Movie Review

  • Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! (2017)

    Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) It took three years, but Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! finally made it to cable channels. Why so long? Well, it turns out that writer-director Morgan Spurlock was one of the people exposed by the #MeToo movement, and distributors got cold feet when his history of sexual misconduct and harassment was publicized. Not that this is the only piece of negative Spurlock news over the past few years, as acknowledgements of alcoholism undermined many of his “Only McDonalds for 30 days” claims in the first Super Size Me. I know, I know: Shock documentary makes incredible claims, is later found to have been mischaracterized? This time around, Spurlock goes for showboating of a different sort, as he creates a pop-up fast-food restaurant and takes us behind the scenes of how fast food is marketed, made, told, jazzed-up and ultimately claims health benefits that don’t hold up to scrutiny. (In one trivial but telling example, the “burn marks” on the chicken breasts are painted rather than charred—otherwise the meat would be too dry.) This gives Spurlock an opportunity to explore the weirder edges of food regulation (“free-range chicken” technically qualifying if they’re offered a tiny open-air area outside their hatcheries), the deliberate misstatements of marketing and the ways the industry has tried to health-wash itself. Part of the intention behind Holy Chicken is an atonement of sorts—Spurlock examining the ways the industry has changed in the dozen years since his own Super Size Me has led to increased scrutiny from fast food consumers. His conclusion is hardly reassuring, but it’s all wrapped in ironic humour as his restaurant indulges into the practices he uncovers. Is it entertaining? Sure, as long as you can get over how Spurlock is front-and-centre of the entire film. Is it honest? Maybe! It does feel as if it’s more transparent about its documentary project than the first film, but then again, it’s also a film of talking heads explaining the new-restaurant marketing process we’re seeing on-screen. It’s probably worth a look if fast-food interests you, but don’t be surprised to budget more for groceries and less for fast-food once the credits roll. [September 2024: Thoroughly disgraced by his 2018 acknowledgements of sexual misconduct, Spurlock retreated from the public eye and died in May 2024. Holy Chicken ended up being his last film.]

  • Around the World Under the Sea (1966)

    Around the World Under the Sea (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) If you ever wanted to see what a space-age underwater exploration movie would feel like, search no further than Around the World Under the Sea, which brings the can-do spirit of the American space program to the business of deep-sea exploration. Clearly a science-fictional thriller, it supposes a near-future world in which deadly waves require the installation of five warning sensors. This becomes an excuse for a didactic presentation of underwater attractions, with the scientists of the single submarine able to complete the work bickering among themselves to add a bit of drama—and there’s one single female character for exactly the expected reasons. Lloyd Bridges stars, probably on the strength of his turn in the earlier Sea Hunt TV show. (Both share the same producer.) Shot in colourful tones, the film is at its best during the underwater sequences. Combined with the rather charming mid-1960s fashion out of water, it all makes Around the World Under the Sea interesting enough—although still not that good.

  • The Dead Don’t Die (2019)

    The Dead Don’t Die (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) As far as I can remember, writer-director Jim Jarmusch has never made a conventional film, and it’s not because he gets to do a zombie movie that he’s going to change his ways. Set in a small town with characters played by a large ensemble cast of known names, The Dead Don’t Die is as proudly atypical as the rest of Jarmusch’s filmography, with odd plot beats, utterly deadpan dialogue, bewildered characters, bizarre gags, nonsensical worldbuilding and increasingly frequent fourth-wall breaking. (So much so, in fact, that I was able to call out the character saying, “because I read the script!” Other choice quotes include “Are we going improv?” and “This is the theme song.”) With an ensemble cast that begins with Bill Murray, Adam Driver and Chloe Sevigny as police officers, it would be hard to single out one specific performance—at least if it wasn’t for Tilda Swinton, who consistently steals scenes as a mortician-turned bladed executioner named Zelda Winston. Whatta Tilda! (She’s not the only one with an actor-related name, as Rosie Perez plays a news anchor called “Posie Juarez”) It’s all quite amusing, but the comedy may be more relative than anything else: we don’t usually expect Jarmusch to go this zany. But as amusing as it can be in moments, The Dead Don’t Die is not all that finely controlled as a comedy. The comic pacing is uneven, the ending sort of quits without a strong or satisfying climax and it’s not too clear how much improvisation took place. Still—and I’m grading on an unfair curve, here—this is probably my favourite Jarmusch film so far.

  • PT 109 (1963)

    PT 109 (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) Twenty-first century viewers may be forgiven for not knowing that future president John F. Kennedy spent much of World War II captaining his own PT boat, even performing heroics when it was sunk by the Japanese and his crew needed to be rescued. But I can guarantee you that few Americans of voting age in 1960 did not know that story—it was an integral part of the JFK mythos, the young good-looking politician who had proven his mettle during WW2. PT 109 is a semi-hagiographic war film dramatizing those 1943 events, with Cliff Robertson playing the young and heroic president-to-be. JFK is said to have influenced the production of the film, although he insisted that the film remain historical and not without a few criticisms of his early actions. War movie enthusiasts may balk at this focus on a specific individual, but fortunately, PT 109 has more on its mind: it manages to deliver a credible depiction of a team of men during wartime. You can certainly compare it to the 1945 John Wayne PT boat movie They Were Expendable, except that this one is in colour, benefits from fifteen years’ worth of filmmaking improvements, already knows how WW2 will turn out (hence a looser tone), and is shot in colour. While not a great movie, PT 109 is reasonably interesting despite too long of a running time and not quite as heavy on hagiography as it could have been.

  • Ascenseur pour l’échafaud [Elevator to the Gallows] (1958)

    Ascenseur pour l’échafaud [Elevator to the Gallows] (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) French critics may have named the genre, but film noir is, in my mind, a clearly American art form. Still, writer-director Louis Malle’s Ascenseur pour l’échafaud shows how close French cinema ever got to the heart of noir in several decades of affectionate homages. We can see here the bridge from noir to Nouvelle Vague, strong narrative links to Godard’s À bout de souffle, and playful stylishness. The plot is roman de gare stuff, with the protagonist murdering his boss (who’s also his lover’s husband) and seeing everyone’s lives spinning out of control in the best fatalistic tradition of the genre, leading all the way to an implacable conclusion. What the plot won’t tell you, however, is Malle’s sense of cool in directing this picture (his first!), the impressive performance offered by Jeanne Moreau, Miles Davis’ score, and the great black-and-white cinematography used to depict those crucial few days of the narrative. Ascenseur pour l’échafaud is not a perfect film, and its striking elements were later perfected by similar movies by French directors (all of whom, apparently, did a noir homage at some point or another), but it’s still reasonably entertaining to watch and emblematic of where French cinema was headed by the late 1950s.

  • Sap ji sang ciu [Chinese Zodiac aka Armour of God 3] (2012)

    Sap ji sang ciu [Chinese Zodiac aka Armour of God 3] (2012)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2020) Hey, why didn’t anyone tell me about this film? Just as I was thinking I had seen every classic Jackie Chan and resigned myself to his retirement, here’s a late-period Chan that’s clearly aligned with his classic era of goofy martial arts adventure. Chan is his usual deceptively amiable self, and while he’s not quite as fast or daredevil as in his earlier years, he’s still a joy to watch in action. While the result isn’t quite a complete tonal fit for the mantle of “Armour of God 3,” it’s clearly set in that tradition, with the plot being a big ball of nonsense meant to propel us from one action sequence to another. It works, though: We don’t ask too many questions, we get to enjoy Chan in France (what is it with Chinese movies set in France?), and admire the tradecraft of the numerous high points. I do have a few issues: there’s a feeling, for instance, that the best sequence of the film is not kept for last, which creates an unbalanced climax. The film also introduces some martial artists two-thirds of the way in through disconnected sequences, once against betraying an imperfect structure. Still, Chan fans will find what they’re looking for: imaginative set pieces (rolling down a hill at high speed, or being stuck in a hedge maze), silly-fun fighting sequences, a bit of historical detective work, and an entertaining atmosphere. There are even a few pleasant surprises along the way, such as Oliver Platt randomly showing up in a tertiary role, or short appearances by a Canadian stamp and some maple syrup. Chinese Zodiac, directed by Chan himself, is clearly meant to be a career capstone of a sort, the last of his purely leading roles: The end credits not only contain the usual revealing outtakes and behind-the-scenes footage (including how they filmed the skydiving sequences) but it also offers a retrospective of Chan’s career-in-action highlights. Later appearances since 2012 have seen him in more sedate supporting roles. Still, this isn’t a bad send-off for an action legend: one last kick at the can to show what he could still do in his late fifties.

  • Bølgen [The Wave] (2015)

    Bølgen [The Wave] (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2020) With the ever-lower costs of digital special effects, it’s now possible for creators outside Hollywood to dream big and tackle genres that previously required substantial budgets. Norway’s The Wave localizes the disaster to a small community in a Norwegian fjord—and draws upon historical precedent to portray what happens when an avalanche creates a hundred-meter wave trashing the inside of the fjord, including roads, houses and a hotel. The filmmakers behind the film have clearly taken notes from Hollywood—the techno-thrillerish accumulation of technical details helps establish the credibility of the film, and then it’s off to the races with a spectacular disaster, the catastrophic after-effects of the dangers, and how a family improbably pulls through the aftermath to survive. The Wave is slick, enjoyable, crowd-pleasing work from director Roar Uthaug: it clearly draws upon the time-tested disaster movie formula and gives it a strong Norwegian spin to make it even more interesting. Kristoffer Joner and Ane Dahl Torp are both good leads, preserving their ordinary-people likability in the face of impossible odds. The result is successful—so much so that, in even finer Hollywood homage, the filmmakers have already turned in a 2018 sequel (Skjelvet aka The Quake) about a major Earthquake destroying much of Oslo, and featuring the same family of protagonists.

  • Her Smell (2018)

    Her Smell (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) I took me a while to get to Her Smell, even though it was an easy film to notice… albeit for all the wrong reasons: When I freely associate a punk band with olfactory sense, I don’t exactly get something that smells of roses. (Just look at that poster.) Fortunately, Her Smell doesn’t stink. (Heeey, who just revoked my pun licence?) It revolves around Elizabeth Moss, who delivers a strong performance as the leader of a punk group throughout her self-destructive behaviour. Strongly structured along five acts sometimes set years apart, we get to see our protagonist and her “Something She” group on the decline as the pressures of a tour get to everyone; throughout a disastrous studio session; at the nadir of her career; quietly recuperating at home; and then staging a comeback reunion set. The rise, fall and comeback of a musical act isn’t exactly a new story, but Her Smell tackles the topic with a decidedly anti-glamorous stance. The personal challenges of being a musician are clearly shown, as is the protagonist’s often unbearable behaviour in a warts-and-all look at the challenges of a driven but toxic personality. Writer-director Alex Ross Perry keeps the camera close to his actors as they argue in confined spaces—the claustrophobia is real, as is the sensation of being stuck in close quarters with someone we’d rather run away from. At 135 minutes, the film feels much longer than it already is, not helped by very uneven material that’s not reined in. Still, even in a crowded field of musical biographies following the same arc (some of them even real!), Her Smell stands out. Oh, and the title is explained at the end of the film—it’s much nicer than my initial guess was.

  • Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2003)

    Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2003)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, Netflix Streaming, March 2020) Every so often, I end up belatedly watching a film I should have seen much earlier, and Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas is the newest of those. A classic swashbuckling adventure in a fantasy universe of gods and monsters, this animated film packs a punch in a too-short 80 minutes. Sinbad and his crew go looking for a magical book in order to counter the plans of a chaotic goddess, but the point of the film is found in the many episodic adventures they have along the way. The animation is a mixture of 2D cell and 3D-CGI, and like many turn-of-the-century films, the integration of the two is rarely seamless despite a few technical achievements. Sinbad is on firmer ground when it comes to dialogue, with better-than-average repartee between its characters and two fairly strong female characters to round up the cast. Considering some suggestive content and the sex-appeal of the characters, the film may be more appropriate for older kids rather than the entire family. A few anachronisms and a cosmic framing device make the film feel even bigger and more fun than the strict narration of its adventures. Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas is quite enjoyable despite a few flaws, so much so that it seems to end too quickly.

  • Foolish Wives (1922)

    Foolish Wives (1922)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (YouTube Streaming, March 2020) Oof. I have a hard time making it through 1920s silent dramas, and Erich von Stroheim’s Foolish Wives is as demanding as his later Greed in that regard. At a staggering two hours and twenty-some minutes, it’s slow-paced, melodramatic, single-minded and infuriating at times. It’s a long sit even with the best of intentions, and any competent editor would be able to bring this down to 90 minutes with very little loss. But film is an education, and Foolish Wives does far better the moment you stop viewing it and start reading about it. The film was notorious back in 1922 by being the first Hollywood movie (probably the first movie ever) to have a budget higher than one million then-dollars. Much of the cost (which ballooned from an initial 250K$ budget) was attributed to writer-director von Stroheim’s perfectionism and can readily be seen on-screen: the recreation of 1920s Monte Carlo on a Hollywood backlot is detailed and often fascinating, and the film does make generous use of ambitious exteriors. Stroheim himself may be the other big reason to see the film: as a writer, director and star, the film is his in ways that anticipate auteur theory—down to the curiously modern meta-textual touch of having a character read a novel titled Foolish Wives by von Stroheim himself! Finally, one shouldn’t dismiss the decadence of the result, which freely presents a morally terrible protagonist all-too-willing to seduce rich women to maintain his lifestyle: something that would become rarer as Hollywood was forced to sanitize itself in the 1930s. While Foolish Wives may not be enjoyable, there’s certainly a lot here to contemplate and study for film historians. I really wouldn’t dare suggest it as casual viewing, though.

  • Pennies from Heaven (1981)

    Pennies from Heaven (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) There are times when I want to take a position against a film not necessarily because it’s terribly made or bad at what it tries to do, but as a statement against its very intent. I get that not everyone likes musicals, for instance (what’s wrong with you?), and there are several valid statements to be made against the way the 1930s, mired as they were in depression-era economics, still produced some exceptionally escapist entertainment that scrupulously avoided mentioning the ongoing crisis. But making a movie with the intention of dismantling 1930s musicals is not a way to get on my good side, and that’s what Pennies from Heaven wants to do. A serious dark-haired Steve Martin stars alongside Bernadette Peters and Christopher Walken, but the film proves to be a waste of all three. Determined to drag viewers through the muck in-between fantasy sequences borrowing liberally from 1930s musicals, this is a film that features economic desperation, prostitution, abortion, murder, rape, and the innocent being hanged in time for the end of the film. As a concept, this is terrible—akin to seeing someone rip up a favourite book, setting fire to a great painting or defecating on something you hold dear. I have to wonder at what they were thinking in greenlighting this project. The only explanation I can find is that this was New Hollywood’s double-fisted parting screw-you to an era they could never hope to match. Oh yes, make no mistake—I utterly despise Pennies from Heaven for having the unearned audacity to criticize something greater than itself. Ironically, the films’ set-pieces are much better than how the entire film wants to make you feel: Three musical numbers (all fantasies) stand out, whether it’s Martin’s terrific tap-dancing, Peters’ slinky classroom fancy or Walken’s dance-strip. That’s what happens when you stop being nihilistic and actually try to do as well as the thing you’re criticizing. Pennies from Heaven, for all of its considerable sins, was a significant box-office bomb, which is something that anyone aware of the film’s intention could have predicted. Unfortunately, it did not contribute to a revival of the movie musical in the 1980s. Which is reason enough to loathe the film even more. Fred Astaire hated the film, and when you annoyed Astaire, you knew you had screwed up.

  • My Favorite Year (1982)

    My Favorite Year (1982)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) Sometimes, I wish we had a slightly more extended film genre vocabulary to discuss grades of comedy. There’s a difference between a comedy that aims to get laughs, and a comedy that’s merely content to be pleasant. My Favourite Year may be mistaken for the first, but I found it more effective as the second. The story of a young TV writer asked to babysit (geezersit?) an older star with a propensity for excessive drinking, this is an affectionate look at the mid-1950s through the lens of 1980s filmmakers, more nostalgic than comic. Mark Linn-Baker stars as a young comedy show writer supposed to be a blend of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen, who gets saddled with ensuring that an older swashbuckling hero actor (played by Peter O’Toole in a role meant to be semi-autobiographical) makes it to broadcast in sober state. When gangsters and long-lasting romantic pursuits are thrown into the mix, the comedy increases, although the result never gets above a slow boil when it comes to outright laughter. But My Favorite Year does work better as a gentle look back in time, with the opening moments of the film exulting the wonders of 1954 and the plotting never getting overly serious at any time—well, except for the climactic motivation speech from the younger to the older man, and fixing whatever challenges they both face. It probably sounds as if I’m harsher on the film than I intend to be: After all, there are a few good lines (“I’m not an actor, I’m a movie star!”) and I always enjoy the way Hollywood looks back at itself. In the right mood, the amiable tone of My Favorite Year is satisfying in the same way that some Neil Simon stories can be. Just go in tempering your expectations as to how much of gut-buster it wants to be.

  • Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981)

    Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2020) My reviews can be read like a monologue, but in my mind they’re often a dialogue with an imaginary reader who’s prompting me with “Hey, tell me about this movie…” I can imagine the very short discussion about Dark Night of the Scarecrow in real life: “Well, it’s a 1981 made-for-TV slasher…” “Not interested, goodbye!” Not that you’d be entirely wrong, imaginary reader: by dint of being made for TV, this is a film that pulls a few punches, doesn’t get to indulge into gratuitous gore, and relies on very familiar moral-punishment material for its premise. On the other hand, don’t dismiss it out of hand, because it’s slightly better than its pedigree may imply. No, it won’t win any originality points for a man getting supernatural vengeance over those who killed him—but it’s in the execution that Dark Night of the Scarecrow exceeds expectations. Writer-director J. D. Feigelson can’t rely on the cheap shocks of gore, so his approach is more refined—while the film keeps a slasher structure, it does go for more atmospheric scares, strong rural Halloween imagery, surprisingly effective sequences and an approach that goes for a maximalist execution of a minimalist premise. While not a great horror film, it’s a surprisingly good one and even more surprising that it emerged from made-for-network-TV origins.

  • Stage Door Canteen (1943)

    Stage Door Canteen (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2020) What you should know before watching Stage Door Canteen is that it’s very much based on a true story. During World War II, Hollywood stars (led in part by Bette Davis) financed and staffed a canteen for soldiers on leave from 1942 to 1945—as a photo opportunity for Hollywood’s commitment, it was beyond ideal. But the Hollywood Canteen was preceded by New York’s Stage Door Canteen, which drew upon Broadway talent to operate the establishment. That relative lack of cinema star power on the east coast was quickly fixed when Hollywood adapted the concept for revue-like musical Stage Door Canteen. The story, about a serviceman dating a stewardess encountered at the canteen, is a mere device to string along musical and comedy acts in a recreation of what could have been the experience of sitting in the canteen on its best nights. (While this film does mention the no-fraternization rule between hostesses and servicemen… it then goes on to ignore it. There’s no real way around the implied “prostitution for the country” aspect of having hostesses entertain the troops, although it’s not quite as off-putting as a similar subplot in sister film Hollywood Canteen.) Still, the main reason to watch Stage Door Canteen is the various cameos, bit parts and performances. Of note is Ray Bolger’s dancing, the chastest stripping routine ever performed by Gypsy Rose Lee, as well as short cameos by Katharine Hepburn, Tallulah Bankhead and Johnny Weissmuller, among many others. What’s equally entertaining is the way explicit propaganda is worked into the film as if it was perfectly normal—Gracie Fields singing “Machine Gun Song” (a funny song about a jet pilot shooting down other planes) has to be the crowning moment of that aspect of the film. To twenty-first century viewers, though, the entire film is a remarkable cultural artifact: a reflection of an entirely different wartime, a weaponized blend of propaganda entertainment and a glimpse as people who were stars in their own time but, as of now, have all more or less fallen into obscurity. Sic transit gloria and all that—but I’m happy that something like Stage Door Canteen exists to capture it all.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, April 2021) Considering that Stage Door Canteen is the twin film to Hollywood Canteen, a recent second viewing of one quickly led me to the other. Much like the real-life Hollywood Canteen (opened October 1942) attempted to replicate the success and good will of the real-life Stage Door Canteen (opened March 1942) in having Broadway stars servicing US servicemen, this 1942 film is a first capture of something that would be imitated and perfected in the later 1944 film. Both plot and approach replicate its sister film, as a serviceman falls in love with a member of the canteen (a volunteer rather than a star this time around), and several celebrities appear in-character as performers or volunteers at the Canteen. In between the short bursts of fictional dramatic scenes, we get a front-row seat to some of the acts performing at the canteen – essentially a revue show. That too is very much in-sync with the other Canteen film – except that this time around, the arcs are heavier on the music and a bit less on the comedy. There’s one striking exception, though: A “striptease” number from the legendary Gypsy Rose Lee, both cute and funny because, as her performance constantly reminds the leering sailors, there’s a hard limit to how much she can take off. It’s probably the most innocuous striptease you’ll see, as well as one of the funniest – and it’s a great showcase for her. While Stage Door Canteen doesn’t have as many Hollywood stars as the first film, it does feature an exceptional assortment of bands: Count Basie, Benny Goodman, Kay Kyser and Guy Lombardo can all be seen here. Other good comedy/musical numbers include Edgar Bergen having fun with a ventriloquist puppet, a “Machine Gun Song” combining novelty song with patriotism and Katharine Hepburn showing up at the end. While inferior to Hollywood Canteen in most respects, this earlier film does one thing better, and it’s being somewhat self-aware of the terrible optics of offering the hostesses as love interests for the boys: While there is some romance-rewarding-the-troops, the film does begin with the character being fired because of excessive fraternization with the soldiers. It’s not much, but it’s already a bit better than the borderline-prostitution plot of the other film. As with many revue shows, Stage Door Canteen is often best appreciated as a document of past entertainers showcasing what they did best – the Lee number alone is fantastic, and that’s before getting into the band leaders.

  • M (1951)

    M (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) It would be easy to dismiss the 1951 remake of M as just another forgettable Americanized version of an all-time classic—no Peter Lorre, no musical leitmotif innovation, no German expressionism, what’s the point? But the point is different, in offering a point of evolution from 1930s German expressionism to its American film noir inheritor; in allowing David Wayne to avoid imitating Peter Lorre’s classic performance; in providing a more accessible point of entry to a remarkably harsh story made in the middle of the Production Code’s censorship (as the story goes, the film was only allowed to go forward with its sordid story of child murder because it was an Americanized remake of a German classic); and setting its story in circa-1950 Los Angeles landmarks, such as the then-new Bradbury building. Many of the original film’s strong plot beats still work well here, all the way to the underground trial in which the city’s criminal gangs team up to take out a criminal that they can’t stand. The paradox of this version of M is that, by itself, it would have been a remarkable noir. But it doesn’t exist by itself; it only exists because it comes from an earlier, superior version of it. Comparison is the thief of joy, though, and we’ll at least acknowledge that an American version will be more readily watchable by those hesitating to plunge into a 1930s German film. I was surprised by the result—it’s not at the level of the original, but it’s perfectly acceptable in its own way.