Movie Review

  • Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

    Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

    (On Cable TV, June 2018) I suppose that given my positive-but-not-enthusiastic reaction to the original Blade Runner, the same is true and unsurprising for its sequel Blade Runner 2049. There are plenty of things I like about it—it’s mature, cerebral Science Fiction handled with a great deal of skill; it pays homage to the original film while expanding its themes; it features some impressive visuals thanks to Roger Deakins, and it does suggest a lot of depth to its imagined future. Alas, I can’t quite be enthusiastic about it. For one thing, it’s yet another dystopian vision of the future, and it feels far less distinctive than even the now-cliché original. The level of violence is high, the character motivations are opaque, and the final fight drags on and on. (Actually, much of the film drags on and on.)  Harrison Ford is brought back from the mothballs in the latest example of his latest “hey, I used to be in all those great movies!” tour, but he’s allowed his wrinkles whereas Sean Young is digitally re-created to youthful perfection. There’s also a sense of intense déjà vu to the point of meaninglessness to the themes taken on by the film—it doesn’t help that in-between a dozen movies released between 2010 and 2014, as well as two seasons of Westworld, there’s only so much you can say about humanity and its android creations. What’ the point of resurrecting Blade Runner after twenty-five years if there’s not a whole lot to say about it? At least Ryan Gosling is maturing nicely as an actor, and there are plenty of good supporting performance—from Ana de Armas, Robin Wright, Dave Bautista and others—to make the viewing interesting despite the far too long running time. I couldn’t be happier that the current master of filmed science fiction happens to be a French-Canadian, but I’d like Denis Villeneuve to make more movies like Arrival and fewer retreads of tired old properties. I suspect that twenty-five years from now, we will still talk about the 1982 movie and not really about the sequel.

  • Firefox (1982)

    Firefox (1982)

    (In French, On TV, June 2018) Craig Thomas’s late-seventies novel Firefox has a special place in techno-thriller history as one of the progenitors of the subgenre, paving the way for Tom Clancy’s The Hunt for Red October (1984) and codifying many of the field’s quirks. The novel is stuffy, written in an overwrought style (especially compared to its imitators) and not as entertaining as one would suppose. The movie adaptation has more or less the same issues—while you’d expect a Clint Eastwood movie about an American caper to steal a Russian super-plane prototype to lead to white-knuckled excitement, the result is more perfunctory than thrilling. Eastwood gives an adequate performance, but the script multiplies tangents and less interesting moments. It takes a long time for the protagonist to step in the plane, and things don’t really improve afterwards given the repetitive nature of the ensuing chase and the now-primitive special effects that remind us about the film’s early-eighties pedigree. It’s really not fair to harp on the special effects given that they were innovative at the time and they still get the point across today. On the other hand, they do take viewers out of the film at a moment when they should be absorbed by the cat-and-mouse chase between two high-tech fighter planes. Still, even taking this away, the fact remains that Firefox is dour and dull, which are not attributes that should be present in a thriller. I’m glad I’ve finally seen the entire movie even decades after reading the book and Eastwood is always interesting no matter the circumstances, but it’s not essential viewing for most audiences.

  • Here Comes the Boom (2012)

    Here Comes the Boom (2012)

    (On Cable TV, June 2018) As a first glance, there isn’t much to Here Comes the Boom than your usual guy comedy from the Happy Madison assembly chain: What if a high-school teacher discovered a talent for Mixed Martial Arts (MMA)? Pretty much everything in the movie seems assembled according to a formula, and there are very few surprises along the way of this underdog sports comedy. Kevin James does have some charm, and it goes a long way in keeping the film afloat then the rest of it is so ordinary. This being said, there’s some thematic material worth pondering once you go back to the idea that Happy Madison films are based on fulfilling contemporary suburban male power fantasies. How about this: What if you found a way to help your friends, get the girl, contribute to the arts, vex your nemesis, inspire the younger generation and make money while punching someone? You really don’t have to look any farther to understand the film’s appeal for its target audience, and once you factor in that the film is competently made to achieve that storytelling objective, then you understand Here Comes the Boom. Seeing Henry Winkler in a solid supporting role isn’t a bad bonus, even though Salma Hayek is wasted as one of James’s increasingly unlikely string of on-screen love interests. Less familiar actors include a number of MMA stars, of which Bas Rutten does best in a supporting role—plus Joe Rogan appearing as himself. Otherwise, the film does feel on autopilot … which may count as a plus if viewers are indeed looking for nothing more than a slight comedy.

  • The Philadelphia Story (1940)

    The Philadelphia Story (1940)

    (On DVD, June 2018) The great things about digging deeper and deeper in a hobby is that the digging eventually produces its own rewards. In my case, I’ve been watching older and older movies, and discovering new favourite actors. To have The Philadelphia Story pop up on my pile of films to watch at this point is a gift: A movie starring Katharine Hepburn and James Stewart and Cary Grant? What have I done to get such a treat? Even better: it’s a screwball comedy, fast establishing itself as one of my favourite bygone genres. I was primed for a good time and got exactly what I wanted: A fast, witty, fun romantic comedy featuring Hepburn at her most alluring, Stewart as his usual sympathetic self and Grant in a plum comic role. The script provides witty lines, great characters and a savvy understanding of the mechanics of the genre, while director George Cukor keeps things moving even as the film multiplies small subplots on the way to a satisfying conclusion. Among supporting players, Ruth Hussey is surprisingly fun as a no-nonsense photographer, while Virginia Weidler is a discovery as a sassy young sister. Still, this is a picture that belongs to Hepburn, perfectly cast as a woman struggling with goddess-hood. Both Stewart and Grant also play to their strengths, helping to make The Philadelphia Story a definitive statement about three screen legends. It still plays exceptionally well today.

  • James Cameron’s Story of Science Fiction, Season 1 (2018)

    James Cameron’s Story of Science Fiction, Season 1 (2018)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) When AMC started bombarding viewers with the promise of James Cameron’s Story of Science Fiction event series, I programmed my DVR to record the series but kept my expectations low: While there is some interest in watching Cameron chat about Science Fiction with fellow directors such as Steven Spielberg, Guillermo del Toro, Christopher Nolan, George Lucas and Ridley Scott, what level of in-depth discussion could we reasonably expect? Worse yet was the idea of hearing actors talk about it—for all the good that I think about Will Smith, Zoe Saldaña, Joseph Gordon-Lewitt and Arnold Schwarzenegger, what could they possibly say about SF that wouldn’t be scripted platitudes? Oh well; at six forty-minutes long episodes, it would at least be entertaining. Such series (and there was a similar BBC effort a few years ago) are meant as introductions to a general audience, not advanced lectures for jaded reviewers such as myself. On that level, at least the series does not disappoint: A blend of talking heads and illustrative footage revolving around one theme by episode (Aliens, Space, Monsters, Dark Futures, Intelligent Machines and Time Travel), this is a series that zips by. No amounts of lens flare have been spared in presenting older archive footage, and the overall feeling is one of slick presentation. The chats between Cameron and other genre directors/actors are presented so quickly that there’s little time for boredom—they’ve been distilled to their purest essence and a handshake right before the end credits. Surprisingly, though, there is more substance than I expected from the series: The interviews and talking heads go beyond directors and actors to genre critics (including Locus’s rock-solid Gary K. Wolfe) to actual written SF writers (who, as a group, look far less white males as the other groups interviewed—I mean: Nalo Hopkinson, Ken Liu, Nnedi Okorafor, Ted Chiang, and N.K. Jemisin!)  The actors may be saying scripted platitudes, but they sound good—even really good in the case of the ever-likable Will Smith. The budget of the series allows for some truly odd and inspired guests, such as musicians, special effects artists and screenwriters. Of course, it all races by: While the series hits its best moments when it slows down to focus on a specific movie or series (helped along by interviewing the people who wrote, directed, performed or otherwise contributed to the result seen on-screen), much of the time it’s a reference-every-five-second kind of documentary. The substance is there—not particularly deep, but much of what is showcased is reasonably accurate and even insightful. Most episodes of James Cameron’s Story of Science Fiction do rise up to the level of a good SF convention discussion panel, and that’s pretty much the level I demanded from such a series. There may or may not be a second season (these things are expensive, and AMC’s similar 2017 comics series doesn’t have a follow-up so far) but I’ll be there if ever there is. Frankly, it is rather cool to hear, even in blips and ten-second clips, Cameron and his colleagues talk shop, laughs knowingly about their craft and look like they’re enjoying their conversations.

  • From Here to Eternity (1953)

    From Here to Eternity (1953)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) For all of the continued acclaim of From Here to Eternity as a classic piece of Hollywood Cinema, the film itself is often a disappointment. From its descriptions, you could maybe expect a sweeping drama set in pre-Pearl Harbor Hawaii, with high romance being interrupted by the beginning of the war. Alas, that’s just you going from the iconic beach scene and hazy memories of Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor—the reality of From Here to Eternity has more to do with it being an adaptation of a gritty dramatic novel in which nobody gets a happy ending. On the menu: a sordid affair (one of many) between a traumatized housewife and an indecisive soldier; physical abuse in the military; a character falling for a high-end prostitute (oh, OK, “hostess”); and the Japanese on their way to ruin the melodrama right before the end. Also on the menu; terrifying dumb decisions from the characters to ensure that they will not get what they want (often dying in the process). As a period piece, From Here to Eternity is not that successful—until the Japanese attack, the film feels far too intimate to reflect the reality of living on a military base and the way it spends nearly all of its time in small sets does undercuts its bigger ambitions. The image of the beach romance suggested by the film’s reputation is far worse in context: Not only is the beach frolicking limited to a few seconds, it’s in support of an adulterous relationship that’s not particularly admirable, and it leads straight to a soliloquy of intense personal grief. Frame the picture of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr smooching if you want, but don’t expect the film to heighten the fantasy. This being said, much of this reaction is a reaction to the film’s sterling reputation—taken on its own, From Here to Eternity does remain a good dramatic piece, anchored by able performances by Lancaster, Montgomery Clift and (especially) Frank Sinatra, with Kerr and Donna Reed on the distaff side. Still, reading about the film (and the changes from the original novel) is often more interesting than the film itself. Overinflated expectations or under-delivering period piece—I can’t decide for now (and I suspect that watching three WW2 movies in a row due to Memorial weekend doesn’t help), although I am glad to have seen it to complete that bit of Hollywood History.

  • Memphis Belle (1990)

    Memphis Belle (1990)

    (On TV, May 2018) I saw bits and pieces of Memphis Belle back in high school, but sitting through from beginning to end doesn’t really change my opinion of the film: This is as basic a movie as it’s possible to make about WW2 bomber crews. It’s willfully schematic, reusing plenty of familiar wartime movie tropes in order to comfort its audience. It’s the story of a single bombing mission, supercharged with dramatic intensity (if they come back from their fiftieth mission, they can go home!) and every single incident of interest that may have happened at any point in WW2. It does work in that while Memphis Belle is familiar, it’s not really boring: there’s enough going on to keep watching the film without effort, and the familiarity ensures that the film will still make perfect sense once you come back from a kitchen snack visit. Don’t try to go read up on the film’s historical accuracy—it’s safe to say that most of what’s on the screen happened, but certainly not all at once. There is some additional interest in the cast, given that many of the young men in the Memphis Belle crew have gone on to other things: Most notably Billy Zane, Matthew Modine, Eric Stoltz, Sean Astin and Harry Connick Jr., with special mention of David Strathairn and John Lithgow in ground support roles. Much of the film was shot practically, making the rather jarring special effects stand out more—nowadays, much of the film would be a pure CGI spectacle, although whether this would be an improvement would depend on the director—see Red Tails for an example of going too far. The nice thing about Memphis Belle is that you get almost exactly what it says on the plot summary. Nothing transcendent, but nothing terrible either.

  • Kelly’s Heroes (1970)

    Kelly’s Heroes (1970)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) In-between MASH, Kelly’s Heroes and Catch-22, 1970 was a banner year for using other conflicts to talk about the Vietnam War. MASH transposed late-sixties war cynicism on the Korean front, while Catch-22 talked disaffection among WW2 bomber crews and Kelly’s Heroes has greedy American infantry soldiers teaming up with a hippie-led crew of tankers to go steal a few million dollars’ worth of Nazi gold. This certainly isn’t your fifties war movie—in between the self-interested soldiers, corrupt officers, friendly fire incidents and a long-haired tank leader memorably played by Donald Sutherland (who was also in MASH), it’s obvious that Kelly’s Heroes had far more on its mind than just a WW2 adventure. It’s clunky (legend has it that the filmmakers didn’t quite get what they were going for, largely because of studio interference) but it still works on a pure entertainment level largely because of the terrific cast. Sutherland aside, there’s Clint Eastwood in the heroic role, supported by Telly Savalas, Don Rickles and Harry Dean Stanton in a small role. The adventure gets going quickly and gets weirder and wilder the deeper in enemy territory it goes. The final resolution has the so-called good guys bribing Nazis to get what they want (with cues echoing Sergio Leone), which is interesting on its own. Kelly’s Heroes is more palatable now that it must have been at the time—we’ve grown used to anti-heroic portrayals of the military, and Vietnam-era attitudes toward war and war movies are now far more familiar. Still, the result is entertaining enough, and while many prefer more straight-ahead drama along the line of Where Eagles Dare, there’s no dismissing that Kelly’s Heroes can still be watched eagerly today.

  • Logan Lucky (2017)

    Logan Lucky (2017)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Only maverick filmmaker Stephen Soderbergh could tackle Logan Lucky, going over such extremely familiar material (a heist movie à la Ocean’s Eleven) that another director might have been accused of copycatting. But, of course, Soderbergh never does things like others, and so Logan Lucky takes the large-scale heist down the social classes to NASCAR-obsessed West Virginia/North Carolina, with blue-collar protagonists motivated by larger economic forces. The exceptional casting (Channing Tatum, Adam Driver, Daniel Craig, etc.) is fantastic, but the real draw here is the way the script is handled with blockbuster entertainment savvy by Soderbergh. The intricate heist plot multiplies one gambit after another, creating a dense tapestry of tricks, plans and improvised manoeuvers in which even dupes unaware of any heist have a role to play—and, hilariously enough, are rewarded for it. Taking ideas for an Ocean’s Fourteen film and recasting in redneck country makes for a refreshing change of pace and unusual heroes, as characters that would be treated as hillbillies in other films here get a chance to prove that they’re criminal masterminds. Then, of course, there’s the idea that the film is handled in pure escapism mode, reaching for comedy as often as it can. (The ridiculous prison riot, complete with Game of Thrones references, is particularly funny.)  Logan Lucky is very successful, and counts as one of the year’s most delightful surprises.

  • Mar Adentro [The Sea Inside] (2004)

    Mar Adentro [The Sea Inside] (2004)

    (In French, On TV, May 2018) I was bracing for the worst in watching The Sea Inside, having seen what seems to be far too many disability-themed films to last me a long time. But the movie itself is far better than expected, anchored by a superb performance from Javier Bardem and a script that confronts issues head-on. Alejandro Amenábar’s direction is also far better than the norm, with a strong supporting cast. The film’s flights of fancy are also noteworthy in keeping audiences on their toes, and the film’s intellectual depth goes significantly beyond the movie-of-the-week nature of the film’s premise. While I’m nowhere near calling Mar Adentro my favourite movie of any year, it’s far more interesting to watch as I anticipated, and there’s much to say about exceeded expectations.

  • The Cocoanuts (1929)

    The Cocoanuts (1929)

    (On DVD, May 2018) Even as I get deeper and deeper in film history, I’m still amazed at older movies’ ability to get big laughs nearly a century later. So it is with the Marx Brothers’ The Cocoanuts, their first surviving film and yet amazing self-assured in the way it features the Brothers at their best. At this stage of their career, of course, the Marxes weren’t amateurs: they had a solid vaudeville career already, and the movies were merely a way to capture many of their stage routines. Where movies went a bit further were in featuring musical numbers, part of the late-1920s definition of what a musical film could be. The plot merely helps arrange the comic routines and the musical numbers—although it does offer a satirical glimpse at the 1920s Florida real estate boom. Despite the uneven picture quality and the not-so-good sound, some sequences are still very funny: the auction scene in particular is still remarkably amusing. While The Cocoanuts is far from the brothers’ best work, it’s still very much aligned with their most successful films and can be seen in continuity without trouble.

  • Suspicion (1941)

    Suspicion (1941)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Great casting can make or break a movie, but I’m still not too sure what it does to Alfred Hitchcock’s Suspicion. Casting Cary Grant as a suave, sophisticated, easily charming man who ends up hiding an inglorious past to his wife seems like a slam-dunk: By that point in his career, Grant had developed a screen persona ideally suited to this kind of role. But the sword cuts both ways, given how audiences weren’t (and still aren’t) so willing to accept Grant as a purely evil character. Hence the ending that explains a few things and allows viewers to walk away satisfied and reassured in Grant’s persona. It’s a relief of an ending, but is it the most appropriate one? I still don’t know. The novel on which the film is based took a far more ambiguous approach to the same material, keeping up the eponymous suspicion through which the heroine (Joan Fontaine; rather good) comes to regard her new husband. Still, Suspicion remains a joy to watch. Hitchcock had achieved an unusual mastery of balance between comedy and suspense at that stage of his career, and the film’s domestic-paranoia theme would dovetail with a number of similar thrillers throughout the 1940s. The lack of a dark ending may stop the film from reaching its ultimate potential, but I’m not sure I’d change it. After all, I do like my Cary Grant suave, debonair and (ultimately) on the side of the angels even if he’s been a little devil along the way.

  • The Awful Truth (1937)

    The Awful Truth (1937)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Considering that The Awful Truth is the movie that created Cary Grant’s comic persona, we should be grateful for its existence and for director Leo McCarey’s instincts in guiding Grant toward his vision of the role. This is a late-thirties screwball comedy that practically exemplifies the sophisticated and urbane “Comedy of remarriage” so characteristic to the years following the introduction of the Hays Code: Here we’ve got Grand and co-star Irene Dunne as an unhappily married couple that decides to divorce, then sabotage each other’s new affairs before realizing that they are each other’s best partners. (Try not to think too much about the liberties allowed to only the very rich people in the 1930s.) It’s decently funny—maybe not as much as other later efforts from Grant, but still amusing, and Dunne has good timing as well. (Plus Skippy the dog!) Divorce has rarely been so much fun. The comedy isn’t just about the lines, but the physical performances of the actors and their interactions—read up on the improvisational making-of imposed by McCarey to learn more about how the picture was shaped by on-set ideas and follow-up. If I didn’t already know how much I love screwball comedy, The Awful Truth would have taught me.

  • The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

    The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Orson Welles does film noir in The Lady from Shanghai, a fairly standard thriller that becomes a great movie through great direction. Welles stars as an everyday man who meets your usual femme fatale, not quite grasping that he’s being framed for murder. Things go from New York City to San Francisco in a flash, and before long our protagonist is unjustly accused, dragged in court and forced to escape to prove his innocence (does that stuff ever works out in real life?)  The plot is familiar, but it’s Welles’ eye for the camera and caustic sense of humour that sets the film apart. There’s a climax of court during the trial sequence, during which the camera can’t seem to stop focusing on tiny inconsequential details rather than the (very familiar) argument being presented to the course, exactly as if the chatter was a foregone conclusion and not worth our attention anyway. The famous ending shootout takes places in a half-of-mirror, something that has been appropriated by at least two other movies already. It all amounts to a very stylish, very competent film noir in the purest tradition of the genre. Legend has it that Welles accepted to do the film because he needed money, and the final result was butchered by studio executives. Still, the film shows a clever craftsman at work: San Francisco looks great, Welles has one of his final “thin Welles” roles, and Rita Hayworth makes for a near-perfect femme fatale. The result, however, is definitely weird and has occasional shifts in tone that can catch viewers unaware—whether deliberately through Welles’ intentions or accidentally through studio interference, The Lady from Shanghai sometimes works best as vignettes rather than a sustained narrative. But it’s still worth seeing.

  • Haxan (1922)

    Haxan (1922)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) The 1920s were very much an experimental time for movies—they progressed to a point where the technology was reliable enough to make movies, but there wasn’t yet an accepted grammar nor storytelling best practices for telling those stories in the most effective way. This explains why the movies of the time can often appear so odd to us: They were still figuring out how to make movies in a very literal sense. In this contest, Haxan makes a bit more sense, because on its own it’s a bizarre, almost baffling film. It begins in documentary mode, as the filmmaker informs us about witchcraft lore through presentation of historical documents unearthed through his research. But then, as the film progresses, more frequent “recreations” illustrate his narrative, portraying the acts of witches and the demonic presence that they cause. Before long, we’re seeing nudity, violence, sexual perversion and all of the hallmarks of a horror film—supposedly for our edification in learning more about these practices, but who’s to say where the line is between information and titillation? (This wouldn’t be the last time salacious material clothed itself under documentary aims—see the history of the erotic film before pornography became mainstream in the early 1970s.)  I have a curious admiration for writer/director Benjamin Christensen for getting away with as much as he did here under such pretences—while Haxan is decidedly tame by today’s standard, it considerably exceeds what would be the Hollywood standard from the thirties to the sixties under the Hays Code. There’s also some clever irony in the film’s conclusion, which brings everything full circle to the 1920s present and asks pointed questions about the then-current treatment of “hysterical” women in psychiatric institutes. What was witchcraft could also be a psychological problem, and that’s the kind of somewhat nuanced take on the topic that you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a film of its era. The overall effect is one of fascination—what if filmmaking had progressed in that direction rather than what we know today? Haxan remains quite fascinating, and holds up as one of the few films of the 1920s to be worth a look today, as much for what it is than what it represents in time.