Month: September 2022

  • Lady with a Past (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) When I take a look at the basic building blocks of Lady with a Past, it strikes me that I should like the film more than the mild entertainment I got out of it. It’s a pre-Code comedy (always a good beginning!) in which a goody-two-shoes young woman figures out that she would be far more attractive to men if she invented herself a more sordid life history, and starts lying in order to make herself look more interesting. It works so well that one of the suitors commits suicide, which is the kind of plot point that would disappear a few years later with the introduction of the Production Code. Constance Bennett plays our protagonist skillfully—introducing her as a bookish wallflower feels like an invitation to be patient for when she will unleash her usual inner vixen. But even with some decent dialogue along the way, Lady with a Past never took off for me—despite a few highlights (such as a dream sequence), it feels a bit dull in its incisiveness, somewhat more boring than expected with that kind of set-up and the opportunities still open to Pre-Code screenwriters. Maybe it’ll work better during a later second viewing.

  • Rottweiler (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2022) Writer-director Brian Yuzna has a fascinating off-the-wall horror filmography, but his twenty-first century production is a clear-cut (or two) beneath his 1980–1990s heyday, and Rottweiler is no exception. A fuzzy, foggy, feel-bad take on an implacable foe hunting down our protagonists, it’s a loose dystopian thriller in which a robotic dog keeps trying to kill an escaped convict. While that could be interesting in a straightforward thriller fashion, the script here feels overstuffed with tangents even at 95 minutes, diffusing whatever sustained tension a better screenplay could have built. The science-fictional portion of the film feels like a lazy afterthought to set up a fleeing convict and a robot dog—and exactly nothing else. The tension of the film repeatedly evaporates, and there’s some evidence that it can’t do much with the elements it has at its disposal: some deaths that should be shocking end up being dull, and an instance of animal death even turns out to be nothing short of hilarious. By the time we get to the so-very-serious downbeat ending, Rottweiler has managed to evacuate any sympathy we may have had for the characters and has bored audiences enough that any excuse to finish the film is welcome. It’s meandering, atonal, uninvolving and dull at once. Any budding screenwriter could have made this better, simply by ripping off Robert McKee’s basic advice: give us someone to root for, keep escalating the tension and pet the dog once in a while (literally, in this case). But no—hence wondering whatever happened to Yuzna. What a waste of potential—for the film, and for the director.

  • Brainstorm (1965)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) As much fun as it would have been to find that the 1983 proto-cyberpunk film Brainstorm could have been a remake of a 1960s thriller, this earlier Brainstorm is something very different: a cheap-and-fast neo-noir thriller featuring a scientist killing his lover’s husband and faking insanity to avoid punishment. The “neo” part of noir here is strictly chronological, based on the idea that the classical noir era ended in 1960: otherwise, you could swear that director William Conrad’s film dates from the classic noir period in how it apes the thematic, cinematic and stylistic characteristics of earlier genre examples. Only the setting is slightly off brand, more focused on corporate shenanigans and brainy characters. It brings a little something fun and interesting, even though Jeffrey Hunter is not exactly the most convincing intellectual. Anne Francis is more interesting as the femme fatale manipulating the hero into killing her abusive husband. Plot-wise, Brainstorm (shot in widescreen black-and-white at a time where such things were increasingly uncommon for potboilers) relentlessly drives toward an ending in which there is no escape, further reinforcing its belonging to the noir genre. It’s not quite a great noir (being too long at 105 minutes, for one thing) but it’s unquestionably one, and if you’re willing to be flexible on that 1960 frontier, it may even be one of the last pure-blood film noirs of the classic era, with some insanity thrown in.

  • Boomerang! (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) While the 1947 version of Boomerang is a respectable crime drama shot in semi-documentary style (and not to be confused with the 1992 romantic comedy), I’d classify it more as an interesting film rather than a purely enjoyable one. Taking a real-life crime story and adapting it in a way that skirts cinema-vérité decades before the term was invented, it goes for a sombre, sober approach… without necessarily denying itself a Hollywood flourish or two. The story is set in a sleepy northeastern town, where the brutal murder of a priest whips up a fury for retribution: all that stands between an out-of-towner and the electric chair (or worse—summary lynching) is a plucky public defender (Dana Andrews) doing his job. The usual histrionics are brought down a notch here—Director Elia Kazan (later to attain fame and infamy in equal measures) treats his subject matter with respect, and the film is designed to err more on the side of social drama than courtroom histrionics… even if it can’t help itself at times. The result may not be as nakedly entertaining as what else Hollywood was doing at the time, but it feels competent and even exciting—although the unresolved nature of the crime that starts the plot inserts an odd sliver of realism in a film that otherwise celebrates the success of the judicial process. Boomerang is not a bad watch, although viewers should be forewarned (or hyped) that it’s not quite the same Hollywood formula that was in use at the time.

  • After Office Hours (1935)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) Oftentimes, a film doesn’t have to be good or original to be fun to watch—simply playing with familiar elements is enough if you happen to be in the mood for that specific genre. So it is that After Office Hours isn’t that special by itself, but it does mix many things that make 1930s films so much fun to watch. Here are a few: Clark Gable playing a suave newspaperman with his usual charm; Constance Benette playing a Manhattan socialite; a plot that sees two amateurs turning sleuths; and dialogue from Herman J. Mankiewicz that combines urbane wittiness with smouldering romantic naughtiness (it’s not quite pre-Code, but often feels like it). None of this is particularly special—you can point at other better films with all of those elements. But that doesn’t make After Office Hours any less fun to watch—and at 72 minutes, it really doesn’t overstay its welcome. After all, it’s not as if they’re making new 1930s movies any more—we might as well enjoy those we have.

  • The Samaritan (2012)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) It would be easy to dismiss The Samaritan as just another thriller, especially if you tune out (as you may be tempted to do) after the conventional first act. Here’s an aging career criminal being released from prison and being tempted back into a crooked life as an alternative to a miserable life. There have been dozens of movies on that theme, and this one doesn’t look any different despite the Canadian setting. The casting of Samuel L. Jackson (aged 64 at the time of the film’s release) doesn’t help distinguish it as much as you’d think, considering that he brings the expectation of a different, lighter-hearted film. But as The Samaritan advances, it also darkens. On a plotting level, it reveals its intentions to go slightly beyond the usual heist thriller by inserting some neo-noir complications: an ill-fated flawed protagonist, oedipal relationship and a resolutely downbeat dramatic arc. What seemed like cheap plotting at first (such as a transgenerational romantic relationship sparked by the protagonist saving a young woman from harm) ends up leading to more troublesome material, and the hero being drawn deeper and deeper into paths he doesn’t want to follow. The Samaritan eventually negotiates itself into a slightly interesting distinction. Jackson doesn’t play the role that his persona would suggest, and I find Ruth Negga to be a compelling actress no matter the part: she doesn’t disappoint here either. I wouldn’t want to oversell the result—The Samaritan is a bit underwhelming in spots, a bit awkward in others, and rough in how it handles its climax. (If there’s any doubt that writer-director David Weaver meant the film as a neo-noir rather than a heist/con film, observe how it fumbles the final con.)  But it ends up being slightly more interesting than expected, and that counts for a lot.

  • Respect (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) By the time of her death in 2018, Aretha Franklin had an enviable, even monumental reputation—the “Queen of Soul” had sold dozens of millions of records, spawned a few instantly recognizable pop hits, had a number in The Blues Brothers and sung at Obama’s presidential inauguration, among many more achievements. But her path to stardom started miserably, and Respect takes a sometimes-overlong look at those early years (albeit skipping over moments such as the birth of her first two sons when she was 12 and 15). Jennifer Hudson plays the role, and it’s difficult to imagine anyone doing a better job at it, combining some dramatic skill with the necessary singing prowess. Hudson makes the film feel better than it is: While Respect does most things right, it also sticks close to the standard biopic template, avoiding (perhaps out of hagiographic deference) any deep examination of its subject, and losing itself in subplots and tangents that make its running time balloon without bringing much more to the result. As in many recent biopics, the film spends a lot of time on the making of its title track—and that’s one stop along the 145-minute running time that I don’t mind at all. At other times, however, the film feels like a TV series cut short or a biopic running long: an unenviable middle ground that does its subject scant justice. It’s more accurate to say that I tolerated Respect more than I enjoyed or disliked it: Hudson makes it hard to be overly critical of the result, but there’s no doubt it could have been better, maybe if the film didn’t overly respect its subject so much.

  • Slumber Party Massacre II (1987)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) I’ve seen references to Slumber Party Massacre II as a comedy and that stretches the definition of the genre quite a bit—it’s incontestably a rather gory slasher, made more obnoxious by an over-the-top killer saying what passes off as humorous banter. Various levels of reality and illusions (echoing the slightly earlier Nightmare on Elm Street) either make it better or worse. I’ll give it one thing: Its rockabilly-style guitar-drill wielding antagonist has more personality than a dozen average 1980s slashers smashed together, and I suppose that the supernatural-or-not nature of the film automatically makes it more interesting than any blunt psycho-with-a-knife film of the period. If I actually liked the genre, I would probably rate this surprisingly high—but even as it is, I’m feeling slightly warmer to the result than I usually am for slashers. Just writer-director Deborah Brock adding a random a rock musical number with the killer addressing the audience is enough to make it better. Alas, I’m not a fan of slashers at all, so while Slumber Party Massacre II is much better than the average film of the genre, it’s not quite enough to get me to like it by itself. But, hey, if you like that stuff… there are much worse choices out there.

  • Under the Volcano (1984)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) For old-school Hollywood fans, it’s remarkably easy to be attracted to Under the Volcano. Just look at the cast and crew: Directed by John Huston; featuring Albert Finney and Jacqueline Bisset; a character study of an alcoholic diplomat in the last stages of a broken-down marriage in 1938 Mexico. It’s all incredibly glum, with the incredibly downbeat ending kicking depressed viewers well after they’re down. So, yeah—if you’re expecting a good time, this is not the film to watch, even if you can argue that the protagonist’s self-destructiveness makes the ending a foregone conclusion from the get-go. (But remember—the film goes the extra mile to make the ending even worse than what you can expect.)  Production values are not bad, showing off the location shooting at nearly every turn. Finney is not bad in an extremely drunk role, but Under the Volcano itself fails to adhere—the atmosphere makes it clear that it’s not going to end well, and that doesn’t give much reason to care about the inexorable spiral toward the end. As much as Huston has a celebrated series of classics under his belt, a deeper look in his filmography reveals that he has plenty of less-than-impressive films in his lower tier. Something to keep in mind for completists.

  • When Ladies Meet (1933)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) The most interesting aspect of pre-Code films is not necessarily the violence or the scantily-clad ladies, but the way they tackle adult, intelligent issues with wit and crackling dialogue. The Hollywood style that developed during that time, fuelled by snarky sophisticated young writers imported from Manhattan and the best that Broadway had to offer, still feels unusually modern, as films of that time cleverly wrestled with independent women, relationships, infidelity, sexual ethics and other topics that would disappear from American cinema until the 1960s (and even then, re-emerging as reactionary bursts rather than more even-keeled subject matters). When Ladies Meet is an exemplary example of pre-Code cinema, as it studies women becoming friends without knowing that one is trying to seduce the other’s husband. Ironies abound, as do snappy dialogue lines and good character work by actors such as Myrna Loy (of course!), Ann Harding and Robert Montgomery. It makes for surprisingly grown-up viewing despite its age—even today, I’m not sure contemporary films can tackle that material without being tempted to score morality points. Pre-Code cinema, in some ways, hasn’t quite been surpassed yet…

  • Batman: Assault on Arkham (2014)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) For DC comic fans, it’s worth noting that this Batman: Assault on Arkham, featuring the Suicide Squad, dates from 2014—two years before the much-derided 2016 David Ayer one, and seven before the somewhat better James Gunn version. As is often the case with the oft-neglected animated version of Batman, this one is surprisingly solid, and sometimes better than the live-action ones. I found the Ayer version too dumb and the Gunn version too gross, but this one feels a bit more balanced: Not as much gore, and yet the renegade personalities of the Squad members are portrayed somewhat credibly, and this animated take on Amanda Waller is far scarier than Viola Davis can be in the live-action ones. While the result is solid, watchable and surprising (most notably in sidelining Batman for a long time while it develops its anti-hero protagonists), it’s not quite great filmmaking: it’s a bit blunt, and the R-rating often feels used in a juvenile way rather than truly freeing the filmmakers from overly restrictive constraints. Still, Batman: Assault on Arkham does have the advantage of a distinctive storyline and doing the Suicide Squad better than the live-action films. That’s not bad at all, especially given the curiously low-profile nature of the DC animated filmography.

  • Dinner with Friends (2001)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) There isn’t a whole lot to Dinner with Friends and maybe that’s the point. Adapted from a theatrical play, it features four characters: two couples of friends working their way through the revelation of an affair involving one of them, and the subsequent fallout of the divorce. Our lead couple takes the news hard but in different ways, siding with one person, then not being so sure about it as further revelations emerge. Much of the film, true to its inspiration, takes the form of lengthy dialogue scenes, with a crucial time-skip in the middle. In the hands of versatile director Norman Jewison, it’s all very raw, (relatively) low-stakes and emotional: it’s the kind of film that actors love because it lets them demonstrate their dramatic chops, and indeed we have Dennis Quaid, Andie MacDowell, Greg Kinnear and Toni Collette as the lead quartet, and all four of them do decently well. While Dinner with Friends is not exactly a great film (it was made for HBO, and is largely forgotten today except for fans of the creative leads), it’s not unpleasant to watch despite the sometimes-difficult subject matter, and benefits a great deal from the acting talents of its leads.

  • Sommersby (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2022) As I age, it’s interesting to see actors-of-the-moment slowly slip into the historical category… and then have to watch older movies to see them at their box-office prime. So it is that, for me, Jodie Foster and Richard Gere were very much actors-of-the-moment—solid box-office draws when I really started watching movies, reliable headliners for whom much of their biography (or filmography) hadn’t yet been written. But while neither are retired nor on their way out, Foster is now playing elderly matrons, Gere has slowed down considerably with patriarchal roles and both are turning to character parts in smaller films. In Sommersby, though, ahhh—both of them are clearly the sexy leads we’re supposed to root for: him as a soldier returning in his small village after the Civil War, her as his putative widow who’s not overjoyed to see him back. And for good reason—clues quickly accumulate that he isn’t who he claims to be, and while that may feel like a deception from an impostor for many, it sure looks like she, and many friends, are only too happy to not have the exact same person back. The re-creation of a small village of the Reconstruction era is often charming, but the point here is the interplay between Gere and Foster as she finds herself married to a different, far kinder man, and just how far they’ll have to go in order to keep her honour when the consequences of his deception come calling. It’s all handled with a great deal of polish from director Jon Amiel, working from a script inspired by French film Le Retour de Martin Guerre. Alas, it may have been a bit too faithful—an ending that goes for romantic tragedy rings false and disappointing after such a spirited relationship between the two leads: This is one case where a big Hollywood happy ending would have been significantly more satisfying. Still, there’s something to admire about the success of Sommersby’s small-scale historical re-creation and the film’s two stars going through a complex relationship based on acknowledged falsehood. For fans of a certain age (or, for that matter, an increasing number of current cinephiles), it’s also a chance to see Gere and Foster near their peak as audience draws, with the easy assurance that superstardom confers.

  • Blue Bayou (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) At first glance, the plot summary of Blue Bayou sounds like a far-fetched dystopian thing that people who hate the United States invent to exaggerate what’s wrong with America. After all, what sane country would deny citizenship, decades later, to grown children from other countries adopted by American citizens? And yet, a cursory look at the film’s production history shows that it’s a real and horrifying problem, with people being deported in an utterly foreign land by dint of legal loopholes, lost paperwork and a cruel system. Blue Bayou is eventually not as much of a character-driven drama as we may expect from the first few minutes (with writer-director-producer-star Justin Chon turning in a likable presence as a Southern-accented character of Asian ethnicity)—it steadily grows into a full-fledged social issue film, indignant and merciless in its description of a problem that should not exist. As such, combined with the film’s gritty lower-class approach, don’t expect Blue Bayou to be fun or comforting to watch: It’s made to make people unnerved and indignant. It pretty much presses all the buttons it has at its disposal to get a rise out of viewers—a blunt strategy that may annoy, but doesn’t take away from the film’s atmosphere, or how Chon created a hard-hitting film around himself. It does feel a bit too long with a few useless subplots, but Blue Bayou hits its objectives, and it lingers on as an exposure to a particularly cruel trick played on undeserving people.

  • The Captive (2014)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2022) If you’re aware of the demarcation between mainstream and genre fiction, you’re probably just as aware of what happens when specialists in one try to venture in the other. The Captive, in many ways, seems to be a cautionary tale about what happens when ambitious drama auteurs try to move in genre territory without quite understanding what makes those genres tick, and perhaps even carrying some innate disdain for what they perceive to be a lesser form of fiction. Atom Egoyan needs little introduction—he’s one of the most celebrated English-Canadian filmmakers, renowned for finely detailed character studies and hard-hitting dramas. In The Captive, however, he seems to conjure up a feverish nightmare of barely digested exploitation genre material, and attempts to square it with his own more ambitious preferences for plain-label drama. The focus is on a couple still desperately searching for their kidnapped daughter, years after her disappearance. Set in wintry Niagara, Ontario (the falls only visible in the background of a few scenes set in high-rise hotel rooms), the film features Ryan Reynolds in a far more dramatic register than usual, and such notables as Rosario Dawson, Scott Speedman, Bruce Greenwood and Mireille Enos. Alas, none of them can’t make the script any better, and this is where writer-director Egoyan loses his way: In a rush to wallow in exploitative elements, such as a child pornography ring for rich people, gratuitous tormenting of the grieving parents, a naughty relationship between two cops investigating the case, and the on-line luring of young victims by an older woman, it becomes obvious that he doesn’t have what it takes to make a genre film. The Captive is resolutely slow, glum and void of suspense—a car chase near the end of the film is handled without energy or visual continuity, showing just hollow are Egoyan’s attempts to ape genre films. And that’s a lesson worth learning by itself: Genre fiction is not lesser fiction, it’s different fiction, and The Captive shows just how badly filmmakers used to mainstream success can screw it up if they’re not willing to accept that they need to adapt to the requirements of genre fiction rather than try their woefully unsuitable usual technique with material that exceeds their grasp.