Movie Review

  • They Found Hell (2015)

    They Found Hell (2015)

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2019) With a title like They Found Hell, you would be forgiven to think that it would be a metaphor for the horrors of war or genocide or something along those lines. But as a look at the film’s TV-Guide description shows, They Found Hell actually means what it says in its title. It’s about a few students who actually literally open a portal to hell, step in and have to find their way back. Of course, there’s a catch: This is low-budget SyFy filmmaking at its most prototypical, meaning that we’re going to spend a lot of time watching characters run through disaffected Bulgarian factories at night, being chased by a burly costumed six-foot-something guy. On the menu for our characters: Going to hell, spooky pursuits and predictable deaths. As a made-for-TV film, They Found Hell does what it can with its budget and very obvious commercial break fadeouts: Its vision of hell has to do with backlit forests, a colour filter, random fires, some CGI and a few hanging bodies for ambience. The structure of the film isn’t sophisticated: Once our so-called-brilliant students are in Hell, they quickly split up and are killed one after another. It does get really boring really quickly as we look, usually in vain, for anything that would rise up to the level of the film’s gonzo title and premise. Eventually, there’s a mad-scientist riff because, at that point, why not? The individual levels/sequences of the film usually bring to mind the much better movies that They Found Hell rips off incompetently. The ending seems cheap even in a cheap movie during which we’ve hungered for anything more interesting than obviousness. Still, despite the easy potshots that one can take at anything coming from SyFy (have they ever produced a good film?) and the obvious limitations of They Found Hell, I actually found myself watching the thing until the end, which is more than I can say about other efforts. It’s certainly not good, but it’s not that terrible either.

  • A Passage to India (1984)

    A Passage to India (1984)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) I’m on a quest to see all the movies nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture, and unfortunately this means that I have to make my way through movies such as A Passage to India. Considering that’s it’s a long movie (2h44m!) that feels even longer due to its slow narrative pacing, you may want to book a holiday before you embark on seeing the movie. It’s long. It’s so unbelievably long. It’s David Lean-class long, which makes sense considering that he wrote, produced and directed it. The production design is sumptuous, evoking the atmosphere of 1920 India … but it’s long. If you do manage to dig into the material (or if this is your kind of thing), there’s a lot to like in the film’s depiction of British Raj India, racism and class distinction against a visually refined backdrop. But the marathon-like pacing of a rather simple story makes it a sometimes-punishing viewing. Lean’s approach here is interesting in that he draws back from the wide-scale vistas of his previous epic films to deliver a well-visualized smaller story … but he could have gone further in being more efficient, bringing the length of the film to one more appropriate for the story being told. This being said, A Passage to India is the kind of atmospheric film where I suspect that many factors (including mood and personal preference) will influence an overall assessment.

  • Ferdinand (2017)

    Ferdinand (2017)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Considering that I’m usually game to watch any kind of animated movie, I took a surprisingly long time to make my way to Ferdinand, a talking-animal comedy about a bull destined to a matador bout. That’s not exactly the most heartwarming premise for a film, but it does work. The key is in making the title character as nonviolent a protagonist as possible, and surrounding him with oddball characters. By the time we have a car chase throughout Spanish highways and city streets, we’re in very familiar, very funny territory. The film may be by-the-numbers in overall plot terms, but what makes it shine are the comic details and supporting players. Who cares if the formula is followed as long as we get plenty of chuckles along the way? (I’m still giggling over the arrogant horses calling Ferdinand a “silly moo-moo”.) John Cena is featured as the title bull, but Kate McKinnon predictably steals the show through her hilarious goat character. It may not be a great, classic or groundbreaking movie, but Ferdinand is up to what we’ve come to expect from contemporary animated movies.

  • A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935)

    A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) I’m done apologizing for the way I can’t process Shakespearian dialogue. Fortunately, there’s enough in the 1930s version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream to get us into a surprisingly detailed early example of a fantasy film. As my attention wandered from the dialogue and plot, I was left to admire nearly everything else: The great sets and costumes, as well as the vivid imagination on display. Remove Shakespeare’s name from the credits, and there’s still enough here to make this a modest masterpiece of early fantasy filmmaking. Clearly, the filmmakers saw in Shakespeare the license to go wild (comparatively speaking) in terms of fantastic creatures, wondrous realism and other tropes of the genre what would be developed decades later. If tracing the evolution of fantasy moviemaking isn’t your thing, then maybe you’d be interested in a very early role for Mickey Rooney, or seeing Olivia de Havilland and James Cagney once more. Still, I’m more appreciative of the fantasy filmmaking aspect: there weren’t that many big-budget fantasy movies at that time, and this one fills an early slot in the development of the subgenre.

  • Upgrade (2018)

    Upgrade (2018)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Now here’s a movie that pleasantly surprised me. A lean, efficient mis-mash of conventional SF devices used remarkably well, Upgrade showcases the go-for-broke aesthetics of writer/director Leigh Whannell, playing in a futuristic sandbox without letting go of his usual horror instincts. Here, a man paralyzed by a crime that also left his girlfriend dead ends up the recipient of an experimental treatment: a computer chip that allows him to take control of his limbs … until it decides what to do. Part revenge thriller, part cyberpunk nightmare, part belated entry in the “Artificial Intelligence” wave of SF movies that peaked around 2015, Upgrade is also a blend of science fiction, action and horror with a strong dash of dark humour. It’s needlessly ultra-violent, yet exhilarating in the unusual technique in which its action and fights are captured. The commentary on technology feels familiar yet on-point, and the film is wrapped in an eerie overall atmosphere of off-kilter choices—such as the audio introductory credit sequence. Despite the use of familiar devices, it meets contemporary audiences at their level and proves hugely enjoyable along the way. Giving a substantial role to Betty Gabriel certainly helps. Even at 100 minutes, Upgrade feels like a breeze: I was actually disappointed when it ended, because I wanted a bit more of that good stuff.

  • The Prince of Tides (1991)

    The Prince of Tides (1991)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) There are plenty of reasons why I shouldn’t like Barbra Streisand—her diva behaviour is legendary, leading to enough tabloid stories to make her legendary in her lifetime and cemented for the younger generation with “The Streisand Effect”. Even from a strict filmgoer’s perspective, she’s often the strangest part of any movie in which she’s the uncontested star—far too young in Hello, Dolly!, unconvincingly male in Yentl, showboating in The Way We Were, self-indulgent in A Star is Born, etc. But even knowing all of this, there is a magnetic star quality to her screen presence that compensates for a lot. Call it sex appeal, or sheer talent or most probably a mixture of both. In The Prince of Tides, she stars and directs and, perhaps miraculously, keeps her most outlandish tendencies to herself. She looks amazing in glasses and white nylons, directs with a nice narrative flow and lets Nick Nolte take the spotlight that his character deserves. Nolte is terrific as a damaged man with deep-seated trauma, far too quick to parry probing questions with jokes but intensely damaged nonetheless. Streisand has a comparatively easier role as his therapist. In the grand tradition of romantic drama, a major professional breach of ethics soon follows. The character-based drama is handled effectively, although the film is too long at nearly two hours and a quarter—and by “helping” the characters get over their trauma, it sands off nearly everything that was interesting about them out of the story. By the end of the film, Nolte’s character is psychologically healthier but also completely uninteresting. Still, The Prince of Tides did exceed my expectations: It’s quick to create narrative interest, and even a weaker third act can’t quite erase the goodwill created by the early scenes in which patient and psychiatrist are engaged in a ferocious game of wits. I liked it well enough, and have another movie to use as an example when asked about my uncharacteristic liking of Streisand.

  • All This, and Heaven Too (1940)

    All This, and Heaven Too (1940)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) There is, in many ways, something comforting in the kind of domestic costume melodrama that is All This, and Heaven Too: As the story of a French governess who ends up being at the centre of a rollicking story of lust and murder, it’s clearly meant to thrill audiences. It would have been significantly better if it had been shorter—there isn’t that much plot here, and the film clocks in at a punishing 141 minutes with plenty of repetition along the way. I’m also not entirely convinced about Bette Davis as a young innocent romantic heroine—she’s a terrific actress, but her uncanny ability to play evil characters is wasted here in a role meant to be almost angelic. The framing device isn’t too bad in allowing a Paris-based story to be literally told to an American audience, although it does add even more length to a film already overstuffed with tangents. (Including a gothic Halloween interlude that’s actually not too bad.) Even today, the expensive nature of All This, and Heaven Too’s production is obvious: the lavish sets, costumes and re-creation of late-Nineteenth century Paris is quite successful. Modern viewers will still have something to watch in between the increasingly lurid story, and Bette Davis in a strong (even if miscast) performance.

  • The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)

    The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)

    (In French, In Theaters, February 2019) Considering the unexpected, almost miraculous success of 2013’s The Lego Movie, it’s not such a surprise that the inevitable sequel would turn out to be far closer to the average. Unable, almost by design, to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle nature of the first film, The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part nonetheless manages to turn out a pretty good family film, poking and prodding at as many narrative tropes as the first one, except without the element of conceptual surprise. Moving forward in time, our kid protagonist has become a Teen Fan of Lego more interested in radical postapocalyptic builds, and his Duplo-loving sister has become more ambitious in girly minidoll creations. This sequel tackles sibling rivalry, clash between styles of Lego play and certainly toys with the idea of an imaginary doppelganger. Once again, the plot is more than complemented by complex fantastic visuals, whether it’s the post-apocalyptic Bricksburg, the expansive Sistar system or another bout of animated/live-action integration. There’s a lot of fun here both for kids and adults (“Now I understand Radiohead”), as well as a message of family reconciliation and collaboration. As a confirmed Lego fan, I can testify that the density of specialized Lego jokes here isn’t as impressive than the first film, even if the result is decent. A handful of bouncy songs helps, as does a Maya Rudolph live-action cameo. Of course, what this Second Part doesn’t have is the novelty effect—in between the two mainline Lego movies, we’ve had a fairly decent Batman film, and a rather average Ninjago one released the same year. That was a bit too much for such a distinctive property, and now we’re faced with an extended drought of Lego movies. Too bad—I rather liked them.

    (On Blu-ray, December 2019) A second viewing at home doesn’t do much to make The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part better or worse—it’s pretty much what I remembered, and what it presents itself to be. The jokes are funny, the character evolution is satisfying, the real world interacts just fine while the animated segments and the Lego creations are eye-popping. Nothing wrong here, but nothing new either.

  • Candyman (1992)

    Candyman (1992)

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2019) I remember some of the marketing for Candyman back in 1992, but for some reason had almost forgotten about the film until now. I’m almost glad I did, because it allowed me to discover something that, under the garbs of a horror movie, is quite a bit more than a standard supernatural slasher. In addition to a villain that almost qualifies as original, Candyman does delve quite a bit into themes of urban decay, social injustice and black mythology as presented through urban legends. From a gripping opening, the film develops a specific visual style made of overhead shots of Chicago slums, bee imagery and askew camera angles. When combined with the fantastic screen presence of Tony Todd as the titular boogeyman and a rather good turn by a young Virginia Madsen (plus Kasi Lemmons in a supporting role), Candyman is significantly more interesting than most horror films of the early 1990s. Unusual plot developments keep our attention, and the well-executed sense of alienation of a white woman plunged into urban black myth leads to an effective descent into hell. Writer/director Bernard Rose cleverly adapts a Clive Barker story to an American setting, throws narrative curveballs and manages an effective atmosphere of dread making judicious use of its slum setting. It’s a much better film than you’d expect from its era. My biggest (minor) qualms are not the film’s fault—I happen to think that 1990s Virginia Madsen doesn’t look as good as 2010s Madsen, and catching the film in French deprived me of Todd’s distinctive voice. All the better reasons to rewatch the film again at some point. Considering the renewed interest in black-themed horror with social relevance, Candyman seems almost perfectly placed for a remake and whaddaya know—one is being planned right now.

  • Dragon Seed (1944)

    Dragon Seed (1944)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Oh boy—at a time when we talk a lot about cultural appropriation, it’s worth remembering that once upon a time Hollywood had no qualms about using the whitest of white actors to play other ethnicities, and so I suspect that Dragon Seed will forever live in infamy as the movie where Katharine Hepburn plays a Chinese peasant. That’s right: New England exemplar Hepburn as an Asian woman, in grotesque makeup. Oh boy. Beyond sharing a common literary origin in Pearl S. Buck’s novels, there’s a clear line from The Good Earth (with similar Caucasian casting) to Dragon Seed, and the film is trying to make heroes out of its Chinese characters … just as much as it’s trying to make despicable villains out of its Japanese antagonists occupying the village. But do remember that the film was made at the height of WW2, and designed to be a propaganda piece as to why the United States should fight Japan. Still: the miscasting here is astonishing, and while the black-and-white of the film makes it just slightly more convincing … it’s still incredibly gauche. There’s a small consolation in that this allowed Chinese characters to be made accessible to American audiences and in that light the idea to use a strong-willed actress such as Hepburn to present a female character with a strong agenda feels just a bit more acceptable. But there’s no denying that the film takes and gives racism—this is a war film, and it’s meant to whip up anti-Japanese fervour. The wartime focus of the film does make it more interesting than the similar The Good Earth, but also more offensive as well: while some scene do offer a warm and sympathetic portrayal of Chinese couples in love, it also makes for an infuriating portrait of the Japanese occupation. Dragon Seed is clearly a film of its time, but I feel better knowing that it would be unacceptable these days.

  • Revolt (2017)

    Revolt (2017)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Despite knowing better, I’m game to try just about any Science Fiction movie on Cable TV listings, which is how I ended up watching Revolt. In terms of concept, it comes to the whole alien invasion subgenre about seven years too late, what with its protagonists fighting against alien invaders entrenched on Earth. What saves the film from ennui is, at least initially, its setting: Taking place in Kenya, the film certainly looks different from most other entries in the subgenre. (I wonder how much of this had to do with shooting location incentives, constraints and lower costs?) The other surprise her is seeing Lee Pace as the lead, a soldier with amnesia trying to piece together what happened and what makes him special in resisting some alien attacks. The special effects are decent, which is increasingly the case even on cable TV originals. Alas, much of the story feels recycled, from overall plot structure to the way characters are introduced and then disposed in fairly short order. Bérénice Marlohe looks nice as the female lead, but the film becomes steadily more conventional as it goes on—by the time the last act takes place at night in an urban setting, we’re back to pretty much where nearly every other similar-themed film has landed as well. Despite going for the whole “triumph of the human spirit, even a small victory can create an avalanche” kind of thing, it doesn’t offer much in terms of victory. Still, while Revolt does rise to the level of a watchable film, it can’t quite meet the next level of a memorable one—you’re liable to forget almost all about it moments after watching the end credits.

  • The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

    The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Considering Hollywood’s enduring love affair for American heroes (even if we have to scrub a bit of their non-heroics along the way), it was inevitable that sooner or later, Charles Lindbergh would be brought to the forefront with The Spirit of St. Louis. And while James Stewart was far too old at 49 to play Lindbergh (who was 25 at the time of the film’s event), you have to take into account Stewart’s obvious enthusiasm and technical qualifications to play the role of an experienced flyer—as a draftee and then a reserve officer, he flew bombers from WW2 to the Vietnam War. The script focuses tightly on Lindbergh’s trip and not so much on the less heroic aspects of his later life, but as co-written by Billy Wilder The Spirit of St. Louis becomes a fascinating aeronautical procedural as Lindbergh works to develop the plane that will carry him from one side of the Atlantic to the other, and then wait patiently for a good weather opportunity even as others are also racing to make the trip. Director Howard Hawks is in his element here as he describes the relationship between Lindbergh and his plane during the gruelling transatlantic flight. Even the film’s length and overused voiceovers help us feel the isolation and experimental nature of the solo trip. The predictable shout-outs to divine power become annoying, but the film’s clever structure keeps things more interesting than a strictly chronological approach would have done. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the film is how it manages to create suspense out of a story that everyone knows, with a foreordained conclusion. The Spirit of St. Louis is certainly not a perfect film, but it does create something very entertaining out of three legendary creators (Wilder, Hawks, Stewart) and a landmark historical event.

  • The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fifth with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France aka Henry V (1944)

    The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fifth with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France aka Henry V (1944)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) As regular readers of these reviews know, I do poorly with Shakespearian adaptations. I find the language nigh incomprehensible, the premises overly familiar, the staging artificial, etc. It takes a lot to get me to perk up at a Shakespearian adaptation, but Laurence Oliver’s Henry V does have quite a bit to offer only on a visual level, least of it being shot in colour. Perhaps the most distinctive thing about it is how it operates stylistically like an onion. The opening has a very detailed model shot of Shakespearian London, which gives place to an obviously staged theatrical production, then again to a less stylized production, then to surprisingly cinematographic battles, and then back again to the outer layers as the story wraps up. Considering that I usually spend my time watching Shakespearian productions for the visuals rather than the dialogue or story, this scratched just the right spot for me. Still, I can’t guarantee that I remained awake through it all … but while I was aware of Laurence Olivier’s skills as an actor, in Henry V he shows quite a bit of skill as a director as well.

  • Bronenosets Potemkin [Battleship Potemkin] (1925)

    Bronenosets Potemkin [Battleship Potemkin] (1925)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Some of the most groundbreaking cinema of the 1920s was coming out of the Soviet Union, and while Battleship Potemkin isn’t quite the experience that Man with a Camera remains, it’s still quite an instructive example of the far more daring school of editing that was in vogue around Moscow back then. Best known today for its Odessa Steps sequence, this is a film about an urban uprising. It’s violent, dramatic, action-packed, and this is no mere hyperbole: The density of editing cuts approaches modern action movies at time. Obviously made by writer/director Sergei Eisenstein as an epic victory-for-the-proletariat propaganda piece, it does remain spectacular at time while mixing fancy camera moves with fast-paced editing. It’s well worth a look for movie history buffs, although I’d be more cautious in recommending it for general audiences—while the Odessa Steps sequence remains impressive, the rest of the film can be a chore to get through despite the technical innovation. It’s a measure of its success that much of Battleship Potemkin now simply feels adequate rather than groundbreaking.

  • Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

    Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) If anyone wonders what caused the movie musical to go bust in the late 1960s and 1970s, you can point at the changing nature of New Hollywood and at many wrong-headed examples of the form. Perhaps the most egregious of them was the run of musical adaptations of downbeat stories, often remaking perfectly good movies that had no business being remade at all, let alone as semi-musicals. Case in Point: Goodbye, Mr. Chips, the infamous tear-jerking boarding school story tracing the path not of students, but a teacher at the school through love and heartbreak from his first year at the school to retirement. The story itself is solid (if merciless at making its protagonist suffer), but transforming a beloved 1939 movie in a 1969 colour musical was not the way to go. The beginning of the film is particularly trying, what with a pompous teacher as a lead. He learns to be humbler, but it’s a rough start to a film that does itself no favour through musical elements that are not particularly enjoyable, needed or well integrated. The film eventually fights its way back into the audience’s good graces, but it’s a long slog in more ways than one, with musical numbers interrupting the story more than illustrating it. It doesn’t help that director Herbert Ross makes everything feel dreary and dull, with the final tear-jerking sequences being more trying than satisfying. Neither Peter O’Toole nor Petula Clark bring much to the film. While I do like Goodbye, Mr. Chips for taking a slightly different tack from most boarding school stories (namely, following a teacher through decades rather than students through a few months/years), it’s still a bit too downbeat, and overcooked as a musical. [July 2020: Seeing the original film further sinks the remake for me—the original feels as if all the pieces are better balanced, and the tone far more appropriate to the story it’s telling, tragic death included.]