Reviews

  • For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism (2009)

    For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism (2009)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Of course, you would find a review of For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism on a site dedicated to film reviewing and criticism. Critics talking about criticism is catnip to critics, and writer-director Gerald Peary clearly knows this: his film is pretty much all about the basics of American Film Criticism over the past hundred years, featuring archival footage, talking-head interviews and a bit of narration from Patricia Clarkson. All the major pre-2010 critics are featured here, whether it’s Ebert, Kael (in archival footage), Scott, Mitchell, Maltin, Maslin, Reed and Siskel. Amazingly enough in a passing-the-torch kind of manner, it also features Harry Knowles at the height of his popularity (now thankfully over, but I remember those times), and Karina Longworth long before she became the podcaster of the essential You Must Remember This. The production values of this documentary are on the lower end, but the content is great. Crucially, the film was shot over eight years, through the growing obsolescence of print film criticism – while this dates the film in significant ways, it also preserves this facet of American film history when it was relatively fresh. Surprisingly enough, there weren’t (aren’t?) many or any formal histories of film criticism at the time of For the Love of Movies’ release – this is both original and important as a first-draft history and as a celebration of the meaning of criticism. Far from taking cheap shots at something that nearly everyone thinks they can do (I cough-cough guiltily), this is a documentary that insists on establishing how movies would be poorer without critical commentary.

  • Johnny Dangerously (1984)

    Johnny Dangerously (1984)

    (On TV, December 2020) I’m not going to pretend that Johnny Dangerously is a great comedy. But I will say that it seems to have been unfairly forgotten over the decades. There are reasons for this, of course: This is Michael Keaton playing a mobster during his silliest era, and his run of 1980s comedies doesn’t get enough appreciation. Then this is a 1930s gangster film parody, and most people don’t remember those as clearly as they did even in the 1980s. (Although you could almost see Johnny Dangerously as a predictive parody of 1991’s Billy Bathgate.) It’s also quite uneven in matters of jokes – some witty bits are juxtaposed with broad dumb stuff, and the effect isn’t as much a film going for all kinds and levels of humour (something I usually respect and encourage) but a film that can’t quite find its own specific comic sensibility. This being said, there is some really funny stuff here, and some of the players (notably Peter Boyle, Joe Piscopo, Griffin Dunne and a younger Danny DeVito) carry their part really well. Keaton himself is charm and hilarity, while director Amy Heckerling can deliver a joke but often has trouble keeping some tonal unity over the entire thing. Johnny Dangerously may aspire to high-pace spoof comedy, but doesn’t quite stick the landing. Now, the best thing I could do to you would be to lower your expectations so that by the time you finally see the film, you would think that it’s better than you thought it would be. So here goes: Uneven but sporadically funny, Johnny Dangerously will do if you think you’ve seen the big comedies of the 1980s and are now making your way through the rest. It has a few funny surprises for you.

  • Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence (1983)

    Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence (1983)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Don’t go around thinking that Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence is some kind of holiday movie, because it’s really weirder than that. It’s actually a Japanese-made WW2 drama starring David Bowie as an interpreter in a Prisoner of War camp where the strict commander of the camp develops a homoerotic fascination for him. Nothing less. Matters of honour and sacrifice weigh heavily in the dramatic arc of the film until the somewhat bittersweet conclusion. Writer-director Nagisa Ōshima credibly portrays the atmosphere of a WW2 POW camp, but the film’s subtle and meandering tone eventually takes its toll. In the end, I found Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence more intriguing as a concept than interesting to watch. At least it’s not another Hallmark Christmas special…

  • Every Girl Should Be Married (1948)

    Every Girl Should Be Married (1948)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) With a title like Every Girl Should Be Married, it’s fair to say that the film won’t ever win any progressive awards. If you happen to watch the now-hilarious trailer, your expectations may run even lower. But the movie itself is a bit more mixed – starting with the heroine’s deeply held belief that women should be free to make the first move (hurrah) but continuing with the same heroine going for some good old-fashioned stalking instead (boo). Of course, the target of her affection is played by Cary Grant, who effortlessly deflects all of her attempts until it’s time for him to yield and for the film to end. Let’s admit right away that Every Girl Should Be Married is a middle-tier Grant film, perhaps even a lower-tier one. Grant is charming enough to make it worthwhile, but there’s a limit to how much he can elevate the material. Playing opposite him is Besty Drake, who would become Grant’s third wife not even a year after the release of the film. (Not that it will make you feel better, but they started dating before the shoot.) It’s certainly not unwatchable – you can make an argument that the female protagonist has a lot more agency than most of the female romantic comedy protagonists of the time. But Grant has made enough good-to-great romantic comedies that even an intermittently interesting one can feel like a step backward.

  • Cold Pursuit (2019)

    Cold Pursuit (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) Producers apparently aren’t done with Liamsploitation film, apparently, and neither am I: if you want to cast sixty-something Liam Neeson as a plow truck driver going on a rampage of revenge against the local mob for killing his son, then be my guest. But Cold Pursuit does have a slightly different flavour from other Liamsploitation films. The setting, high up in the snowy mountains, is distinctive enough. But it’s the tone of the film, adapted from Norwegian action film Kraftidioten, that makes it as distinctive as The Grey was. Here, we get a revenge story served as a very dark comedy, from distinctive angles chosen by director Hans Petter Moland (who also directed the original) to visually scratching out the names of the (many) deceased as they are taken out of the story. It’s a bit of flourish over what could have been a very familiar story of grieving dads, mob war, escalating revenge and baroque death scenes. It’s certainly watchable, and perhaps (due to its off-beat tone) slightly more memorable than other comparable Liamsploitation films. At some point, we can all have fun seeing Neeson plowing into other guys all movie long. Wait, that didn’t come out right…

  • Toy Story 4 (2019)

    Toy Story 4 (2019)

    (Disney+ Streaming, December 2020) No, we did not need a Toy Story 4. The third one was already a gamble, but it also ended in such a definitive way that any attempt to follow it up would be doomed to disappointment. To be clear, Toy Story 4 is not a failure: too much effort has gone into it from seasoned professionals that it still benefits from Pixar’s usual high polish, incredible animation and storytelling prowess. But even those advantages can’t quite conceal the hollowness at the film’s reason for existing. After the high note of the third film, this one feels like another episode without a point – a detour in a bric-a-brac that makes the series’ internal mythology even more confounding, with scant justification for the hijinks along the way. The “forky” character is a thicket of existential philosophy conundrums by itself that the film isn’t interested in exploring all that deeply, and the ending is worth a shrug more than anything else. The series is close to having nothing else left to say at a higher narrative level, so it’s a relief to find that, on a beat-by-beat level, Toy Story 4 is much better: there are a few fun set-pieces, one pleasantly loopy new character (Keanu Reeves voicing a Canadian stuntman toy), decent dialogue and a continuation of characters introduced in previous instalments. But in the end, the hollowness returns as soon as the end credits are done: this wasn’t much of an essential instalment, and now that we’re apparently going forward with this, what else is going to be added to the series, perhaps forever? (I wouldn’t be opposed to a remaster of the original, though.) I’m sure Pixar will find a way, no matter whether we want it or not.

  • The Lion King (2019)

    The Lion King (2019)

    (Disney+ Streaming, December 2020) Live-action or animated? Useless or interesting? A marvel or a disgrace? A step forward or backward? Yes to all of that. Another entry in Disney’s continued hall of recycled shame, the 2019 version of The Lion King applies the “live action” treatment to the 1994 film in looks only: nearly the entire film is computer-animated, albeit with the intention of making it look as real as possible. From a narrative standpoint, though, it’s practically the same thing: The film lifts the entire narrative structure from the original, tweaking a few things around for polish but still adding thirty more minutes to the original running time. Capable voice actors give recognizable performances, but none of this erases the impression of having seen it all already. Directed by Jon Favreau as a version of The Jungle Book on steroids, I suppose that The Lion King is a new high-water mark in computer animation: now so good that it feels as if most of the film is live-action. I also suppose that it’s a new step toward the self-cannibalization of movies into a hollow shell of themselves. But the film made billions, so away merrily into the shell we go. If you can’t feel my enthusiasm, it’s because I haven’t got any.

  • The Wave (2019)

    The Wave (2019)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) I’m sure this has happened a couple of times to the most partygoing readers of these reviews: after finding a way for his company to avoid a $4M insurance payout, a young executive goes partying, does drugs, and finds himself hopscotching between parallel universes and time-travelling back and forth in time, along with demonic visions of reality. No? Hmm. Well, at least that’s what happens to Justin Long’s protagonist in genre blender The Wave. Probably science fiction, slightly comic in a dark way, clearly confusing and perhaps even a moralistic tragedy in thriller clothing, this is a film whose potential exceeds its ability to deliver. The plot doesn’t quite make sense even when explained, but the way there has a few good moments of confusion, scene-switching, hallucinations and temporal blips. It’s fun, but looking back, it could and should have been even more twisted – there is a sense that director Gille Klabin and screenwriter Carl W. Lucas, perhaps held back by a low budget, are just scratching the surface of the premise they stumbled upon. On the other hand, Long is pretty good here: he’s growing wilder and more interesting in his choice of projects over the past few years. Alas, he doesn’t get a perfect showcase in The Wave, which grows less satisfying in the final reveal and can’t quite reconcile its tonal multiplicity. Ah well – at least it’s a fun trip while it lasts.

  • Little Women (1949)

    Little Women (1949)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) When it comes to the multiple adaptations of Little Women, it’s not as useful to say, “That’s the 1949 one” as much as “that’s the Elizabeth Taylor one” or maybe “that’s the June Allyson one,” considering that Jo is usually the main character of the tale. But it’s also “the one with Peter Lawford, Margaret O’Brien, Janet Leigh and Mary Astor” considering that casting is the most spectacular aspect of how each version is perceived. With the 1949 version, I’ve now seen the fourth of the four major adaptations of the tale as of 2020. If it most closely resembles the 1933 (“Hepburn”) one, it’s no accident – it’s essentially using the same script and score, albeit with a significant upgrade in colour cinematography. It plays more as lighthearted(ish) comedy than the others – fewer reconsiderations about the role of women than later versions, not quite as dramatically weighty as the earlier version. Still, it’s a pretty good time with the March sisters – the technical aspects of the production are MGM-grade, which is to say as good as these things were in 1949. A young Taylor is a huge draw despite a lack of attention to her character – in retrospect, there’s a clear lack of balance between her Allyson in matters of starpower. The first half of the film is generally more fun than the second, but it all evens out when compared to the other version, which you absolutely should do in order to get the most out of your viewing. My recommendation: Watch them in chronological order of production so that you get the most out of the growing technical polish of the form.

  • Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant (1942)

    Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant (1942)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Seventh and penultimate episode in the Mexican Spitfire series, Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant isn’t one of its finest instalments – and knowing that this was the third film of the series to be released in 1942 does suggest why it feels like just another episode. Pretty much everything that has made the series is repeated here – Lupe Velez’s fast-paced, carefully mangled dialogue; Leon Errol’s dual role/impersonation; the Spitfire’s long-suffering husband; and deliberately goofy situations to heighten the face and slapstick. Yes, an elephant does get brought in at some point and it’s the highlight of the 64-minute film, which also features Velez singing two songs in this instalment’s cabaret club. While Velez is the draw, Errol remains the funniest performer here. If you’re a fan of the series so far, this is an easy if familiar watch. Still, there’s a strong feeling that Mexican Spitfire’s Elephant is repeating previous instalments, that the lemon is being squeezed too dry and that the series is running its course. Accordingly, the next episode, Mexican Spitfire’s Blessed Event, would be the last.

  • A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019)

    A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) I understand why the world makes us cynics (I’m Gen-X; while we didn’t invent cynicism, we’re pretty good at it,) but it’s not a bad idea once in a while to stop and ask ourselves if there’s another way. I had limited exposure to Fred Rogers in my youth, but discovering him as an adult may be an even bigger revelation – his incredibly earnest, vulnerable approach to the human condition is enough to make anyone wonder – is this guy for real? Is it even possible to be this uncynical, or does it hide something else? This turns out to be one of the key pieces of A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, a Rogers biopic that has to navigate a tricky path between describing Rogers, not falling prey to easy contrarianism and trying not to repeat the 2018 documentary Won’t You be My Neighbour? too much. Structurally, the film avoids making Rogers the protagonist, and instead follows the adventure of a journalist who thinks of himself as too cool for Rogers – only for Rogers to become the antagonist, the one breaking down the main character and rebuilding him for the better. Tom Hanks is an almost perfect fit for playing Rogers: With the weight of his filmography as a nice guy and a generally irreproachable personal life, Hanks roughly occupies a similar cultural space as Rogers. Director Marielle Heller has a few tricks up her sleeve here – presenting a film that struggles with the possibility that Roger may, in fact, exactly be what he appears to be despite an almost-childish desire to find otherwise (with a few darker sequences to shock viewers); and borrowing a few powerful moments from the documentary within a narrative structure. It’s all quite impressive: the film’s tough armour is gradually whittled away until a state of guilelessness is achieved, and the impact is quite something. Maybe the carapace we carry can be taken off from time to time.

  • Anna (2019)

    Anna (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) Every storyteller has their favourite archetypes, and based on the evidence I’m sure that writer-director Luc Besson’s go-to is that of a female assassin. (Also one much younger than he is – and that’s been known for a while.) Anna is something like the seventh dip into that kind of character after, …let’s see…, Nikita, Point of No Return, Leon (split archetype), Bandidas (somewhat), Colombiana and Lucy (sort of). It’s probably the dullest of the lot, too. Our heroine is a product of the Soviet assassin training program who finds herself in Paris living the life of a supermodel by day, assassin by night. Turning to become a double agent, she really is fighting for her freedom to disappear. The rest is action sequences, tough-person posturing, an enjoyable turn from Helen Mirren, some standard spy fiction tropes, and reasonably energetic direction. Anna is an unobjectionable time killer, although the tortured timeline filled with flashbacks and skip-forwards is better suited to mathematical exam questions than casual watching. I’m not that susceptible to Slavic blondes like Sasha Luss, but she does generally well, and is supported by the likes of Luke Evans and Cillian Murphy. Besson-as-director can deliver the strict minimum (and occasionally a bit more, like the restaurant scene) but I’m not seeing any evidence of trying to become any better. (And with recent affirmations of his terrible behaviour, it’s not clear if he’ll get to direct another film any time soon.) If he does write something else, let’s hope he tries to do something different than another female assassin.

  • Scoob! (2020)

    Scoob! (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) As a staunch Scooby-Doo traditionalist and Velma enthusiast, it was practically preordained that I would not be particularly happy with modern reboot Scoob! – in my kind of Scooby-Doo, the answer is always rational and the series exists in a mysteriously dystopian world filled with abandoned run-down properties. This shiny new animated reboot, though, is up to the tastes of the times – meme humour, hip references, Marvel-style quipping, pop-hit soundtrack, attempts to stretch to the limits of its metaverse (in this case, the Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters) and a clear intention to set up a franchise. The opening segment, taking us to the origin story of Mystery Inc., is not bad at all and gives false hopes that the rest of the film will keep up that level of energy and wit. After that, though, it gets steadily downhill: The plot gets more complex without becoming any better, the stylistic similarities keep reaching for modern animated films rather than Scooby-doo-specific quirks, Velma isn’t featured, and everything sort of fades into a generic film that happens to have a dog in it. To be clear, I didn’t exactly dislike Scoob! – I just found it getting increasingly mediocre, and less specific to what makes Scooby Doo so interesting. It’s watchable, although keeping interest is increasingly difficult.

  • Chasse-Galerie aka Chasse-Galerie: la légende (2016)

    Chasse-Galerie aka Chasse-Galerie: la légende (2016)

    (On TV, December 2020) If there’s one folk tale that exemplifies historic French-Canadian culture, it’s la Chasse-Galerie. A story of lumberjacks making a deal with the devil to fly home in a canoe to see their family (and getting away with it), it blends Québec’s image of itself as a country of hard workers, vast natural expanses, innate bon vivants, fealty to religious icons and yet having the wily cleverness to beat the devil at his own deal. (At least in the versions of the tale I like best.) It’s one part of French-Canadian culture that I enthusiastically claim as part of my cultural heritage, and it brings me great joy to see it on the big screen as Chasse-Galerie, a big-budget film with a lavish recreation of historial period and the special-effect budget to do justice to the tale. Now, of course, this is not the canonical tale – such a film would be over in about fifteen minutes. No, this one fleshes out the legend by adding characters, motivations, backstory, specific motivations and everything else – including a generation-before prologue to further shore up the film’s distinct take. Is all of this necessary? Absolutely not, especially when it makes the film reach an unnecessary 106 minutes. But if you see it as a variation on the tale, executed to today’s specific tastes, then the film does become better. Still, it misses some of its marks by being too formal: with so much emphasis placed on characters, we get away from the myth itself. Director Jean-Philippe Duval does manage to find a few good moments, especially when the canoe takes flight and the fantasy aspects finally take their places. Perhaps this means that we’ll get another version of the tale in a generation, and I’m all for it. Until then, this Chasse-Galerie is perfectly serviceable, even when it meanders. Also: Having the Devil speak with an English accent may not be nice… but it is hilarious.

  • The Soul of America (2020)

    The Soul of America (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) With everything that’s happening at the moment, the most radical proposition in America may be that things are, in fact, pretty good. Yes, I know – I watch the news too. But The Soul of America takes the very long view to suggest that while temporary trends can feel terrible, the overall portrait of America is one of progress. Hard-won progress, not always linear progress, but progress nonetheless. Adapted from the book of the same name by historian Jon Meacham, it dips (quickly) into American History to offer a view of history as cyclical, with periods of turmoil settling into more steady progress – and right now being similar to the 1960s and 1930s in terms of angry populism and rising protests. The flaws in this argument as applied to today’s situation are obvious… at least without the benefit of hindsight: catastrophists will say that history is not always predictive and that black swans could attack tomorrow. The underprivileged will quite reasonably point out that Meacham’s viewpoint is that of someone who’s not pushed against the wall when things turn bad (cyclically or not). Cynics will be congenially unable to accept even the smallest ray of hope. (My own take is that I generally agree with Meacham, except with the proviso that America has always been a fundamentally reactionary society: Any significant push in one direction is usually countered with an opposite reaction – the gains usually take place when the pendulum slows down for the next movement.) Cinematically, The Soul of America isn’t much to look at: the visuals are polished, but they don’t call attention to themselves as much as they illustrate the points made by the film’s narration. Meacham himself is a reassuring, credible figure and he is the best advocate for his own view of American history. I’d like to believe him and, generally speaking, I do – but when you’re talking in decades, the day-to-day, year-to-year turbulence isn’t necessarily easier to take for those being shaken.