Month: January 2022

  • Quai des Orfèvres (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) Solid crime thrillers can feel timeless, and Quai des Orfèvres is a very competent take on familiar plot elements. Written and directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot (who reportedly adapted a novel from memory, which is wild enough), it quickly throws in a lovely singer (Suzy Delair, very cute), a bickering jealous husband, a creepy admirer, a lesbian photographer with a crush on the heroine and who herself becomes a crush of the police inspector asked to investigate the murder that soon follows. The police procedural aspect of the film is reinforced by some very solid dialogue (better in the original French than in the functional English subtitles) and cleverly sketched characters. Quai des Orfèvres is a decent genre exercise that gives us a good glimpse at the uneasiness of post-war France, executed in a straightforward but polished style. Not a bad pick for students of French cinema, perhaps as another piece of evidence to inform the idea that poetic realism influenced much of film noir and then the French New Wave.

  • Cutting Class (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2022) I bet Brad Pitt doesn’t mention Cutting Class all that often these days. A cookie-cutter high-school slasher film in which Pitt plays a bland boyfriend role, this is the kind of movie that would be practically forgotten today if it didn’t happen to star him. (Not that it’s all that popular even with his name on the marquee.)  As a product of the late 1980s, it’s clearly aware that it has to go a bit beyond the obviousness as a slasher, but the way it goes about it is terrible: it skirts toward comedy but isn’t really good at it, meaning that you’ll watch most of the film dumbfounded at its idea of what’s funny. I strongly suspect that Pitt aside, the film probably plays worse today than upon release—the move of slasher films toward being whodunnits is now de rigueur, and so is the use of comedy to defuse the tension of horror films made for teenagers. No matter the datedness of tis intentions, though, Cutting Class still doesn’t work: even when you can see where the filmmakers were going, it’s simply too misguided to get its intended effect. You would have to be a dedicated 1980s slasher fan to even want to watch this.

  • Campus Code (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) It doesn’t take more than fifteen seconds of footage to understand that Campus Code scrapes the bottom of the barrel of cinematic competence. Obviously shot with a low budget, a quick schedule, bare-bones special effects and a half-comatose cinematographer, it’s the kind of sub-sub-cinema that makes Razzie nominees look good. That ultracheap look doesn’t necessarily work against the film—if you can somehow manage to convince yourself that this is a student project made on a threadbare budget, you may even start feeling sympathetic to it all. Heck, there’s even one impressive shot that has a character jumping out of a window. But then Ray Liotta shows up as a bartender and Martin Scorsese has two scenes as a doctor and you may feel as disoriented and unsure of reality as the film’s protagonist. In order to ground yourself again, look up the name of the film’s director: Cathy Scorsese, daughter of the other Scorsese. That should explain the cameos, but it won’t do much to explain the deliberately confusing plot in which four characters discover that they have superhuman powers and that their campus is filled with oddities. If you’re thinking “computer game!” after a few minutes, give yourself no pat on the back—it’s rather obvious from the title. But you may want to stop thinking about the premise beyond that, because it’s increasingly obvious that the screenwriter hasn’t either: After Campus Code throws up all sorts of strangeness on-screen as prelude to a laborious revelation that “we’re in a game!”, the film stops right there. No payoff, nothing beyond a twist so obvious that it barely qualifies as one. The additional red herrings are not justified and in fact, the more you think about the explanations, the less it makes any kind of sense. But all too often, that’s ultra-low-budget filmmaking for you, no matter the parents of the filmmakers. Digging deeper into Campus Code’s production history suggests that the film is a mash-up of an attempt at non-traditional filmmaking for a now-defunct website—it was patched together from webisodes meant to follow an ensemble cast of characters. But while this explains a few things, it doesn’t excuse the very disappointing result. If you feel that it’s going to be a long slog only a few moments in the film, then stop there: Campus Code never gets any better.

  • Ripoux 3 (2003)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) If you thought that resurrecting long-dormant franchises was purely a Hollywood problem, then I’ve got bad news for you: it’s a worldwide issue, as Paris-set Ripoux 3 illustrates. Picking up twelve years after Ripoux contre RIpoux, this third instalment does acknowledge the passing of time in the series’ very loose chronology: Our younger crooked cop has become a senior officer and hasn’t seen his mentor in corruption for a decade. That mentor has fallen on hard times—living on a boat and still gambling beyond his means. When a score goes wrong, the two meet again briefly, then spend the rest of the film pushed and pulled by a fake death, younger protégés, enmity from the mob, a growing police investigation and one last score. At least both Philippe Noiret and Thierry Lhermitte are in fine form here, easily slipping into familiar characters. Less heavy on police corruption but more insistent on traditional comic devices, Ripoux 3 only makes a middling argument in favour of its existence. It comes as a relief that it doesn’t try to repeat the same things as its predecessors, but it’s not clear why that story deserved to be told. In keeping with that thought, writer-director Claude Zidi’s film itself is watchable but not overly impressive—a comedy that ends up as a heist film, with both characters passing the torch to the younger generation. Hardly essential, but not the worst scenario if you were looking for one more quick lap around the track with those two lead characters.

  • Lord of Illusions (1995)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2022) Although largely forgotten these days, there’s quite a lot to like in Lord of Illusions despite its now-terrible special effects. After all, it begins with a sequence that would be worthy of a climax in a more routine film, as a bunch of young adults take down a supernatural cult leader and bury him after making sure that an iron mask is drilled into his face. After that fast-paced opening, the real story picks up decades later with a private detective investigating a stage magician who apparently dies onstage. But there’s a lot more to it, and the buried threat is coming back, at it always does in horror films. What’s perhaps most interesting in Lord of Illusions is the depth of its middle act, as familiar genre elements (the supernatural private eye, the growing cult, the traumatized survivor) are combined with an over-the-top look at stage magic. It ends up, as we expect, with a showdown between good and evil, but there’s quite a bit of texture along the way. What hasn’t aged as well are the digital effects: coming from the inglorious mid-1990s where computers were no match for practical special effects, the film has a bizarre mixture of rather good (practical) gore and thoroughly unconvincing CGI—unavoidable given the budget and time of the film, but still noteworthy. Other than that, however, it’s a competent genre exercise. Some of the writing from writer-director Clive Barker, adapting his own short story, is even quite good—I was particularly fond of “You were my lambs, but I was never your shepherd.” [February 2022: Amusingly enough, I just checked and that good quote is better in the French dub which I just back-translated. The original, as per the script, is “You just waited like lambs. (beat) Well, I’m not your shepherd.”]  Lord of Illusions is not, to be clear, a terrific horror film. But it does qualify as something of an underrated genre exercise, still entertaining decades later. If nothing else convinces you, just know that Famke Janssen stars in an early role.

  • The Tomorrow War (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Amazon Streaming, January 2022) I like many of the elements that went into The Tomorrow War. The idea of the future coming back to the present to ask for help fighting an alien opponent; the concept of conscripting ordinary citizens to fight; the relationship between the present and future; the third-act twist bringing the fight closer to home. That’s strong stuff (even if familiar to prose Science Fiction readers) with a lot of promise. Combine that with a big-budget execution, fast-paced action sequences, likable performers such as Chris Pratt and J. K. Simmons and an expansive direction from Chris McKay and this should be an unmissable proposition. But an undercooked script brings everything down a few levels. The moment you start asking questions about its science-fictional premise (and science fiction practically invites such questions) is the moment The Tomorrow War starts falling apart. For all of the occasional lamp-shading of the more obvious objections to the premise’s crazier elements, the film often feels more beholden to a misguided sense of dramatics than any sense of logic. Taking ordinary people off the street, giving them a (largely ineffective) rifle and sending them off to fight killer aliens will, of course, result in a mere 20% survival rate. But, you know: it’s better for the audience to be surprised at all this. Science Fiction, as a genre, often has to do a lot of inglorious work in order to marry outlandish premises with personal stakes, but The Tomorrow War takes an unbelievable number of shortcuts to do this in the bluntest, least credible way one could imagine. The third act takes unlikeliness to ludicrousness and stays there far longer than it should, and that’s after completely missing the point of the future reaching to the present in order to save itself. The characters become increasingly stupid until the only thing left to do is to ask a high-schooler for advice. It’s a funny moment, but an ill-fitting one for a grimdark film talking about the end of humanity. Not that it’s the only such moment—the tone of the movie can feel oddly comedic despite its end-of-time atmosphere, and I’m not sure if that’s a welcome bit of relief, or an inability to commit to a serious tone without undermining it. Suffice to say that The Tomorrow War is a frustrating experience—it’s constantly undercut by big and small objections, repeatedly taking viewers out of its narrative flow. I can still appreciate a big-budget one-shot original Science Fiction film, but that script needed at least one rewrite to fix its most egregious elements.

  • Reminiscence (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) Perhaps the most entertaining element of Reminiscence is how hard it works at re-creating a futuristic setting fit for a noir thriller. It frequently looks great, occasionally feels different but never feels convincing. In the admirable Science Fiction tradition of smashing together two separate elements, it takes for granted both a technology to explore memories and climate change bad enough to submerge the land around Miami. Splashing in this backdrop is a memory retrieval expert (Hugh Jackman, appropriately grizzled) who gets embroiled in a sombre story the moment an alluring client (Rebecca Ferguson) walks into his office. The noir DNA in this film is omnipresent—and it doesn’t take much to start seeing how much it seems to be inspired by Chinatown, with its private investigator, water motif and reproductive misconduct by a land tycoon. Even the post-WW2 feeling of classic noir, where nearly everyone was a traumatized veteran, is duplicated thanks to references to climate-change wars. Not much of it makes a lot of sense—a submerged Miami would lose buildings on a weekly basis (let alone keep its electrical power), the memory-retrieval tech somehow isn’t limited to first-person perspective; and someone’s got a plan so convoluted that it only makes sense in movies. But if you’re going to even start to enjoy Reminiscence, you better come with a large bag of indulgence, because writer-director Lisa Joy (of Westworld fame—you’ll recognize several common names between the two) is more about atmosphere than logic. That doesn’t absolve the film of its flaws, though: shaky world-building and rough plotting are accompanied with some tonal inconsistency (such as an out-of-nowhere action sequence dropped in the film at the midway point just to wake people up) and some major shortcuts taken. I did like the film’s attempts to ape noir style, can’t fault Jackman, will always enjoy watching Thandi (w)e Newton, but Reminiscence itself curdled the more I thought about it and started poking at the root of my lack of satisfaction with it. Science Fiction is not an excuse to throw up anything on screen—in fact, SF fans will tell you that it’s a genre that’s even less forgiving of logical holes than other genres: by building another reality, SF movies invite scrutiny they must sustain.

  • With Six You Get Eggroll (1968)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2022) There’s both a familiar and an unusual aspect to With Six You Get Eggroll that makes it interesting even if it’s not an exceptional film. On the one hand, it’s Doris Day in a very Doris-Dayish comedy: a twist on the usual romance angle, a bit outrageous but not necessarily outlandish. Day herself plays the usual kind of character that characterized her biggest box-office years: white middle-class slightly-goofy American girl, perhaps a bit more independent than most by virtue of playing a widow running her ex-husband’s blue-collar business. The more unusual key to the film comes from treating Day’s character as someone her age rather than trying to pass her off a thirtysomething virginal debutante: here she plays a woman with accumulated history (although the film clearly avoids talking about what happened to her former husband) and what happens when she begins a romance with another middle-aged man. (Brian Keith, not bad.)  Much of the first half of the film is an amiable look at middle-age romance with a few misunderstandings and complications. Then, following a smash cut that’s arguably the funniest thing in the film, the second half of With Six You Get Eggroll focuses on the we’re-married-now-what reality as they tell their kids and try to blend their two families into one. There’s the usual amount of stepparent hate from the kids, practical issues (although their solution to “Let’s get an extra bedroom” is mildly amusing) and external complications ultimately bringing the family together. It’s not that much of a film, but it is interesting to see Day playing older and into a world that is very recognizably the late sixties rather than the fifties most closely associated with her. While With Six You Get Eggroll was reportedly a commercial success, it proved to be the final film performance of her career—maybe acknowledging that such plum roles for middle-aged women working in her comic style were (and remain) few and far apart. As last performances go, it’s not a bad one: she gets a few comic showpieces, she’s rarely less than likable and it’s still recognizably a role that fits her, even if it takes place about a decade later, both in tone and setting, than the string of movies that made her famous.

  • American Dreamz (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2022) The worst thing you can say about a satire is that it’s toothless. The point of satire is to make a mark, leave an impression and challenge preconceptions. It would be tempting to look at American Dreamz fifteen years later and blame its ineffectiveness on how the world has moved on: the idea of blending terrorism and the American presidency into a reality-TV show sounds almost plausible these days. Nearly every big satirical plank of the movie has been superseded or absorbed. Reality-TV shows? Utterly unremarkable. A terrible president? Much worse awaited those who disliked Bush. Islamic terrorists? Wait until you hear about who invaded the US Capitol! But even if you account for the normalization of its ideas, it turns out that American Dreamz was not that favourably received at the time of its release either. Critics called it limp and unfocused, which remains a fair assessment a decade and a half later. Going for an ensemble cast of characters coming from three very different worlds doesn’t make everything stronger: instead, it dilutes everything into a lumpy soup of ideas loosely developed and badly put together. It doesn’t help that writer-director Paul Weitz takes some terrible shortcuts on his way to the conclusion (including a bomb with instructions so convenient that it can be used by anyone) and doesn’t know when enough is enough: At 107 minutes, it feels much longer and drawn out, with a conclusion meant to be wild but rather feels disconnected. There’s some decent work on the acting front (most notably Hugh Grant playing a deliciously slimy reality-TV host years before he reinvented his career by playing scabrous supporting characters) but everything is held back by an undercooked script that doesn’t seem to have all that much to say beyond pointing at a few things and trying to get us to agree that they’re weird. It certainly played better in 2006 as a thin critique, but today? Not much to see here.

  • The Fallout (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) I was not expecting to appreciate The Fallout all that much, especially when it becomes obvious that the film is about the impact of a school shooting on a typical American teenager. The almost-exclusively American phenomenon of high school shootings would be, in any sane society, a sobering call to action and self-reflection about the many, many aspects of American culture that enable those aberrant phenomena—but the day America decided that it could live with Sandy Hooks was the day I gave up a good chunk of my optimism about American rationality. As a result, I very much dislike anything about high school shootings in movies, and find its use often exploitative and hypocritical. (I seem to be a minority here, though—I’ve now seen two films in three months that start with high school shootings, a cliché fast approaching black-protagonist-shot-down-while-reaching-for-his-cell-phone in cheap theatrics.)  But The Fallout manages to get even reluctant audiences involved, as it charts in sensitive fashion the progressive breakdown of a shooting survivor who insists that she’s fine. Her actions betray her, however: drawing away from her parents, turning to hedonism as a substitute for meaning, engaging in riskier behaviour that would have been out of character before the shooting. It’s all rather well-executed, with a very effective ending that hints at an endless cycle of violence sparing no one. The Fallout remains a small-scale film intensely focused on character. Writer-director Megan Park manages an impressive directing debut, and Jenna Ortega delivers a good performance even under the scrutiny of nearly every single scene of the film. Shailene Woodley shows up in a two-scene supporting role as a likable therapist, but much of the film goes for lesser-known actors and a close-up approach. This is not my kind of film and even less my kind of topic, but I’m suitably impressed at how well it works even in trying circumstances.

  • Dune: Part One (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Video on Demand, January 2022) All right, let’s put a few cards on the table. I last read Frank Herbert’s Dune about a quarter-century ago, but I still think it’s one of the greatest Science Fiction novels ever written—a wonderful blend of space opera elements, strong atmosphere, great characterization and grander-than-life ideas. I haven’t seen the 2000 miniseries, but I really liked the glimpses we got from Jorodowsky’s Dune and I’m curiously partial to the wild baroque approach of David Lynch’s 1984 version of Dune, which I revisited last year and found much more enjoyable than expected—not to mention its quasi-iconic elements. My expectations for Denis Villeneuve’s new version were high—I really enjoy the fact that a French Canadian is the reigning king of Hollywood Science Fiction, and while I don’t necessarily love all of his earlier films, they’re easy to respect. Is he the right choice for Dune, however? I’m not sure. Oh, I liked this Dune: Part One all right—it’s immensely respectful of the original, fleshes out some of the things glossed upon during Lynch’s version, is so slickly directed as to be wonderful and manages some great casting coups. My initial disappointment at how it only adapted the first part of the novel was mollified by how the film’s success led to the greenlighting of the second half. On the other hand, this Part One does have a number of built-in issues. Some of them may disappear in time, once Part Two is here and delivers on all promises. Until then, however, we’re stuck not only with the first half of a story but an austere, slow-moving first half. Villeneuve’s approach is not wild and baroque: it’s ponderous, massive, more concerned with awe than pacing. It’s an approach all right, but there were a number of times that I found myself missing the wilder style of the 1984 version. (Ironically, this Dune is dumber when it does give in to the grandiose—its ornithopters make no sense at all.)  As much as I’d like to like it, I’m stuck waiting for the second half to make up my mind. I did like a lot of the casting—Timothée Chalamet grew on me as the protagonist, which is more than I can say about Rebecca Ferguson. But Oscar Isaac, John Brolin, Dave Bautista, Jason Momoa and Javier Bardem all make for great characters. Sharon Duncan-Brewster gender-flips a rather dull role into an interesting character, and I guess we’ll get a lot more Zendaya in the next instalment. I’m not entirely happy with the pacing: the already laborious task of presenting a complex new universe is further slowed down by a slow pace, something that becomes increasingly irritating in the last act of the film, as what should have been a climax (the attack and exile) is drawn out into a too-long half hour meant to set up even more of the material. (It’s also a sequence that sees many of the most compelling and diverse characters die so that our duller Caucasian protagonist survives.)  Still, generally speaking, I am cautiously optimistic about the upcoming Part Two based on this incomplete Part One—much of the groundwork is done, and now we’re ready to see the day where “the eyes of the galaxy turned toward Arrakis.” (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, May 2024) A second viewing of this Part One in close proximity with Part Two leaves me with one conclusion: I do respect Part One better now that I’ve seen its conclusion, but I don’t like it much more. Villeneuve’s epic style is synonymous with interminable (something that the last half-hour of Part One highlights all too well), and his iconography isn’t particularly memorable—especially if you compare it to the Lynch version. Oh, he does understand and execute the novel better than any version so far, but there’s clearly little concision to it. Even individual shots are easily twice as long as they need to be. But now that both parts of the film are out, don’t watch one without the other. Set aside the five hours and watch both—you’ll be awed, but maybe not as entertained as you’d like.

  • Jalsaghar [The Music Room] (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) A constant theme in my reviews of Satyajit Ray’s filmography is that I have a hard time connecting to his movies. When I do (as in The Big City), I’m more surprised than anything else. The rest of the time, I’m left more admiring his writing-directing skills than actually enjoying the result. The Music Room feels like typical Ray to me—I like a lot of bits and pieces, I respect how it’s pulled together but I’m left more bored than anything else. There is certainly a kernel of a good idea in its central character—a local lord whose fortune and glory days are not just gone, but whose appetite for culture is dilapidating his wealth even faster. Living in palatial surroundings falling apart, he spares no expenses on his passion: live music. What I anticipated being an issue with The Music Room, its musical numbers, instead ended up being one of its biggest strengths: a cinematic capture of classic Indian music, meaning something western viewers such as myself have very little exposure to. I wasn’t enthusiastic about the first number, but by the last one I was regarding them as highlights. The rest of The Music Room is typical Ray: slow-paced, steeped in Indian culture, not particularly interested in happily-ever-after (or even plotting, for that matter) and with black-and-white cinematography that only hints at the rich colours of its surroundings. None of that is a slam against what he does best—but it’s not necessarily something I care about. But now, at least, I’ve added one more Ray film to my database and can see what the fuss is about.

  • The Mummy (1959)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) There have been four “official” movies called The Mummy in the past century, all three of the recent ones trying to ape the original 1932 Universal Monsters version. The success of those remakes has been variable—I’m still inordinately fond of the 1999 Brendan Fraser version starring the lovely Rachel Weisz, but the 2017 Dark Universe one was a big disappointment. The 1959 Hammer-produced one was the last remaining on my list, but as it turns out, it’s just as variable (and unfaithful to the original) as the other ones. As with most Hammer remakes of the Universal movies, The Mummy has a charm of its own—early Technicolor cinematography, with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee headlining the cast. It’s dated but not unpleasantly so, and it takes a lot of liberties with the source material. Some of it works—it’s fun to have a slightly more action-packed finale—while some of it doesn’t: an aspect of the original film that many remakes miss is the strength of the romantic component of the film, and I feel as if this one held off a long time before introducing the heroine, who’s the spitting image of the Mummy’s beloved. Still, this take on The Mummy feels one-of-a-piece with the rest of the classic Hammer horror films: not particularly good, but enjoyable on its own terms and having a distinct personality compared to the original or later remakes.

  • Haunted Trail (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2022) It’s possible for a film to be unusual without being original, and if Haunted Trail claims its distinction by featuring a nearly-all-black cast in a classic slasher formula, the film itself quickly becomes tedious once you get over the racial distinction. The thin plot has to do with a bunch of college “friends” heading over to a haunted trail, then being ironically killed one by one, as the fake horrors of the trail end up being all too fatal. A too-large ensemble cast is designed for gradual whittling, not helped along by some rather unremarkable acting even from attractive leads. Where the film works is in its effective cinematography on what is reportedly a low budget: even from the first few moments, there are some slick visuals here that help create the foreboding atmosphere that is a strict minimum for such horror films. But watch out, because these images don’t necessarily cohere into a sustained suspense film: hampered by its low budget, Haunted Trail struggles with effective staging or editing, the nice shots seldom coming together into an absorbing whole. Some terrible screenwriting isn’t forgiven by a semi-comedic tone that isn’t sustained by the film’s conclusion or even much of its duration. Suffice to say that even as black comedians will dismiss dumb white characters in slasher movies (as mentioned in the film!), these specific characters don’t do any better. Indeed, by the time one decides to go back because of a missing earring, you either choose to believe it’s a joke… or fume at how stupid this is getting. A conclusion meant to be shocking merely peters out in a lame motive and slap-dash coda that ignores the number of consequences about to fall on the escaping murderer. I wanted Haunted Trail to be fun and entertaining—I have a huge soft spot for low-budget black-cast movies broadcast on BET, wanted to see what director Robin Givens could do with a horror film, and some of the actresses look terrific. But even a truckload of indulgence (and, to be fair, a few laughs) is not enough to save Haunted Trail from its inherent problems. Come on, filmmakers—do better than this.

  • Our Daily Bread (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) King Vidor is one of my favourite directors of the late-silent/early sound film era, and he certainly ends up in the top three once you remove comedies from the equation. While I have a hard time getting into straight-up drama films of the era, his humanistic, cinematically ambitious approach makes his movies easy to admire even a hundred years later. But that’s not necessarily a guarantee of success, and while watching Our Daily Bread, I found myself concluding that the Vidor touch wasn’t universally successful. I suspect that there’s an important element of setting at play: while Vidor’s other films took on urban characters (The Crowd) or wartime drama (The Big Parade), Our Daily Bread accompanies its urban protagonist to the farm in order to present a tale of hardscrabble survival in the face of a drought. That’s… not necessarily as interesting as spending time on the trenches or in 1920s Manhattan. While the film eventually culminates into a large-scale interesting event (the manual digging of a very long ditch to bring water to the withering crops), much of the film is spent in misery along with its characters trying to figure out how to survive. Vidor’s work here as a writer-director is not necessarily inferior—his humanistic touch remains comforting, as does his interest in collective action in the face of adversity. Our Daily Bread is interesting as a depiction of its time and the ways American society was playing along with different models of living during the Great Depression, but I found myself underwhelmed by the result—perhaps as a result of coming in with too-high expectations seeing Vidor’s name in the credits.