Movie Review

  • Topper Takes a Trip (1938)

    Topper Takes a Trip (1938)

    (On TV, October 2021) Picking up right after the first Topper (but negating its reconciliation conclusion), Topper Takes a Trip foregoes Cary Grant but keeps the rest of the cast, as banker Cosmo Topper and his wife are once again at odds and she decides to leave for France during a temporary separation. This won’t do, decides the flirtatious friendly ghost of the first film (Constance Bennett, given that Grant has presumably ascended to heaven) as she sets out to reunite the bickering couple. As with the first film, the emphasis remains on silly, often improperly justified comedy, as ghosts materialize or appear without much consistency in their powers. The important part is taking in the gags and having the Toppers reunite at the end. Roland Young and Billie Burke are not bad as the Toppers, but they clearly play second fiddle to Bennett. Topper Takes a Trip is a fairly weak brew as far as comedies go, but it’s unquestionably a follow-up that steps into the shoes of its predecessor. I liked it without loving it—it’s reasonably fun, but not that good nor that funny.

  • Jekyll & Hyde (1990)

    Jekyll & Hyde (1990)

    (In French, On Cable TV, October 2021) If you’re looking for the biggest distinction between the 1990 TV movie’s take on Jekyll & Hyde when compared to other versions, the best I can offer you is Michael Caine in the lead roles. It makes sense that actors would regularly want to measure themselves up against one of the most famous dual roles in classic literature—some have gone for heavy makeup, others just acting to distinguish both alter egos. This version, made for ABC television network, is nicely executed: the production values are strong, Caine is having a lot of fun in bladder makeup and the perverse romantic angle is juiced up. It’s psychologically developed to the 1990s standards of TV filmmaking and showcases an interesting angle on the usual story. It’s important to note that, at this point, I don’t evaluate Jekyll & Hyde movies on their individual basis as a vehicle for the story: I’m more interested in how they differ from other takes, or how the actor distinguishes himself from the tradition set by Barrymore, March, Tracy and others. This one certainly isn’t perfect: timid in some areas, too wild in others (that ending stinger is just silly). But Caine as Jekyll and Hyde? Worth seeing.

  • Da 5 Bloods (2020)

    Da 5 Bloods (2020)

    (Netflix Streaming, October 2021) Don’t misunderstand me when I say that Spike Lee could have had an exemplary career as a pure entertainment filmmaker: He’s one of the most vital voices in American cinema and he wouldn’t be Spike Lee without constant engagement on social issues. But as many entries on his filmography suggest (25th hour, Inside Man, Oldboy), he could have made it solely on technical competence in delivering entertaining films. But his special genius lies elsewhere, in combining this entertainer’s instinct with works of social import. His latest two films, BlacKkKlansman and Da 5 Bloods, end up being among the best of his career in blending accessible narratives with pointed social issues. His latest film begins with exactly the right interview snippet: Mohammed Ali discussing how “I ain’t got no quarrel with those Vietcong,” thus putting the central idea of the film right up there: why would black soldiers serve a country that marginalized them so much? The way to illustrate this tension goes through a hard-to-resist premise: what if American soldiers went back to Vietnam fifty years later to find the remains of their commanding officer… and a crate filled with gold? The early moments of Da 5 Bloods present themselves as something of a romp, as our elderly veterans (led by Delroy Lindo) take in the sights of a westernized Saigon and head over to their adventure. But pay attention to the flashbacks and the foreshadowing about landmines because the film becomes darker in a single moment and its second half is a far more thrilling contemporary adventure in which, as usual, finding the gold isn’t nearly as difficult as keeping it. Jean Reno has a small but enjoyable role, while Chadwick Boseman makes a remarkable appearance (one of his last) and Hollywood newcomer Sandy Hương Phạm provides a remarkable emotional linchpin to the film. It gets overly violent at times (even though: hey, it’s a war film) but engrossing throughout even as it switches gears as it goes on. It’s a really good film, and doesn’t skimp on the American racial divide either. Da 5 Bloods is another success for Spike Lee, who seems to be getting a second or even third wind as a filmmaker.

  • A.rtificial I.mmortality (2021)

    A.rtificial I.mmortality (2021)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) As someone who once wrote an entire (bad, unpublished) novel about transhumanism, personality uploads and runaway artificial intelligence, I had to have a look at Canadian documentary A.rtificial I.mmortality. The film follows Toronto-based director Ann Shin as she, contemplating the cognitive decline of her father, sets out to investigate the latest in creating artificial personalities, by feeding it key documents of one’s life, numerous writings, 3D scanning and such. Philosophical implications are lightly touched upon, as Shin attends transhumanist church services, promising start-ups and electronic shows. If the technology still feels clunky, incomplete and unconvincing, keep in mind that it’s already progressed to the point when this stuff isn’t solely the domain of science fiction. Shin (a likable presence doing much to humanize her topic) interviews an avatar of Deepak Chopra, unveils her own avatar to her kids (who aren’t impressed) and talks to luminaries in the field. It’s both impressive and lame at once—cutting-edge stuff far ahead of what was possible even a few years ago, and still so unconvincing as to make anyone wonder why we bother. But you have to take the long-term view. By happenstance, I ended up watching A.rtificial I.mmortality right after 1983’s documentary Sans Soleil, which took in the state of early-1980s personal computing with awed wonderment, and the juxtaposition between the two did much to put this latest film in perspective: It’s all a bit laughable today, but just wait thirty years and we’ll talk again. In the meantime, the film is a decent introduction to the latest thinking in the field, and the way it bandies about “mind file” as a real thing had me wondering what this very website (with thousands of reviews and millions of words of opinionated personal content) may mean in terms of legacy. Of course, to update an old Woody Allen joke, I don’t want to achieve immortality by being re-created through my writing as a synthetic personality in a distant future—I want to achieve it by not dying. Until then, well, A.rtificial I.mmortality will serve as a marker of where we were in 2021—our achievements, hopes and fears in the matter. Maybe it’s time for me to write another novel on the topic…

  • Sans soleil [Sunless] (1983)

    Sans soleil [Sunless] (1983)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) The personal essay is a form of documentary filmmaking that was relatively rare, often pretentious, but fascinating when done well. Such things are far more common nowadays with YouTube (where it’s often all opinion masquerading as fact), but in 1983 you had to have some financial backing to go to foreign destinations and deliver what’s essentially a travelogue mixed with random thoughts stemming from the trips. Let’s face it: much of writer-director Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil is almost unbearably self-absorbed, commenting on foreign cultures by using dodgy expressions and an outsider’s perspective. There’s some banal material passed as deep thoughts, and some moments that probably only made sense to Marker alone. But there are some better moments as well—an interesting discussion of Vertigo, or an amazed look at circa-1983 computer technology that anticipates many of the subsequent debates about our relationship to computers. (By coincidence, I happened to follow Sans Soleil with an up-to-the-moment look at Artificial Immortality, and one did much to inform the other.)  It would be an exaggeration to say that I liked Sans soleil, but it is an unusual video essay that often finds a fascinating streak.

  • An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (1991)

    An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (1991)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) After taking on the classic immigrant experience in An American Tail, the sequel goes after another piece of Americana in sequel Fievel Goes West. As the title suggests, the Mousekewitzes decide to head west after getting tired of the limited opportunities in New York City. As in the prequel, their journey finds young Fievel separated from them, learning valuable life lessons along the way. Taking on familiar western tropes with more enthusiasm than innovation, Fievel Goes West seems content to follow a very classical way of making animated movies, with plenty of songs and dances to go around. Some of the musical numbers are not bad: I’m particularly fond of the short “Rawhide” sequence. Some celebrity voices are also ear-catching: John Cleese turns in a fun villainous performance, while James Stewart’s unmistakable drawl is here heard for the last time. It’s family entertainment in a comfortable old-school mould, perhaps a bit more superficial and fast-paced than other similar films, but clearly having fun with the conventions of westerns. Fievel Goes West feels less profound but more fun than its prequel, which will strike some as ideal and others as a step down.

  • The Farewell (2019)

    The Farewell (2019)

    (In French, On TV, October 2021) As I’m mentioned elsewhere, the best thing about the 2010s trend toward more inclusive filmmaking is getting those stories we wouldn’t have had otherwise. Stories like The Farewell, in which a young aimless Chinese-American goes to China for a wedding over her family’s objections. The issue is that the entire family is invited, but they don’t trust her not to keep a family secret: that the matriarch of the family is dying of cancer, and the entire family has chosen to keep the news from her. Featuring a completely de-glammed Awkwafina in a demanding role, the film initially does run on a core engine of suspense: will the protagonist be able to keep a secret from her dear grandma or not? But then, before we know it, we’re deep enough in family dynamics, exploring Changchun, learning why Grandma is so special and getting a lesson in Chinese collectivism. Despite a good dramatic turn for Awkwafina, it’s Zhao Shu-zhen who steals to film as a Chinese matriarch. The universality of The Farewell is impressive—despite the foreign nature of the film’s surroundings, it’s easy to empathize with the complex family ties at play here. It’s not a particularly fast-paced film: some shots drag on, much of the material is repeated and there isn’t much of a plot to speak of. But that’s fine—The Farewell is a different kind of film, and one that’s best taken in rather than actively watched.

  • Safer at Home (2021)

    Safer at Home (2021)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Despite what follows, I approached Safer at Home with the best intentions—I did! As of mid-2021, we’re hardly done tackling the COVID-19 pandemic in film format, and immediate takes such as this one can be helpful in capturing the madness of the moment. I’m also quite willing to entertain experiments with the film form, even if this means, for now, a spate of films inspired by videoconference calls. As Safer at Home begins, we’re clearly not meant to stay in the moment: A year or two from now, as an incredibly deadly “COVID-22-C” variant takes out millions of people per day, our characters are in their third year of lockdown, forced to celebrate their annual Vegas get-together virtually. Naturally, these bright lightbulbs conclude that the best way to do this is to simultaneously take a new experimental drug from Japan. If you’re thinking that this won’t end well, you have no idea—and you’re about to find out that “won’t end well” also applies to the film itself and not just the events happening within it. As mentioned, our characters aren’t the smartest teleworkers around—a trivial admission of a past sexual experience gets a couple arguing and by the time our other characters are retreating to the bedroom, bemoaning the drug trip or being distracted, one character is lying lifelessly on the floor and another one is protesting that he didn’t do anything. Rather than doing the sensible thing (or even any sensible thing), one dull-witted character goes running off in the streets, breaking curfew and attracting police attention but never ever turning off his cell phone screen even when it’s bathing him in light as he tries to hide. The rest of Safer at Home just keeps getting dumber and dumber, ending with a hysterical climax of police brutality that almost feels deserved as a consequence for being such morons throughout the entire film. What began as a semi-comic take on the pressures of confinement just turns stupider every five minutes, until we’ve completely lost sympathy for everyone involved and especially the guy who dies at the end. (Well, I did like Alisa Allapach’s performance, but she’s got the plum cuter-and-smarter role in a weak ensemble cast.)  Even the “twist” at the end can be seen long in advance. A lot of material is left untouched here, whether it’s the collective grief of a nation having lost 10% of its population, or the much-vaunted “drug trip” that doesn’t do much, or the impact of an oppressive police force. I still think Safer at Home had potential, but the dim-witted way writer-director Will Wernick goes about steadily wasting its potential is not the way to go.

  • Dreamkatcher (2020)

    Dreamkatcher (2020)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Trite, dull and indifferently executed, writer-director Kerry Harris’ Dreamkatcher is low-budget horror at its most unremarkable. A story of a mom at odds with her new step-son while he’s under the influence of demonic possession, it’s not a story without promise, but it wastes it all in muted execution. The possessed child angle is not without a few mild shocks, but they disappear in a series of plot holes, unlikable characters (what kind of dad leaves his girlfriend and son alone together for days when there’s clearly no trust there?), slow pacing and unconvincing moments. Horror favourite Lin Shaye has a walk-on role as an expert on the occult, but it’s not very well handled and feels like an inept attempt to raise the film’s profile by leeching off her Insidious fame. At least I’m reasonably confident that I’m going to forget all of Dreamkatcher within days.

  • A River Runs Through It (1992)

    A River Runs Through It (1992)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Closer to a tonal poem than a sustained drama, A River Runs Through It is meant as a piece of cinema fit to let you relax, unwind, meditate on life and appreciate fly-fishing. Narrated and directed by Robert Redford, it’s a multi-decade drama following a young man as he grows up in a small Montana town, goes to college, returns for a while and contemplates his option. Fly-fishing, as taught by his father and perfected by his brother, stands halfway between a sport and a creed. It’s all affectionate, nostalgic, and not particularly plot-driven except in the accumulating weight of years. Adapted from a hit book by Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It’s contemplative nature was a tough screenwriting assignment for Richard Friedenberg and an even more delicate directing task: fortunately, Redford is up to it, and having terrific cinematography does help a lot. Acting-wise, this is the film that brought Brad Pitt to nationwide attention (bolstering his place as Redford’s natural heir) and got Joseph Gordon-Levitt an “introducing” credit. It’s not really my kind of cinema, but it’s hard to be overly critical about a film that manages to reach its own objective in its own patient time.

  • The Gracefield Incident (2017)

    The Gracefield Incident (2017)

    (In French, On TV, October 2021) My decision to watch The Gracefield Incident was as impulsive as it was intended to be ironic: You see, there’s a small town a hundred kilometres north of where I live that is named Gracefield. Since it’s not known for anything but its cottages, seeing a no-name low-budget science-fiction film titled the same was enough to amuse me. Frankly, I expected some New England-set cheapo alien horror that would refer to a Gracefield that clearly wasn’t the local Gracefield. I stopped smiling thirty seconds after the film began, the moment I noticed that the characters were obviously driving through Montréal. My lack of amusement turned to astonishment a few minutes later, once it became obvious that the characters were headed to a cottage in the local Gracefield. That aside, this very-small-budget film, written-directed-produced-edited-headlined by Matthew Ratthe, has more trouble distinguishing itself. The special effects are better than you’d expect, and the ending is surprisingly better than the usual horror nihilism that comes out of similar films. I’m going to go soft on the rest—this is clearly the kind of small-scale film whose very existence itself is a half-miracle. Anything else is a bonus. So, I’m not happy to report that The Gracefield Incident is a found-footage film with many of the usual issues and exasperation of the subgenre: impossible camera logic, dubious motivations, slap-dash dramatic scenes, exasperating shakycam, deliberately obscured action… all the same annoyances that movie reviewers have spent the last twenty-some years cataloguing. To that we can add a significant amount of blandness in the execution: uninteresting characters, an alien menace that seems to be getting its kicks out of juvenile pranks, and some serious pacing issues in the middle of a film where the characters are getting yanked out of frame regularly. But there’s a reason why such flaws are common in low-budget pictures, and they have to do with shooting a feature film in a short time with no significant budget. As such, I’m perhaps more sympathetic to an almost-local production: they’ve made a movie, that’s cool. I do wish the cleverness would have translated to the rougher spots of the script, but that’s asking for more. I’ll note that I saw the film in French, meaning that I didn’t experience the bad ADR noted in many reviews of the original English dub—but the French dub inexplicably translates the material in mid-Atlantic French, whereas this cried out for pure thick Québécois dialogue. Ah well—The Gracefield Incident is certainly not a great film, but it’s better than many, many of its found-footage alien-abduction equivalents. Plus, hey: who would have ever thought that Gracefield, of all places, would have its own titled science-fiction movie?

  • Those Who Wish Me Dead (2021)

    Those Who Wish Me Dead (2021)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) I miss those large-scale thrillers we used to see more often back in the 1990s and 2000s—nominally criminal stories but ones that usually ended up as a pretext for large-scale spectacle. Something like a forest fire does nicely! Having seen Firestorm two weeks ago (and Only the Brave last year), I was primed to properly appreciate Those Who Wish Me Dead, a classic child-on-the-run-from-assassins thriller that ends up in the middle of a forest and, eventually, a forest fire. Angelina Jolie headlines the cast as a disgraced smokejumper who ends up on a fire lookout tower duty (those who played the Firewatch videogame will feel a big pang of recognition the moment the character enters the tower), ideally placed to respond when the kid of an accountant, having discovered terrible things, escapes his father’s assassins and seeks help. Written and directed by Taylor Sheridan, whose reputation as a mature thriller filmmaker is no longer in doubt after penning Sicario and Hell or High Water, as well as writing/directing Wind River, the film is a steadily engrossing suspense that’s not afraid to go big in its final set-pieces. CGI technology has evolved quite a bit since Firestorm, and the final sequence set in a burning forest is a great capper to a film that finds a good middle way between character-based thrills and action spectacle. Aidan Gillen is deliciously evil (and in-persona) as one of the relentless assassins, but it’s Medina Senghore who makes an impression as a pregnant woman who ends up mercilessly taking down her targets. Those Who Wish Me Dead is very well handled, and a welcome throwback to a kind of narrative-driven film that delivers the expected thrills.

  • The Last of the Secret Agents? (1966)

    The Last of the Secret Agents? (1966)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) The extraordinary success of the James Bond series at the beginning of the 1960s led to a long, long series of films attempting to replicate or spoof the secret-agent genre throughout the rest of the decade. The Last of the Secret Agents is one of those, and a would-be star vehicle for then-popular comedy duo Allen & Rossi. But here’s the problem: In designing a star vehicle, it’s best if the stars are worth vehiculating, and while straight-man Steve Rossi is agreeable (especially as a signer), the more ridiculous Marty Allen is borderline intolerable. That definitely puts a drag on a film whose best moments do not involve one of its two headliners. Director Norman Abbott gets things off on the right foot, so to speak, with a long one-shot following the transfer of confidential information that leaves a literal trail of bodies, setting the blackly comic tone of the film. Clearly belonging to the school of comedy that states that quantity of gags has a quality of its own, The Last of the Secret Agents throws all sorts of stuff on-screen, parodying and satirizing everything in sight. Some of it works, so there’s at least some value to the entire thing. But other material, often involving Allen, simply falls flat. Nancy Sinatra brings some welcome sex-appeal to the proceedings, with one musical number leading to a lingerie shot. (Sinatra was, at the time of shooting the film, less than a year away from the superstardom of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”) There’s some additional interest in the atmosphere of the time as portrayed by the film—we often focus on the last years of the 1960s as the defining moment of the decade, but much of the decade in film was a bright optimistic pop-infused concoction that still works well today. The Last of the Secret Agents is not that good of a film, but it does get a few laughs.

  • The Cat in the Hat (2003)

    The Cat in the Hat (2003)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) Star power is a double-edged sword, as The Cat in the Hat certainly shows. On the plus side, you’ve got Mike Myers in fine form showboating through a script very loosely inspired by the classic Dr. Seuss book, almost literally chewing through scenery and making asides to the camera (and the adults watching) in an energetic, nay, anarchic fashion. On the minus side, this unbridled performance is utterly unlike the spirit of the Seuss book and it doesn’t take much for the irritation to set in. Add to that the grotesque catlike makeup given to Myers and you’ve got something that requires some indulgence to tolerate. Considering that I’m not all that attached to Seuss’ work (his material isn’t as popular in my native French), deviations from the original story don’t really bother me—in fact, considering the made-up word salad often found in Seuss’ work, I’d rather not focus too much on being faithful. But Myers can be exasperating in manic mode, and there isn’t a single wall left standing when he’s done breaking the sets down. The wink-wink-nudge-nudge jokes he addresses to the adults are a baffling departure of what the book stands for—maybe funny in a desacralization fashion, but certainly not family-appropriate. The Cat in the Hat is at least as colourful as it’s hyperactive: everything is shot in bright colours and fantastic designs that don’t have much to do with realism. It’s a good thing that the result is only 82 minutes, because any longer would have been too much. There are some wonderful stories of Mike Myers being a very unpleasant person working on the film, and those anecdotes do fit really well with the theory that he had an oversized influence on the result, improvising material rather than sticking to the vision. Ah well—the Seuss estate made some hasty changes to its movie adaptation rights following The Cat in the Hat, and seeing the results since then (three much-better animated versions of classic Seuss tales), we can see that the debacle actually served a purpose.

  • Topper (1937)

    Topper (1937)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) The 1930s were surprisingly heavy in movies about spiritism, mediums, clairvoyants and such. Supernatural comedy Topper is squarely in that tradition, as it features a henpecked husband affranchising himself with some help from a couple of deceased free spirits. It was a box-office smash, got good reviews and launched a series that ended up with three films, but this first instalment is, to contemporary viewers, slightly maddening. For one thing, it keeps a young Cary Grant in a very supporting role as a bon vivant husband suddenly dead. Don’t cry for him—his character is just as lively in the afterlife, and Grant himself would use Topper as a springboard to an astonishing steak of terrific performances in better-remembered screwball comedies. Close behind him in likability is Constance Bennett, playing a carefree ghost only too happy to be as flirtatious as she wants. Finally, there’s Roland Young, playing the actual protagonist of the film: Cosmo Topper, a banker of high status but terrible home life, with a wife only too happy to tell him what to do in minute detail. (If you’re not happy with this review’s late introduction of the protagonist, just keep telling yourself that I’m merely aping the film, which spends a good ten full fun minutes with Grant and Bennett before sighing and going through the motions of introducing its real and less-fun protagonist.)  While amusing, Topper pales in comparison of other comedies of the same period: it’s amiable and cute, but it doesn’t quite reach for the full possibilities of having two ghosts running around making life crazier or better for a live protagonist. It does not help that Topper is lazy in setting up the rules of its ghosts, who can appear or not, but always manipulate physical objects. It all leads to an acceptable ending, with a (hidden, for this was the Hays Code era) glimpse at fancy lingerie as proof that our protagonist and his wife were back on the mend and mutually satisfying physical intimacy. As for our ghosts, well, they apparently disappear having completed their good action, which does seem awfully indulgent. As I said: Topper works, but just barely. I find it significant that the second sequel would let go of its original premise to take a far more overtly comedic turn in the midst of a murder investigation, becoming far closer to the occult detective narrative. Then, as now, when a formula is broken, filmmakers will change it to follow what everyone else is doing!