Movie Review

  • Sleuth (1972)

    Sleuth (1972)

    (archive.org Streaming, December 2019) I have some admiration for movies that attempt ambitious or over-restrictive premises, and Sleuth certainly qualifies—it’s a bit of a spoiler to say that the film only has two actors (but not really, I mean—you can recognize Michael Caine in any kind of disguise) but that’s part of the film’s interest: An actor’s duel between Caine and Laurence Olivier, as two characters with plenty of secrets spend the entire film engaged in line-by-line combat. There was a chance that a film with such a limited number of actors could run dry, but fortunately there’s enough of a convoluted plot about thievery, lovers, deception and murder to keep things interesting. In the theatrical tradition that inspired it, much of the movie takes place in an elaborate library with plenty of visual interest. It’s quite a lot of fun, and with the calibre of the actors involved (the entire cast was nominated for best acting Oscars, a rare but not unique feat) it’s easy to be swept in the film’s high concept. Directed with a veteran’s ease by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Sleuth manages to sustain attention with two actors and some great writing.

  • Bananas (1971)

    Bananas (1971)

    (Google Play Streaming, December 2019) This film is Bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Now that I’ve got that out of my system, let’s celebrate how this film was one of Woody Allen’s prototypical “earlier, funnier” movies—a non-stop carnival of absurdist jokes strung on a thin plot about a nebbish New Yorker (Allen himself, naturally) getting embroiled in a banana republic revolution. Definitely dated to early-1970s politics and pop culture, the film still gets its laughs today—the courtroom sequence that dominates the third act of the film is an all-time Allen highlight. The film reaches everywhere for jokes, never feeling over-attached to realism or even narrative consistency. It’s certainly one of the most overly comic films in Allen’s filmography, free from any attempt at pathos, drama or philosophical concerns—it’s a pure joke machine. While I can understand Allen’s desire to move forward with more nuanced fare later in life (and let’s remember that Allen was around 36 at the time of Bananas’ production—not exactly a young man even then) I wish he had done a few more overly comic movies with the verve, inventiveness and go-for-broke pacing that can be found in Bananas. No matter, though: the film is still worth a look today, and it’s still hilarious. Fans of the spoof comedies of the ZAZ era will find a curiously similar rhythm here.

  • Straw Dogs (1971)

    Straw Dogs (1971)

    (YouTube Streaming, December 2019) It almost amuses me to realize that even after nearly fifty years of increasingly gory cinema, we can still point at Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs and say, “Wow, that’s an incredibly violent film.”  That’s part of its point, I think: Violence can be an attitude more than red-splashed visuals and there’s still something profoundly disturbing in how the film was put together and presented. The story of an American intellectual heading back to his wife’s childhood rural home in England, Straw Dogs gets going once the locals don’t take kindly to someone quite obviously unlike them. The film hits its most violent peaks when the wife is raped in an excruciatingly long sequence, the locals decide to kill them and the protagonist decides to take revenge. As an exploration of when normal people decide to become instruments of revenge, Straw Dogs is not meant to be clinical and detached: the later half of the film constantly sinks lower and lower in exploitation thrills (including the threat of a second rape sequence) in order not only to make its points, but to ensure that no one can possibly miss them. The result is fundamentally ugly even today. (The remake softens a few things along the way.)  I don’t particularly like the result, or anything that violent for that matter, but there’s clearly a daring element from Straw Dogs that is indissociable from the New Hollywood of the early 1970s, daring the old-school audiences to be offended while providing blood-soaked revenge thrills to the younger audience that was fuelling movie theatre profits at the time. It’s one of the many reasons why I dislike the New Hollywood period, but not the only one—and Straw Dogs provides almost all of them, including the grainy gritty cinematography, the abandonment of heroic characters (what with Dustin Hoffman being the designated protagonist), the messy script and the ugliness of the results. I can see what the fuss about Straw Dogs is about—but I don’t have to like it.

  • El Topo [The Mole] (1970)

    El Topo [The Mole] (1970)

    (archive.org streaming, December 2019) As far as I can gather, El Topo is about Alexander Jodorowsky and friends wandering around the set of a Western doing wacky things and spouting pseudo-religious meanderings just for the fun of it. That’s being unfair, of course—Jodorowsky is an artist’s artist, and he’s doing whatever he wants according to his own logic. But I guarantee that El Topo is a lot more fun to watch if you’re imagining a bunch of people just making stuff up on the go. The production values are poor (the audio is very deliberately overdubbed, the cuts don’t match and I suspect that the video quality is poor, although the version I watched was too low-resolution to tell reliably) but the images are sometimes very strong—the film has a knack for finding and showing spectacular locations even though the sketches at those locations don’t make a lot of sense. There’s a strong dream logic running through El Topo that will either drive Cartesian viewers crazy, bored or forced to abandon any attempt to make strict sense out of it. It messes around with symbolism, delirium western movie iconography and ironic humour—the result is best described, as per Wikipedia, as an “acid western art film” for both meanings of acid, corrosive and hallucinatory. I can’t say that I enjoyed the entire film, but there were a few times where some scenes were either provocative, hilarious or just plain weird and that’s not a bad kind of experience. Even though my attention wandered a lot during the second half of the film, I may even re-watch it (in much better resolution) at some point in the future.

  • Mile 22 (2018)

    Mile 22 (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) I am of two very different minds about Mile 22, the fourth collaboration between director Peter Berg and star actor Mark Wahlberg. On the positive side, it’s a muscular techno-thriller, featuring strong central performances by both Wahlberg and Indonesian action star Iko Uwais. It has a few good ideas to play with, and the script must read like a strong concept with snappy tough-guy dialogue, good action gags and an encroaching sense of desperation. Berg, as a filmmaker, is fluent in the use of pseudo-documentary material to heighten the believability of his material—it’s worth pointing out that of the four movies he’s made with Wahlberg, this is the first that’s complete fiction. The utterly paranoid worldview of Mile 22 is clearly built to appeal to right-wing viewers, but I’m not as bothered by that as I should: paranoia is the fuel of thrillers, and if you’re going to justify special forces action pyrotechnics, there better be a dastardly act of terrorism to do so. (The script is also not quite as strident in imposing its worldview as other comparable films.)  We’re now living at a time when Russia is once again a bad actor on the geopolitical stage (gone are the days when action movie franchises went to Moscow!), and Mile 22 exploits this to the hilt. Unfortunately, there is a significant drop-off in effectiveness as the film moves from concept to execution. Berg’s blender-based approach to directing means that he almost entire wastes Uwais’s action talents in over-edited combat sequences.  He barely gives us a chance to appreciate what’s happening on-screen—over and over, the action is distanced through a camera filming a screen showing the footage of another camera, and we’re left to piece together what exactly just happened. The script suffers in execution as well: If you want to compare Mile 22 to Berg’s previous The Kingdom (as you should, given the similar “group of characters running a gauntlet through an unsympathetic foreign country” premise), you will find that Mile 22 suffers in comparison: the characters are largely unsympathetic (especially Wahlberg’s protagonist, proud to be abrasive and not quite as smart in his actions as his ultra-loquaciousness would suggest), the ending is a gratuitous downer, and the whole thing runs on a strong undercurrent of idiocy. Berg’s ability to make unbelievable events seem plausible shouldn’t blind viewers to the preposterousness of a hard drive deleting itself (or rather the atrocious oversight of not making a bit-level backup of the drive first); the ability to hack into remote foreign cars, buildings, and traffic lights; the truly dumb tradecraft of the film’s spies and operatives; or the way the ending wraps up not with geopolitical concerns but petty personal revenge. (Or what led to that revenge in the first place.)  Mile 22, despite having a few strong cards, ultimately disappoints through execution tics that should have been driven out of every action filmmaker’s repertoire outside the Bourne series. It feels, at times, like a barely digested wet dream from a trigger-happy paranoid. That may be intriguing for a first draft, but far more care should have been spent in production in making it more palatable.

  • Il conformista [The Conformist] (1970)

    Il conformista [The Conformist] (1970)

    (Google Play Streaming, December 2019) There are two or three movies in writer-director Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Conformist, and they’re far from being as interesting. The first has to do with an Italian man in 1930s fascist Italy, desperately trying to fit in normal society. He gets married for the appearance of it, he takes a job in the secret police because it’s the quickest way to attach himself to the state, and he does his best not to stand out—there’s an intriguing premise here all right, except that the film seems intent on reducing his personality quirk to a single childhood incident and ends up in homophobia along the way. (A far more empathic take on the same topic would have been possible, but that’s not what Bertolucci is interested in doing nor what the original novel was doing.)  The second third of the film has our newly married protagonist going to Paris to reconnect with an old teacher, and to kill him. But there’s the teacher’s wife and a quickly sketched love triangle to complicate things. Finally, there’s a depressing third act to the film, back in Italy, where the point is to show how things fall apart. What does bring the film together is a strong sense of visual style, with a stunning use of fascist-era architecture and impeccable visual composition. The Conformist may be disappointing in the way it ties (or doesn’t) its story threads, but it’s still worth a look of a sheer visual basis alone. The genre elements of the impending assassination prevent the film from sinking into mainstream drama morass, while the striking visuals help distinguish it from strict neorealism. It’s still of limited interest, but it does have some interest and that is more than I can say about other similar movies of the era.

  • The Spy Who Dumped Me (2018)

    The Spy Who Dumped Me (2018)

    (Video on-Demand, December 2019) On one level, The Spy Who Dumped Me feels intensely familiar. There’s been quite a few female-centric R-rated action comedies lately, and this film fits right -in-between Spy and The Heat and Bad Moms and Ghostbusters and so on. Here we have two thirtysomething underachievers being swept in international spying intrigue after the ex-boyfriend of one of them is revealed to be a secret agent. On one level, the film can be a bit of fun: Mila Kunis plays the straight girl, while Kate McKinnon once again steals the movie thanks to a far more uninhibited character. There’s a classic dynamic at play here, and as they traipse throughout Europe trying to remain ahead of the shadowy forces after them, it’s an excuse for a few action set-pieces. Where the film limits its appeal, unfortunately, is in an over-the-top amount of gore and violence that stop the viewers from enjoying the film on a purely PG-13 rated level. (Let me rephrase: the sweet spot of such movies is with PG-rated violence with R-rated verbal comedy.)  In having this issue, The Spy Who Dumped Me is also very similar to other recent comedies going too far in gory violence: You can name The Hitman’s Bodyguard and Pain & Gain as two semi-recent films with that exact same problem.  At some point we must wonder—how did we end up here, in that a gag in which the putative protagonist cuts off a dead man’s thumb to activate his phone (and stores it in a lipstick tube) is considered acceptable? The film would have been far more accessible in toning down the sometimes-gratuitous deaths that litter the story, and focus on the innate chemistry between Kunis and McKinnon. It does move quickly, has a steady rhythm of jokes but something off-putting in the ever-increasing amount of gore in comedies that leaves me concerned, and The Spy Who Dumped Me is as good an example as many at how it limits the appeal of the result.

  • Christopher Robin (2018)

    Christopher Robin (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) Disney studio executives must have terrible family lives considering the number of family movies they greenlight that include a father who must learn to spend less time at work and more time with the kids. (Do people really need to be told that stuff, or is this the kind of unarguable dramatic arc that gets a free pass every time?)  Christopher Robin is the latest in this long trend, as it features Winnie the Pooh’s human protagonist as a grown-up man without a shred of imagination who must choose between overtime and family time, not to mention loyalty to his employees or efficiently cost-cutting for his company. You will not be surprised by the choice he makes early in the film, or the one he makes at the conclusion of it. There is an obvious mechanistic aspect to Marc Forster’s direction that comes from the screenplay itself—I won’t even bother describing the middle portion of the plot, so clearly is it developed from the central premise. But even in its CGI-heavy execution, the film does manage to poke now and then at the innate charm of the Hundred Acre Wood. The cast of characters comes to life in convincing fashion (the film was nominated for several Special Effects awards) and the script doesn’t send unexpected curveballs. Still, I wonder about the limits of using a midlife crisis as an excuse for a family film—surely there’s no need to bother kids with mild adult-onset depression. Why are Disney executives regurgitating their therapy sessions on-screen?

  • Instant Family (2018)

    Instant Family (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) I expected something quite different from Instant Family. At first glance of the plot summary, I expected a melodramatic paean to reconstituted family, what with a log-line having to do with a couple adopting three children at once. But I had missed a crucial name in the log line, which is to say director Sean Anders, who helmed such movies as Horrible Bosses 2, and both instalments of the Daddy’s Home series. Reuniting with Mark Wahlberg, the result often plays into the comic brand favoured by Wahlberg, with the expected sentimental fillip at the end. The hook here is a likable couple (Wahlberg and Rose Byrne, once again proving her talents for comedy) deciding to adopt a kid, but finding themselves unwilling to break up the group of three siblings. Having instantly acquired a family of five, our protagonists have quite a few adventures in store. The laughs, fortunately, are there: There’s a memorable Christmas meal that got a few laughs out of me, and some of the support group materials is so natural (in a good way) that it feels improvised. But while Instant Family spends some time in fun and games, it all leads to a surprisingly heartfelt conclusion in which all the emotional strings are cleverly tightened. There is a bit of an expected plot cheat when it comes to resolving the issue of the biological mother acting as a loose antagonist, but you can’t have the happy ending without resolving that one. In the same mode than the Daddy’s Home series but somewhat more successful on the emotional front, Instant Family is a pleasant surprise fit for family viewing.

  • Fahrenheit 451 (1966)

    Fahrenheit 451 (1966)

    (Cineplex streaming, December 2019) Ray Bradbury’s novel Fahrenheit 451 is such a landmark in prose science fiction that it deserves the best adaptation it can get. Unfortunately, the 2018 HBO movie wasn’t it (despite some clever ideas to update the premise to a digital age), and neither is François Truffaut’s 1966 adaptation. There is an inherent coldness (for lack of a better word) to his Fahrenheit 451 that makes it difficult to embrace, even if you wholeheartedly embrace its message. The issues raised by the story are noble and admirable, as books becomes the symbol for intellectual curiosity, diverse thinking, deeper empathy and nuanced entertainment. Bradbury may have ruffled a few feathers late in life when he claimed that his book was less about censorship and more about the rise of TV, but this movie adaptation certainly goes in this direction, as characters as mesmerized by personalized entertainment telling them what to do and how to think. You would think that the 1960s vision of future technology and frankly bizarre gadgets would take away from the experience, but on the contrary the weird future-from-the-1960s ideas are a great reason to watch the film even today, as they add a fascinating layer of alternate paths not taken. Still, Truffaut mistakes a cold-minded society with cold behaviour from its citizens, and the result looks emotionally stunted. (We now know that thought control is arguably easier when people get into rages and feel as if they get to express themselves against something.) The vision shown here looks far too antiseptic, and it trips on itself when it tries to be a bit too literal about what’s best shown metaphorically in the original book. No, I’m not talking about the woman setting herself on fire when her books are threatened—that’s still effective. I am, however, thinking about the ending in which people become books and pass the words to others: that may have read poetically on the page with a generous dollop of allegory, but on the screen it just feels faintly ridiculous, and perhaps sadder than expected. (The HBO adaptation keeps the self-immolating woman but finds a better conclusion.)  I’m still reasonably happy about Fahrenheit 451—Truffaut was a fun filmmaker—but it’s not ideal, and its limitations take away from what should be a stronger message.

  • Mary Poppins Returns (2018)

    Mary Poppins Returns (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) Much has already been written about Disney’s all-out effort to sell generations’ worth of its own pop-culture reference back to modern audiences, and at times it feels as if Mary Poppins Returns is an exemplar of that effort. Ripping off an earlier classic as a matter of course, this sequel seems happy to simply go through the same kind of story, the same kind of songs, the same kind of structure, the same kind of jokes. It’s competently made, amiable enough, and with some spectacular special effects to sweeten the deal, but it does struggle to justify its own existence as anything more than a money grab. Artistically, none of the songs or musical numbers seemed to grab me on first viewing—although I suspect that “The Cover Is Not the Book” and “Trip a Little Light Fantastic” may do better on re-watch. The cast is quite good, with Emily Blunt turning in as a perfectly decent Mary Poppins—I particularly liked her somewhat harsher tone this time around. Lin-Manuel Miranda is also a highlight, although only occasionally used to the fullest extent of his skills. Still, for all the prodigious technical skills used to make Mary Poppins Return, the impact is considerably lessened. I don’t think that there’s a single pixel of the result that hasn’t been meticulously art-directed half a dozen times, and yet the result isn’t that much better than the original. (It is, however, mercifully shorter.)  Thematically, the film doesn’t quite know where it’s going for besides making money—but if we’re going to talk about the film’s twisted relationship with capitalism, we’re going to be here all night. At least now the kids know about compound interest. Which, I’m sure, the Disney stockholders will approve. But in between Mary Poppins Returns’s paean to banking and Christopher Robin’s bemoaning executives not having enough time to spend with their families, I have a feeling we’re getting far too raw a glimpse into the Disney boardroom’s mindset through their movies.

  • Andrey Rublyov (1966)

    Andrey Rublyov (1966)

    (Criterion Streaming, December 2019) I have a confession, dear readers: I dozed off somewhere in the third quarter of Andrey Rublyov and only woke up to the film’s final splashes of colour. I will not go back to see what I’ve missed. I regret nothing. I would do it again. I would encourage others not to do the same, but to doze off even earlier. OK, that may be overstating it. But still: As I develop this appreciation of classic cinema as a rough approximation of time travel, there’s the corollary that there are periods to which you really don’t want to go and medieval Russia is high on that list. Andrey Rublev, surprisingly enough for a Soviet film of the Cold War era, talks a lot about religion, faith and sacrifice—no wonder the film was not a favourite of the regime. (And no wonder, perhaps, if western film critics lionized Andrei Tarkovsky as a defiant gesture to the Soviets.)  While snippets of the film approach the ultimate parody of a European historical black-and-white art-house film, other moments show mayhem on an epic scale, with battle sequences involving hundreds of participants, horses and a very wide frame seen from above. Still, the film’s massive length (no less than three hours and 25 minutes) eventually got the best of me, especially since the battle sequences end up forming a comparatively small proportion of the film. While I liked the bell-making sequence, the rest of the film didn’t do it for me: the film’s ponderous rhythm, self-conscious dialogues and art-house aesthetics gradually sent me to sleep. I will not go back to see what I’ve missed. I regret nothing. I would do it again. I’m not the kind of viewer for which Andrey Rublyov was made, and I don’t care about how many best-movies-of-all-time lists include it as a top pick.

  • The Seven Year Itch (1955)

    The Seven Year Itch (1955)

    (On Cable TV, December 2019) The interesting thing about The Seven Year Itch is that I could reliably predict how much I’d like it based on other movies. Like writer-director Billy Wilder’s other comedies, it navigates a tricky path between tones, pushes the envelope a bit and shows his clear gift for humour. Like other movies featuring Marilyn Monroe at her best, it shows her as a comic actress first and a sex-symbol second. Like other brightly lit comedies of the mid-1950s, it offers us a colourful, nearly fabulist look at a society long gone. Beginning with a sardonic interlude describing the timeless ritual of men packing their family for summer trips while they get to enjoy themselves at work and at home during the summer, The Seven Year Itch quickly gets down to business as it relates the flirtation between a married man alone for a few weeks and his new sexy upstairs neighbour. It all takes place in 1950s Manhattan, as fun as a playground can be for this kind of thing. While quite tame by today’s standards, we shouldn’t underestimate the delicate way Wilder daringly tackled tough issues in the far more prurient 1950s, acknowledging a few base instincts that weren’t proper to acknowledge back then. Monroe can be very, very funny at times, although those who are attracted to the film for the infamous “dress pulled up by subway venting” shot will be very surprised to find that it’s nowhere in the film—that sequence is carefully framed to pull down from her head to the subway grate without offering a single overall shot of the pose, and the photo that people remember is a recreation of the scene made sometime later as a publicity shot. Protagonist Tom Ewell pales in comparison to Monroe, but he still acquits himself well, even when saddled with a narrative monologue that straddles an awkward line between voiceover and mumbling to oneself. The conclusion of the film is a forgone conclusion given the Production Code that limited all Hollywood movies at the time—as much as the film pushes at the edge of the permissible envelope, it will never rip it and maybe that’s why we feel so safe watching it. I much prefer the other Wilder/Monroe movie Some Like it Hot, but I did have quite a bit of fun playing a tourist in mid-1950s summertime Manhattan in The Seven Year Itch.

  • The Diary of Anne Frank (1959)

    The Diary of Anne Frank (1959)

    (On Cable TV, December 2019) Let’s get the unpleasantness out of the way first: The Diary of Anne Frank is very, very long. Clocking in at three hours, it feels even more interminable by dint of almost taking place in a single location—this isn’t about a globe-spanning multi-decade story: this is about a group of people stuck in an attic for two years, and we start feeling the claustrophobia at times. This significant criticism put aside, it does remain an affecting film and a very effective portrayal of a classic book. While it condenses, dramatizes and bowdlerizes (according to what was known at the time and what the public could tolerate) the book, The Diary of Anne Frank remains an effective character study, and by the time it builds to the classic “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart,” there shouldn’t be a single dry eye left in the house. Even seen through the lenses of a 1950s movie, with its theatrical acting and carefully restrained emotions, it’s still an engrossing story. I would still like to see a much shorter version, but there’s nothing wrong in sticking close to the original text. Director George Stevens makes effective use of the elements at his disposal, and Millie Perkins sustains having the entire film depend on her as the title character. Long but worth the investment, The Diary of Anne Frank was nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award and it’s not hard to see why.

  • Overlord (2018)

    Overlord (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) While Nazi Zombies are a staple in videogames and low-budget movies, Overlord is, to the best of my knowledge, the first time that a Hollywood studio movie has tackled the topic with a substantial budget. Fittingly enough, it’s not meant to be a prestige picture—from the first few historically inaccurate moments, Overlord is clearly meant to be a pure B-movie, exploiting common tropes to deliver a thrill-ride. It succeeds mildly. Director Julius Avery’s setup is mechanistic and laborious, as our heroes are stranded deep behind enemy lines without enough resources to complete their mission and face unexpectedly formidable odds. The characters are whittled down to their essential numbers, the Nazi villains are proven to be irremediable, and then—as anticipated—we’re dropped in the middle of a Nazi scientific experiment to resurrect the dead. Overlord certainly isn’t designed to be surprising—you can predict almost to the second how one character gets abruptly killed and how another one gets heroically wounded, and that’s not mentioning the pedestrian dialogue. Still, much of the point of the film is showing us Castle Wolfenstein: The Movie, and that includes speed runs through familiar levels. Special effects are used wisely (including two lengthy tracking shots at the high points of the action sequences), Jovan Adepo and Wyatt Russell share protagonist duties, and Pilou Asbaek is just detestable enough as the Nazi-in-charge. The result isn’t particularly distinguished, though—somehow, I expected more fun, more mayhem and more zombies. Just-good-enough B-movies remain B-movies forever.