Month: May 2021

  • Cléo de 5 à 7 [Cléo from 5 to 7] (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, May 2021) Once you’ve seen thousands of movies, it’s perfectly natural (perhaps inevitable) to develop a fondness for formal experimentation. When you’ve seen uncountable examples of the same plot template, repetitive genre entries and overused formulas, it can be a breath of fresh air to see a film that gleefully tries to do something different with cinema. Nouvelle Vague writer-director Agnès Varda was never one for more-of-the-usual, and so Cléo de 5 à 7 is about what it says in the title, following a young woman from 5 to 6:30 (in apparently real time) as she awaits news of a medical exam. While clearly structured and planned, the film does give the impression of flitting from one episode to another like a butterfly, capturing 90 wandering minutes as the protagonist muses about mortality and the meaning of life. There’s other material too — the French war in Algeria weighs heavily over the film, and it’s impossible to see the film as anything other than a feminist text as it examines the place of women in early-1960s French society. Cléo de 5 à 7 is not made to be exciting, but it’s not dull either and while I’m in no hurry to watch it again, it remains an interesting demonstration of how to do cinema slightly differently.

  • Wolf (1994)

    Wolf (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, May 2021) Jack Nicholson plays a mild-mannered book editor who becomes a werewolf in romantic horror Wolf and, well, that’s really all you need to know. Now, I’m not going to suggest that Wolf is your run-of-the-mill Hollywood film — helmed by Mike Nichols (in an atypical choice given his filmography) and co-written by Elaine May (making this a reunion between a legendary creative pair), it’s a blend of very light horror with romance, drama and some comedy as well. It doesn’t really all fit together, but the attempt is both more restrained (in horror) and more ambitious (in drama) than what used to be shown in the mid-1990s — although considering the evolution of genre-crossing since then, the premise may be less special nowadays. Michelle Pfeiffer does add a lot, as does James Spader as the antagonist, but this is really Nicholson’s occasion. It does get silly from time to time—watching near-sixty-something Jack hunt a deer with his new lycanthropic powers can’t be otherwise—but Nichols’ sure-footed direction helps ground the film where a less-experienced director may have flopped. For a long-time Science Fiction reader such as myself, there’s a big surprise in the editorial boardroom scenes — the shelves behind the characters are filled with early-1990s Tor hardcovers, many of which I have on my own shelves. The Tor logo is immediately recognizable on the book spines, and Tor founder-publisher Tom Doherty is credited at the end of the credit, most likely for lending use of his offices as a shooting location — although it’s arguably even weirder to see the inside of Los Angeles’ famous Bradbury building being used to portray a Manhattan-based publisher. Still, back to the basics: Wolf isn’t particularly memorable or striking, but it does have just enough weirdness to it to make it a decent watch even today. It’s not quite “the same boring werewolf movie” it could have been even if it doesn’t quite manage to become something special.

  • Her Man (1930)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) There isn’t much to Her Man in terms of narrative — it’s about a Havana prostitute who gets a shot at escape when a kind sailor walks into her bar, but first she’ll have to dispose of her knife-wielding “protector” with a penchant for casual murder. Largely taking place in a rough-and-tough bar where fatal stabbings are common enough, Her Man is clearly a Pre-Code film — half the cast plays prostitutes, a third plays would-be clients and the rest are the usual denizens of low-rent bars. There’s a bit of a tonal mismatch between the film’s drama and its comic relief, but the real highlight of the film is Tay Garnett’s direction — from evocative opening credits etched in sand and washed away by waves, to evocative tracking shots to establish the atmosphere, to a very credible portrayal of people in desperate circumstances, in punches above its weight in terms of early-sound era cinematography. Helen Twelvetrees alone is remarkable for her portrayal of an aging prostitute who may or may not be able to get away from it all. While Her Man isn’t quite a classic, it’s a better-than-expected drama with some thriller-like moments and a harsher attitude than the following decades of Hays-neutered films.

  • So This Is Paris (1926)

    So This Is Paris (1926)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Isn’t it fun when movies upset our preconceptions? Prior to seeing So This is Paris, I would have been tempted to associate Ernest Lubitsch with wonderful dialogue. I would have been likely to dismiss the very idea of a silent musical. I could have argued that sophisticated ironic comedies were non-existent in the silent era. But then there’s So This is Paris, compelling at a whip-tight 80 minutes that takes on the idea of a married couple having affairs with another couple. It all gets complicated when one of the men is arrested and sentenced to jail and identities get mixed up. Comedic on a far more intimate scale than the Chaplin or Keaton movies of the era, it’s a film that clearly anticipates the witty sound comedies that Lubitsch would go on to direct — there’s more than a few well-placed gags, ironic commentary (all the way to a final title card that gets a big laugh), protagonists that certainly aren’t virtuous, a mature outlook on sex and marriage, all wrapped up in self-confident directing that doesn’t waste a moment. Most amazing of all is a lavish musical number featuring a contemporary depiction of the Charleston — we modern audiences are gifted with a rhythmic soundtrack that practically makes us hear the dancing performers, but let’s appreciate the sheer gall of a musical number in a silent film. For a 95-year-old film, So This is Paris is spry and surprising — and it’s nearly enough to make you curious about what else gets (unfairly) dismissed as “a silent film.”

  • Princesse Tam-Tam (1935)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Movie reviews can lead to anything, such as when the reviewer starts looking into background information about the film and falls deep into a rabbit hole of a fascinating subject. So it is that, after an hour of reading about Josephine Baker, I’m back to report that everyone should at least have a look at Baker’s Wikipedia article—I was aware of the name and some of the highlights about her life, but the complete story is amazing on so many levels that it defies description—poor black American girl becomes a singer, emigrates to France, makes a few movies, becomes a cultural superstar, has romantic liaisons with a jaw-dropping list of famous men and women, spies on the Nazis for the French Resistance, raises a large family, gets involved in the American Civil Rights movement, and dies in bed literally surrounded by enthusiastic newspaper reviews of her 50th showbiz-anniversary show. Whew. One great way of getting an introduction to Baker-the-performer is to have a look at Princesse Tam-Tam, a mid-1930s French musical that’s interesting for all sorts of reasons. Baker here plays a Bedouin girl befriended by a French novelist looking for inspiration in Tunisia. Taking her on as a Pygmalion-like project, he educates her and brings her back to France, where her close relationship with the author brings her into the spotlight of the Parisian scene. The highlights of the film all focus on Baker — incredibly gorgeous, wonderful singer (even in her second language), energetic dancer and a true star in the sense of compelling attention at every moment. You can make a fair argument that the film does rely on her exoticism, but that would be missing the point that she is the star, and that this reflects her status in 1930s Paris when her very exoticism made her famous (oy, her nicknames…). Baker had been a major star for years at the time of Princesse Tam-Tam’s production, and the film clearly plays on that, especially when she wows the Parisian upper-crust through sheer charisma. Her accent is rather lovely here, and the film does act as more than a star vehicle — 1930s French directors such as Edmond T. Gréville were often more poetic than their Hollywoodian counterparts, and the film does manage not only some terrific Berkleyesque dance numbers, but a compelling twist ending that’s both a bit disappointing and wonderfully ironic. You could read the final minutes as racist — the Caucasian actor in blackface doesn’t help, nor does the “return to savagery” thing—, but then there’s the final shot taking aim at the very idea of civilization that makes everything far more nuanced. Short at 77 minutes but crammed with several wonderful moments, Princesse Tam-Tam has an interesting and not particularly uplifting history in the United States: Produced in France, it was shown in New York but quickly ran afoul the newly enforced Hays Code that forbade interracial relationships and thus was limited to black theatres. Largely forgotten over the decades, it was rediscovered in 1989 and recently restored in 4K. It’s definitely worth a look — and it makes me curious about Zou Zou, the film that inspired it and was Baker’s true breakout film role. If a movie like Princesse Tam-Tam can motivate someone more than eighty years later to learn a compelling slice of African-American history, then it more than served its purpose.

  • Diner (1982)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Generally aimless but amiable, Diner is the kind of film that plays well but doesn’t leave much of an impression. The first of writer-director Barry Levinson’s “Baltimore Tetralogy,” it’s a slice-of-life piece of nostalgia set in 1959, as a close circle of friends deals with the impending marriage of one of them. Intimate and minimalist, it’s more a series of conversations about 1950s young men mulling about sex, love and marriage than anything else. Today, the film is perhaps more remarkable for a truly surprising cast — young Steve Guttenberg (who never played in a better film), Daniel Stern, Mickey Rourke, Kevin Bacon, Paul Reiser, Ellen Barkin… geez. The production design is convincing yet not overpowering, but this is the kind of film you can almost listen to as a radio play — it’s heavily dialogue-based and very playful. Perhaps more interestingly, it’s not flashy dialogue — you’re not meant to be amazed at the wittiness of it, simply recognize that it’s how people talk. Over the past forty years, Diner has grown to be a bit of a classic — up to and including being made part of Turner Classic Movies’ regular rotation. There are flashier movies out there, but there may not be many more comfortable movies.

  • I Love Trouble (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) The late 1940s were a high-water mark for classic film noir, and I Love Trouble clearly revels in the big guns of the genre: a cynical Private Investigator, a femme fatale (or two), a corrupt client, a bunch of organized criminals and seedy Los Angeles underworld locations. But where the film distinguishes itself is its refusal to play by the dark, fatalistic tone of the genre. Instead, I Love Trouble harkens back to the comedic sleuth films of the 1930s by having an unflappable protagonist suavely played by Franchot Tone, wisecracking his way through tense situations (all the way to the gun-pointing finale) and managing to get the girl by the final moments of the film. As a result, I Love Trouble almost plays as a parody — it’s not really meant as such (more of a playful take, I’d say), but the change in tone can act as a tonic for those jaded viewers beaten-down by the archetypical world-weary noir tone. Despite the amusing approach, the film is as convoluted as any other noir — the pithy plot summary on Wikipedia is hilariously deceptive in that regard. The image quality is not good even on best-of-show TCM, but I can see myself revisiting this one in a while, simply to take in the witty repartee once again. But why wait? Best of all, I Love Trouble is in the public domain — there’s no reason not to watch it now if you’re interested in it.

  • Doctor X (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) The Universal Monster films of the early 1930s get a lot of acclaim even today, but there were many other interesting horror films from other studios during the Pre-Code era, and some of them can feel surprisingly modern. From Warner Brothers, for instance, we had Doctor X and the subsequent Mystery of the Wax Museum, both of them shot in two-colour Technicolor and clearly anticipating later horror film tropes. Doctor X immediately announces itself as being Pre-Code for quickly jumping in a story with a cannibalistic killer, with dismemberment, rape and necrophilia not being far behind. What makes the film odder today is its insistence on keeping a somewhat prominent comic relief character as protagonist — a terribly unprofessional journalist played by Lee Tracy meddling around the edges of a police investigation into mysterious deaths whose culprit can be narrowed down to one of the mad scientists at a local medical academy. Doctor X remains foreboding — the colour scheme of the film oscillates between sickly green and disquieting orange, and director Michael Curtiz often plays off German expressionism in his use of shadows. The mad-scientist aspect of the plot still has quite a bit of charm (I found myself imagining how the same plot could work in a 2020s setting), and there’s no mistaking Fay Wray (future star of the following year’s King Kong) in the damsel-in-distress role. The contemporary setting of the film in 1930s New York City is interesting, and the slick dialogue adds another layer of interest. (Surely I can’t be the only one fascinated by a 1930s film with a “Doctor Xavier” heading an institute for gifted youngsters mad scientists?)  Doctor X is well worth a look even today, and takes up a surprisingly high spot on my list of essential 1930s horror films. Like its stablemate Mystery of the Wax Museum, the 2020 colour restoration of Doctor X makes it look fantastic and far more modern than its production date.

  • Underworld U.S.A. (1961)

    Underworld U.S.A. (1961)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) There is a roughshod straightforwardness to Underworld U.S.A. that makes it almost irresistible. Within moments — bang, bang, bang, we’re introduced to the hero, the tragic murder of his father and the beginning of his revenge odyssey. Under writer-director-producer Samuel Fuller’s efficient low-budget aesthetics, the sets are nearly as sparse and efficient as the script, and the narrative announces the more violent 1960s by going a little bit further than the muted violence of traditional noir films. As a roaring revenge story, it’s not meant to be complicated, and Cliff Robertson is a solid anchor for a film surprisingly so self-assured in what it’s going for. Even if 1961 is early to call it a neo-noir, Underworld U.S.A. is clearly put together with an awareness of genre clichés and a willingness to play with them. It’s a vigorous, muscular crime film, and part of its charm is to be found in its stripped-down nature, both narrative and visual.

  • The Whistle at Eaton Falls (1951)

    The Whistle at Eaton Falls (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Turner Classic Movies often uses its annual Film Festival to virtually resurrect films that have been nearly forgotten. Typically using a recent studio restoration as a pretext for a “world premiere,” they unearth a surprisingly steady stream of films from the archives, polishing them off and giving them a new chance at modern viewership. The Whistle at Eaton Falls is a movie that has time-travelled very well, considering that it’s about a factory town dealing with new technology, efficiency efforts and the inevitable layoffs. The cast has some strong highlights, with Lloyd Bridges in the lead role, and notables such as Dorothy Gish and Ernest Borgnine in supporting roles. The restoration simply looks crisp and terrific, with impeccable sound. Best of all is the small-town atmosphere that turns into a pressure cooker, as commercial imperatives threaten to split the community apart. (Fortunately, there’s a happy ending.)  The emphasis on characters trying to do the right thing in the face of capitalist imperatives, navigating between owners and unions, does add some depth to a film that doesn’t fit neatly into the big genres of the early 1950s. The Whistle at Eaton Falls is not a spectacular film, but it’s a satisfying one, and it can be watched more easily than you’d think. Another solid case for film restoration.

  • M.F.A. (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) At some point, we’re going to have a conversation about the leeway that modern movies give to the use of violence by disadvantaged characters. It’s not anything new (“Woman takes gory revenge over her rapists” has been a staple since at least 1978’s I Spit on Your Grave) and it’s not wholly unjustified, considering the systemic power imbalance being explored in those films. We are in a transitional power shift at the moment, and I consider overreach to be a normal part of such transitions. But there’s also a conversation coming about double standards and films like director Natalia Leite’s M.F.A. are going to be a part of it. For its first half, it laboriously goes through expected motions, as a young artist is raped, then accidentally kills her rapist and then goes on a revenge rampage against the surprisingly numerous neighbourhood rapists having walked free despite overwhelming evidence. It’s clear from the get-go that this is a film that deals in genre clichés all around: a protagonist who finds self-assurance in serial murder, violent rapists who need no further characterization; ineffectual intellectuals and academics who do nothing to help; and so on. Everything is predictable and familiar and rather annoying despite a subject matter that thinks it’s all cool and edgy. M.F.A. does become slightly more interesting in its last third, as things get a bit more complex and there are consequences to the protagonist’s increased thirst for murder. Still, there’s no mistaking where the film’s sympathies lie: de-escalation advocates are portrayed as naïve idiots, a psychiatrist assessing victims is threatened with violence for doing her work, and the police are portrayed as overreacting to the wrong cues. (It’s a wonder the protagonist doesn’t get gunned down in the film’s final sequence, but I have every confidence that had M.F.A. been shot in late 2020, its love for clichés would have led there.)  Watching the ending, I was struck with the same feeling as the hasty wrap-ups of Hays-Code era movies, where the villain had to be punished in time for the ending credits: “Yeah, kids, the cool crime of revenge killing is not something you should do at home, okay?” While no one will shed tears for the kind of hilariously unrepentant rapists used as knife-fodder in M.F.A., there’s not much more sympathy for the protagonist. It does occur to me that a truly transgressive filmmaker could create a scandal by gender-flipping M.F.A. and highlighting the incredible latitude given to the protagonist, but I’ll leave that to others. Still, looking at various recent movies who are surprisingly gleeful about violence as long as it’s committed by the right people to the wrong people (no matter if we redefine “good people” by identity rather than actions), I expect that we’re in for quite a wave of reactionary films in the next few years. Grab your popcorn (and possibly your barf bag), because that’s how movies go in periods of change.

  • They Won’t Believe Me (1947)

    They Won’t Believe Me (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) There’s a fascinating backstory to the way They Won’t Believe Me will be seen from 2021 onward — originally released in 1947, the film made it to theatres missing fifteen minutes of crucial material, and that’s the version that was in circulation for more than sixty years before it was restored to its pristine state with missing footage added in 2021. What’s more remarkable is that the film is actually pretty good — cleverly playing and the strengths of film noir, it shows a tale of romance gone wrong, of passionate crime and tragic ironies. Our protagonist tries to juggle a not-so-nice wife and a far-more-pleasant girlfriend, but just as he seems to be making headway with his life, tragedy strikes and motivates a far less noble crime to get everything he ever wanted, all the way to the courtroom framing device. Robert Young does well as an increasingly evil protagonist, even if viewers may be more compelled by Susan Hayward and Jane Greer in strong supporting roles. It’s an easy, fun watch and while the added material is not always essential, it does flesh out the story in interesting ways. At 95 minutes, has a strong propulsive forward rhythm, and makes for a perfectly satisfying bit of second-tier noir. It’s films like They Won’t Believe Me that make a strong case for film restoration, unearthing hidden gems and polishing them until they remain shiny even for twenty-first century audiences.

  • Jing wu men [Fist of Fury] (1972)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Amazon Streaming, May 2021) It only took a look at the biographical documentary I Am Bruce Lee to remind me that there was still one major Lee film that I hadn’t yet watched — Fist of Fury. It seemed only too appropriate to immediately follow the documentary with a viewing of that film (thank goodness for so many streaming options). While I’m very satisfied to have caught the movie even belatedly, it’s not disrespectful to note that this isn’t quite the best Lee showcase. Much of this can be explained by how this was an early film to feature Lee as lead, and that writer-director Lo Wei didn’t necessarily how to best showcase his talents: Lee is clearly the hero with some impressive moves, but the camera doesn’t quite capture him as well as later films. It’s also worth noting that the overall plot of the film, going back to early-twentieth-century China to depict their struggles against foreigners, would become nearly a cliché in the following decades, as it formed the backbone of numerous martial arts epics. Fist of Fury is also noticeably grimmer than other Lee films—or other martial arts films, actually—with a freeze-frame ending right before things turn bad. Still, Lee remains remarkable here as a young Chinese martial art student who comes to fight against Japanese intruders. His wiry physicality remains impressive and while the film is rough in presenting its action sequences, there’s no mistaking his raw talent. The film remains a reference for Lee fans for a reason — not the best, but still an impressive showcase. The only problem is the same as when I contemplate the rest of his filmography — I can’t help but wonder what else Lee could have done had he lived longer. Fist of Fury is an impressive first draft, but it’s far from being the ultimate depiction of what he was capable of.

  • I am Bruce Lee (2012)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Bruce Lee was an extraordinary figure — not merely a gifted martial artist (a mean feat in itself), but an intelligent and charismatic one, able to place his skills on a solid intellectual foundation, and then rally everyone to a very personal point of view. I am Bruce Lee, his entry in Derik Murray’s long-running “I Am…” biographical series is very much in-line with the other films in the series: Interviews with friends and family building up a portrait that may acknowledge a few flaws but will never be anything less than completely enamoured of its subject. This isn’t much of an issue here, as it’s remarkably easy to praise and like Lee on absolute terms. You probably know what to expect, though: testimonials from celebrities who never met Lee, more touching interviews with family members and friends with recollections of the man, a biographical overview of his life touching upon the main achievements of his filmography, and—best of all—interview excerpts with the man himself, allowing his innate likability to overpower the rest of the film. As with other “I Am…” films, this is not to be trusted as an insightful piece of work: it’s meant as a paean (made easier by his untimely and much-regretted death) and a highlights reel, but you’ll have to go digging elsewhere (usually in books) for more even-handed, interesting material. Still, there is a place for that kind of biographical documentary: as a reminder of Lee’s grander-than-life stature, I am Bruce Lee is worth a look. It immediately compelled me to have a look at the one major Lee film that I still hadn’t seen (Fists of Fury), so there’s that for impact.

  • People Will Talk (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) As much as I enjoy watching Cary Grant in every single film he’s made (well, maybe not Penny Serenade), I’m clearly done with the best and watching the rest in tackling People Will Talk. While the film is not a terrible one, I’m having a hard time deciding whether it’s a lower middle-tier or a higher lower-tier film. Here, Grant plays a doctor (a handsome one, naturally) who comes under scrutiny while working in a medical school. Mystery accompanies his earlier years, and the compassion he shows for others won’t stop an enemy from denouncing him to the authorities, lining up an inquiry with suspicious parallels to the McCarthy witch-hunts of the time. If the film has a hidden asset, it’s clearly writer-director Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s script. The acerbic dialogue is slightly toned down and the melodramatic plotting feels overdone, but the film nonetheless feels more ambitious than many of its contemporaries. A lot of heavy lifting is done by Grant’s natural charm in order to smooth over some of the film’s rougher edges, even if it doesn’t always work. Never mind the twenty-year age gap between him and his co-star Jeanne Crain—it’s the mixture of genres that doesn’t quite gel as comedy, romance, drama and mystery attempt to blend together. It’s not uninteresting to watch, but there’s a sense that something isn’t quite right with the results and that Mankiewicz could have used an editor to tell him where to focus. Grant is irreproachable but the film around him isn’t, and the result is something that doesn’t rank all that highly in his filmography despite intriguing elements.