Movie Review

  • Abismos de pasión [Wuthering Heights] (1954)

    Abismos de pasión [Wuthering Heights] (1954)

    (With French Subtitles, On TV, October 2021) I got interested in Abismos de pasión because it’s directed by Luis Buñuel, but there’s a lot of fine print to read in his bibliography—it’s not all surrealism and wild concepts, and his mid-1950s Mexican phase is far more conventional than most of his other work. Still, conventional isn’t necessarily boring, and so Abismos de pasión ends up being a Mexican retelling of Emily Brontë’s classic Wuthering Heights, transplanted in a countryside much unlike the rural English estates of the original. Then there’s the execution, because when Buñuel decides to go for melodrama, he truly commits to it—the performances are emotionally heightened to an almost parodic degree, and the in-your-face score practically becomes a character in itself, telling the viewers not just how to feel, but giving them permission to go all-out on the love, the tears and the indignation. Despite a relative paucity of plotting, Abismos de pasión is a wild ride in barely 90 minutes, all the way to the overwrought shotgun finale. This is clearly nowhere near the top of my favourite Buñuel films, nor is it anywhere near most critics’ assessments of his work, but it does have a few things going for it.

  • Framed (1990)

    Framed (1990)

    (In French, On Cable TV, October 2021) There’s an amiable nature to Framed that makes it hard to dislike even if it’s not that great a thriller. A made-for-HBO comic suspense set against the underworld of art forgery, it’s a film that has Jeff Goldblum as a master forger, but one who ends up in prison after possibly being betrayed by his girlfriend, and who gets sucked back into the racket upon being released from prison. Kristin Scott Thomas is often cute as the potentially traitorous girlfriend (a rather rare comic role), while some colourful supporting characters quickly make the protagonist understand that he’s stuck between mobsters, businessmen, police officers and other shady characters. The ex-girlfriend has another score in mind, the FBI wants evidence to lock up the girlfriend and the mobster wants to marry the girlfriend. Anyone would walk away, but there are, naturally, a few complications. Framed decides to go soft on the laughs—there are a few funny sequences (specifically during the wedding), but the film generally underplays the comedy. The result is a more subtle tone than usual, but one where it’s easy to miss the chuckles if you’re not paying attention. The effect of such a soft-pedalled approach is that the film often feels as if it’s not reaching its full potential. The eccentric characters seem held back from being truly funny, and even the comic situations are handled with restraint. It’s not necessarily a bad choice, as the result does often feel more respectable than a broader film would have been. But it does make Framed a rather discreet film—fit to fill an evening’s entertainment, but not necessarily convince viewers to tell others.

  • Skyfire (2019)

    Skyfire (2019)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Cynical observers will comment that, true to the way they’re behaving in other industries, China has spent decades studying, buying and appropriating everything they could find about blockbuster filmmaking before making their own. In Skyfire, we see the Chinese film industry turning to disaster films as their next target, even going to the trouble of hiring a western has-been director of the form (Simon West, long past his Con Air/Lara Croft glory days) and a western actor (Jason Isaacs) to anchor a cast and crew otherwise studded with Chinese names. The disaster being showcased is nothing less than an island volcano, around which a state-of-the-art hotel/thrill ride has been built for sensation seekers. What would, in the real world, be recognized as the worst idea anyone has ever had is here turned into a justification for a time-tested amount of mayhem, special effects, action sequences and dramatic sacrifices, as the volcano wakes up at the most inopportune time and starts spewing more lava than an apoplectic film critic. Skyfire is not too bad by the standards of the form—West is hampered by the typical histrionics and corner-cutting of Chinese blockbuster filmmaking (as in: the special effects are good enough to get the point across, but not good enough to be fully believable, while the melodrama is cranked up to an almost-laughable extent) but it has been a while since we’ve seen a big-budget volcano disaster film and this one can be ambitious at times. The stock characters are still likable, and the preposterousness of the plotting has its genre-specific charm. There are quite a few lulls as Skyfire sets up its next thrill ride, but it does deliver on the basics of a disaster film, and that’s not too bad. Further demonstrating how well they have learned lessons from the Americans, the filmmakers have promised that this is the first of a trilogy—but we’ll see if that holds true.

  • The Way Back (2020)

    The Way Back (2020)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) There have been so many movies about inspiring high-school coaches that anyone can be forgiven for mentally checking out as The Way Back begins—Ben Affleck plays a middle-aged man asked to coach his alma mater’s basketball team, and if you’re not paying attention, you’d probably expect this to go to the usual conclusion. But then there are the details surrounding the protagonist’s misery—a former basketball star, now a separated alcoholic blue-collar worker, still grieving the death of his son and not exactly a master of self-control. The Way Back isn’t just about the teenage basketball players: it’s also about the coach going through his own redemption arc, and perhaps the biggest narrative curveball of the film is that it’s not a triumphant process: there are plenty of third-act setbacks, and the conclusion barely ekes out a win. Still, Affleck does impress in an unglamorous role, with a bearded face and haggard expression telling us that this isn’t meant to be fun at all. The Way Back is not a particularly high-octane film, but it’s slightly more ambitious than many of its closest equivalents, and it ends up being slightly more than a formula. I still can’t imagine watching it a second time.

  • Caged (1950)

    Caged (1950)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Women-in-prison exploitation films are nothing new, especially when they’re toned down just a little bit to become social dramas: I’ve seen examples dating back to the 1930s. Caged is nothing new when compared to later examples of the form, but the harshness of its treatment combined with its film-noir production era does lend it a curious kind of respectability. (People at the time agreed—the film was nominated for three Oscars.)  Much of the film is a story of corruption—terrible prison conditions, of course, but also the corruption of its lead character (a rather good performance by Eleanor Parker) as she goes from naïve young woman to hardened criminal during her time inside. The film spares no plot devices—whether it’s prison-born babies, killed kittens, inmate murder or desperation suicide—to keep viewers incensed and involved. It’s grim and effective all the way to the final merciless line of the film. It’s tautly made at barely 96 minutes, and director John Cromwell keeps things grim and simple. There’s exploitation to Caged, of course, but it’s cleverly crafted and disguised as a socially conscious description of how the prison process itself dehumanizes its victims.

  • My Octopus Teacher (2020)

    My Octopus Teacher (2020)

    (Netflix Streaming, October 2021) As a blend between nature documentary and self-discovery narrative, My Octopus Teacher often seems too convenient to be true—the story of a man who, at a difficult time in his life, goes swimming in the ocean and develops a friendship with a small octopus. As an excuse to go shooting nature footage in shallow waters, it’s unparalleled. The result is quite nice—even knowing that we’re watching a re-creation of the events being told, the colourful footage is striking and the human/octopus interactions are very well done. But it’s in the narrative where My Octopus Teacher outdoes itself—Science Fiction fans will get the frisson of a first-contact story as a human learns to approach and understand an alien intelligence, with occasional setbacks and an inevitably sad ending. While writer-producer-star Craig Foster remains vague over the personal issues he was trying to escape or overcome when he started diving, that leaves the focus of the film on his interaction with his octopus, the way he learns to think like one and the quirks of an octopus’s psychology. The footage, shot over many years following the narrative being told, ably illustrates the story. There’s no denying the intelligence of the octopus, nor the effectiveness in which a narrative overlaid on nature footage makes it even more compelling. You can quibble about some of the emotional manipulation or the particulars of the dramatic recreation, but I find it hard to imagine that anyone save for hard-core cephalophobes would hate My Octopus Teacher: the film is designed to make octopi cute and relatable, and Foster does make for a very likable host as well. The subject matter still manages to be memorable in a growing ocean of nature documentaries, and the way it’s put together is uncommonly effective. No wonder the film walked away with a Best Documentary Academy Award.

  • It’s a Date (2018)

    It’s a Date (2018)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) It would be far too easy to criticize It’s a Date: At barely 68 minutes, this romantic comedy feels undercooked with a thin, familiar plot extended past an hour by extraneous “bad dates” and “too-demanding clients” montages best seen in other movies. The bare-bones plot revolves around the owner of a dating service who refuses to date an attractive client while dealing with her no-good idea-stealing ex-husband. Not quite having enough plot, the script goes on tangents, follows supporting characters without much conviction and throws in a cheap joke about metrosexuality when it’s looking for more padding material. The low-budget production values of the film are obvious in the humdrum direction, repetitive cinematography, obvious sound editing issues (with buzzes and blanks succeeding each other in a lack of polish rarely seen on TV broadcasts) and cheap sets tightly shot. Tammy Townsend is fine in the lead role, although it’s unfair to her when K. D. Aubert walks in the film and steals most glances, or when Jontille Gerard outdoes her on sheer likability. Meanwhile, Darrin Dewitt Henson is not bad in the romantic lead even if his role is to be puppeteered according to the needs of the script. Probably put together on a shoestring budget by director Grayson Stroud, the film benefits from Los Angeles stock footage to expand on the very small number of sets. But here’s the thing: It may be a bad movie, but I’m not really in a mood to criticize It’s a Date all that much. It’s basic and straightforward, but it’s easy to watch, and there’s something interesting in the script’s blend of romance and business drama that probably could have worked even better with a bigger budget. It’s the kind of romantic comedy that’s easy to like even when it’s flawed and clunky, and even its short length can be seen as an asset when it wraps up so quickly and leaves us before overstaying its welcome. It’s a small success of good intentions over lavish means, and the nature of its genre means that it ends with a smile despite an in-your-face final scene. (Amusingly, the poster spoils what’s probably the script’s most surprising plot development.)

  • Rio Lobo (1970)

    Rio Lobo (1970)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) The obvious attraction in watching Rio Lobo is that this is the last film from legendary director Howard Hawks, who career spanned the 1920s to the 1970s and produced more than a dozen good-to-classic films along the way. Alas, this is not much of a swan song: saddled with an undistinguished plot that echoes previous Hawks “defend the town” westerns, Rio Lobo is further hampered by John Wayne strutting around in self-satisfied fashion, a remarkable lack of humour, not-so-striking female characters and a noticeable lack of whatever made previous Hawks films so compelling. The film’s production history suggests that Hawks himself is to blame for all of this—a script written to be repetitive, bad casting decisions compounded by on-set conflict and a lack of interest in shooting the best sequence of the film. If Rio Lobo is worth a look, it’s solely for its opening sequence, in which a money train is hijacked thanks to grease on the rails and a wasp nest thrown in the cabin. It’s a dynamic, somewhat inventive action set-piece that recalls Hawk’s earlier, better movies—except that film historians tell us that the sequence was shot by the second-unit director and stuntman Yakima Canutt. Ah well—after that, Rio Lobo settles for more of the same western stuff: fans of the genre will like, but Hawks’ uncanny ability to make good movies no matter the genre is no longer perceptible. It makes for a featureless viewing experience, and a disappointing finish to Hawks’ filmography—a dull film made even worse by aping previous better entries.

  • Miss Grant Takes Richmond (1949)

    Miss Grant Takes Richmond (1949)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) I happened to go overnight from a 1939 Lucille Ball film to 1949’s Miss Grant Takes Richmond and it wasn’t hard to appreciate what ten years did in defining her persona. Going from cute but largely undistinguishable ingenue to the patented look and behaviour that would ensure her epochal TV success, Ball also used the decade to gather her full face and curly hair that still distinguishes her today. In Miss Grant Takes Richmond, she plays a slightly ditzy young woman who graduates last in her secretarial class and is immediately snapped up by a shady bookmaker who puts up a false real estate front to camouflage his illicit business. After all, who really needs a competent secretary when she’s just supposed to be window-dressing? Alas, his plan doesn’t account for a few wildcards: What our protagonist lacks in secretarial competence she more than makes up in drive, goodness and interpersonal skills: before long, she has transformed our bookmaker in a reluctant but authentic real-estate developer, rallying the community around an affordable housing project—even when hilarious mistakes are made along the way. Then there’s the final flaw: Falling in love with her, even as an old flame threatens to pull him back in the shady life. Ball is in fine form here—there’s a moment where she stares wide-eyed at the camera and we can see the almost fully-formed Lucy of I Love Lucy, going for slapstick with an ease that would be remarkable if it wasn’t designed to look effortless. It helps to have William Holden as a co-lead, able to play a leading man that would be plausibly involved with organized crime. The comedy can get very broad at times—such as the construction site sequences—but Ball is better when she can go full-spectrum on verbal and physical comedy. While Miss Grant Takes Richmond is perhaps too basic to live on as a classic comedy, it’s quite entertaining, fun to watch and an excellent showcase for Ball’s talents just on the cusp of her becoming a superstar.

  • Stephen King’s It (1990)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Considering the lavish two-part movie treatment given to Stephen King’s It in 2017 and 2019, it’s tempting to dismiss the two-episode 1990 miniseries as obviously inferior. That’s largely true on a technical level—there was a definite limit to what you would do on a TV budget in 1990—but from a plotting perspective, the TV adaptation holds up quite well even today, even to those who liked the Muschietti diptych. It helps to have Tim Curry in the antagonist role, even if the conclusion underwhelms with an overly literal take on the monster’s final form. Still, the result is not bad. Adapting a 1,000+ novel in barely more than three hours is a quasi-impossible assignment, but the result is still cogent and, in some ways, less abrasive than the King novel. (Readers know what I’m talking about.) The cast of character is still too large and too male, but that’s from the novel itself—the TV version finds good ways to create suspense, flow between two distinct periods, keep its entire cast occupied and delivers a rather nice conclusion as a final flourish. Rough around the edges but not bad at all, this version of It still warrants a look for those with recent memories of the next-generation adaptation.

  • Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970)

    Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) What’s fun about Hammer Studio films of circa-1970 is how free they felt to play with the elements of the monster mythos they were inspired by. Having delivered the origin story, they could head in different directions with familiar characters and settings, meaning that we get new stories featuring classic monsters but—this may be the most crucial element of them all—actors that were very comfortable with audiences and with their roles. So it is that Christopher Lee, once more, steps into the shoes of Dracula in Taste the Blood of Dracula—albeit reluctantly and after a good chunk of the film is over, as the producers wanted to head in a different direction but were eventually convinced to get Lee back. The resulting story is disjointed, but it has enough sex (via brothel) and death to make fans happy. The setting is once more somewhere in mysterious 19th century Eastern Europe, but the plot elements will be familiar to Stoker fans. Despite its outlandish title, Taste the Blood of Dracula is not that good, but it is both slightly novel and comfortable at once. The more I’m seeing of that era’s Hammer films, the more I’m convinced that there’s a Hammer Blu-ray collection begging to be added next to my Universal Monster box-set.

  • Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969)

    Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) By 1969, Hammer Studios had gotten the hang of producing their own takes on the classic Universal Monsters, with successive entries free to take the mythos in a different direction without worrying too much about continuity. The fifth of their Frankenstein films, Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, begins as the doctor’s lab is trashed, and he goes on to find a way to transplant the brain of an associate in a new body. That’s pretty much it for plot, but then there’s Peter Cushing as Baron Frankenstein to hold the pieces together. (And there are pieces indeed—due to studio interference, an incongruous rape sequence was added despite the director, co-stars and audience objections. And that’s without mentioning the comic relief sequences.)  Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed is a film best seen by Frankenstein devotees—because it plays with familiar elements of the myth and rearranges them in ways that aren’t beholden to presenting the canonical version of the story.

  • Fast Company (1938)

    Fast Company (1938)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Any resemblance between the love-bickering, funny-detecting married couple at the heart of Fast Company and Nick and Norah Charles of The Thin Man series is strictly intentional: history has it that theatrical exhibitors asked MGM to deliver a series much like it in-between the long production delays between instalments. MGM obliged, and Fast Company is the first of three attempts (all featuring a different leading cast) to replicate the success of Nick and Norah. Taking on the rather interesting world of rare books, our protagonists are booksellers that moonlight as investigators for insurance companies. Things do get more urgent when murder enters the equation, and the film manages to fit an impressive amount of criminal plot, charming repartee, good character moments and evocative details along the way. Melvyn Douglas and Florence Rice are rather good in the leads, but they will inevitably have the bad luck to be compared to the incomparable William Powell and Myrna Loy. Still, as a short quick piece of entertainment, Fast Company holds its own—it’s methadone compared to the good stuff of The Thin Man series, but it does the job if you’re in the mood for something similar. Exactly as MGM first intended.

  • Hypothermia (2010)

    Hypothermia (2010)

    (In French, On Cable TV, October 2021) At a mere 72 minutes, you would think that creature horror feature Hypothermia wouldn’t waste your time… but that’s a generous assumption. There simply isn’t enough narrative to fill up even that time. Consider that it’s about a family ice-fishing trip and an aquatic monster (« climate change » blablabla) eating a few of the cast. That’s… it. Even the ending takes the rather unusual tack of allowing survivors to escape without taking care of the monster. (But not before a funny final speech in which the mom speaks to the monster as if it was listening intently.)  Michael Rooker stars, but it’s clearly just a paycheque for him, and the same sense of dutiful professionalism from writer-director James Felix McKenney permeates a film that never rises above the basics. I did, as a Canadian, like the idea of ice fishing as a setting… but I can tell you from personal experience that freezing for hours while watching a hole in the river ice is far more entertaining (because of the company) than watching Hypothermia.

  • Slice and Dice: The Slasher Film Forever (2012)

    Slice and Dice: The Slasher Film Forever (2012)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) I’m not sure why I’d willingly watch a documentary about slasher horror films, considering that I despise the genre—but I’m always up to hear directors, screenwriters and actors talk about craft. Then again, I suppose that I’m not above some occasional hate-watching, especially considering how I know more about the genre than some of its fans. As the title Slice and Dice: The Slasher Film Forever suggests, this is not a critical documentary—by fans for fans, it talks to cast and crew (but not critics!) and doesn’t dig deep in celebrating the genre. Whatever depth it has is in encyclopedic knowledge: The schematic nature of the film starts with an overview of the genre’s history (starting with Psycho, then going to the heavy hitters of the 1980s), then tackles genre-specific topics such as the villains, how to survive a slasher, why there are so many sequels and remakes, what makes the best kills, or the final girls. There is occasionally a bit of perspective from some of the interviewees (Patrick Lussier and Corey Feldman both make a few pointed observations), but not all that much—it’s not particularly pleasant to hear interviewees extol the feminist virtues of “the final girls” while conveniently ignoring the dozens of victims (usually women) killed before that point. Copious footage from the films (although some are unexplainably illustrated by stills—rights issues?) illustrates the matters being discussed. Obviously a low-budget production, director Calum Waddell uses an overall graphic design that feels ugly and amateurish, framing the interviews (which are not always of very high visual quality—probably an artifact of rushing to capture footage) in awkward ways. As a slasher documentary, Slice and Dice is exactly what it wants to be—an affectionate look at the genre from a chorus of sympathetic voices, put together with a low-budget and plenty of good intentions. It’ll do if you want an overview of the genre, but don’t go there if you want a critical perspective.