Movie Review

  • Wish Upon a Unicorn (2020)

    Wish Upon a Unicorn (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) It feels unfair to bring full-bore critical depth to cute kid movies like Wish Upon a Unicorn. It’s a family film aimed at the pre-teen set with unchallenging narrative mechanics, cutesy scenes and straightforward style. To its credit, it does get an honest laugh early on, as the dad character complains about a “fat cow” blocking the way… only for the film to establish that its rural-bound characters are, in fact, talking about a literal cow blocking the road. After that, it’s up for the first act of the film to set up the premise of a transplanted urban family settling into their new surroundings, and discovering that their new farm residence has many more wonders than expected — including a magical unicorn invisible to most people. Cue the fun and games, especially when the unicorn proves to be an uncommonly good spelling bee helper and works overtime on raising the youngest daughter’s self-esteem. The third act gets less fun, as a unicorn hunter gets brought in, the likable grandma goes to the hospital and the plot gets revved up all of a sudden. Still, applying adult logic to the film is missing the point: Writer-director Steve Bencich’s film is for the pre-teen rainbows-and-unicorn set, and perhaps the best thing we adult film critics can do when faced with such a creature (the film, not the actual unicorns), is to step out of the way and let the kids have their fun. Even if, ahem, there are better picks that Wish Upon a Unicorn out there.

  • Treasure Island (1934)

    Treasure Island (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) The original Robert Louis Stevenson novel is one of those classic tales of adventure that feels timeless, and such is the case with 1934’s version of Treasure Island, which manages to overcome the technical limitations of mid-1930s filmmaking to deliver a still-admirable period take on the piece. The story is familiar to the point of being irrelevant compared to the execution: here’s our orphan hero, here’s Long John Silver, here’s the nautical trip, here’s the island, here’s the treasure. It’s in execution that the film distinguishes itself and stays distinctive. Having Wallace Beery and Jackie Cooper in the two lead roles is historically significant considering the popularity of the pair at the time. While there have been more imaginative or more technically polished takes on the story, this 1934 Treasure Island shows you what big-budget studio filmmaking could do with that premise at the time, and that’s interesting enough.

  • The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020)

    The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, February 2021) The events surrounding the National Democratic Convention of 1968 are still amazing enough that I kept being surprised no one had made a movie about them. But the wait is now over, because Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago 7 is here to tell us how it all went down, albeit with a typically skewed-enough-to-be-interesting perspective. Largely taking place months after the Convention, this film is built around the courtroom drama of how organizers of the protests during the convention were tried for various crimes. The approach allows us to see effect before cause, or rather to keep exploring the core events after their sometimes-tendentious description. With Sorkin at the pen, it’s no surprise if the film proves amazingly full of great lines, clever scenes and substantial roles for the actors to dive into — although one notes that the dialogue feels a bit less self-consciously flamboyant than in previous Sorkin films, and appropriately so. This does shift much of the praise about the film to the exceptional cast assembled for the occasion — too many to mention in a capsule review, although Sacha Baron Cohen deservedly gets much attention as Abbie Hoffman, a great case of a larger-than-life actor playing a larger-than-life historical figure. As usual for Sorkin, there’s a lot to like in the way it ferociously engages in political material, this time poking at history in order to make a point about current concerns. This intention, combined with above-average execution of material that could have ben unbearably dry in lesser hands, makes The Trial of the Chicago 7 a great engrossing film, and one with additional relevance right now.

  • Kuai can che [Wheels on Meals] (1984)

    Kuai can che [Wheels on Meals] (1984)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, February 2021) Jackie Chan made so many films in his heyday that I’m still discovering new ones despite having been a Chan fan since the mid-1990s. Wheels on Meals is a good example of Chan’s fully formed action/comedy persona, working with his buddies Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao to deliver a silly but action-packed film. Unusually set in Barcelona (reportedly because Chan’s growing fame made it impossible to film in Hong Kong), the plot has to do with the heir of a sizable fortune being pursued by multiple parties, including our likable heroes. Of course, much of the plot is spent going from one action showcase to another — a good car chase concludes the first half of the film, while the rest of it builds to a three-ring action circus featuring each character. The action is a bit rough around the edges, but that’s more in keeping with the technical qualities of the film in general than any specific fault with the action performers — as others have pointed out, this is the film that has Benny “the Jet” Urquidez performing a spinning kick so quickly that the draft actually blows out candles on-screen. Wheels on Meals is silly fun in the way most early Chan films were, with enough comedy to make the action immensely approachable even to those who don’t particularly like martial arts movies.

  • The Big Doll House (1971)

    The Big Doll House (1971)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) if there’s a women-in-prison exploitation cliché that The Big Doll House doesn’t use, it’s going to take someone very familiar with the subgenre to point it out. Some have made the argument that this is the film that codified these tropes, which explain both why it almost feels like a comedy today, and also why you need a good healthy dose of male gaze tolerance to make it to the end. The plot isn’t as much a sustained narrative as a collection of incidents and clichés loosely arranged in succession. There’s lesbianism, abusive guards, escape attempts, a sadistic warden, girl-on-girl fighting, shower nudity, weak attempts at criticism of the patriarchy, and plenty of violence when the jailbreak inevitably occurs. If you’re not watching for historical purposes, probably the only real reason why The Big Doll House is still worth a look is for the debut performance of Pam Grier, who proves to be, even at this early juncture, as ferocious and striking as her exploitation persona suggests. She’s by far the film’s highlight, because otherwise you may be bored by the way it earnestly runs through the catalogue of clichés. Otherwise, I suppose there’s always the ironic potential of watching a bad film.

  • Enter Laughing (1967)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) The little-seen Enter Laughing (“never released on DVD or Blu-ray,” notes Wikipedia) is notable primarily for being writer-director Carl Reiner’s big-screen debut as a filmmaker. Adapted (indirectly) from Reiner’s own material, it features a delivery boy’s shaky entrance in theatrical show-business, as his lacklustre acting skills are no match for the attraction he creates in his leading lady and her influence over her father/producer. An early example of a comedy of humiliation, much of Enter Laughing’s jokes run at the expense of its lead character (played with wide-eyed innocence by Reni Santoni), who’s really not that bright nor gifted in the thespian arts. While a fine comic premise, there’s a sense that the joke is not just overdone, but wrung dry over the course of the film’s first two acts. It’s only at the very end, as all of the meticulously assembled setup finally pays off, that Enter Laughing becomes marginally funnier. The ending sequence makes good use of Mel Ferrer’s adeptness at portraying exasperation, and adopts a more slapstick approach relying equally on physical as verbal comedy. Enter Laughing is clearly best suited to audiences with theatrical experience — there’s an insider’s touch to the process of auditioning, dodgy off-Broadway troupes and horrifyingly unfortunate premieres that speaks to Reiner’s experience in the Manhattan comedy world. I eventually liked the result, but Enter Laughing took much longer to deliver the jokes than I expected. Fortunately, when it comes to making an impact, it’s far better to have audiences exit laughing.

  • Model Shop (1969)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) I got interested in Model Shop simply because I was curious to see more of Jacques Demy’s work after The Parapluies de Cherbourg and Les Demoiselles de Rochefort. I was curious to see his take on late-1960s Los Angeles, whether he’d carry his stylistic quirks over, and whether it would feel more like New Hollywood, Nouvelle Vague or the kind of Old-School Hollywood that Demy pastiches in his best-known movies. As it turns out, Model Shop feels like pure undiluted New Hollywood in its downer ending, small-scale character study and obsession with satisfying the filmmaker’s artistic intentions rather than providing entertainment to audiences. The story, as slight as it is, follows an unemployed Los Angeles man whose life is spiralling out of control — his girlfriend is about to leave, his draft notice has come in and (horrors!) his car is about to be repossessed, a sure sign of failure in car-centric L.A. As a film it’s not much: your liking for it will depend on how you feel about New Hollywood’s artistic aims in general. I still have moments of affection for the result, or rather specifically how its naturalistic approach credibly portrays 1969 Los Angeles without artifice, as the protagonist drives through the city and we take in the sights of an utterly generic city street. Otherwise, Model Shop is a very specific kind of film, somewhat undistinguishable from so many other similar movies if it wasn’t for its specific setting.

  • Only You (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, February 2021) Capsule reviews are often about finding interesting things to say about a film, and there are a few hooks through which you can discuss Only You. As a bubbly romantic comedy set in Italy, it brings to mind both the wave of comfortable romcoms of the 1990s and the pedigree of Italian-set romances from Hollywood history. As directed by Norman Jewison, it’s another shining example of how versatile the Canadian-born filmmaker could be. Featuring a surprisingly featureless Marisa Tomei and a pre-downfall Robert Downey Jr. (plus a remarkable supporting turn from Bonnie Hunt), it’s a romantic comedy that knows that it has to be anchored by likable leads. With a narrative that initially straddles the line between romantic fantasy and magical realism, it plays a little bit with expectations before delivering exactly what is expected from it (including a finale at an airport). The Italian setting is pleasant enough — so much so that the film does lose steam once it gets back to the United States for its conclusion. But what does it amount to? More or less the romantic comedy that is advertised in the blurb, albeit with a few eccentricities to make it spiky and slightly more interesting along the way. Only You is not a great movie, but it’s charming enough to be what it aims to be.

  • Jane Eyre (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) For anyone even remotely knowledgeable about gothic romances, Jane Eyre is the ur-example for the form — with its likable governess becoming entangled in a romance with the mysterious owner of a large estate, and a crazy woman locked in the cellar. This version of the much-adapted Charlotte Bronte novel does have a truly impressive cast and crew — a script featuring contributions from Aldous Huxley and John Houseman, Joan Fontaine in the titular role and, perhaps best of all, Orson Welles (who also produced) as the mysterious Edward Rochester. The film plays up its sombre era of abandoned children, cruel orphanages and mysterious manors halfway between Dickensian social criticism and film noir visual melodrama. The result is curiously enjoyable, although now in a self-aware register that wallows in the overdone style of the piece. Welles is credibly menacing here, already channelling the scene-chewing nature of many of his later performances. It’s a period drama of a far more mysterious nature than many of the literary adaptations of the time, and it fits remarkably well will the mini-wave of domestic thrillers of the mid-1940s. As usual with stories adapted so frequently to the screen, the 1943 version of Jane Eyre is more remarkable for the cast and crew assembled for the occasion, as a snapshot of what Hollywood could do with the source material at the time than for the innate qualities of the story itself.

  • Mulan (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Disney Streaming, February 2021) I’m not sure when Disney’s recent rage for live-action adaptation of its own work will taper out — We’ve reached diminishing returns a few movies back already, and there’s presumably only a limited catalogue to suck dry before risking dicier sequels. The live-action Mulan certainly doesn’t help make the case that the live-action remakes are a worthwhile artistic endeavour: As with many of its live-action predecessors, the conversion of an animated tale to live actors produces something technically impressive but generally inert, and culturally risky that the project is doomed to criticism before even the first frame of it is seen. The anthropomorphic animal sidekicks are gone, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but in sticking close to the rest of the original film, this remake opens itself up to accusations of repetitiousness. Mulan’s best sequence is probably a down-to-the-ground training sequence that needs none of the special effects making the live-action version possible. There are plenty of battle sequences, but they don’t add much to the film. For a narrative so concerned with gender-bending, the transition to live action doesn’t really help: There’s only so much that you can do to Liu Yifei to make her look like a man, and the film isn’t particularly credible on that point. I’ll leave to other better-informed commentators the task of commenting on the film’s cultural authenticity, but I’ll note that anything related to China and pop entertainment at this point is so fraught with points of contention that Disney deserves whatever it gets from courting dollars with this project. All in service of what? A visually polished story already done to good effect, which is roughly the capsule summary of the half-dozen previous Disney live-adaptation projects so far. I struggle to remember at least half of them, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out, in a few years, that I have similar issues in even remembering this version of Mulan.

  • Holiday (1938)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) I was somehow under the impression that Holiday was a major film, but that may have as much to do with it being a reunion between Cary Grant, Kathleen Hepburn and director George Cukor than any specific merit in the film itself. Oh, it’s not bad— but it’s liable to come up short when compared to either Bringing up Baby or The Philadelphia Story. The story does make near-perfect use of Grant as a promising young man who, as the story begins, discovers that his holiday romantic partner is a rich heiress and that her family expects a man of his accomplishments and potential to become a potential successor to the family dynasty. He has other plans, though: Tired of having worked nearly twenty years before taking this first recent holiday, he intends to retire young in order to enjoy life. His fiancée doesn’t have the same hopes, but as it turns out her free-spirited sister does, and given that she’s played by Katharine Hepburn, it’s practically over for the other one as soon as Kate walks into the film. Directed by Cukor, Holiday is a mildly funny comedy of self-discovery and affirmation rather than the kind of silly screwball farce that could have been. Adapted from a theatrical play (with one supporting actor, Edward Everett Horton, reprising the same role), it’s gentle and often melancholic, leading to a very quick conclusion that almost raises as many questions and doubts as it resolves. Still, Grant is Grant, and you do get a classic moment of growing exasperation as a curl pops out of his perfectly manicured hair. He gets to demonstrate his skills as an acrobat and shares a great rapport with Hepburn, all the way to a classic sequence in which they perform dangerous-looking spills together. The 1930s humour feels familiar and strange at once, especially during a scene in which the characters throw a Nazi salute to mock some of their stuffy relatives. Considering that one of the film’s major themes is about breaking free of the dull orthodoxy in order to live a free life, it makes sense that entire stretches of the film don’t contain many laughs nor opportunities for Grant to shine. But if Holiday is not the laugh riot I was expecting, it’s still absorbing enough to be worth a look, and a great showcase in Grant’s first decade of acting.

  • Made in Italy (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) There is a well-worn quality to Made in Italy’s narrative that both helps it feel comfortably familiar, and makes entire sequences feel redundant. It starts as a young British man convinces his painter father to go back to their family house in Italy, with the intention of selling it so that he can buy an art gallery. Once over there, our young protagonist discovers that the house is nearly dilapidated, that heroic efforts will be required to make it sellable, and that there are plenty of unresolved issues between himself, his father and his dead mother. Much of the film is very, very familiar — to the point where we’re just waiting for a cute Italian girl to show up so that the protagonist can realize the folly of his current goal and start planning to stay and grow as a person. (Spoiler alert: this is exactly what happens.)  On one hand, this does help the film reach part of its objective as comfort viewing — the thrill of the house renovation arc is familiar, and so are the gradual romances that involve the main characters. Part of the point of Made in Italy is to enjoy the luminous Tuscan scenery, the way the house gradually becomes a terrific place to live in, and the copious references to great food. (Would it be surprising to learn that the Italian love interest is a cook? Not really.)  On the other hand, the same familiarity also requires the two male leads to work out their tragic repressed trauma in a series of conventional sequences that everyone must suffer through in order to get to the next charming bit. Writer-director James d’Arcy errs in putting too much emphasis on the melodrama at the expense of the stronger romantic/rustic qualities of the film, although it’s easy to see on the page that the dramatic material would be required to give enough substance to the result. The casting of the film is uncanny, though: Liam Neeson is up to his usual high standards as an aging artist afraid to go back over the biggest trauma of his life, but the magic happens once you realize that his son is played by his real-life son Micheál Richardson, their characters echoing the real-life grief of Natasha Richardson’s death. Knowing this, their big confrontation at the end of the film adds a bit of oomph to otherwise familiar scenes but also feels a bit voyeuristic. Still, Made in Italy does have enough going for it to be mostly charming most of the time — the third act is a bit drawn out, and you can see the pieces fall into place well before it happens, but there’s comfort in anticipating how it’s all going to come out.

  • Euphoria (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) I hate when a promising concept is extinguished by the weight of pedestrian execution, and the latest example of that is found in Euphoria, a low-budget drama that delights in being as dull as it can be after a promising beginning. Although, let’s not overpraise those opening moments: As two estranged sisters reunite, the mystery that accumulates through their interactions and strange behaviour is already overshadowed by a heavy ponderousness. This is going to be an overwrought drama, quickly says the film through its execution. Before long, we have both the explanation to the mystery and nearly the last interesting thing about Euphoria: One of the women is mortally sick and has chosen to go, accompanied by her sister, to a secluded euthanasia clinic when she’ll be able to live her last days in peace before undergoing a fatal injection. It’s a sign of the script’s overwrought melodramatic tendencies that this (including the terminal cancer) is all explained to the protagonist once they’re already at the clinic rather than at any reasonable moment before then… you know, like normal people would do. But no — Euphoria is about creating a pressure cooker of an environment in which the sisters can hash out their recriminations, childhood traumas and repressed feelings in time for a conclusion that isn’t nearly as climactic as the filmmakers hoped for. Despite the acting talent of Alicia Vikander and Eva Green, the film struggles to make it past the finish line, weighed down by a graceless exploration of familiar themes that completely forgets the spark of mystery that led its first few minutes. Director Lisa Langseth is clearly trying for artistic drama here and succeeds too well: the film feels interminable even at less than two hours, and not even Charlotte Rampling as a therapist nor Charles Dance as another terminally-ill patient can quite manage to save the film even if they manage to make us temporarily interested again. It’s a bad, bad sign for a film when you start wishing for the lead character to die so that it can finally end. I still think that there was potential here for something much better — and a purely theatrical take on the same elements may be far more effective than a film that seems to exhaust itself in aimless meanderings. But as it is, Euphoria is anything but exhilarating.

  • Enola Holmes (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, February 2021) Sherlock Holmes reinterpretations have become something of a cottage industry at this point, so the idea of following Holmes’ younger sister as she wanders in Victorian England having exciting adventures is perhaps not as fresh as it could have been once upon a time. Still, there’s a lot to say about execution, and it doesn’t take long for Enola Holmes to draw us in its enthusiastic take on the mythos. Millie Bobby Brown turns in a winning performance as Enola, with some able support from Henry Cavill (as Sherlock) and Helena Bonham Carter (as their mom). Assigning the detective smarts of Holmes to a teenager does a lot to get away from recent takes’ tendency to indulge in difficult-man worship. The plot, in-keeping with this female-centric reimagining of Holmes, eventually makes its way to the debate about women’s right to vote. Still, it’s the moments and the fizzy rhythm that make the film, as Enola directly speaks to the viewers and the fast-paced editing works to keep up with the deductions and machinations that are de rigueur in dealing with the Holmes family. Harry Bradbeer’s direction is surprisingly assured, especially given the rapid rhythm and busy editing. The historical re-creation is convincing, making good use of CGI and practical re-creation. The one note that annoyed me is the role assigned to Mycroft Holmes, who here plays the shouting repressive antagonist more than anything resembling the character in the accepted mythos. Still, Enola Holmes is not a bad entry in the subgenre, and considering that it’s based on a series of novels, there’s a fair chance that we’ll get a few sequels before the well runs dry.

  • Orphans of the Storm (1921)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (YouTube Streaming, February 2021) When it comes to early film director D.W. Griffith’s work, I should probably take a look at his best-known work rather than more minor productions such as Orphans of the Storm, a film about two orphan girls during the French Revolution. Still, you can often learn more about average entries than masterpieces, and it doesn’t take two minutes for Griffith to start lecturing through opening title cards that “The lesson — the French Revolution RIGHTLY overthrew a BAD government. But we in America should be careful lest we with a GOOD government mistake fanatics for leaders and exchange our decent law and order for Anarchy and Bolshevism.” (Emphasis his.)  This naïve political science lesson sounds stupid coming from someone whose infamously racist Birth of a Nation led to a resurgence of the Klu Klux Klan, but that’s Griffith for you. Cheerfully using the French Revolution to score domestic political points, Orphans of the Storm is perhaps best enjoyed as a showcase for Lillian and Dorothy Gish, as well as for Griffith’s undeniable talent, even at this early stage of cinema history, for re-creating lavish historical scenes with hundreds of extras. The story itself is the kind of melodramatic hokum that was in vogue at the time, adapted from a well-known novel and featuring not only orphans, revolution and anti-aristocratic resentment, but plot-convenient blindness as well. It’s… interesting in the way many first-rate 1920s silent productions are, which is to say that it’s often a slog to get through the historically relevant material. I still have a few more Griffith movies in my future as a cinephile, but I’m not really looking forward to any of them.