Reviews

  • Gidget (1959)

    Gidget (1959)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) The 1950s can arguably be called the decade during which the teenager was solidified as an explicit life stage between childhood and adulthood. Hollywood, to no one’s surprise, was instrumental in charting and even creating the social construct: By 1959, after all, the oldest baby boomers were hitting 14 and aspiring to be older, the Southern Californian lifestyle was sweeping the nation’s collective imagination and the studios were desperately trying to keep young audiences in theatres given the threat from television. So here comes Gidget, one of the first movies to document the SoCal surf lifestyle. Featuring Sandra Dee as the titular “Girl Midget—Gidget” (despite not being that short compared to the other characters), the film still reads as a timeless example of a “What are these young ones doing?” bout of mild paranoia. Cliff Robertson shows up as a much older beach bum trying to hide away from Korea war PTSD, and becomes the object of the teenage protagonist’s affection—leading to one of the film’s least pleasant subplots, although to its credit the film does have the good sense of avoiding the teenager hooking up with the thirtysomething guy. Still, compared to many of its inheritors, Gidget is somewhat more serious-minded in its portrait of the American teenager—there’s some authentic coming-of-age here, and the film is not quite as mindless as the subsequent Beach Party series of movies. While Gidget is best experienced as a blast from the early years of American adolescence, it’s still likable on its own terms, early surfboards, 1950s hairstyles and all.

  • Pot o’ Gold (1941)

    Pot o’ Gold (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) James Stewart’s filmography is vast, and not all of his movies are equally good or as well known to modern viewers. By 1941, he was already well known—The Philadelphia Story had earned critical acclaim, and you could see his screen persona coalescing around his specific strengths. These strengths did not necessarily include singing and dancing, making him a curious choice for Pot o’ Gold, a musical comedy teaming him with Paulette Goddard along with feuding families, obscured identities and a radio program distributing cash prizes. There’s singing, dancing, romance and comedy—but the sum of it is less successful than you’d expect. Stewart himself wasn’t a fan of the film, and contemporary reviews were harsh. Nowadays, Pot o’ Gold can be mildly interesting for the incongruous spectacle of Stewart in a musical comedy role, or as another film to feature the beautiful Goddard. Still, it’s not much of a success, and there are plenty of better films to see.

  • Our Betters (1933)

    Our Betters (1933)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) I expected just a bit more from Our Betters, a satirical comedy that should logically take the best from the Pre-Code era, George Cukor’s direction and the Somerset Maugham play on which it’s based. There’s certainly plenty of realized potential here about an American heiress upsetting the London social scene, as the characters overtly engage in adultery and poke fun at London high society. (The title is meant to be ironic.)  Still, I had a harder time than I expected in keeping invested in the film. Direction-wise, Cukor specializes in acting here, meaning that for all of the fancy costumes and good dialogue, there isn’t much in terms of cinematic qualities of the film—it’s almost a filmed theatrical play—which, to be fair, was not all that uncommon in the early sound era. At least there’s the Pre-Code portrayal of hypocrisy in the upper classes to fill in the blanks, and some better-than-average dialogue in terms of comedy. Ah well—they can’t all be winners, and maybe I’ll revisit Our Betters later in a more agreeable frame of mind. It’s not any worse than average, which is already not too bad.

  • Romaine par moins 30 [Romaine 30 Below] (2009)

    Romaine par moins 30 [Romaine 30 Below] (2009)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) The relationship between France and Quebec is a special one indeed, with the French-Canadian province often being portrayed Europe-side as an American escape for characters unable to tolerate the stifling embrace of the old continent. (Or, perhaps more accurately, French-Canadian characters being wilder than their European counterparts.)  French/Canadian co-production Romaine par moins 30 takes off from this premise, as a French couple flies to Montréal right in the middle of winter (!) and an incident aboard the plane leaves our heroine Romaine stranded at Dorval airport by minus 30 Celsius degrees, newly single and without money or identity papers. The precipitating incident is dubiously justified, which portends a film closer to a kind of fantasy than any attempt at realism. Our heroine (played by the very cute Sandrine Kiberlain) spends the film meeting eccentric characters, gets married against her will, makes her way to an isolated village that every Montréaler unexplainably knows and eventually grows out of her own limitations thanks to the power of a frigid winter, a tax-dodging acupuncturist, a few Québécois lovers and the orgasmic power of kneading dough—but I’ve said too much. The tone of Romaine par moins 30 is both its single biggest asset and its most vexing component: While the film manages to keep viewers intrigued by a stream of unlikely encounters, strange characters, wild plot tangents and offbeat sequences, the feeling of the film seems more haphazard than deliberate. There’s a lack of control that carries through to the ending, which ends abruptly without a satisfying coda. It clearly feels as if Quebec is presented as a fairyland of lusty lads and self-discovery opportunities to the European public—which isn’t a bad thing to be presented as, certainly, but the exoticism will feel strange to Canadian audiences.

  • Broadway Babies (1929)

    Broadway Babies (1929)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) The first few years of sound cinema were filled with Broadway backstagers, as the newly audible medium reached for the closest equivalent in an attempt to figure out what to do with a soundtrack. A blend of backstage drama, criminal thrills and song-and-dance numbers, Broadway Babies pales in comparison with the better examples of the form that was burgeoning at the time. It’s a bit dull, quite stiff, not yet comfortable in the ways to use sound, and the film had the bad luck of being semi-lost in time: the only surviving copy is a 16 mm copy-of-a-copy—meaning that it looks unusually soft and blurry compared to many other films of the time, even though it wasn’t necessarily as bad when it premiered. Despite technically qualifying as a Pre-Code film, there isn’t much racy material here—there are more shootouts than scantily clad ladies, in keeping with Hollywood tradition. An early effort from famed director Mervyn LeRoy, Broadway Babies is perhaps more interesting as an example of the kinds of things that Hollywood was playing with in its early sound era. Still, there are far better films from the same time—The Broadway Melody and The Hollywood Revue of 1929, both from the same year, have some innate interest rather than being simply examples of the form.

  • The Best Man (1964)

    The Best Man (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) I’m an avowed good audience for any movie that takes a peek and a poke at the American political process—especially now, in the dark days of January 2021, where American democracy is under attack from within with plenty of bad faith, outright lying and self-serving cowardice against authoritarianism to go around. The Best Man takes us back to the not-so-innocent 1960s, at that quasi-mythical event so beloved of pundits: a contested primary where every vote is on the line to decide who’s going to represent a major political party to the presidency. Henry Fonda makes the best use of his innate likability as an intellectual candidate with plenty of hidden baggage—not as much the multiple affairs, but a mental health episode that would be damaging if revealed to the public, as his chief rival, a venal opportunist, intends to do to secure the nomination. (This anticipates what happened to Vice-Presidential nominee Thomas Eagleton in 1972, dropped from the Democratic ticket to disastrous effect after his own history of mental health issues became known—which, in retrospect, became something of a karmic retribution for Eagleton’s then-anonymous quip denouncing the nominee’s “amnesty, abortion, and legalization” agenda. But I digress.)  A film of pure backroom deals and untoward pressure put on delegates, The Best Man is a political junkie’s dream. It ends up tackling some interesting issues for the time and Gore Vidal’s script pulls few punches considering the constraints under which studio films operated at the time. (It’s known as the first major American film to use the world “homosexual.”)  William Schaffner’s direction is taut (watch that twirling camera later on!), the black-and-white cinematography is appropriate, and the atmosphere of a political convention is cleverly re-created through good mise en scene and stock footage. While politics have changed, and one of those changes is the likely disappearance of contested conventions, some other aspects of the film remain curiously contemporary. I defy anyone to hear one of the final lines of dialogue, “you have no sense of responsibility toward anybody or anything. And that is a tragedy in a man, and it is a disaster in a president,” and not be reminded of a recent disastrous president with no sense of responsibility toward anything or anything.

  • What’s Love Got to Do with It (1993)

    What’s Love Got to Do with It (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) I used to think that great music was at the heart of any worthwhile musical biography, but I’m starting to reconsider my position. There’s a huge survivorship bias at play, after all: not-great musicians probably won’t have any biopics made about them. The big job of music in a biopic is to underscore the plot, and that’s where the difference lies: is this a good story? Does it feature a musician that’s also a compelling character? But there’s another element essential to such movies, and it’s the lead actor. Even acknowledging that they can be dubbed for the vocals (as is the case in What’s Love Got to Do with It), does the lead actor have what it takes to make us believe we’re watching someone already famous, someone we’re already familiar with? The resounding answer in What’s Love Got to Do with It is simple: ho boy, yes. Angela Basset plays Tina Turner in a multi-decade biography that focuses on the abuse she suffered at the hands of her ex-husband/producer Ike Turner. It’s a muscular performance in more ways than one (As the sleeveless concert footage shows, Basset was fit when she played the part) and an almost unrecognizable Lawrence Fisher is nearly up to her level in playing the film’s antagonist. There’s plenty of dramatic license in adapting the true story to the film, but what’s on screen is fascinating enough in between the hit numbers spanning decades and much character growth. No matter what the elements of a good musical biopic are, What’s Love Got to Do with It has them all.

  • The Great Santini (1979)

    The Great Santini (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) There’s something to be said about actors willing to give themselves up to their character while keeping their own ego in check. I’m hardly the first one to point at Robert Duvall’s performance in The Great Santini as one of those great examples of an actor committing to playing a borderline loathsome one—the infamous basketball sequence, in which a grown man can’t accept being beaten by their own son, is one of those masterclass examples of an actor serving a character without caring for their persona. Much of the film is built around the same principles: The lead character is a top-notch fighter pilot, a capable military leader, but a terrible husband and an even worse father-of-four. The Great Santini doesn’t have a plot as much as a series of episodes in service of a character study—the film ends (unsatisfactorily) when the character does. Duvall is very good as the mean prankster, grudge holding, inflexible military officer unable to maintain a distance between the job and his family—but then there are the other actors surrounding him, from the ever-cute Blythe Danner to redheaded Lisa Jane Persky’s screen debut to a solid performance by Michael O’Keefe as his son and rival. Despite the pranks and the grander-than-life nature of its lead character, The Great Santini is not exactly an enjoyable experience: it’s a film about the trauma of living with an oversized character and the energy it takes to power through it. The plot is secondary and treated as such. As a showcase for Duvall, on the other hand, it remains essential.

  • Greed (2019)

    Greed (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) It takes much longer than expected for Greed to get up to speed. Much of that has to be blamed on the structure of the script, which initially feels as if it’s the result of an explosion involving three different screenplays: The life of a fashion mogul, the findings of his biographer, and the shenanigans surrounding his 60th birthday party. The film switches back and forth, not just in chronology, but also in treatment and focus, leaving viewers a bit unsure as to where to stand, and depriving the film from a clear narrative engine. Things settle down a bit in the second half, but Greed simply doesn’t manage to make the best use of the elements at its disposal. And what elements those are—Steve Coogan in his elements as a blowhard tycoon, Isla Fisher as a rich heiress, and iconoclastic writer/director Michael Winterbottom going after the ultra-rich by pointing out the immorality, illegality and illegitimacy of their fortunes. It should be fun, and with such added touches as David Mitchell as a socially uncomfortable biographer piecing together the truth, the very cute Dinita Gohil playing a pivotal part in the conclusion, some heartfelt social criticism, and a bit of aghast black comedy at the very end, Greed had the potential to be much better than it is. Winterbottom is no stranger to pointing out the flaws of the world, but this film is so inconsistent that he harms his message along the way. Still, there are laughs, some sharp character moments, decent-enough production values in portraying the demented lifestyle of the ultra-rich, and some crisp cinematography. It’s not what it should have been and it’s likely to leave viewers torn between mixed emotions, but Greed is still worth a look… if only for Coogan having another excuse to engage in long profanity-filled tirades.

  • Hazy Little Thing (2020)

    Hazy Little Thing (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) The essential plot elements of Hazy Little Thing should feel familiar, what with a few friends coming together to celebrate a birthday. In a fine theatrical tradition, every character has their own set of secrets and lies that become exposed during the weekend—the film should have been a relatively straightforward exercise, even with the added curlicues of a central character being a (terminally?) depressive young author struggling for an encore, addicted to social media but unable to make sense of her own decaying network of friends. But Hazy Little Thing lives up to its title by being substantially fuzzier than it should be. Unlike other similar films coming from a theatrical origin of ratcheting dramatic tension, this movie ebbs and flows, seldom pulling tightly on its plot threads and not culminating in any clear climax. Oh, it’s amiable enough when it gets going—among other things, the handful-big cast is chiefly female (with a token male), and the actors do get decent material at times—I kept watching for Supinder Wraich, but Emily Coutts and Erin Margurite Carter have more challenging roles as not-entirely-likable sisters. While the result is good enough, it’s far from being as gripping as it could have been: the drug-taking sequence feels overly familiar, but it’s the overall feeling of looseness that makes Hazy Little Thing underperform compared to other similar films: I suspect that much of the film may have been improvised, but even if it wasn’t, the script is far from being as disciplined as it should have been.

  • Krocodylus aka Blood Surf (2000)

    Krocodylus aka Blood Surf (2000)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) Anyone who willingly goes into a movie either called Krocodylus or Blood Surf and complains about it being a substandard monster movie is really asking for it—this is bargain-basement filmmaking, not quite terrible but certainly not good. The problems are obvious from the moment the premise is articulated—when a producer hits upon the idea of attracting sharks to willing surfers in the name of filmed thrills, well, what did anyone expect? And that’s even before a nine-meter crocodile comes into play. You know the rest: screaming and chomping on a loop until the least objectionable characters remain. The thing is, I can understand all too well the reason for Krocodylus’s existence: it’s an easy-enough premise to explain, and it’s shot in the picturesque Philippines, meaning a few days of work in tropical beautiful surroundings for cast, crew and director James D. R. Hickox. The rest of the film is a rote delivery of an over-familiar product fit for order in the ways schlock horror films were sold and distributed at the turn of the century. It’s almost exactly what’s on the tin, but without anything looking like wit or polished execution. Once again: what else were you expecting?

  • Phantasm: Ravager (2016)

    Phantasm: Ravager (2016)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) Considering the incredible patched-up story of the super-low-budget Phantasm franchise from 1978 to 2016, it’s amazing that we even got a fifth instalment at all. In light of those incredibly long odds, for Phantasm: Ravager to make any sense at all is a minor miracle. Phantasm, after all, has always been about a quasi-oneiric experience made even more disjointed by seat-of-the-pants no-budget filmmaking and curious editing choices. Ravager, to its credit, certainly circles around the same themes as the previous films in the series, and maybe even with a vengeance: it’s not enough for unlikely series hero Reggie to make his way through the southwestern desert with his double shotgun and his beloved 1971 Hemicuda—the film jumps to a reality in which he’s in an old-age hospice being told that he’s been imagining it all since the first film. Don’t expect any definitive resolution other than acknowledging that fans would hate a psychotic conclusion—the film is happy to jump back and forth between at least four different universes/eras. The usually cheap special effects of the series benefit from the CGI revolution that took place in between the fourth and fifth instalments: the digital special effects are cheap and nasty, but they’re plentiful, and there’s a sense that, thanks to them, the film can reasonably claim to portray those fantastic concepts that were always half-realized in analog times. The film also manages the impressive trick of bringing back no less than five of the actors of the first film—when Kathy Lester signed up to play a minor role “The Lady in Lavender” back in the late 1970s, I don’t think anyone would have imagined her reprising the role in 2016! In absolute terms, Ravager is a bit of a dull horror film, without much narrative continuity, substandard effects and character moments (and even mid-credit cameos!) that don’t work without knowledge of previous instalments. But Ravager will seldom be seen by anyone who’s not familiar with previous film: this is a by-the-fans-for-the-fans film—despite the direction being handled by David Hartman rather than series creator Don Coscarelli (who does co-sign the script), it’s very much made for those who have stuck with the series through the decades. Series icon Angus Scrimm (the “Tall Man”) died shortly after production, ensuring that this is most likely the final film of the original cycle. I expect some kind of reboot within the next ten years, though: As much as I don’t think the series ever met the expectations it set for itself, the base concept is solid enough to warrant taking another kick at the can at some point. In the meantime, Ravager wraps things up in a way that’s both satisfying and enigmatic—probably the best-case scenario in the series’ own continuity.

  • Phantasmagoria (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) Most long-running horror series have a documentary or two to explain their creative origins, laborious making-of and fannish appeal. The Phantasm series was only four films long when Phantasmagoria was released (a fifth film has since joined the series), but you could argue that it needed an accompanying documentary more than most. Deliberately shrouded in mystery, changes of direction, budget-related compromises and visual kicks taking over a haphazard sense of storytelling, the Phantasm series leaves more than most to the viewer’s interpretation. An authorized documentary may not solve much, but at least it gives viewers the chance to hear the filmmakers (the most important being the series’ writer-director Don Coscarelli himself) a chance to explain some of their intentions. Phantasm, to be fair, remains a series with more potential than satisfaction: For all of the exhilarating weirdness of its blend between horror, Science Fiction, coolness and not enough humour, the Phantasm series doesn’t quite know where it’s heading, nor how to maximize the possibilities of its ideas. Usually executed with too-low budgets, the series has energy but no discipline and the result always under-delivers. With Phantasmagoria, at least we get to hear the reality behind the results: Seat-of-the-pants independent filmmaking, studio interference during the second film, no coherent overall plan and various ideas popping up during production are only some of the shifting winds affecting the movies. At least the films sound fun to make most of the time (the second film once again being an exception), as the actors and crew share memories of their good-and-rough times during shooting, explain some of the series’ most amusing or mystifying moments, and help resolve the puzzle of plot pieces being pushed from one film to another, with the fourth making extensive use of the extensive footage shot for the first film but then left on the cutting room floor. Absurdly enough, the way Phantasmagoria goes instalment by instalment helps act as a primer/explainer for the series as a whole, with a coherent vision straightening some of the creative intent behind it all. It’s quite an enjoyable documentary for fans of the series, and it may actually help ambivalent viewers such as myself become more sympathetic to what Coscarelli and his merry band of underpaid cast and crew were trying to accomplish.

  • Around the World (1943)

    Around the World (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) American WW2 wartime musicals were a strange subgenre. Almost entirely produced between 1942 and 1945, they often starred that time’s equivalent of pop stars (i.e.: Band leaders, amazingly enough to modern audiences), comedians and studio stars in a narrative that did nothing more than arrange a series of musical and comedy performances in a loose story. Such films were meant to be shown overseas to troops, and to raise patriotic fervour, war bond purchases and morale on the homefront. Around the World isn’t the best of those, but it clearly shows the formula and the intent: Featuring then-famous band leader Kay Kyser and his musical entourage (the “Kollege of Musical Knowledge”), its slight narrative has the band touring the world to entertain the troops and getting embroiled in various adventures with stowaway teens and treasure-hunting Nazis along the way. There are plenty of big-band musical numbers and somewhat old-hat comic routines along the way, but if you’re having too much fun in wartime, just wait until the atonal conclusion in which one of our happy-bouncy protagonists learns that her father’s been killed in action and vows to do her part in fighting the Axis. (Never mind that we can see that revelation coming about thirty seconds before she does.)  If that sounds like a big blend of propaganda made to order, you’re right and the film doesn’t even try to hide it. For modern viewers, the propaganda takes a back seat to the period charm and the big band numbers. As intended, the film feels like an evening outing in the city to hear a big band playing a few hits and some comic interludes in between. Kyser is not a terrific actor (his presence in Swing Fever, his sole acting credit playing a character other than “himself,” is slight), but he does have a pleasant, sympathetic presence, especially given how he’s fully in his element here playing a band leader trying to manage the various issues affecting his band. Marcy McGuire is very cute as a teenager stowing away to follow the band around the world, while the band plays itself in a fictionalized take on their real-world troop entertainment. Around the World doesn’t amount to much in terms of a movie, but it’s an interesting film approximating what it must have felt like to either attend one of Kyser’s evenings, or watch a musical comedy in wartime.

  • Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)

    Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) The tale of Tarzan is so well known that it has escaped its origins: Everyone knows the basics, but few will point at the 1912 Edgar Rice Burroughs adventure novel as the one source from which they know how it goes. Regularly reinterpreted according to each generation’s own liking, people are free to point at various interpretations as “their” Tarzan. 1981 Bo Derek, 1984 Christopher Lambert, 1999 Animated Disney film, 2016 Alexander Skarsgaard—all good choices, and that’s not including the endless pop-culture references and parodies. But in movie history, “the” big Tarzan is former Olympian swimmer Johnny Weissmüller who ended up playing the character in twelve films from 1932 to 1948, a series that most famously introduced the famous “Tarzan Yell” instantly recognized but hardly ever successfully imitated. As such, Tarzan the Ape Man is pretty much the Tarzan film you’d expect from early-1930 Hollywood: Technically rough (with plenty of soundstages in between the stock footage), incredibly racist toward African people, sometimes ridiculous, occasionally impressive and a good showcase for Weissmüller. Even though it presents the story stripped down to its barest and most obvious components, it can be tough to watch today—the dismissal of the native population in favour of the white explorers in “deep dark Africa” is insulting to everyone; and the fight between Tarzan and a lion (or rather an obvious stunt double with a lion, intercut with Weissmüller with an equally obvious puppet) is either hilarious or endearing. It’s probably worth a look despite its problems, if only as an illustration of the racism and technical limitations of even top-billed action movies at the time. On the other hand, there are newer and better incarnations of the Tarzan legend out there for anyone coming in fresh to the character.