Month: May 2021

  • Mr. Arkadin aka Confidential Report (1955)

    (On TV, May 2021) I’m at the stage of my cinephilia when any unseen movie from Orson Welles is a bit of a happy surprise — while I’m certainly aware of Welles’ fall from Hollywood grace and the haphazard nature of filmography, I rather like the persona he carved for himself in the later stages of his career, physical presence and terrific voice included. Now, Mr. Arkadin dates from a weird interstitial time in Welles’ life: generally burnt-out in Hollywood, but not quite out of it, as Touch of Evil was still three years in the future. But it’s clearly a film with a strong European flavour, and as such does anticipate the last half of Welles’ life. It also looks back at The Third Man, being explicitly based on the Harry Lime character and its dense web of international intrigue. The plot has to do with a shadowy businessman and a cross-continental quest for truth, but I really can’t say that the result is coherent. Part of it undoubtedly has to do with the version of the film that I watched: Out of the nine known versions of the story (!), the “public domain” version is acknowledged as “the least satisfactory” one (I’m quoting a specialist by way of Wikipedia here) and it’s not a good idea to try to make sense of its narrative. Which is just as well, because the film can often be best appreciated as a series of moments, images, Welles’ typically compelling performance and pure cloak-and-dagger atmosphere of postwar Europe. I will probably revisit Mr. Arkadin in the future, preferably through its better-reviewed Criterion edition. In the meantime, however, I’m just happy for a little bit more Welles.

  • Romance (1930)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) I’m not one to presume that 1930s films were less sophisticated than today — less technically polished, certainly, but not any less intense or subtle in matters of plotting, emotion and characters. Or at least that’s the rule — there are exceptions, and Romance often feels like one of them. It’s straightforward, familiar, blunt and unpolished. To be fair, it’s a simple story told at length, which is not the kind of pacing that I like. It’s also quite rough from a cinematographic perspective — not quite shot like a theatrical play, but almost. As a result, it’s a bit of a slog to get through. Fortunately, there are a few things worth looking for: Greta Garbo is as humourless as usual, but she does look good in side-curls. The story, despite its lack of density, does eventually lead to a surprising conclusion, so there’s at least some payoff for the investment. (Not that it’s that long of a movie — it just feels that way.)  What doesn’t help Romance is (as is typical of movies from this period) a flatness of tone, both video and audio — there’s only so much you can do to restore films from that era, but the monotonous audiovisual experience can be curiously demanding for modern viewers. Romance is a bit of a blunt object, but it eventually serves its purpose… even if it takes a while to get there.

  • The Brass Bottle (1964)

    The Brass Bottle (1964)

    (On TV, May 2021) I’ve arguably seen the best of the 1960s comedies, so now I’m watching the rest—and there’s plenty to like in the lesser-known movies that amused people at the time. They’re less polished, feature lesser-known actors, strike one-note premises until we’re wrung out and often display jaw-dropping attitudes, but they’re meant to entertain and some of the gags still land. In The Brass Bottle, troubles begin for an architect when he takes possession of an ancient bottle that contains… a genie. A genie who’s curious to understand the world after hundreds of years of solitude, very eager to help his master, not constrained by any law or science, and certainly not limited to a mere three wishes. Seeing Barbara Eden in a supporting role may have you reaching for the nearest I Dream of Jeannie summary and yes: Both works are adapted from the same novel, and it was Eden who played Jeannie in the TV show. But even with those common strands, The Brass Bottle stands as a distinct film. For one thing, the casting is really good: Tony Randall gets a leading role as the architect, the genie is played by a terrific Burl Ives (who reliably steals every film I’ve seen him in) and the beautiful Kamala Devi gets an amusing supporting role as another genie eager to please (but too summarily dismissed from the film). Much of the film’s comedy comes from confronting the unlimited powers of the genie with the moral reservations of the architect, and the very practical consideration in having a magic-using genie in the very rational world of the 1960s. Our genie eventually settles for residential development and stock market investing—to give you an idea of the film’s tone. But then the real world comes knocking, leading us to a cheat of an ending far too close to “it was a dream.”  Still, The Brass Bottle is not meant to be a particularly sophisticated film—I mean, the sequence with the donkey is ridiculous enough on its own—but it still has a few chuckles in the tank, and a rather amusing portrayal of a world fifty years gone.

  • The Scout (1994)

    The Scout (1994)

    (On TV, May 2021) You can watch The Scout for its casting (Albert Brooks and Brendan Fraser with a little bit of Dianne Wiest — an interesting combination), or for its focus on baseball, or for its premise in following a disgraced baseball scout finding “the best baseball player that ever lived” in Mexico. What you won’t do, however, is watch it because it’s any good, since in chasing down far too many rabbits (baseball excellence, scout aiming for redemption, protagonist with central trauma, mental illness treatment, satire of celebrity media) and too many tones (anything from heartwarming pseudo-parental bonding to broad comedy), The Scout loses itself into a jumble of different ideas imperfectly executed. It’s not a difficult film to watch nor is it all that obnoxious, but it is a mess and it ends up raising more questions than satisfaction. At least Fraser is not bad (in a role that portends his take on George of the Jungle, oddly enough) and baseball fans will probably enjoy the look at mid-1990s New York Yankees, but otherwise, it’s more frustrating than anything else.

  • School of Life (2005)

    School of Life (2005)

    (On TV, May 2021) I thought I was reasonably up-to-date on Ryan Reynolds movies, but I had managed to skip School of Life. It’s not an unforgivable oversight, considering that the film was originally made for TV (at a time when such distinctions mattered more than today) and only plays these days because Reynolds played in it during the ascendant phase of his career. The curious aspect of his role is that, despite it being from Reynold’s pre-fame days, it’s very much in-line with his persona. He plays an inspiring, sarcastic teacher who quickly charms students and faculty of a small private school through unusual teaching techniques and creates a rapport with everyone. What’s interesting, however, is that Reynolds is not the film’s main character, nor is the film built around him inspiring students. No, School of Life’s main character is another teacher (played by David Paymer), struggling to get away from his later father’s all-encompassing legacy over the school. Much of the film is spent chronicling our protagonist’s evolution from boring biology teacher to inspiring “life sciences” mentor, facilitated by the example set by Reynold’s character. The film itself would be merely fine if it wasn’t for Reynolds — a heartwarming kind of thing with an adult focus that does much to ensure that it’s watchable by the entire family. But Reynolds’ supporting performance is highlighted for a good reason — it brings the entire film up a notch with his ridiculously easy charm and quippy repartee. I suspect that much of his material was tailored for him, so clearly does it fit with the screen persona he developed over the next fifteen years. It does make School of Life worth a look if ever it pops up on the schedule: it’s not purely a comedy for spoilerish (but predictable) reasons, but it does remain interesting even despite some less-polished moments along the way.

  • Hollywood North (2003)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) By my count, Jennifer Tilly has now played three roles (Hollywood North, Made in Romania, Bride of Chucky) in which she pokes fun at moviemaking, often playing “herself” along the way. It’s not a lot in a career that already spans five decades (!) and ninety-some movies, but it’s enough for a triple feature. The links between Hollywood North and Made in Romania are particularly interesting, as both movies attempt to portray the inner working of the making of a film from the producer’s perspective at different periods. In Hollywood North, we go back to 1979ish Toronto, as a Canadian producer purchases the rights to an acclaimed work of Canadian literature and almost immediately has to make compromises in order to get the film going. Hiring an ultra-patriotic American action star in the middle of the Iranian Embassy hostage crisis isn’t the best idea, and the problems around the production escalate with an unfortunate accident that takes out a supporting actor, embezzlement of funds from another filmmaker, weather woes, script changes, and an on-set affair that annoys everyone. Matthew Modine stars as a producer trying to keep the entire production together, with supporting roles from Tilly (playing a sultry actress) and Deborah Kara Unger as a documentary filmmaker associated with the production. Hollywood North is reasonably entertaining even if it’s rough around the edges. The limits of the budget are obvious, and never more so in an overambitious climax that half-works and then half-doesn’t. Still, it’s amusing enough to be worth a look if you’re the kind of person interested in movies about filmmaking, even if the comedy gets a bit broad at times. Tilly is wonderful — Try to pair Hollywood North with Made in Romania for a contemporary update on low-budget filmmaking, thirty years later.

  • The Burnt Orange Heresy (2019)

    The Burnt Orange Heresy (2019)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) As someone who’s constantly fascinated by the modern art world, it was easy to slip into The Burnt Orange Heresy’s opening scenes, as the worst kind of art critic (the lying kind) begins an affair with a whip-smart woman who is pretty good at naked bedroom repartee. He’s played by Claes Bang, whose good looks and turn as an art curator in The Square clearly prepared him for the role; she’s played by Elizabeth Debicki, who gets steadily more interesting with every film. But what begins as a chilly romance soon becomes something else and then something else again, as they are invited to the estate of a multimillionaire that also acts as the residence of a reclusive artist. That pair is played by the unlikely duo of Mick Jagger and Donald Sutherland, bringing additional interest to the result. A second act delving into more art-world intricacies follows, helped along with Sutherland’s easy likability. But then The Burnt Orange Heresy finally cashes in on its vague forebodingness by turning into a thriller in which many characters die in not-very-believable ways. It’s ironic that I, an at-times over-strident genre fiction fan, would bemoan the film’s turn into murder — after all, it’s adapted from a novel and it’s not as if we’re led at any point to assume that this is going to be a frothy romantic comedy. Still, the murdery section of the film isn’t nearly as interesting as what comes before it, and it’s by that metric that I allow myself to be disappointed by the third act. It doesn’t make The Burnt Orange Heresy any less interesting, but it does give it a scattered, inconsistent impression that lingers on long after the credits roll.

  • Vengeance: A Love Story (2017)

    Vengeance: A Love Story (2017)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) It’s easy to razz Nicolas Cage for turning to a string of low-budget efforts in his late career — here is an actor of incredible power, unafraid to go big, once lauded as a top box-office draw now churning out half a dozen low-profile movies per year. But here’s the thing: Cage once had serious financial problems and the economics of movies no longer favour performers like him. Given this, he seems reasonably happy being employed full-time, he occasionally still turns in memorable performance (I mean, Mandy, man…) and he usually gives everything he’s got to a movie. He’s got gravitas when needed, he’s credible as a protagonist and he’s, by all accounts, a true professional on set. What’s more, reviewers seem to have turned around on Cage’s career — embracing his newfound status as the king of weird willing to try anything. Vengeance: A Love Story is a bit of an antithesis to the screaming, frothing Cage roles that seem to attract attention. Here he plays a Niagara Falls (USA) policeman who goes on a revenge rampage once the rapists of a local woman walk free from their trial. As could be expected from the plot summary, there’s quite a bit of exploitative manipulation to the way the plot is manipulated to justify vigilante justice. Adapted from a novel by Joyce Carol Oates, the film does have an extra depth that many similar films don’t — characters in the orbit of the villains are developed significantly more than usual, for instance, and there’s usually an extra complication or two added to the straightforward narrative. Still, this merely makes Vengeance: A Love Story a bit cleverer about how it goes about it rather than be outright original. Meanwhile, Cage here doesn’t go for the usual histrionics — there’s clearly something distant in his character, and he keeps it that way. Missed opportunity? Maybe, or not — Cage was once attached to direct the film and it doesn’t take much effort to imagine him accepting the project as an opportunity to depart from his usual persona. As for the film itself, any appreciation will depend on where you’re starting from. Expecting a Cagesploitation wild-out? Disappointing. Expecting your usual trashy B-movie? A bit better than expected. Looking for a sophisticated dramatic thriller? Eh, you may want to recalibrate your expectations. Still, Cage is interesting in his restraint here — and it’s a further example that he’s usually the best part of whatever movie he takes on.

  • Inside Man: Most Wanted (2019)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) Considering that I consider Inside Man to be one of the best Manhattan-based thrillers ever made, you can imagine that my reaction to a low-budget no-name sequel would be somewhere between offence and interest: Inside Man is a film that does not need a sequel, yet I would be intrigued to see another movie playing along the same lines. Alas, Inside Man: Most Wanted is not the sequel to Inside Man that was discussed on-and-off since it came out — it’s a watered-down direct-to-streaming effort with thin replacements for (more or less) the same characters, with dubious needlessly convoluted plotting. Still, I liked it more than I expected. Let me explain: It doesn’t start all that badly. Robbers invade a bank, take hostages, the police get involved and the negotiators are called in. So far so good. Perhaps even better than good considering that Aml Ameen seems to be channelling Will Smith both in demeanour and appearance, bringing some energy to a film that seems to be dealing with calm and collected characters. M. J. Bassett’s direction can be nervy at times, and there’s a big sequence two thirds of the way through that has characters dealing with a flooded bank vault, which is a bit more visually interesting than what you see in those kinds of films. But even with the best of intentions, it’s hard to shake the feeling that Inside Man: Most Wanted is a mere copy of the first, with weaker versions of the characters, a plot that could have used some streamlining (by the time everything is explained, we barely care), and a director who can’t possibly be asked to do better than Spike Lee at his crowd-pleasing best. The climax is weak, and the incoherencies are so numerous that even a casual viewer is bound to notice them. Inside Man: Most Wanted is still a bit better than many, many direct-to-video thrillers that riff from better-known films… but I would have had a better time rewatching the first one.

  • The Gravedancers (2006)

    The Gravedancers (2006)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2021) You would think that a steady diet of mediocre horror film would be a terrible thing, but it’s actually not too bad in recalibrating expectations. After getting used to the lower common denominator, anything that even inches its way above minimum competence is good enough. So it is that The Gravedancers doesn’t seem particularly promising at first — another story about three young people breaking taboos (in this case, dancing in a graveyard — haven’t they ever seen a horror movie before?) and getting supernaturally punished for it. But the execution does have something going for it; the plot isn’t as linear as we’d think (hello, ghosthunters; what’s that, an evil ghosthunter? ) and there’s even a welcome surprise in seeing Tchéky Karyo in a supporting role. The third act goes get quite a bit better, leading to a better finish than anyone would have expected from the slow first act. The Gravedancers is not that good, but it is better than average and at this point that’s what I’m looking for.

  • Under Western Stars (1938)

    Under Western Stars (1938)

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) As far as 1930s westerns go, Under Western Stars is remarkable for at least two reasons. For one thing, it’s the debut film of Roy Rogers, who would go on to become an icon of mid-century America. For another, and far more interestingly, it’s a western with strong political themes, and from a populist dirt-bowl perspective at that. For someone so closely associated with capitalistic Hollywood, it’s a bit of a surprise to realize, early on, that all-virtuous Roy Rogers is fighting against the security guards trying to prevent farmers from opening the gate to a dam restricting the flow of water to their ranches. The stage is thus set for Rogers to run for congress, win the election and get influential backing for a bill aiming to fairly distribute the common property. Interesting stuff, considering the easy clichés that dominated westerns at the time. Rogers himself does have a likable presence, and the film makes a lot out of the singing-cowboy persona he was groomed for. (Legend has it that Rogers got the leading part because the studio wanted to give a lesson to the previous singing cowboy Gene Autry when he held off for more money.)  There are more musical interludes than you’d expect from a western, and the then-contemporary setting of the film is also a welcome departure from wild-west history. Under Western Stars is really not the film I was expecting from its description as “a 1930s western,” and its politics alone are well worth a look.