lead to an interesting plot either. The basic tension between the film’s then cutting-edge visuals (still generally beautiful) and the much-dumber plot and dialogue are enough to be exasperating. While Dinosaur can still be watched today, it does feel like a re-thread of other versions of the same idea done before and since.

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(Second Viewing, On Blu-ray, October 2018) I grew up on a lot of Disney paraphernalia, so in a sense I’ve always known about Alice in Wonderland even if my memories of the film were hazy at best. I half-revisited the film two years ago alongside my daughter, but didn’t really write a review because my viewing was repeatedly interrupted—What I could see from the film was episodic, psychedelic and more interesting as an animation piece than a feature-length narrative. I decided to revisit the film in a less distracted state to find out if it made more sense when watched from beginning to end and … it doesn’t. For all of the familiar iconography and the set pieces that everyone remembers and the movie summary that figures in picture books, the full-length version of Alice in Wonderland is a trippy succession of absurd episodes that doesn’t really build to anything coherent. While that’s the point of the original Lewis Carroll book, it’s also a bit of a disappointment for basic movie viewers who expect something more narrative-driven. (A question to be answered by others: how popular was the film with stoner audiences?) To be fair, the animation in the film is really, really good—It looks much better than some of the seventies and eighties Disney movies, for instance, and there’s quite a visual imagination on display from the various set pieces that form the bulk of the film. Narratively, however, it sounds as if the Disney animators got permission to do half a dozen psychedelic episodes of the sort seen in earlier movies (most notably Snow White, Fantasia and Dumbo) and string them together. Having read (and re-re-re-read) the film’s junior novelization more than once as a bedtime tale, I was still disappointed and surprised at the lack of coherence in the film. In the end, this remains a second-tier Disney Animation Studio release—the animation is too good (and Alice too significant a character) to be forgotten, but it’s not on the level of the other iconic productions from the studio. And if you want a second advice, ask my daughter—she wasn’t overly impressed by the film on her first viewing, and never asked to see it again.

Kaze no tani no Naushika [Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind] (1984)

Kaze no tani no Naushika [Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind] (1984)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On DVD, October 2018) Criticizing Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind is tantamount to blasphemy in animation circles: the film has become a classic throughout the decades, and its impact in the kind of fantasy imagination as displayed in 1984 is only blunted by it being one of many incredibly imaginative feature films from the mind of Hayao Miyazaki. Taking place in a far future where humanity struggles to survive in a post-apocalyptic environment, it offers still-unique visions of repulsive creatures, intense combat, war between tribes, cognitive breakthrough leading to peacemaking. It’s very much in-line with other Miyazaki films such as Howl’s Moving Castle or Castle in the Sky. While we’ve seen similar offering in the decades since its initial production, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind remains unique viewing today. This being said, I can’t say that I enjoyed it all that much—I still have trouble processing the lower frame rates of even top-tier 1980s animation, the creatures are designed to be disgusting and there have been far more interesting twists on the post-apocalyptic genre since then. But that may actually be part of Nausicaä’s heritage: I have a feeling that its success allowed the unbridled go-for-broke fantasy world-building of much of modern anime, ironically making it feel a bit staid compared to its progeny. Still, it’s a classic for a reason … although I’d be wary of showing it to the pre-teen set.

Love Story (1970)

Love Story (1970)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On DVD, October 2018) With a title as generic as Love Story, it’s almost unfair to complain that the film is as by-the-numbers as it can be. It doesn’t help that its premise has been absorbed in pop culture and often regurgitated in grotesque ways since then. It doesn’t help either that much of the film now sounds like melodramatic tripe to today’s audiences accustomed to a bit more substance. Of course, we weren’t there in 1970, when the movie out-grossed everything else in theatres, earned no less than an Oscar nomination, spawned a best-selling novel and a sequel. What works for one audience may not work one (or two) generations later. This being said, even despite the dubious charm of Ryan O’Neal (Ali McGraw easily out-acts him), Love Story does manage to work once in a while: The banter between the two leads becomes increasingly effective in its own sarcastic way, and by the time the famous ending strikes after being announced in the film’s first line, we’re kind of sorry for those two kids. (Although I think that most are far too quick to forgive Oliver for not telling Jenny about her illness. Or, heck, her doctor—what’s with the malpractice?) The class-warfare thing is a bit overdone (with Oliver being, frankly, a big jerk about it all) and the film’s much-celebrated “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” didn’t make sense before watching the film and still doesn’t make sense after watching it. Other movies for other times—in Love Story’s case, its success may have been its downfall: So often imitated or derided that it doesn’t look as impressive nowadays.

C’era una volta il West [Once Upon a Time in the West] (1968)

C’era una volta il West [Once Upon a Time in the West] (1968)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On DVD, October 2018) Is Once Upon a Time in the West the western to end all westerns? Probably not, but watching it after seeing Sergio Leone’s Eastwood-led man-with-no-name trilogy, I was struck at the sheer scope of his achievement here. Far from the low-budget heroics of A Fistful of Dollars, Leone goes for big-budget maximalism in showing how the railroad makes its way to an isolated western town, and the violence that ensues. It takes a while for everything to come into focus, but when it does we have a four-ring circus between a nameless protagonist (Charles Bronson’s “Harmonica,” and you know the tune he plays), a woman trying to transform herself in the West (Claudia Cardinale, captivating), an evil industrialist henchman (Henry Fonda, playing a villain!) and a bandit there to mess everything up (Jason Robart, not outclassed by anyone else). The four quadrants of the plot having been defined, the film then takes on its narrative speed—although at no fewer than 165 minutes and considering Leone’s typically contemplative style, there isn’t quite enough plot here to sustain the film’s duration. Still, it’s entertaining enough if you’re not in a hurry—This is clearly a film by someone who has seen a lot of westerns, and it regurgitates familiar elements in entertaining permutations. Plus there’s Leone’s visual style—the film’s best shot is a slow pullback from a man about to be hanged from an arch, with Monument Valley as a majestic backdrop. Not being much of a Western fanatic (although I appreciate it more and more as I see the best movies of the genre), I can say that there’s a limit to how much I can like Once Upon a Time in the West, but it was more entertaining than I expected, and almost as good as its lengthy running time would justify.

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Shape of Water (2017)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2018) I love when a movie works better than I expected, but the reverse also happens and unfortunately, I find myself underwhelmed by Guillermo del Toro’s Oscar-winning The Shape of Water. Keep in mind that “underwhelmed” is a relative term: I still think it’s a good movie, and couldn’t be happier that it was actually crowned with a Best Picture Oscar. It’s a film that shows del Toro with his firmest grasp yet on his own brand of fantasy: It’s self-assured, archetypical on premises while quirky on details, delightfully otherworldly in its setting and playing up the natural sympathies of del Toro for monsters of all sorts. It doesn’t take a long time for the basic plot to be set in motion, what with a quiet young woman (Sally Hawkins, hopefully never again underrated) meeting an aquatic creature at a secret government facility. The alien-escape plot is decently textured with social discrimination, Soviet agents, power-mad military personnel and early 1960s social subversion, but it does remain as basic as they come. This is not necessarily a criticism, since del Toro’s best work has often been in maximalist approaches to minimalist plots, making up in richness of details what is too easy to follow in overarching story. Visually, The Shape of Water is just as lovely (in its own way) as any of del Toro’s previous films, even though the visual inventively is kept in check by a less expansive approach. This familiarity is also shown in the film’s themes, which is blatantly supported by having a ragtag band of disenfranchised misfits (gay, black, communist, disabled, aquatic) take on the white male military establishment as coolly incarnated by Michael Shannon. It works, but it really isn’t subtle at all. Ultimately, though, The Shape of Water just isn’t as interesting as much of del Toro’s previous work. As much as I hate sounding like an insupportable hipster contrarian, I thought El Espinoza del Diablo, Pan’s Labyrinth and even Crimson Peak (not to mention his more commercially driven material along the lines of Blade II and Hellboy 2) were ultimately more interesting than The Shape of Water. On the other, other hand (since we’re talking fantastic creatures), this is the film that got del Toro an Oscar, mainstream critical attention and especially enough box-office clout to greenlight future projects: While he’s been a long-time geek favourite, del Toro was, until recently, not much of a bankable name: Other than his propensity to announce projects that ultimately led nowhere, his movies didn’t gross much despite their favourable critical acclaim. Now that he’s been given an Oscar that looks suspiciously like a body-of-work recognition, what else will he show us next?

The Horse Whisperer (1998)

The Horse Whisperer (1998)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(In French, On TV, October 2018) There isn’t much of a step between earnestness and ridiculousness, and I suspect that The Horse Whisperer can fall in either depending on how susceptible you are to the film’s manipulation. There is a way to state the plot as a Lifetime movie (Following a terrible accident, a woman goes to a ranch in Montana to heal her daughter) and then as a Lifetime movie on steroids (Following a terrible accident, a woman goes to a ranch in Montana where an impossibly perfect guy heals her horse, brinks back her amputated daughter from the brink of suicide, and makes her realize the true meaning of passion even though she doesn’t really like the guy she’s been married to for nearly twenty years). Both are true, even though my own sympathies clearly lies with the most sarcastic version. But then again, I’m clearly not part of the film’s target audiences. It does help that The Horse Whisperer is often very nicely directed by Robert Redford—the cinematography is terrific whenever it can use Montana as a backdrop, although it clearly suffers whenever it’s time to present horrific events: Redford (or his editor) relies far too much on incomprehensible quick-cutting that gives an impression of what’s going on rather than what is happening. Whenever The Horse Whisperer can take a breath (and at its nearly-three-hour duration, it often does), it can take advantage of lush backdrops. It also helps to have actors such as Redford in the title role, and Kristen Scott Thomas as the heroine: while the characters are ridiculously over-written as wish-fulfillment superheroes on the page (he’s a wise cowboy with an urban past who knows how to tame horses, unshackle teenagers and romance women; she’s a workaholic New Yorker magazine editor with an upper-class lifestyle but personal issues), their portrayal on-screen works significantly better. This being said with a small dose of hard-won humility, I feel increasingly uncomfortable to deride other people’s wish-fulfill fantasies—everybody needs a few, and it’s not as if white-middle-class-geek wish fulfillment isn’t an overbearing feature of today’ cinema landscape. If The Horse Whisperer works for some, then let it work. If viewers can find some measure of inner peace and entertainment in what sometimes felt like an excruciating test of endurance to me, then I should just shut up and not spoil anyone’s squee. The recent nerdification of American cinema is not always a good thing, and we definitely need more Horse Whisperers twenty years after its release.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2018) As I’ve grown up to become a cranky middle-aged movie reviewer who gets to complain that they don’t make them like they used to, here comes Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri to reassure me that while original mid-budget realistic drama movies are on life support, they’re not dead yet. It does help that even within the context of a contemporary adult setting, writer/director Martin McDonagh gets off to a roaring start with a strong premise: a small-town woman putting up three highly critical billboards demanding justice for her murdered daughter. The event sparks dramatic conflict across an ensemble cast of strong actors, reaching across a community to spur characters to action. As befits a film written by a playwright, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is an actor’s dream with several strong sequences, well-developed characters and a dark sense of comedy that keeps viewers interested from beginning to end. Frances McDormand now deservedly owns an Oscar for her performance here, but there’s a lot more good material from Sam Rockwell and Woody Harrelson. A strong plot means that the film’s 115 minutes go by in a flash, with a conclusion that provides some comfort but not an entirely wrapped-up happy ending. It’s quite a ride, and I couldn’t be happier to see how Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri leveraged its critical success to become a commercial one as well.

Safety Last! (1923)

Safety Last! (1923)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2018) Not many films from the early silent 1920s are still frequently referenced today, but Harold Lloyd’s Safety Last! is a noteworthy exception, and watching it eventually reveals why. Lloyd’s bespectacled look has inspired numerous imitators (Cary Grant in Bringing up Baby and Harold Ramis in Ghostbusters being only two of them), but it’s the film’s concluding sequence, in which the protagonist climbs a Los Angeles high-rise with his bare hands, which still stands today as a virtuoso sequence of comedy and tension. There’s a new obstacle on every floor, and most of them are ridiculous. By the time we get to the clock, we’ve hit the iconic sequence of the film. It does take a while to get there—our protagonist is nothing more than an ordinary young man (despite the glasses, not necessarily an intellectual) wanting to impress a young woman, and much of the film’s first hour is spent leading to the skyscraper-climbing sequence, sometimes through rough narrative sequences and silly comedy moments. Still, those moments are amusing, even fascinating if you’re interested in 1920s Los Angeles. But the skyscraper sequence is an all-time classic, and it still works really well even today. [March 2019: Oh wow! The film being in the public domain as of January 2019, you can now play it straight from the film’s Wikipedia page in decent 720p resolution].

Phantom Thread (2017)

Phantom Thread (2017)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2018) Let’s face it—a Paul Thomas Anderson film taking place in the 1950s British haute couture world isn’t exactly the kind of pulse-pounding excitement I prefer from movies. But Phantom Thread does work—by getting us insidiously interested at the quirks of a demanding fashion designer (Daniel Day-Lewis, up to his usual high standards in a familiar role) and then slowly leading us into a spectacularly dysfunctional romance that, we come to understand, is the only kind of love that will be deemed acceptable by such a person. As usual for Anderson’s films, there is a lot more under the surface than the tranquil façade will suggest—when it gets down to business, Phantom Thread has a lot to say about the toxic archetype of the eccentric genius and the toll they take on everyone else in their personal orbit. It may dress it up in fancy clothing, but it remains a character study and a commentary on the kind of OCD superhero (cranky but so competent!) that pop culture obsesses over lately. Amazingly enough, Day-Lewis finds a good sparring partner in relative newcomer Vicky Krieps, with different acting styles and temperaments complementing each other. While the film moves slowly, it does have enough moments of humour and gender-switched Gothic romance to keep things interesting. I can’t say I loved Phantom Thread, but I liked it quite a bit more than I thought I would, and that’s a praise enough for me.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, October 2018) Before Alfred Hitchcock immigrated to the United States, before he cast James Steward and Doris Day in the 1956 version of The Man Who Knew Too Much, there was a black-and-white version of the same story, also directed by Hitchcock in 1934. Now, don’t expect a faithful remake: while both versions share a common premise and significant similarities in their plotting and characters, both films have significant differences as well, which makes it interesting to watch the earlier version even knowing what happened with the later one. Hitchcock famously described the difference between the two versions as “Let’s say the first version is the work of a talented amateur and the second was made by a professional” and that describes it rather well—the remake is the one to watch if you only have time for one, but there’s a lot to like in the first one too: Having Peter Lorre as a villain is always fun, and the film doesn’t hold back in featuring a big police shootout as part of its conclusion. There’s some sun-worshipping weirdness in the plot, but much of the film is solid thriller filmmaking, as competent now as it was back then—along with The 39 Steps, it clearly shows Hitchcock working at a high level even at that time in his career.

City Lights (1931)

City Lights (1931)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(Kanopy streaming, October 2018) You’d be forgiven for mistaking one Charlie Chaplin movie for another—relying on the Tramp for most of his best-known filmography made it easy to have faithful viewers, but they do blur together most of his movies in the same mould. City Lights is The One with the Blind Girl, and the Tramp semi-accidentally passing himself off to her as a rich person. Much of the film’s main dramatic plot is exceptionally sentimental—having to do with the protagonist making money not to climb out of poverty, but to be able to pay for the surgery that will restore her sight. The ending is made more powerful by Chaplin’s tendency to deliver bittersweet endings: what we expect is not necessarily what happens. Still, the plot remains in service of comic set pieces, most of them coming from the Tramp’s misadventure alongside a rich man with a drinking problem. Other set pieces include the Tramp waking up on a newly unveiled statue, being in the boxing ring, or fighting off robbers within a department store. Technically, City Lights an interesting case—deliberately made by Chaplin as a silent film even when sound was available (something that would carry on to a few later movies), it has a soundtrack but little speech. The result does stand as one of Chaplin’s top films—although I do prefer The Dictator and Modern Times. If you like Chaplin, you’ll like City Lights. If you don’t, well I’m not sure that’s the film to convince you otherwise.

Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes [Aguirre, the Wrath of God] (1972)

Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes [Aguirre, the Wrath of God] (1972)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(Kanopy streaming, October 2018) You never quite know what you’re going to get when Werner Herzog is behind the camera, and Aguirre, the Wrath of God is as good an illustration of that as any. Something that, at first glance, looks like a historical jungle adventure eventually becomes an ill-fated tragedy, with death striking at any moment and the lead character diving deeper and deeper in madness. The film may have pacing issues, but the final sequence is unforgettable. Klaus Kinski authentically looks insane and dangerous in the lead role, while Herzog lets the landscape do about half the cinematographer’s job. It’s not a jolly film, and watching it often feels like being on an express train to hell with no stops. But it does have a few things running for it, especially once past the tedious exposition and on to the final act. I’m not sure I’m going to put Aguirre anywhere near my list of favourite movies, but it is an experience.

Ran (1985)

Ran (1985)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On DVD, October 2018) This is not going to make me any friends, but I found director Akira Kurosawa’s much acclaimed Ran a slog to get through. My attention frequently wandered (which is particularly problematic for a subtitled film) as the film made me impatient to get to something else. With a duration of more than three hours and a story set in feudal Japan, Ran does ask a lot of casual viewers. The rewards are there if you’re willing to grab them: The colours of the film are magnificent, which is a revelation given that many of Kurosawa’s most acclaimed work are from the black-and-white era. The story is an interesting retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear, bridging western and eastern culture in a unique blend. Still, I’m an impatient viewer and I did not remain connected to Ran for much of its duration. I won’t blame the film for my own failing, but I won’t try to pretend that I loved it. Maybe I’ll have another look later.