Movie Review

  • Almost Almost Famous (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) The universe of performing musicians is vast and while everyone loves hearing about the megastars, there are plenty of hard-working musicians working in less-than-glamorous conditions. It’s easy to dismiss tribute bands touring community-hall engagements, for instance, but Almost Almost Famous shows us the hard work behind the gimmicky music by following the band called Class of 59, which brings together a handful of early rock tribute musicians to imagine what a concert featuring Elvis, Buddy Holly, Big Bopper, Jerry Lee Lewis and Jackie Wilson would sound like. The glimpses we get at their audiences show a largely elderly crowd drinking in homage to the music of their youth, set against modest venues. The film is part touring documentary with their grumpy travelling manager, rockin’ excerpts of their shows, interviews with band members and associated stories. Lance Lipinsky (convincingly impersonating Jerry Lee Lewis) is quickly identified as perhaps the most gifted member of the band, but also the most difficult to deal with. We also get the amazing fairy-tale-like story of Bobby Brooks Wilson, a gifted signer of unknown parentage who’s offered a place as a Jackie Wilson impersonator and then, upon receiving attention from Wilson’s family, ends up discovering through DNA testing that he was Wilson’s unknown son. Almost Almost Famous is best appreciated for two things: First, terrific music—rockabilly is always fun to listen to, and Class of 59 clearly knows that; then as a respectful description of the hardship of touring for small bands trying to make an honest living out of playing music. As I write this, Class of 59 has suspended its shows due to the ongoing pandemic—I hope this is a temporary hiatus because they sound like a heck of a good show.

  • Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) Fun is fun, but even funny sitcoms can overstay their welcome. Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event was the eighth and final instalment of the Mexican Spitfire series—and star Lupe Velez’s last Hollywood film considering her unfortunate death two years later. The plot is near identical to previous instalments: Velez’s character’s husband is about to close a deal with millionaire Lord Epping, leading to a comedy of errors and mistaken identities when “Uncle Matt” (also played by the very funny Leon Errol) disguises himself as Epping. Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event would be funnier if it wasn’t a near-exact replica of the previous films in the series, a level of repetitiousness approaching a bad TV show with a single hook. Taken on its own, it does have the qualities of the series: Velez is gorgeous and funny in a very stereotypical way, while Errol manages to get laughs even in very familiar circumstances. The husband character is disposable (three actors played the same role in eight movies!) and the conclusion is typically rushed. The “comic” device here goes all the way to the protagonist temporarily kidnapping a baby, which isn’t nearly as funny as the writers must have imagined. But Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event does have a few specific qualities of its own: its setting is equally divided between an expansive Canadian hunting lodge and a southwestern dude ranch; and after so much comic confusion about the titular “blessed event,” the series ends on the revelation we’ve been expecting—not a bad send-off for the series, despite it being easily twice as long as it needed to be. For the record, now that I’ve watched all eight films, the four better-than-the-others instalments of the series would be The Girl from Mexico, Mexican Spitfire, Mexican Spitfire at Sea and Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost—although I’m iffy on Mexican Spitfire at Sea because it’s the first one I saw and so arguably the freshest. Still, I’m half-tempted to get that eight-movie DVD collection: Velez and Errol are constant delights even when going through the same motions, and the series does have good moments buried in its episodes. I strongly suspect that the films are best consumed at half-year intervals rather than my one-a-week bingeing.

  • Bells are Ringing (1960)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) In cinema history, Bells are Ringing is noteworthy for being the final film of two well-known names. It was actress Judy Holliday’s final film before her death a few years later. Perhaps more significantly, it was Arthur Freed’s last musical film as the head of the famous MGM Freed Unit, which was responsible for putting together a twenty-year run of many of the most celebrated movie musicals of Hollywood’s Golden Age. This aura of finality seems appropriate, considering the tired nature of the results on-screen. Adapted from a Broadway play with the usual problems of stage adaptations relative to original musicals, Bells Are Ringing is far more laborious to watch than you’d expect. Despite a mildly amusing premise about a Manhattan answering service operator getting drawn into the lives of her clients, it’s a surprisingly mild and unremarkable musical. While Holliday is not bad and Dean Martin adds much to the film as its male lead, the comedy is perfunctory, the songs are not memorable and the entire thing leaves without having left much of a trace. Of course, musicals were fast declining by 1960 and films like Bells are Ringing certainly contributed to this decline—there’s little here to reflect the heights of the form in the previous decade: little wit, little invention, little cinematic quality—and this from otherwise dependable director Vincente Minelli. I’m certainly not saying that Bells are Ringing is a bad film—but it’s average in wholly forgettable ways, which represents an underwhelming end of the line for the producer responsible for such all-time classics as Easter Parade, Singin’ in the Rain and The Band Wagon.

  • Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

    Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) I really expected a film about a young man coming back to his small-town with a fading Hollywood star in tow to be more interesting than Sweet Bird of Youth. Despite the mixture of Hollywood bitterness and small-town politics, the film is a bit of a damp muddle. Paul Newman plays the kind of overly hard-headed semi-hoodlum that he did so well at the time, but somehow seems miscast. Geraldine Page does better as the drug-addled Hollywood star on the decline (although she still looks too young for the part), and so does Ed Begley as the powerful politician with mob boss habits. The theatrical origins of the film can be seen in the small scales and restrained locations—and knowing that the film was adapted from a Tennessee Williams play automatically leads one to look for the way in which it was softened from the original. (And this one is a doozy.)  Still, even with the happier ending, Sweet Bird of Youth isn’t much of a sit: it drags, it meanders, it gives us the yearning to escape back to Hollywood by the nearest available bus out of town. Newman fans may want to have a look, but even they may overdose on the obnoxious persona that he had at the time.

  • Beyond the Lights (2014)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV January 2021) Beyond the Lights isn’t unique in taking us backstage of a music superstar’s public image (heck, it’s not even the only such film I watched today with an unintentional double bill with The High Note), but it can depend on decent execution and a good ensemble cast to distinguish itself. In between Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Minnie Driver, Nate Parker and Danny Glover, there are plenty of interesting actors here. As a romantic comedy, Beyond the Lights starts with unpleasant sequences, as a prologue depicting parental abuse is followed by a suicide attempt by the film’s grown-up protagonist. Fortunately, a handsome policeman (Parker) is there to prevent the superstar signer (Mbatha-Raw) from falling to her death, and what follows is a romance mixed with attempts from the singer to extricate herself from an artificial persona facilitated by her domineering mother (Driver, in a surprisingly unlikable turn). Straightforward direction by Gina Prince-Bythewood doesn’t get in the way of her own script. I have long been interested in Mbatha-Raw, but this early film is a far better showcase for her talents than many of her later performances: the role is complex, spans various emotional states and even if it’s not clear whether she performed her vocals, it takes presence to credibly play a musical superstar. I have a few qualms about the male protagonist’s character, but those things have to be put in perspective considering that it’s female-centric romantic comedy. Still, I had a decent time—despite overused plot devices (is there a single movie singer who doesn’t dream of singing their own heartfelt material?), Beyond the Lights is an entertaining film that, by now, almost qualifies as an overlooked one.

  • Mac and Me (1988)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) Nowadays, Mac and Me has become infamous largely due to its lead actor Paul Rudd’s tendency to use it as a fake preview of his upcoming films whenever he goes on talk shows. That’s still better than anything it deserves. It doesn’t take thirty seconds watching Mac and Me to realize that it’s going to be a terrible film, as aliens in repulsive makeup are whisked away from an alien planet to Earth on a NASA probe. Having broken all sorts of laws of physics in its opening scene, the rest of the film isn’t any better: The bad makeup and special effects are a constant reminder that this wasn’t meant to be a good film in the first place, and the screenwriting remains merely serviceable at its very best. This conscious attempt to ape E.T.’s success goes through the usual boy-meets-alien formula, except with a hideous alien and an even more grotesque product placement deal with Coca Cola and MacDonald’s (which features in a birthday party dance sequence that I won’t even try to describe any further). The famously terrible sequence in which a disabled kid is dropped in a lake for laughs is probably worse than you’d expect, and so is Mac and Me in general. There are, to be fair, many movies of comparable quality in which kids meet monsters, aliens or other fantastical creatures—but most of them have understood that the creature must be somewhat likable or cute. This is not the case here, and that only underscores the shoddiness of the film. The production history of the film confirms many suspicions—that the marketing drove the film, and that director Stewart Raffill was essentially asked to put together a complete movie from nothing (not even a script) with very little advance notice. The result, unsurprisingly, is terrible, rooted in the worst instincts of cynical Hollywood pandering to the family-film market. There is little joy to be had watching Mac and Me—just pain and inordinate second-hand embarrassment.

  • The High Note (2020)

    The High Note (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) There isn’t anything particularly new to The High Note—we’ve seen many movies about assistants to superstars, about young musicians trying to succeed in Los Angeles, about demanding divas and about the machine behind successful artists. But it’s always about the execution, and The High Note does have what it takes to make an impression. It starts with the casting: Dakota Johnson can carry a mid-budget production by herself now (playing a young personal assistant with dreams of producing music), but she gets good support from notables such as Tracee Ellis Ross (as a diva), Kelvin Harrison Jr. (as an upstart musician), Bill Pullman (as her dad) and, perhaps most notably, Ice Cube as a cranky manager. Somewhat fluid directing from Nisha Ganatra pulls us into the glitzy Los Angeles music scene and its backstage antics. The somewhat conventional narrative gets a wild third-act revelation, but that’s all in good fun in keeping with the film’s amiable, no-antagonist nature. It can be watched in a relaxed state with its equal blend of wish fulfillment, low-stakes drama, emotional comfort and bright cinematography. In other words—there’s nothing exceptional in The High Note, but it’s sufficiently well executed to be interesting.

  • La cage aux folles II (1980)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) Forty years later, the characters of La cage aux folles series present a curious conundrum for anyone trying to make sense of what it is to be progressive. On the one hand, it plays in heavy stereotypes of a bygone era, conflating cross-dressing with homosexuality, asking its lead actor Michel Serrault to fully play into the stereotype of the burlesque queen and getting away with jokes that wouldn’t fly in today’s trans-sensitive orthodoxy. On the other hand… the characters are never portrayed in anything but a sympathetic light, with quirks of characterization taking over stereotypes most of the time. Unlike its predecessor, La cage aux folles II doesn’t quite have the dense overplotting that led to its cult status and familiar American remake: it feels like an episode with a shoehorned thriller plot against which the comedy is set. It’s not entirely bad: going back to Italy is a nice nod to co-star Ugo Tognazzi, Serrault turns in a strong performance (the film is rarely as funny as when he goes all-out on those high-pitched squeals) and the film is relatively easy to watch, even if it’s not on the same level as the original. The intricate farce is watered down, even though it does have a few good sequences playing along role reversals (and often double reversals). In the end, what makes La cage aux folles II easier to take even four decades later is the sense that we’re laughing because the characters are funny and good-hearted, not because they’re indulging stereotypes.

  • Manon des sources (1986)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) If you were left bewildered and heartbroken by the tragic tale of French drama Jean de Florette, keep in mind that it was only the first part of a whole completed by Manon des sources—both movies being shot as a single super-production with the approval of a French government eager to bolster its national history through glossy motion pictures. This second half of the story (adapted from a novel by the renowned Marcel Pagnol) picks up half a generation later, as the young Manon (who, in the earlier film, saw her father’s life being destroyed by the schemes of two local farmers) attains adulthood and sets out to avenge past offences. As with the previous film, there’s a strong cinematographic quality to Provence as shot in yellow, green and brown: the scenery is magnificent in its semi-arid quality, and we feel as much as we understand the importance of the local water supply. But it’s narratively that Manon des sources provides most satisfaction: After spending three hours of total time cranking up the pressure of unpunished injustice, the last hour of the film goes from revelations to punishment in several cycles, giving the last words to Yves Montand in a great last performance. The ending does pile up so many revelations and twists that it defies plausibility, but since much of the film takes place in solidly melodramatic territory, this isn’t as inappropriate nor as ineffective as you’d think. Montand is typically great in what feels like an archetypical role, but Daniel Auteuil also does well, and Emmanuelle Béart aptly replaces Gérard Depardieu. By the end of the film, my opinion of both movies had increased significantly from the first moments of the first film: it wraps up with a nice bow and a tragic flourish. Jean de Florette and Manon des sources are landmarks of 1980s French cinema for a good reason.

  • The Girl from Mexico (1939)

    The Girl from Mexico (1939)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) It’s interesting to go back to The Girl from Mexico after watching a handful of the titles in the Mexican Spitfire series that followed. As the origin tale of the series, it’s often markedly different from the formula that evolved in later instalments. For one thing, there isn’t quite as much emphasis on Lupe Velez: As a way to introduce white-American audiences to an unfamiliar ethnic character, this first instalment places a lot of emphasis on Donald Woods as the young white male photogenic protagonist who brings the “Mexican Spitfire” to America, only to be seduced by her wild ways. In the grand scope of the series, his is largely a transitory character: his narrative purpose fulfilled, the character gradually recedes in the background of the ongoing series, to the point of being played by two other different actors in the span of five years. What is most visibly absent from this first episode are the dual roles later played by Leon Errol: While his “Uncle Matt” is definitely present as a supporting role, much of the film introduces the close friendship he has with Velez’s hot-tempered character, and sets up the complicity that would come to the forefront during the rest of the series. Errol’s alter ego “Lord Epping” is entirely absent from this first film, which clearly sets it apart from the overuse of the impersonation plot device common to all other instalments. The result, when considered as its own film, is counter-intuitive: While The Girl from Mexico does work well as its own standalone film, it’s more evenly paced than its predecessors and, in some ways, more forgettable as well: the comic set-pieces aren’t as striking as some of the later movies, but it doesn’t rely on the increasingly repetitive formula of the series either. On the other hand, Velez is just as attractive and funny as later instalments (albeit perhaps less practised—I don’t think she was comfortable enough here for set-pieces such as the “Mexican wildcat” scene of the markedly inferior Mexican Spitfire Sees a Ghost, for instance). It goes without saying that it’s an essential film for anyone who likes Velez or the later Mexican Spitfire series—although I’d have trouble recommending more than three of the seven subsequent films, so clearly do they repeat more or less the same jokes all over again.

  • Jean de Florette (1986)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) If you want to talk about the big guns of 1980s French cinema, Jean de Florette imposes itself as a must-see: As the first half of a massive project (along with sequel Manon des sources) going back to early-20th-century Provence as a backdrop to a melodramatic tale of deception and revenge, it features lush cinematography, big stars and the approval of the French establishment. Adapted from a book written by no less than Académie Française member Marcel Pagnol, it seemingly spares no expenses going back in time to a small village where water is a scarce commodity. Gérard Depardieu stars as a family man coming back to his deceased mother’s farm with big plans to raise rabbits. But that plan depends on having access to water, and as luck would have it, the locals have other plans: Distrustful of the educated, optimistic outsider, two of them conspire to hide an invaluable spring on his farm. The legendary Yves Montand capstones an illustrious career as the antagonist, with some able assistance from Daniel Auteuil as a co-conspirator. Spending two hours watching a likable protagonist’s plans being thwarted by the small-mindedness of rural locals may not be anyone’s idea of a good time, but there’s a compelling quality to the narrative; the pacing is faster than you’d expect and the film is meant to be seen as the depressing Part One of a larger work preparing for the release offered by Manon des sources. Depardieu, Montand and Auteuil each provide exceptional performances in their own way, and the setting provides the rest. Shot in a yellow/green palette punctuated by brown, it’s often a spectacular film even when abstracting the narrative. Historically, the film fits in a national strategy of exploring France’s past through movies, and it’s hard to imagine a better depiction of that time and place. (Even if, to French-Canadian ears, the accents often play as a caricature of a certain kind of Frenchman—Montand is particularly ripe for imitation.)  I was honestly surprised by Jean de Florette—I watched it out of obligation, and ended up enjoying it. (But I’m writing this after the far more engaging Manon des sources, so keep the necessity of watching both in mind.)

  • The King of Staten Island (2020)

    The King of Staten Island (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) The very nature of comedies about unlikable people growing up is that you first have to spend some time with them prior to their learning any better. Thus, the initial hurdle with The King of Staten Island is caring enough to delve deep into the life of its protagonist, a 24-year-old Staten Island resident only too content to drift aimlessly through life, haunted by the death of his father, daydreaming about becoming a tattoo artist despite insufficient skills, and content to smoke life away with friends in dimly lit basements. It’s not much of an inspiring character, especially when he decides that it’s a good idea to tattoo a nine-year-old on the beach. But that sets in motion a number of events that, in the end, make him a better person. The film does take an additional quality once you notice that it’s directed by Judd Apatow—The King of Staten Island does feel slightly more mature than his previous films: it’s still about adult slackers, but it doesn’t go for the gross humour of its predecessors, nor the sometimes-strange pacing decisions of films such as Funny People. In other words, Apatow himself may be growing up—and while the result may not be as outright funny as previous movies, nor as distinctive, Apatow may find a way forward as a smaller-scale indie director. He’s certainly able to get good performances: Marisa Tomei is aging well in appropriate roles as the film’s most familiar name, but the film is Pete Davidson’s show, as he stars and co-wrote the semi-autobiographical script. The result is not initially all that interesting, but it improves as it goes on, and ends up settling for a perfectly acceptable tale of maturity.

  • The Long, Long Trailer (1954)

    The Long, Long Trailer (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) Anyone would be forgiven for thinking that The Long, Long Trailer is an “I Love Lucy” movie spinoff—after all, it does star both Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz as a married couple getting into all sorts of comic situations as they travel around the country with a travel trailer, and it was released ran in the middle of their TV show’s run. But as close as it may appear, it’s its own separate thing—a way for MGM to showcase Ball and Arnaz in colour against picturesque American tourist destinations. Ball being Ball, the physical comedy is top-notch even when it’s predictable—the sequence in which she’s trying to cook inside a movie trailer was inevitable but still a lot of fun to watch. As far as the narrative goes, The Long, Long Trailer often feels like a collection of episodes inspired by a writer’s experience in the 1950s RV lifestyle, from the eye-watering complications of the initial purchase to the sense of aimlessness that not having a fixed address can create. (Indeed, even circa 2020, I can testify that one retirement course recommendation remains “Don’t sell your house to buy an RV!”)  The narrative cohesion is provided by the marital strife between the leads, culminating in a quick conclusion (made longer by a framing device) that perfunctorily ends the film on a happy but not necessarily believable note, as all of the tension factors are still present. Still, the fun of The Long, Long Trailer remains—filmed in colour (although not in bright Technicolor), it offers a look at a specific recreational form of American touring as of the mid-1950s and the performances of the leads are good enough to capture what was special about them.

  • Les compères [ComDads] (1983)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) A few minutes into Les compères, the premise seemed familiar. A quick search confirmed my doubts: this was the original French film on which the mid-1990s Billy Crystal/Robin William vehicle Fathers’ Day was based. The starting point is distinctive enough to be noticeable: After her son goes missing, a woman separately contacts two ex-lovers with a plausible chronological claim to their paternity, and asks them to investigate. But the narrative fun begins when the two meet and realize the trick played on them. It all becomes a vehicle for comic actors, and the French version arguably does better than the American remake in using its headliners: Here we have Pierre Richard in his usual gaffe-prone neurotic persona, paired for the second time with Gérard Depardieu (younger and thinner than we’ve grown used to), who here plays a macho journalist. The rest of the film is almost immaterial—of course they’ll find it, and, of course, the point of it all is Richard and Depardieu sparring. The nature of Les compères as a vehicle means that there’s some repetitiousness to the proceedings, but that only counts as a problem if you’re not entirely happy with the two leads. Otherwise, you get what’s on the tin: Richard goofing up, Depardieu rolling his eyes and just enough plot to give us a feature-length comedy based on that interaction.

  • La chèvre [Knock on Wood aka The Goat] (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) French comedian Pierre Richard makes good use of his circa-1980s awkward persona in La chèvre, playing a gaffe-prone bad luck magnet asked to track down the daughter of a French politician gone missing in Mexico. We’re clearly not far from Le Grand Blond movies here (the characters are named the same and act the same yet otherwise aren’t supposed to be the same—call it an added comic flourish) but the added wrinkle at the time was pairing him with a relatively younger and definitely thinner Gérard Depardieu as a glum private detective reluctantly tagging along. Much of the comic nature of the film has to do with Richard getting into absurdly unlikely trouble and Depardieu groaning. Of course, the narrative has the comically stupid character figuring things before his more traditional partner, all the way to the unlikely goal of their partnership. La chèvre is a crowd-pleaser that succeeds at its comic goals—If you like Richard’s screen persona at the time, it’s built on his comic skills, and the addition of Depardieu provides a straight man to heighten the unlikely nature of the trouble he gets himself into (something that’s missing from many of Richard’s solo efforts). The pairing proved to be so effective that it was repeated twice more, albeit not quite so successfully. While La chèvre can’t escape a certain number of stereotypes by sending Frenchmen in Mexico, it’s not hard to watch, and it ends on a somewhat good note.