Month: March 2019

  • How to Talk to Girls at Parties (2017)

    How to Talk to Girls at Parties (2017)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Much of the initial attraction in wanting to see How to Talk to Girls at Parties is the idea of a Neil Gaiman science-fiction short story (indeed a very short story) being adapted to the big screen. But as soon as the opening credits end, there’s another, more intriguing names in the mix: John Cameron Mitchell, writer-director of such off-beat movies as his debut Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Would his sensibilities mesh well with the Gaiman story? Well, as it turns out, the result is about as punk as fans could expect—eventually, the film expands the short story to set up a clash between our wild freethinking punk heroines and hive-minded aliens living undercover in London. There are plenty of punk rock music and attitude to make anyone happy, all the way to featuring Nicole Kidman as a punk rock goddess. It does get delightfully weird along the way. The ending can’t quite manage to successfully tie up all loose ends (although the coda, with a Gaiman visual reference, brings a bit of it back together), but that’s OK—it’s still quite a ride. The direction can be a bit flashy, perhaps to compensate for the limited budget, but that too adds to the charm of it. How to Talk to Girls at Parties is remarkable for more than simply being an adaptation of a familiar story—it’s crazy enough to be distinctive, and on a tone that’s not overly serious.

  • Oliver & Company (1988)

    Oliver & Company (1988)

    (In French, On TV, March 2019) The mid-1980s weren’t the best of times for Disney Animation Studio. It had been years since Disney had an all-out success (arguably 1973’s Robin Hood, less arguably 1967’s The Jungle Book) and Oliver & Company was the last of the not-so-good streak before The Little Mermaid kicked off the Disney Renaissance a year later. So, it’s perhaps best not to expect too much from the film. It does stem from a halfway clever concept, by setting a modern take on Oliver Twist in 1980s New York. The setting is probably half the fun of the film, with the other half being an easy (maybe even cheap) use of anthropomorphic animals as heroes. You can visually identify Oliver & Company as being from the Disney doldrums by the sometimes-cut-rate quality of the animation and the limited imagination of the result once the “talking animals do Oliver Twist in 1980s New York” thing is accepted. You can see in here some touches that portend the new and successful direction that Disney would soon take—the use of animals, obviously, but also taking a classic story and presenting it as a musical: it may even be somewhat underrated in this regard. Few will claim that Oliver & Company is a Disney classic, but at times it approaches some second-tier favourites such as The Aristocats—cute animals plus music equals nostalgic charm for those who grew up on the movie. It does get better as it goes on and ends on something of a high note, so at least there’s that.

  • The Specialist (1994)

    The Specialist (1994)

    (In French, On TV, March 2019) There is really no reason to watch The Specialist for what it delivers. At best (and that’s stretching things), it’s a mid-1990s action movie that suffers from comparison to the genre’s wilder and better entries. It’s about bombs, so exhaustingly so that much of the script’s slight ingeniousness has been put into showcasing as many situations as could be solved through a well-placed bomb. Naturally, credibility isn’t The Specialist’s strong suit, and it’s comfortably outclassed by the other “bomb” action movies of 1994, Speed and Blown Away. So, what’s left to justify a look at The Specialist? A few details, such as the charmingly quaint look at mid-1990s BBS technology. But mostly the acting—for all of its faults, The Specialist can still boast of a strong trio of lead actors: Sharon Stone could play a strong female lead like no one else at the time, while Sylvester Stallone’s boorish charm remains distinctive and James Woods still makes for a great villain. But that’s not much, and all three of these actors have been served by better similar roles in better similar movies. Despite the strong Miami atmosphere, The Specialist is almost entirely forgettable—you may enjoy a few things along the way (and truth be told, fast-forwarding from one explosion to the next may be the most entertaining thing to do with the film), but I’m not sure that it’s worth a look nowadays.

  • Teen Titans Go! To the Movies (2018)

    Teen Titans Go! To the Movies (2018)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Now that we’re in the degenerate period of superhero movies, anything goes, and that includes the Teen Titans Go! Approach of deliberately poking at the clichés of the genre for sheer anarchic comedy. It’s an approach that defined the TV show, and now they get the chance to take it to the big screen with Teen Titans Go! To the Movies, a great goofy take on not only superheroes, but superhero movies themselves. While some of the smaller quick jokes can be impenetrable to those who haven’t seen the show, the overall concept is accessible to all: here are a few teenagers tasked with defending the city, but they still very much remain irresponsible teenagers. Don’t look for a moral or an uplifting sentiment—it quickly gets obvious that at least one of the characters sees a movie about them as validation of who they are, and everything else is irrelevant. There are plenty of pokes and prods at the subgenre, and enjoyable musical interludes to make it even more entertaining. The jokes are numerous, and one of them will crack a smile from even the most jaded viewers. (I completely lost it at, of all things, a detachable-thumb joke.)  Plenty of characters from the DC continuity are used to not-always-heroic purposes and the result, frankly, feels a lot like Deadpool for kids—equally clever in its deconstruction of superhero clichés, and as frantically fast paced as well. I liked Teen Titans Go! To the Movies quite a bit and it should have a much bigger audience than just fans of the TV show.

  • How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019)

    How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019)

    (In French, In Theaters, March 2019) It took more time than everyone else, but I’m finally onboard the How to Train Your Dragon series as of its third instalment The Hidden World. While the first two didn’t make much of an impression one way or the other, this third movie shakes things up, but also benefits from the accumulated character development in the series so far. There’s a lot to like in the way the film progresses, starting with an early decision to abandon the setting of the series so far. Our protagonist has grown into more or less a hero (albeit with still some room to grow) and this film finally addresses the vexing question of whether he owns his dragon or what. The titular hidden world is visually worth the ticket by itself, and the ending propels the story to another generation, while effectively closing off this chapter. The villain is effective, the characters have grown more likable and the film manages an effective dissolution to the series’ central relationship, while creating others. On a technical level, the quality of the film is among the best in the business, from the animation to the cinematography and the set design. Still, I’m sure that having my daughter by my side to appreciate the story also helped in getting immersed in The Hidden World and what it was saying.

  • Ishtar (1987)

    Ishtar (1987)

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2019) For at least a decade, Ishtar was a punchline among movie fans for anything having to do with a high-budget bomb. Even despite featuring no less than Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman, and a shoot in a far-flung exotic location, Ishtar got swept in a storm of production problems involving a perfectionist first-time director, two stars with massive egos, a vicious studio reorganization, and incredible budgetary overruns. (Seriously; a summary of Ishtar’s production history reads like a train wreck in motion.) By the time the much-delayed and infamously troubled Ishtar made it to the public, critics were positively salivating for blood in taking down the film. Thirty years later, well, Ishtar’s not entirely bad. Nominally, it’s still about two mediocre songwriters getting swept in revolutionary intrigue in a Saharan country. Perhaps the worst thing we can say about it is that it’s underwhelming. It’s occasionally funny by force of dialogue or absurdity, but writer-director Elaine May’s direction is often badly handled and much of the film’s self-satisfied tone is clearly irritating. It gets off the wrong foot with annoying characters and then never recovers from it: While the idea of having Dustin Hoffman being the suave one and Warren Beatty the socially inept one is a funny bit of counter-typecasting, the novelty of it quickly wears off. What’s left is decidedly less interesting than what the critical savaging at the time suggested—especially if you’re expecting a terrible movie: the reality is far more middle-of-the-road. Ishtar remains just your average malfunctioning comedy, albeit one with a much bigger budget and star power than you’d expect.

  • Air Force (1943)

    Air Force (1943)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Hollywood churned out many propaganda movies during WW2, but they weren’t all of the same quality. Fortunately, Howard Hawks’ Air Force is among the better ones. Focusing on the camaraderie of a bomber crew on the Pacific front, it’s both representative of the inspiring didactic nature of the WW2 propaganda films, and an opportunity for Hawks to indulge in his usual themes and motifs. (Well, absent the presence of strong female characters.)  As the story moves from the US West Coast to Pearl Harbor and then on to the Philippines, the film remains more entertaining than you would expect from its rushed production schedule. Great miniature special effects work and exceptional editing help in patching a film conceived and executed at breakneck speed in the opening months of the war—it’s no surprise that the dramatic scenes feel out of sync with the action, because more care could be lavished on them than the more practical aspects of the production. Reading about the film’s production (even with official help from the US Air Force), it’s nearly a miracle that the film exists at all, let alone have it reach an acceptable level of watchability. The propagandist nature of the film is more obvious in the blunt-force prologue and epilogue, and toward the end of the film during which the bomber crew not only pulls off an amazing repair job before flying to safety, but also spots a Japanese fleet and spearhead an attack on it; not only shoots down a Japanese fighter plane, but has the pilot burn alive before crashing into an enemy ship and severely damaging it. Whew. Still, even with those not-so-subtle patriotic intentions, Hawks manages to portray a small group of men pulling together through the obstacles in their way—you can fly the flag as high as you want, there’s really no substitute in raising morale than having likable characters coming together in the face of deadly peril.

  • Twentieth Century (1934)

    Twentieth Century (1934)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I like our modern era and wouldn’t go back to an era of information scarcity, racial segregation, and polio for anything in the world, but there are a few characteristics of the 1930s that I would like to see revived, and long-distance train journeys throughout North America are certainly one of them. Fortunately, there are movies such as Twentieth Century to illustrate what we’re missing. In this Howard Hawks comedy, the mayhem gets going as an actress boards a train going from Chicago to New York City, and encounters her ex-impresario. He, after a string of flops, is eager to get her to sign up for his next play … but there are complications: many, many complications played aboard the train as it makes its overnight trip, with zany characters to colour the proceedings. Handled through Hawks’ trademark speed and rapid-fire dialogue, Twentieth Century is a pure pre-Code screwball comedy, as blistering fast as modern movies and with dialogue so delicious that it has a strong re-watchability factor. It certainly helps to have John Barrymore onboard, going over-the-top as a grandiose, domineering, overly dramatic Broadway mogul. Playing opposite him in her breakout role is none other than Carole Lombard as the actress in the middle of the interleaved subplots. Adapted from a Broadway play, the film does remains bound to its train setting—presenting Hawks with few opportunities to break out of its confines, but that works better than you’d expect as the film becomes a multi-room theatrical play where the comic action takes centre stage. While the beginning of the film is relatively slow, it quickly speeds up along the pace of its train setting—and it never gets better than when Lombard and Barrymore get in screaming matches with each other. It’s not the best Hawks comedy, but it’s still really enjoyable even now. The Pre-Code nature of the film is muted compared to other films of the era (indeed, the film was among the first to get notes from the Hays Office), but you can still see a few racier references to religious icons and a revealing lingerie shot. Still, Twentieth Century has no need for racy material when its crowd-pleasing fundamentals are so well handled: It’s still a great movie, and deserves its perennial high rankings in the lists of the best 1930s movie comedies.

  • Only Angels have Wings (1939)

    Only Angels have Wings (1939)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) There are a few Howard Hawks movies that I like better than Only Angels have Wings, but it does bring together a lot of what made Hawks such a compelling director. It’s a rip-roaring adventure featuring tough guys, as it focuses on a South American airmail company featuring intrepid pilots and dangerous planes. Cary Grant headlines the cast as the head pilot and manager of the small, almost bankrupt company. There’s some hope in the form of a new contract, but achieving it will mean death-defying mountain flying. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s romantic tension thanks to a newly arrived singer (Jean Arthur) and the protagonist’s ex-flame (Rita Hayworth). The mountain passes are treacherous and the planes are underpowered, but the mail must go through no matter how many special-effect crash sequences this means. Directed and partially written by Hawks, Only Angels have Wings clearly shows him working in his element, with a group of tough men and equally tough women working at the frontier of human ingenuity. The dialogue is smart, the pacing is fast, and there’s enough humour and romance to enliven what remains a manly adventure story. The special effects are surprisingly good and impressive for the time. The result is liable to fascinate early aviation fans, even despite the limited means of the time. Grant is his usual charismatic self, with good support from Arthur and a short but eye-catching role for Hayworth (in what is often considered her breakout film). An essential part of the Hawks filmography, Only Angels have Wings still has enough thrills and charm to be worth a look by twenty-first century audiences … like much of Hawk’s filmography.

  • Les 400 coups [The 400 Blows aka Wild Oats] (1959)

    Les 400 coups [The 400 Blows aka Wild Oats] (1959)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Sitting down to watch Les 400 coups for the first time can be imposing if you’re coming at it from the cinephile angle. It’s not only legendary writer-director François Truffaut’s first feature film: It’s considered his best film. It’s a retelling of his own difficult childhood. It’s a defining movie of the French Nouvelle Vague, of French cinema, of world cinema. It’s widely and wildly acclaimed, often included in the shorter best-movies-of-all-time lists and a favourite of many top-notch directors. With hype like that, it can feel churlish to watch the film, acknowledge its qualities, but then wonder about the fuss. Part of the disconnect, I suspect, has to do with the objectives of the movie. Unlike other movies with genre-driven goals or overt cinematic ambitions, Truffaut sets out to deliver a carefully focused character-driven story, with small stakes and matter-of-fact cinematography. Our protagonist is a juvenile delinquent, but this is not a crime movie. It’s not exactly a triumphant film—but it ends with escape and one of the most celebrated sequences in 1950s French cinema. Still, its specificity is the key to its universality—while Les 400 coups is rarely pulse-pounding, it gradually makes our battered young protagonist understandable until we can sympathize with him. His parents are guilty of severe neglect, so he takes to the streets as a learning experience. I’m not that interested in that kind of material and there are several Truffaut movies that I like a lot more (most notably Jules & Jim, La nuit américaine and parts of Fahrenheit 451). But if I don’t quite get what makes the film so acclaimed, I also suspect that it’s because there have been a lot of similar movies about likable teenage hoodlums since 1959—the success of European neorealism was to open the doors for many similar features, but if you’ve seen those films before the original, the source won’t have the same impact. Still, I’m glad that I’ve seen Les 400 Coups, and as a little bit more than another checkmark on a list.

  • Norma Rae (1979)

    Norma Rae (1979)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) While I’m not an active labour militant, I am glad to be a unionized, and thankful for the work the union does on my behalf. Unions are an essential counterbalance to the power of management, and all workers would be better off if they were part of a union. Perhaps more importantly: everyone would be better off if everyone was part of a union. Those aren’t particularly controversial statements where I come from, but one of the greatest cons ever perpetrated on the (North-) American population has been to convince people that unions are not in their best interest. As Norma Rae shows, this is not new—its story (adapted from real events) takes place in a small North Carolina town where workers at a local textile factory gradually realize the unhealthy working conditions affecting them. With the help of a union organizer, our heroine gets to upset things, advance the cause of a union and find self-fulfillment along the way. In the tradition of many gritty 1970s movies, this is a blue-collar story through and through, with Sally Field doing great character work as a brighter-than-average factory worker—it’s easy to see how the role led her to her first Academy Award. For such a small-town low-stake film, Norma Rae is substantially more interesting than expected. There are a handful of strong scenes (most notably the work stoppage that represents a significant turn in the plot) and a considerable amount of verisimilitude in the way director Martin Ritt portrays its down-to-Earth, unglamorous, even seedy setting. It also portrays its unionization message in a clearly understandable way, bolstered by believable characters and dramatic situations. At a time where unionization has reached an all-time low, Norma Rae’s message still resonates today … unfortunately.

  • Inherit the Wind (1960)

    Inherit the Wind (1960)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) By 1960, director Stanley Kramer was hitting his prime era as a socially conscious filmmaker, tackling topics that studios were reluctant to feature. Inherit the Wind is about the Scopes Trial of 1925, in which attorney Clarence Darrow famously argued in favour of teaching evolution in schools. The text is enhanced by a subtext that mulls over McCarthyism, bringing additional interest to the result. The Hillsboro evolution trial subject matter is compelling enough, but I found myself unexpectedly captivated by the acting talent on display in the movie. The headliner is Spencer Tracy, of course, as he plays Darrow and brings his usual unassuming strength to the role. There’s also one great late-career role for Fredric March as the prosecuting lawyer. But my happy surprise was to see Gene Kelly playing a cynical newspaper reporter, very far from his musical roles but compelling from beginning to end thanks to some incredible dialogue. (A quote for the ages: “I do hateful things for which people love me, and I do loveable things for which they hate me. I’m admired for my detestability. (…) I may be rancid butter, but I’m on your side of the bread.”) The humour is quite biting. It helps that the script takes the time to lay the groundwork in describing life in a small town (“Old Time Religion” is used as a musical leitmotif), right before the media circus begins. Inherit the Wind remains of topical relevance today: on the basic issue of evolution in school, it often looks as if some areas of the United States have barely advanced in a century, and the everlasting debate between free-thinking and authoritarian rule remains at the root of quite a few political issues even right now. Inherit the Wind’s technical quality translates into something still immediately accessible. It’s sobering to think that the exact same film would be just as controversial today—I can already imagine a dozen disingenuous columns arguing that movies like this one are why the red states keep voting against their own self-interest.

  • That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

    That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) As amazing as the first That’s Entertainment movie musical compilation film can be, there’s a good argument to be made that That’s Entertainment, Part II is equally impressive, albeit in slightly different ways. Directed by dance legend Gene Kelly, it features Kelly and Fred Astaire in their second (and last) dance sequence together—which doubled as Astaire’s last dance number as well. Both of them get to present clips (Kelly even showing up in Paris), which are one bundle of joy after another. This follow-up is a more deliberate affair than the first, with a conscious intention to go beyond MGM musicals to encompass comedy skits (including the Marx Brothers’ famous stateroom sequence) and tributes to non-musical stars and a retrospective about Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Still, the foundations of the film are the musical clips, and the MGM catalogue is so deep that the result is still well worth a look even when it’s missing the most classic numbers already featured in the first film. That’s Entertainment, Part II can work both for neophytes and jaded fans of the musical genre: By introducing the highlights for newcomers, and by reminding connoisseurs of what they’ve seen: There’s a mixture of discovery and appreciation throughout. Being somewhere between the two extremes at the moment, I had fun identifying films I had already seen and performers I already knew, all the while taking notes of movies that I had to see next. One warning: The title song “That’s Entertainment” attains earworm status at some point during the course of the film. It’s a very small price to pay (if it’s even one) for a great retrospective.

  • Marooned (1969)

    Marooned (1969)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Considering that I really like the subgenre of space disaster thrillers, I’m more favourably predisposed than most toward Marooned. On the one hand, it’s an early example of the space thriller, and you’d be surprised at the numerous parallels that this 1969 film has with both the 1970 real-life Apollo 13 incident and its 1995 movie depiction. The close cooperation that director John Sturges got from NASA helps the film’s credibility, and in turn helped it age remarkably well—the Cold War period feel is a glimpse into how such premises played out at the end of the 1960s, and give a fascinating patina to the result. The film won an Oscar for best Visual Effects, and much of the miniature work is still quite good—and there’s a lot of it. Acting-wise, the film can depend on the great Gregory Peck, Richard Crenna and a young Gene Hackman. On the other hand, there’s a reason why the film was also featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000—it’s stoic to the point of being bloodless, almost unbearably dull even in the middle of the suspense. The realism is pushed to an extreme that prevents it from being truly involving. Marooned can’t quite figure out the difference between displaying steely-eyed upper-lip stiffness and between allowing its characters to feel endangered. Later movies of the subgenre, from Apollo 13 to Gravity, would fare much better.

  • Die Büchse der Pandora [Pandora’s Box aka Loulou] (1929)

    Die Büchse der Pandora [Pandora’s Box aka Loulou] (1929)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I have enough trouble with 1920s American silent dramas that going for a German one is just adding an additional degree of difficulty to the process. But Pandora’s Box is considered a classic of Weimar Germany cinema, and since I’ve seen many of its contemporaries, I thought I’d boldly charge forward. As it turns out, despite its punishing two-hour-plus length, Pandora’s Box has just enough naughtiness to keep things interesting. A film about a young woman brazenly using her seductive charms to eke out a living, it features a kind of strong self-driven female character (a frank performance from Louise Brooks) that would not be seen again for decades. It’s still a struggle to get through the film thanks to its rough technical aspects, melodramatic excess, endless title cards and tepid rhythm, but it does have enough strengths to be striking. The depiction of female sexuality (especially as it’s leveraged for money and comfort) is provocative, although the film cannot resist final moralism with a finale so gratuitously bleak that it becomes almost caricatural. Pandora’s Box is not interesting enough to leap from the historical-interest list to a more accessible status, but it’s really not as dull as I feared it would have been.