Month: February 2022

  • Something of Value (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) Substantial roles for black American actors were rare during the 1950s (or, for that matter, in any decade preceding the 1970s), but there were occasional exceptions for films that were explicitly set in black environments… or for a few emerging actors such as Harry Belafonte or Sidney Poitier. Poitier doesn’t have the lead role in Something of Value—that would be Rock Hudson as the son of a white settler in Kenya. Poitier plays his close friend against a backdrop of colonialism, questioning allegiances and a buildup of violence that comes to dominate the last act of the film. Something of Value has the hallmarks of the progressive films of the time—while it’s a white-told, white-focused story that goes overseas for exoticism and showcasing its white lead, it does grapple with uncomfortable questions in as much honesty as was allowable at the time. There’s a small corpus of such pictures and while they don’t feel all that progressive today, they were nonetheless how Hollywood reached out for inclusivity and prepared itself for more dramatic changes in representativeness decades alter. Poitier, to be fair, is the film’s highlight—he’s second-billed, but his performance as a Kenyan trying to decide where his allegiances lie is the crux of the film’s moral questioning, and his self-assured performance remains a highlight when compared to Hudson’s character. Otherwise, though, there are limits to the effectiveness of Something of Value. Adapted from a novel, the film remains beholden to non-cinematic choices (although one final sequence does raise the suspense considerably by endangering a child). Evocative location shooting helps the film have an interest of its own, although it’s limited by the black-and-white cinematography that feels like a wasted opportunity. Something of Value is the kind of film you watch for social issues rather than cinematic entertainment and as such it’s a welcome title but not one you’ll ever rewatch.

  • Make It Happen (2008)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) I’m amazed that Make it Happen doesn’t have a higher profile, but I think I can explain why… and acknowledge that my own interest in the film isn’t that innocent. Let’s address that last idea first, since it may be the film’s biggest selling point for some: If you had told me at any point over the past few years that there was a film about Tessa Thompson doing burlesque dancing, you would not have been safe standing in the path between me and the nearest screen. But it’s true! Make It Happen dates from the late-2000s dance-movie craze, and it happens to feature a pre-stardom Thompson (in one of her first movie roles) as a dancer at a burlesque-influenced club. Now, let’s be clear on pain of setting far-too-high expectations for the film—this is burlesque-light at best, and Thompson’s showcase number is very chaste even when it showcases her quite well. It’s rated PG-13 for a reason, and the film doesn’t really go anywhere beyond most of the dancing movies of the time. It’s also very conventional in terms of plotting—ye olde “small-city girl moves to the big city, sees her initial dreams dashed, gains experience in a tangentially-related way and then finally achieves her ambitions” dramatic arc that’s been a staple of musical comedies since the 1930s. It’s thin to the point of feeling that the film ends abruptly, but it’s not necessarily unenjoyable. While Thompson is the focal point of my interest in the film, she’s a supporting character: Mary Elizabeth Winstead does rather well in the lead role, convincingly gyrating as her character should. The film is structured in a way that it’s clear when the dance numbers are on—in the proud tradition of musical comedies, each dance number becomes its own minifilm with specific cinematography and a focus on the performers. Director Darren Grant isn’t that good a director for big dance numbers, but the point gets across. (Incidentally, this was the last of the four films in Grant’s eclectic filmography that I hadn’t yet seen.)  Make it Happen amounts to a pleasant watch—nothing wild, nothing particularly memorable unless you’re a Tessa Thompson fan (and if you’re not—what’s wrong with you?) but something far more enjoyable than its near-obscure status nowadays would suggest.

  • Home from the Hill (1960)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) There’s something familiar to the point of boredom in the very 1950s-style small-town melodrama Home from the Hill. Technicolor cinematography can’t hide that it’s all convoluted histrionic without a millimetre of ironic distance. (There’s a reason why the near-contemporary Written on the Wind is far more beloved today.)  Oh, the film does have its traditional assets: Directed by Vincente Minelli, it features a cast with Robert Mitchum (in a role that anticipates his shift from tough guys to more elderly character-driven roles), veteran George Peppard and the young George Hamilton. MGM spared few expenses, giving this the big-budget colour treatment at a time when most such dramas were made in black-and-white. Mitchem is quite good here, using his tough-guy persona to project a character whose influence is steadily decaying. Still, the film does feel overly long and artificial: the southern atmosphere doesn’t impress, the scenes take too long to get to the point, the contrivances feel laboured and the rigidly mannered execution of the film is at odds with its raw melodrama. (But then again, that remains a problem with 1950s dramas: Hollywood did not yet have the neorealist tools to do them justice, and it would take until the New Hollywood of post-1967 to get there.)  It doesn’t help that there are several other films along the same lines as Home from the Hill, and that they usually have a distinct quality that makes them more memorable than this one. Fans of the actors, the style, and the melodrama may enjoy this, but everyone else won’t find much to remember.

  • Ride the Eagle (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) There’s enough room in contemporary cinema for all sorts of approaches, from the bombastic to the low-key, and that the height of the stakes should not in itself be a determining factor in how or why we appreciate a film. This being said—wow, does Ride the Eagle fail to impress. Writer-director-producer Trent O’Donnell is clearly after the kind of quirky comedy that is only possible in low-budget independent film, as his protagonist learns of the death of his estranged mother, and then discovers that she’s left him a quest to follow in order to get his inheritance. You would think that such a sure-fire premise, along with an early promise that “things are going to get wild” given the eccentric nature of the deceased mother, would lead to something interesting. But Ride the Eagle undercuts its own spectacle at every single turn, minimizing the drama, making sure it’s all very dull and safe, and going for quirky character moments that will only appeal to a small group of viewers. Co-writer Jake Johnson plays the protagonist as a lovable loser, but the film spends far more time insisting on the loser aspect than the lovable. A rekindled romance with an ex-flame seems too simple and pretext for a quirky (there’s that word again) attempt at phone sex, while the film ends in very quiet fashion. J. K. Simmons shows up as a character whose (more entertaining) presence is motivated by dumb screenwriting, while Susan Sarandon has a few pre-recorded scenes. I did like D’Arcy Carden, though—even if she’s kept away from the rest of the film through plot contrivances. Ride the Eagle is pleasant, perhaps to a fault: things simply seem to fall in place for the protagonist, and by the time the credits roll by, we’re left wondering if half the film has been left on the cutting room floor. But then again: those low-stakes, low-scale, low-budget independent dramedies aren’t my thing, and even relatively successful efforts like Ride the Eagle amply show why.

  • Beanie Mania (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) Everyone who was alive during the late 1990s remembers the Beanie Babies mania, but that’s no excuse not to revisit the topic, especially as children and grandchildren of the OG Beanie Baby maniacs are now rediscovering the tubs of stored stuffed animals collected during the boom. Through interviews by major figures in the phenomena, archival footage and some impressionistic segments (some of them faked to look like 1990s footage, complete with SD-TV aspect ratio), Beanie Mania gives an enjoyable, sometimes amazing, still relevant overview of those few years. We spend some time with ex-employees of the Ty toy company, many of them hired before the Beanie Baby phenomenon really took off. We have an overview (but no interview) of the enigmatic Ty Warner, who built the phenomenon, raked in millions in profits and was later convicted of tax evasion with a wrist-slap of a sentence. We get interviews with the hard-core fans of the time—those who bought, collected, appraised and catalogued the Beanie Babies, turning it from a toy line to a collecting and speculative investment phenomenon. (One of the interviewees is “Beanie Meanie” Harry Rinkler, who correctly warned people about the speculative bubble that would inevitably burst.)  Criticism about Ty are well-framed, discussing tensions between the company and its fans, the way its employees were not treated with respect or financial compensation, and the reclusive, litigious nature of its founder. Archival footage shows us the manic aspect of the craze at its highest, as McDonald’s restaurants were mobbed for limited-edition Beanie Babies, an accidental highway spill had people stopping their cars to grab Beanies scattered on the road, and some people, well, went a bit crazy maxing out their credit cards. It’s a wild and (now) amusing history of a fad, but the lessons to be learned here are particularly relevant at a time when there’s a new generation of suckers willing to fall for dubious investment vehicles and manic fads with no clear future. (Yes, I mean cryptocurrency.) There are a few things missing from the result—the famous story of the divorcing couple that divided up their Beanie collection in the courtroom is notably absent. While the film ends on a “new generation” of people, some of them overenthusiastic YouTube contributors, rediscovering the Beanie Babies phenomenon, nothing is said about the enduring successors to the Beanie Babies—the Beanie Boos are still relatively popular today (I’ve got a few sitting at home—great gifts for kids) and how the Ty company is still very much a thing. But let’s cut director Yemisi Brookes some slack—this is a film about the Beanie Babies craze, not the aftermath. There’s still enough here to amuse, infuriate and inform if ever you’re considering a dumb investment scheme.

  • Cold Skin (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2022) The good news is that Cold Skin is better than your average monster movie. If you happen to see it included in your streaming/broadcasting/pirating package, rest assured that it’s more ambitious than most comparable horror movies. It takes us to 1914 Antarctica, as a meteorologist begins a year-long stint as an observer in an isolated lighthouse. A very strange isolated lighthouse, with spikes and defences crudely installed with the obvious intention of keeping something outside the lighthouse. Before long, the Lovecraftian kinship of the film is laid bare as the protagonist spends the night awake and discovers himself besieged by hundreds of amphibious humanoids attacking the lighthouse. Weapons work, but only so much—and what’s worse, he has to contend with the lighthouse’s other, unhinged occupant and a domesticated creature. (One could say it anticipates the craziness of The Lighthouse.)  From this promising beginning, however, Cold Skin runs out of steam—there’s only so much you can do with those elements, and while the film eventually aims for circular philosophy and sympathy for the creatures, it does start running around well before then. It’s a good thing that director Xavier Gans is a veteran with an eye for visuals, because the film is rarely less than finely controlled on a visual level. But the hollowness of the plot eventually catches up with Cold Skin, leaving a final act that loops back upon itself yet still fails to satisfy. It’s still more enjoyable than most similar films… but it could have been better.

  • A Bump Along the Way (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) Ugh. It’s not that A Bump Along the Way is a bad film, or that it’s badly made, or that it doesn’t know what it’s doing. It’s just that I didn’t enjoy it at all. Taking us in Derry’s working-class neighbourhood, this Irish “comedy” starts with the premise of a 44-year-old single mom becoming pregnant, and the conflicts that this creates with her strait-laced daughter, who has to endure considerable humiliation at school. It’s humiliation-based comedy at its basest, and no one in the cast was chosen through beauty contest. As a result, director Shelly Love’s film has a raw nature that some will find authentic, and others off-putting. I’ll count myself among the latter—it doesn’t take a long time to figure out that I didn’t want to spend any more time with those characters in that situation, and the film’s 95 minutes eventually felt interminable. It all leads to a heartwarming mother/daughter reconciliation that does end the film on a welcome flourish, but the way getting there… ugh.

  • Why Did I Get Married Too? (2010)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) I’m not going to be too hard on writer-director Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Too?, because the film is slightly more aware of what it’s trying to do than its prequel. Picking up a few years after the previous film, this one once again sends four couples to a holiday destination (trading snowy Colorado for a Bahamas resort) where various secrets and resentments bubble up to the surface (again) and threaten their couples (again). Once more, the film only spends a fraction of its time at the holiday resort, and gets its characters back in their lives for the remainder of the film. Having been written for the screen, this sequel doesn’t have the same claim to theatrical space/time unity as the first film, and doesn’t spend as long at the secluded location—so the shift back to a multi-set approach isn’t as severe, even if it’s still clunky. Most of all, though, is that the characters are more sharply defined, with some of them clearly intended to be comic character. The ever-gorgeous Tasha Smith, for instance, plays a character clearly not meant to be on the same level of realism as the other couples, and her over-the-top screeching arguments with her husband (escalating to a very funny scene in which she shoots a gun in her own house) are played for laughs more than drama. The contrast between her fight scenes and other fight scenes rather works—although it does show Perry going back to his usual writing style, in which he can’t keep his tone consistent. Smith’s character clearly went from grating to amusing, though… which is more than I can say for other characters in the film. I was aghast, for instance, at Perry’s insistence on painting Janet Jackson’s character as a victim—for instance, in not splitting writing income equally even as her husband’s income is on the table (under Quebec law, she would clearly lose that claim). The film then does on to portray her becoming increasingly unhinged until a tragic death… for which she doesn’t even get blamed. In fact, the film hands her Dwayne Johnson as a surprise reward in the film’s last scene, which leaves a sour taste. Jackson gets both one very good glass-smashing scene and one very bad car-smashing one under that subplot, which is about par for the course in Perry’s uneven writing. Perry’s direction is also frustratingly inconsistent: He’s willing to go for two memorable one-shots, for instance, but unable to provide even a contextual medium shot during lengthy conversation scenes. And so it goes—some material is incredibly predictable, while other plot points seem to scream SURPRISE with a deliberate avoidance of foreshadowing, and one inexplainable appearance by a character from the previous film that makes no sense except as a screenwriter’s contrivance. The ending certainly feels far too convenient, sweeping under the rug a number of issues that should have been resolved in more organic ways. Why Did I Get Married Too? Is a slightly better film than its predecessor—buoyed by three years’ worth of additional cinematic experience for Perry, plus his entertainer’s instincts to give the fans what they’re expecting. It’s a bit of a shame for the characters that, by appearing in a sequel, they’re guaranteed to have a bad time—but that’s the movies.

  • The Borrowers (1997)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) Somehow, I hadn’t seen special-effects 1990s kids adventure The Borrowers until now, and while I’m not going to claim that it was a missing piece of my culture, there are a few good moments in there. Drunk on the power of burgeoning CGI, this is a film that clearly has more fun playing with its premise (of small people living in the walls of a house “borrowing” items from normal-sized humans) than making sense of it. The usual kid’s movie clichés are there, from adventurous youths, a venal lawyer seeking inheritance money, and action sequences designed around special effect. It has striking similarities to the near-contemporary Mouse Hunt, even if it’s not as enjoyable as that other film. Viewers may have fun spotting Jim Broadbent, Tom Felton and Hugh Laurie in younger roles. An adaptation of a celebrated series of children’s books, this 1997 version of The Borrowers wasn’t the first nor the last time the story was brought on-screen, and we’ll bet it’s not over yet.

  • The Quarry (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) I waited a very long time for The Quarry to become interesting, and the best I got was a brief blip of entertainment in the fourth-fifth of the film, right before it disintegrated again. Much of the film’s limitations, I suspect, come from a basic mishandling of tone. What could and should have been a tight straightforward modern-western thriller is executed as a ponderous tragedy bordering on homeopathic horror:  The low droning soundtrack, oblique cinematography, dark sets, slow pace and pseudo-gritty visual design all suck any energy out of the film even when it should be visceral and fascinating. I did like Michael Shannon’s performance as a local sheriff trying to get at the bottom of a mysterious murder, and the ironic cat-and-mouse game between him and the guilty party. The finest moments of the film come when the sheriff is clearly sensing something wrong and turning around the answer without necessarily knowing what it is… while the murderer is stuck in his lies and almost goaded by circumstances to confess. Alas, the conclusion wants to try something different and stick the landing of what the final moments could have been. The result is something that had a spark of potential extinguished by mishandled execution. Too much of a bore for an evening’s worth of crime-thriller entertainment—pick something else, because The Quarry is almost designed to annoy you.

  • Cry Macho (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) As Clint Eastwood pushes ninety, what drives him to pick up the camera again at his age, especially when he stars in his own movies? What kind of film justifies that effort when he’s thirty years past retirement age? Cry Macho won’t offer any answer at all, which is an answer by itself. The bare bones of the plot are, well, bare-bones:  an elderly farmhand with a talent for horses is asked by an American businessman to go to Mexico and bring back his son. Finding the son isn’t that hard, but bringing him back is another story, one with a lengthy stop in a small Mexican village where our taciturn hero gets to bond with his young protégé (Eduardo Minett, suffering from Eastwood’s hands-off approach as a director) and a rather sexy widow (Natalia Traven) who’s taken a shine to him despite a 39-year age difference. You can see in here some of Eastwood’s late-career questioning of traditional ideas of masculinity, alongside a privileged portrayal of mentorship not dissimilar to the one in Gran Torino. This being said, the script itself seems almost forgetful in its development—occasionally remembering to throw some conflict in there just to keep things interesting, but not really wanting the bad times to last more than a few minutes. It amounts to an amiable, but rather aimless film: not unentertaining (especially when the action climax of the film is settled by a chicken—yes, it’s an important plot element), but nowhere near what a director counting down his last projects would be expected to deliver. But then again, isn’t the idea of a grand finale a movie contrivance itself? Looking at filmographies of past Hollywood directors, the last few films are often increasingly trivial… and there may be nothing wrong with that.

  • Kiss the Cook (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, February 2022) I’ve written enough positive reviews of made-for-TV food-based romantic comedies that criticizing Kiss the Cook may feel like an inconsistency, but hear me out: Indulgence is the main ingredient in the appreciation of such low-budget, low-imagination, low-daring films as those. You either buy into it or you don’t. The films seldom make much of a case for themselves, so closely do they follow structural formulas, innocuous characters, trite details and unchallenging ideas. In Kiss the Cook, for instance, a food blogger is asked to collaborate with a disgraced chef to put together a cookbook, while her ex-boyfriend (a food critic who—no surprise—was the one responsible for the chef’s restaurant closing) tries to rekindle their relationship. Their mismatched pairing is a pretext for conventional romance, while cuter actors in supporting roles also have their own thing going on. (Typically for such films, lead actress Erica Deutschman is blandly pretty, while the usual best friend/sounding board is played by the far more attractive Katy Breier.)  This is all very ordinary so far… so why my frowny face? Well, the script does itself no favours by playing right into contemporary inanity without any hint of ironic distance. In the opening moments, a likes-obsessed heroine has trouble connecting to other people in her life due to her obsessive monitoring of viewing statistics, and the film never calls her out on it beyond meek requests from friends to put her phone away. A publisher spouts audience-engagement-through-influencer propaganda as if it was something with real-world relevance, and, above all, the cookbook is seen as the measure of fame and immortality. Later on, a book is rushed to production in what feels like hours, which will be hilarious to anyone with real-world publishing experience. (Not to mention having a very relaxed attitude toward consent of what goes into a book, not to mention suspiciously convenient timing when it comes to livestreams.)  All of those—especially the romantic fairy-tale portrayal of publishing—are contrivances subservient to the romantic comedy goals of the film—and no one is expected to start questioning the modern hegemony of attention capitalism through films such as Kiss the Cook. But here’s the thing: when films ask for so much indulgence, it shouldn’t be a surprise if a few false notes end up destroying (or rather preventing) such indulgence, making the entire thing fall on itself by a hollow construction. If there’s no substance, a puff of hot air can blow it all away… no matter how cute and romantic it’s all supposed to be.

  • Scener ur ett äktenskap [Scenes from a Marriage] (1974)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) When discussing Ingman Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage, saying, “I’m glad that’s over” has a few distinct meanings. For one thing, it’s a measure of my relief in making my way through Bergman’s filmography—he may be revered as a filmmaker, but I have a hard time liking most of his films so the closer I get to completing his filmography the closer I get to never having to watch any of his films ever again. For another, it’s a commentary on the film itself, as it flips the usual romantic comedy structure (a long courtship leading to marriage and happiness) to a romantic tragedy (beginning with a happy marriage, then disintegrating into a divorce and an inconclusive aftermath). It’s such a sad story that, by the time it’s done, we are well past the point where we’re done. (Although Bergman does keep his options open by having the ex-spouses have affairs long after their divorce.)  Finally, perhaps more importantly, it’s a commentary on the pacing and cinematographic nature of the film: adapted from a six-episode TV series, it’s shot on grainy 16 mm film with near-constant claustrophobic closeups, and perhaps more importantly, lasts a mind-numbing two hours and 49 minutes of intimate conversations charting the end of a formerly happy relationship. Scenes from a Marriage is famous in film circles for inspiring many imitators (some of them nominated for Academy Awards, such as the recent Marriage Story) and it’s true that we’re not watching it in the same way now as then—divorce is far more common than in the mid-1970s, and so are stories about them. The film does have moments of interest—Liv Ullman is a compelling presence no matter the context, and the film’s slow pace allows it to build dramatic intensity. But I like what I like or (more to the point), don’t like what I don’t like: I can’t imagine volunteering to watch Scenes from a Marriage again without substantial rewards. In other words: Well, I’m glad it’s over.

  • Why Did I Get Married? (2007)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Youtube Streaming, February 2022) There’s something admirable Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married?, as it looks at factors threatening the marriage of four middle-class couples when they head to an isolated cabin to reflect on the state of their relationships. This is one of Perry’s first straight-up dramas without the Madea crutch, and there’s a sense that he’s really giving a serious go at romantic drama. Placing the four couples in the pressure-cooker of a mountain retreat right before a major snowstorm may not be an original plot device, but it has the merit of raising the film’s tension and promising a dramatic arc in the finest theatrical tradition. Unfortunately, Perry’s blunt-force approach does him no favour, and the problems start early on with four heavy-handed scenes that don’t present characterization as much as caricature. There’s no way to get emotionally invested in a couple whose husband is callous enough to make his overweight wife drive the trip he’s taking on a plane (while enjoying the company of her single attractive friend), or to completely believe in a character going on a verbal rampage aboard a crowded train. (There are also other issues whenever you ask yourself why four couples living close together would take four different ways to get to the same destination, but digging too deeply in the film does no one any favours.)  The writing is uneven, and few of the actors (including Perry in a dramatic turn) are gifted enough to rise above the material—except perhaps Jill Scott in the film’s richest character. The lack of subtlety means that much of the film plays like a dramatic exercise more than a story, and Tyler fumbles the last half of the film by having characters leave the cabin and time-skip forward to resolve (or not) their issues—breaking the spatial and chronological unity of the piece. The film’s got enough heart to warrant watching to the end, but it’s often a rough road—although that’s a near-constant for most Perry films even if you’re predisposed to like them.

  • The Guilty (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, February 2022) I have a remarkable fondness for high-concept thrillers, and in remaking a Danish 2018 thriller for an American audience, The Guilty certainly has something cool up in its sleeve: a suspense story almost entirely seen through the eyes and ears of a 911 response officer. The story gets going once our protagonist (an effective Jake Gyllenhaal, once again teaming up with director Antoine Fuqua) gets a phone call: a woman has been kidnapped, she’s being driven aboard a white van and she’s terrified to talk. Using all the means at his disposal (and not just the conventional ones), our hero with a dark past slowly gets to the bottom of the story and finds one big twist waiting for him. This isn’t the first 911 thriller (2013’s The Call, with Halle Berry, is perhaps the best known of the others), but this one remains surprisingly rigorous in its intention to never leave the 911 call centre. There are only a handful of actors appearing on-screen, with the rest of the action playing out in voices and brief flashes of imagination. The Guilty tries to reach for something bigger than an abduction story later on, as the protagonist’s dark past is tied up to larger questions about police abuse, but in the end the film remains a tight 90 minutes claustrophobic exercise. It’s clearly a COVID-shot film (production notes state that the director was able to keep on directing the 11-day shoot despite being sick, by using a remote production location and plenty of video monitors), reflecting the isolation and remoteness of other people during that specific period in time—not to mention the apocalyptic environment of Los Angeles being surrounded by wildfires. Its effectiveness does have its limits, though: the plot is a bit thin, with the big twist being predictable and the protagonist’s background problems being perfunctory. Still, The Guilty is not a bad pick—and Gyllenhaal must have enjoyed the change to stretch some acting muscles during a relatively short and intense shoot.