Author: Christian Sauvé

  • New Jack City (1991)

    New Jack City (1991)

    (On TV, May 2020) Often lumped in with the neo-Blaxploitation “hood movies” of its time, New Jack City ends up being something a bit more grandiose, enjoyable and action-oriented than the films it’s often compared to. It certainly does not deal in the quotidian lives of ordinary people stuck in the hood—it’s a New York City-wide criminal epic with unsubtle, grander-than-life characters, overblown action and ham-fisted atmosphere… and that is part of its charm. Part of the appeal is an interesting cast of actors in early roles, from Wesley Snipes as a crime lord, Ice-T as a detective, Chris Rock in a supporting role, director Mario van Peebles also taking on a small role, and the beautiful Vanessa Williams as new-style gun moll. It’s all a clever blend of an unusually good soundtrack, an ambitious script, social inequality commentary, interesting (but inconsistent) stylish direction, a good ending and great moment-to-moment watchability. Explicit references to James Cagney and Superfly tie the black cinema of the 1990s both to the Blaxploitation era of the 1970 and the gangster films of the 1930s. Given this, New Jack City is better than expected, and a decent film in its own right. Have fun watching it on BET, though—the film is heavily censored and inconsistently so: sometimes, the closed captioning bleeps out mild profanity even when the audio doesn’t!

  • Cross 3 aka Cross: Rise of the Villains (2019)

    Cross 3 aka Cross: Rise of the Villains (2019)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) It’s not the best frame of mind to approach a film thinking, “well, how bad can it be?” but it wasn’t without reason either: the original Cross was so terrible that the thought of it leading to a third film was enough to trigger a regrettable bout of curiosity. Well, the results are in and Rise of the Villains is even worse than expected. This is the kind of low-budget feature film that redefines the idea of a bad movie for those used to strictly theatrical-grade material. The plot is incomprehensible, the dialogue is bad enough to make us grind our teeth, the acting is uniformly terrible, the direction is incompetent and the production values scratch the bottom of the barrel. What makes it feel even worse is the smarmy attitude in which the film presents itself: a soup of comic-book clichés leading to fanservice that nobody asked for. The blend of semi-familiar names in the cast creates expectations that Cross 3 cannot fulfill—and the calibre of acting is so uniquely awful that you can’t blame all the actors as much as directors Patrick Durham and Paul G. Volk. As the actors struggle with their line delivery and pose in macho outfits, we’re not watching a film as much as filmed cosplay—like the worst direct-to-digital swill, it punches a hole through the suspension of disbelief required for film-watching and constantly reminds us of the mechanical elements that go into the production of a movie… because they’re almost all badly executed. There are a few less awful spots here and there—some well-used special effects, Danny Trejo, Paige Anette, etc. Otherwise, though, Cross 3 is more excruciating than entertaining—and worse yet, they just announced that there will be a fourth film in the series. You know what’s even worse, though? I will not be able to help myself from watching the second movie in the series, nor the fourth. Maybe not next week or next month or next year, but some day.

  • Funny Lady (1975)

    Funny Lady (1975)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) All right, dear readers, you win: Funny Lady is the film that gets me to admit that Barbra Streisand is one of my pin-up girls — because she made the film worth a look even when it’s an ill-conceived mess from the start. As a rule, it’s not a good idea to make a romance sequel, and true to form, this follow-up to Funny Girl has the protagonist ping-pong between two suitors (played by Omar Sharif and James Caan), including the one rejected in the first film. It’s a narrative dead-end, and indeed much of the film’s plot is a chore to get through. (Although one notes that it reflects the real-life story of Fanny Brice and her tumultuous love life.) But Funny Lady being a big-budget musical taking a look at a past era of American theatre, I found the film on much firmer footing in showing the backstage of a musical (including a hilariously disastrous production) or indulging in its own musical numbers. Streisand is the focus of attention, naturally—sexy, spectacular and smart, either singing or acting, she’s clearly better than the production itself. This being said, Funny Lady is worth a look if you’ve seen Funny Girl: there are a few moments (let’s fly and sing!) that make it worthwhile even if the film itself isn’t so good.

  • Tôkyô zankoku keisatsu [Tokyo Gore Police] (2008)

    Tôkyô zankoku keisatsu [Tokyo Gore Police] (2008)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2020) Considering the title Tokyo Gore Police and the known depths (Heights? Extremes?) which Japanese gory horror can reach, it’s a surprise to realize that the film doesn’t play quite as disgustingly as I expected. I’m not a fan of gore, but expecting much worse probably made this a better experience: The plot is slight but heroic, the special effects are so over the top that they become easier to, ahem, stomach, and there is a crazy (but not completely psychopathic) sense of humour running through it all. Writer-director Yoshihiro Nishimura was on his first project as a director here, but already used to similar fare thanks to his work doing special effects on Machine Gun Girl (which is more difficult to watch than this one). Eihi Shiina is not bad as the heroine, but the stars here are the almost-endless and grotesque effects of gore, dismemberment and mutation that end up forming the bulk of the film’s narrative. I may not recommend it to someone else, but I didn’t have as bad of a time watching Tokyo Gore Police as I expected, and that’s already saying a lot.

  • Tom Thumb (1958)

    Tom Thumb (1958)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) Producer George Pal was the SFX wizard of his time, always picking projects that pushed back the state-of-the-art in matters of cinematic spectacle. As the first project he directed, Tom Thumb isn’t that big of an anomaly in his career—we remember the Science Fiction films Destination Moon, War of the Worlds and The Time Machine, of course, but he also produced (sometimes directed) some more family-friendly fantasy films like this one. An attempt to combine effect-heavy blockbuster filmmaking with the very different demands of a musical comedy, Tom Thumb may not have stood the test of time as well as Pal’s other films, but it’s still worth a look. Various techniques, such as oversized object trick photography and stop-motion animation, all help sell the illusion of the VFX side, while catchy songs do the rest on the musical side. The demands of special effects clearly constrained the final result, since the film clocks in on the much-shorter side for musicals at only 98 minutes. Ascendant stars Terry-Thomas and Peter Sellers have supporting antagonist roles in here, while Russ Tamblyn seems in his element as the hero. While the seams on the special effects are now obvious, that’s part of the fun as well. Thankfully, this Tom Thumb doesn’t stick too close to the fairytale: the entire thing is bouncy, lighthearted and a joy to watch, which is not the case with all adaptations of that source material.

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) A wild blend of musical comedy and special effects, Tom Thumb takes considerable liberties with the original story to deliver a rounded old-school Hollywood experience, albeit with a heavier dose of spectacle than most films. Helmed by event-filmmaking legend George Pal, it starts with the proposition that special effects are the point of the film, and then go on to deliver a (thin) story and (ambitious) musical numbers, one of them even incorporating extensive stop-motion animation. Having a feature film with a tiny character means quite a bit of trickery and while much of that has already been done better in the years since, there’s still a charm and an earnestness to the results here that’s hard to dismiss. Good song backed by a spirited performance from Russ Tamblyn (with some supporting work from British comedy legends Terry-Thomas and Peter Sellers) help sell the entire package. Comparisons with some of Disney’s family pleasers aren’t misplaced, even though Tom Thumb is often more interesting is bits and pieces rather than as an entire film.

  • Dressed to Kill (1946)

    Dressed to Kill (1946)

    (On TV, May 2020) Given that I haven’t seen any of the previous thirteen films in which Basil Rathbone played Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce played Watson, it’s not that clever to start with the fourteenth-and-final instalment Dressed to Kill. On the other hand, it does such a good job that it becomes a good advertisement for the rest of the series. Moving like a well-oiled machine of people all comfortable with their part to play, it sends Holmes and Watson on a treasure-hunt chase as they compare musical boxes to end up finding government secrets. It’s all very charming in a classical way, with a bit of suspense and humour to make it interesting throughout. The period atmosphere is evocative, and Patricia Morison plays a very capable antagonist. After so many 21st-century takes on Holmes in which he’s essentially a cognitive superhero, it’s almost refreshing to see him in a film where he’s merely very smart. And that’s one of the reasons why, even if Dressed to Kill may be the last of the Rathbone Holmes, it remains a compelling reason to watch the rest of the series.

  • Coming Home (1978)

    Coming Home (1978)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) If you were to assemble a team of scientists to create a film guaranteed to feel dull to me, you would probably end up with something like Coming Home—Hal Ashby, Jane Fonda, late-1970s drama, disabled protagonist, Vietnam veteran drama, documentary-style filming… it all adds up as things I’m not particularly interested in. Plus, I have already seen Born on the Fourth of July, which tackles many of the same themes and even has a common point of inspiration. Clearly a film of its time, Coming Home is a blunt-force declaration of themes as much as it’s a character drama. Handled by director Ashby, it’s a film with an unusually soft image quality—even on TCM, which I assume uses the highest-quality version available. And yet, despite all of this, I found Coming Hope quite a bit more involving than expected. The drama is decent, and it builds up to a good (if tidy) conclusion. What’s perhaps most interesting is how specific it is in its late-1960s detail (including a soundtrack that even includes as rare appearance by the Beatles), representing the era both as a current memory, but also as a period piece. The message is blunt, the ending is convenient and the drama feels endless, but I liked Coming Home quite a bit more than I expected.

  • They Live by Night (1948)

    They Live by Night (1948)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) The “lovers on the run” subgenre of romantic tragedy and thrillers has a long history, and while it predates They Live by Night, the impact of that specific film over directors in later decades (including a slew of films in 1970s New Hollywood) remains significant. Farley Granger and Cathy O’Donnell star as, respectively, a young criminal on the run after a prison escape and a robbery, and an isolated young woman who takes care of him after he’s wounded in the robbery. Eventually, they decide to make a run for it, and get married along the way. Typical of criminals on the run during the Production Code era, it does not end well for them—hence the mystique of tragic romance that led to so many imitators, whether in France for La Nouvelle vague or in New Hollywood. But while its legacy is significant, it’s worth noting that They Live by Night is a pretty good film by itself. It holds the distinction of being the first film with a helicopter tracking shot (in fact, it’s almost the first shot in the film) and being acclaimed writer-director Nicholas Ray’s first film. As an early noir, it draws from the novel it was adapted from, as well as French Poetic Realism. It’s easily watchable, although romanticizing the bad-boy criminal remains just as problematic as it ever was. Still, it’s not a bad film, and viewers can have fun tracing the chain of influence from this to À bout de Souffle to Bonnie and Clyde to Natural Born Killers to even newer films about lovers on the run.

  • The Prisoner of Zenda (1952)

    The Prisoner of Zenda (1952)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) Modern critics of Hollywood’s fondness for near-identical remakes should find perverse satisfaction in being reminded that this is not a recent development. In fact, many periods in Hollywood’s history had blatant remakes as the order of the day—the 1930s for sound remakes of silent hits; the 1950s wave of colour remake of past black-and-white crowd-pleasers. Few, however, have been as blatant in remaking the same material as the 1952 version of The Prisoner of Zenda, which took nearly the exact same script (aside from a few minor modifications) as the 1937 version. Except in colour, and with the added technical innovations of 15 years of filmmaking. The premise is a trope classic: the visitor in a foreign country who looks exactly like the king, and thus becomes involved in palace intrigue. It’s generally watchable for a wide variety of audiences, considering that it hits upon matters of adventure, romance, action and political conflict. While lead actor Stewart Granger is a second-tier classic Hollywood reference at best, the film has another lead role for Deborah Kerr, and a deliciously scene-chewing performance from James Mason as a villain. As a modern (ish) European fairytale, The Prisoner of Zenda ends with a spectacular sword fight and plenty of swashbuckling victories for its hero. It’s not bad by itself, and even more interesting as a remake… but the baseline is that it works no matter how you see it.

  • In Which We Serve (1942)

    In Which We Serve (1942)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) If ever you’re tired of American WW2 propaganda movies, why not try a British WW2 propaganda movie? In Which We Serve has the distinction of being largely shaped by well-known playwright Noel Coward, his fingerprints being present on the entire film considering that he served as writer, co-director (handing the baton to David Lean in his first feature film credit as such), producer, star (as the captain of the ship it follows), and co-composer. Whew. The plot here is didactic in its intention to follow the life of a ship from the initial riveting to a gripping battle sequence that eventually leads to the sinking of the ship. The episodic plot alternates between life aboard the ship and home life for the characters. Thanks to playwright Coward being in control, the dialogue is much better than usual for a war film. While clearly propagandist in the British still-upper-lip style, In Which We Serve is generally interesting and has a great shipboard atmosphere. (Your assignment: compare and contrast with American WW2 propaganda films.)

  • The Story of Louis Pasteur (1936)

    The Story of Louis Pasteur (1936)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) The 1930s were a high-water mark for ham-fisted heroic biographies, and Paul Muni starred in many of them. Accordingly, The Story of Louis Pasteur is not subtle at all yet effective at what it does, and reasonably OK (but absolutely not perfect!) on the scientific details. Still, the reason to watch is Muni in an Oscar-winning role, at the start of a string of biographical movies – leading to the somewhat better The Life of Emile Zola. I found it quite pleasant to watch in its triumph of the scientific process kind of way. Of note: an unusual use of (at least two) narrative fake outs. While there are better biographies dating from the 1930s, I found The Story of Louis Pasteur uplifting and inspiring—including how it passes the baton to others later on.

  • Bull Durham (1988)

    Bull Durham (1988)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) While baseball is integral to Bull Durham, this is not a film in which the entire plot depends on a make-or-break play coming at the very end of the film. It’s more of a baseball-adjacent romantic comedy where the sport plays a load-bearing role, but the real action is elsewhere—in this case, a romantic triangle between a young hopeful (Tim Robbins), a grizzled veteran (Kevin Costner) and a middle-aged woman (Susan Sarandon) who picks one hopeful per year for romance and education. Because of this unusual out-of-focus role for the sport in this romantic comedy, there are a lot of things to like about Bull Durham—the focus on a less-than-stellar league and team, the interesting three-way relationship between the three leads, one of Costner’s best performances, and some telling small-town details. (And let’s not forget that Sarandon is scorching hot here.) Writer-director Ron Shelton drew upon his own experience as a minor-league baseball player in putting together the film and that familiarity shows in many subtle details that make the film even richer. But, more than anything else, Bull Durham is a romantic comedy that both plays with the form and upholds it in the end. It’s not hard to like, even if you’re not a baseball fan.

  • Tom, Dick and Harry (1941)

    Tom, Dick and Harry (1941)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) There was a clear risk that Tom, Dick and Harry’s familiar premise (a young woman must choose between three different suitors) would have produced a very familiar romantic comedy, but the Oscar-nominated script goes a few extra steps to ensure that the film would be something better than the average. For one thing, it’s far more visually imaginative than other similar movies of the time, from an interesting opening credit sequence that plays with anagrams to extended daydream sequences in which our heroine imagines visions of her future life with her suitors in a dollhouse. Ginger Rogers, who won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle during the shooting of this film, seems to enjoy a purely comic role and looks good with a great hairdo. Some good dialogue underpins a familiar tale, albeit one that goes to the wire before delivering a conclusion. I do have issues with that ending—not so much how it ends as the way it goes about it in a way that could have been more graceful and hopeful. Still, some of the film’s period details can please and surprise: while the newsreel mention of Hitler is a bit wild for a romantic comedy, the film does provide an interesting depiction of the life of a telephone operator—and even throws in a fun split screen to depict a three-way phone conversation. But all of that pales in comparison to the examination of social mores at the time—Tom, Dick and Harry is not just about having the richest guy throw himself at the heroine, but her making a choice about which one is the most appropriate.

  • Dolor y gloria [Pain and Glory] (2019)

    Dolor y gloria [Pain and Glory] (2019)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) I don’t necessarily love all of writer-director Pedro Almodovar’s movies, but I’m certainly interested in what he has to say, film after film, and Dolor y gloria is more autobiographical than most. Antonio Banderas plays an Almodovar alter ego, an aging film director lost in nostalgic recollection as he tries to put his life back together, while Penelope Cruz plays the somewhat thankless role of the director’s mother in flashbacks. I’m not quite up to knowing enough about Almodóvar’s life to fully appreciate the material (let alone identify with an acclaimed gay Spanish film director), but Banderas is quite good as the kind of grouchy guy who’s given up on giving a damn about his own life. The ending is quite moving in how it brings the framing device together with the rest of the story. I may never quite get Almodovar to its fullest extent, but as long as he keeps doing films like Dolor y gloria I will be there to take a look.

  • Coffy (1973)

    Coffy (1973)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) While Coffy wasn’t Pam Grier’s first starring role, it was the one that established the tough-woman screen persona that would make her an icon. Under a perfect afro of many dangerous secrets, she delivers a character that’s both an avenging angel, capable and sexy, but also one with moments of weakness and vulnerability unlike other female-avenger roles. This film is close to the Blaxploitation ideal for several reasons—the early-1970s style, the over-the-top nature of its sequences, the go-for-broke sadistic villainy of the antagonist (dragging someone behind a speeding car—yes, there’s a strong racial component to that), the dramatic-bordering-on-exploitative way the film is built, and so on. It’s not quite perfect: in keeping with Blaxploitation tone and genre, it’s often surprisingly violent and the nudity in catfights gets to be intrusive after a while. But, throughout the film, we keep going back to Grier, perfect in a role that matches sexiness and toughness, with agency and credible fight scenes despite the awkwardness of early-1970s low-budget staging. Various elements, like the anti-drug message, a female protagonist and Grier herself, have made Coffy age much better than many of its contemporaries. There’s something wonderful in how Grier is, through retrospectives of the films of her first heyday, now seducing entirely new legions of fans and is likely to keep doing so well into the future.