Reviews

  • Theodora Goes Wild (1936)

    Theodora Goes Wild (1936)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) A slight but amusing comedy, Theodora Goes Wild introduces Irene Dunne to comedy, a field in which she’d encounter considerable success in the following years. The plot, rich in lies, half-trues and misunderstandings, has to do with a small-town Sunday School teacher who moonlights as the writer of a salacious novel that has all the town’s busybodies clutching their pearls. (There’s probably some commentary about the Hays Code in there.) The fun escalates once someone from Manhattan discovers her double identity and follows her back home to make her life difficult — especially when she has no other choice but to introduce the stranger as her gardener. The expected romance ensues, even when the action moves back to Manhattan for much of the third act. It’s all a bit silly, sometimes quite arbitrary, and Melvyn Douglas isn’t always the best as the male lead… but Dunne is quite good in an Oscar-nominated performance. If you’re looking for a better-than-average 1930s comedy with some good set-pieces and a solid lead performance, Theodora Goes Wild is a really good choice.

  • Always a Bridesmaid (2019)

    Always a Bridesmaid (2019)

    (On TV, April 2021) This probably won’t reflect well on me, but I’m always game for a BET-broadcast romantic comedy if the heroine is cute, and I certainly got what I was looking for in Javicia Leslie as the lead actress in Always a Bridesmaid. You can probably write a good chunk of the script from the title alone: Perennially single female protagonist suddenly looking for love, with a few obstacles on the way. As such, the film plays to its strengths by focusing on its likable heroine — capable, kind-hearted, obviously popular with her friends but somehow not in a relationship. Her exploration of the contemporary dating scene is good for a funny montage, but she soon finds The One (Jordan Calloway, also likable) who will stick with her for the rest of the film, through temporary breakups and other artificial obstacles. The film sticks very close to its PG rating and it’s not a bad thing — it keeps the humour leashed to a family-friendly format. Always a Bridesmaid is innocuous, but innocuous is what I was looking for after a recent diet of heavy Oscar-nominated dramas and terrible horror films — a nice romantic comedy with an attractive lead is exactly what was needed. I would, in other circumstances, have some reservations about the narrative decision taken along the way — the straightforward lack of romantic tension in knowing how (let alone if) the two leads would end up together, the awkward time skip at the very end of the film, the bland complications, the idiot characterization for what’s supported to be an intelligent character… but as with most romantic comedies, Always a Bridesmaid is much better in its details, subplots, moments and side conversations than it is in overall structure and plotting. I didn’t care much about its flaws, even as I was constantly mentally rewriting the script along the way — it’s sweet enough as it is, and Leslie has such a winning screen presence that I was happy enough with the results. As written by co-star Yvette Nicole Brown and directed by Trey Haley, Always a Bridesmaid is not a great or even a good movie, even focusing on the black-cast romantic comedy sub-sub genre that is BET’s bread-and-butter — but sometimes you don’t need good or great: you’re just happy with something average and pleasant.

  • Resistance (2020)

    Resistance (2020)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) The only thing weirder that Jessie Eisenberg taking on the role of famed French mime Marcel Marceau in Resistance is the realization that Marceau was an active member of the French resistance and rescued kids along the way. It’s a premise that holds up reasonably well against the historical record (even if most of the specific events feel invented for dramatic purposes) even if, as viewers, we’re left to wonder if there’s any aspect of WW2 that has not yet been put on-screen by now. The centrepiece of the film is Eisenberg, who reportedly trained quite a while to be able to convincingly portray, well, the most famous mime in history. It may or may not be the best possible casting (there’s quite a bit of Eisenberg showing through — with the role fitting in his career-long interest in Jewish characters). The rest of the film feels like a generic WW2 film, set against nice European backdrops and juiced up with evil Nazis and heroic plot points. It’s reasonably entertaining even when we find ourselves sensing that Marceau’s real story is being hammered to fit a standard Hollywood formula. Ultimately, though, I expect Resistance to fade away, like very many very similar films about resistance against the Nazis — even after seeing the film, the mime angle pay works more like a punchline than an actual element of distinction.

  • Strike up the Band (1940)

    Strike up the Band (1940)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) Fifth in a series of ten movies that paired Judy Garland with Mickey Rooney, Strike Up the Band uses the couple’s most frequent formula: a series of contrivances leading them to put on a show in order to save something or someone or other. Clearly patterned on Babes in Arms (same stars, same premise) but with a slightly bigger panache to wow the audiences, the film is clearly meant to be familiar to the audiences at the time. Early-1940s Garland and Rooney had plenty of youthful sparkle and the camaraderie that came from working together so often. The plot itself is bland, but some of the numbers are still well worth seeing: with Busby Berkeley at the helm, it’s no surprise if the lavish, complicated dance number “Do the La Conga” is the film’s highlight, with plenty of dancers moving to a catchy rhythm. (There’s also a fun number with instrument-playing fruits — and it’s announced by the opening credits.)  It’s an early production of the Arthur Freed unit that would go on to make many of MGM’s most celebrated musicals, so there’s clearly the spark (if not quite the polish) of later well-known productions. For film buffs, Strike Up the Band is a bridge between Garland/Rooney’s “Andy Hardy” teen movies and the musical super-productions she would later star in. It’s amiable enough to be worth a watch — and some of the numbers are memorable.

  • Sunrise at Campobello (1960)

    Sunrise at Campobello (1960)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) You can’t always predict your own reactions to a film, and my weirdly idiosyncratic hostility to Sunrise at Campobello proves it. On paper, it looks like the kind of inner-baseball political drama that I should enjoy — the origin story of future-President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, following his sudden paralysis. All of this is assorted with a look at his family, friends and political allies all the way to a triumphant podium appearance on his way to his nomination as presidential candidate. Considering that FDR ranks highly on my list of most admired presidents, I should have loved this. In practice, however, it only took a few minutes for the film to grate on my nerves. From the irritating tones of Greer Garson as Eleanor Roosevelt (another historical figure I admire in the abstract, but proves to be annoying in the flesh) to the self-satisfied family life of privileged white New England neo-aristocrats, Sunrise at Campobello started out on a very bad note that it never really recovered from. The artificial nature of circa-1960 filmmaking did not help, as this intimate drama feels stuck in this weird overblown Hollywood aesthetics it did not need. Oh, it’s not as if there’s nothing worth noticing in the rest of the film: Ralph Bellamy is fine as FDR, Hume Cronyn is a bit of a highlight as a sarcastic counsellor, the political shenanigans eventually take their place in the film, and the suspense builds up to a good conclusion. It does get better by the last act — even Greer’s characterization is meant to make her less grating. Historically, the film is also noteworthy for being more forthright than before about FDR’s medical condition, which was famously downplayed and unreported before and during his presidency. Still, I’m left curiously annoyed by the result — not being American is part of it (although, dear Americans, you really should elect people like FDR more often) but perhaps simply starting off on the wrong foot is enough. We all know how some films play differently from how they’re described on paper, and Sunrise at Campobello is a splendid example of it.

  • The Sandpiper (1965)

    The Sandpiper (1965)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) As far as I can determine, The Sandpiper is an average drama whose claim to fame comes from the on-screen romance between then-megastars Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. As a drawing card, it’s not inconsiderable. They weren’t known as one of the most famous couples of the 1960s for no reason — both were sex symbols, box-office draws, and their union came from affairs leading to considerable tabloid gossip. They also co-starred in eleven films at various stages of their ten-plus-two years of marriage. The Sandpiper is the third of their pictures, the first one they shot as a married couple and very much focused on adultery — one can imagine how well that sold back then. Filmed in colour, largely on location in Big Sur, it features Burton as a strait-laced headmaster and Taylor as a free-spirited artist. You can guess where this is going, although the conclusion is suitably wistful. Decades later, and taking in the Taylor/Burton romance in its totality, there’s no denying that The Sandpiper has since lost much of the appeal it must have had at the time. We’re left with a well-executed romantic drama — nothing too exciting, but interesting in its own way for people who respond to such stories.

  • Castle Freak (1995)

    Castle Freak (1995)

    (In French, On Cable TV, April 2021) The story behind Castle Freak is unlikely enough to be amazing: When cult-horror director Stuart (Reanimator) Gordon noticed a “Castle Freak” poster (for an unproduced film) in shlockmaster Charles Band’s office, he quickly negotiated a half-million-dollar budget and an agreement that the final result would contain both a castle and a freak. In return, he got what many filmmakers would kill for: complete creative control within those constraints. The result is, well, low-budget but not completely awful: As an American family moves to a castle they just inherited, they certainly don’t expect the murderous creature lurking in the dungeons. There are added layers of psychological and genealogical complexity in the final script, and while the result doesn’t fly particularly high, it is interesting more in a Stuart Gordon way than a Charles Band way. There’s clearly something there trying to escape the confines of its budget. Gordon stalwart Jeffrey Combs plays the male lead role, perhaps courting cult approval more than the film actually deserves. Castle Freak does have its share of obvious problems, including a far too gory scene that should have been toned down to fit with the rest of the film. There are lulls, needless complications, and a premise that arguably runs out of gas well before the film’s 95 minutes are up. Still, it’s not quite as bad as feared, largely due to Gordon’s attitude at managing even a micro-budget. Fun fact: the castle in which the film was shot was actually owned by Band himself. No, I don’t know how a low-budget horror producer can afford a castle. I suspect that’s another amazing story by itself.

  • A Perfect Plan (2020)

    A Perfect Plan (2020)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) In discussing so-called bad movies, it’s often useful to distinguish the difference between the actual quality of the film and how strongly we feel about this lack of quality. The first factor can be surprisingly objective — you can perform the anatomy of a sequence and point out how it’s flatly directed, badly written, transparently badly acted or hampered by substandard technical means and decisions. In discussing A Perfect Plan, for instance, you’d feel obliged to talk about actors being unable to maximize the potential of their characters, the script that mishandles its own best ideas, the lackadaisical direction, the stilted dialogue, the weird structure, the plot contrivances, and so on and so on. But then there’s the subjective aspect of my reaction to those flaws, and the truth is that I still liked A Perfect Plan quite a bit. Shot in Hamilton, ON (!) and visibly hampered by a limited budget, it does have several flashes of fun peppered through it, as the script seems almost gleeful to play with genre elements, as Hamilton’s cinematic potential is presented, as the actors tackle well-worn genre archetypes and as the conclusion does everything it can to make sure we get a happy ending. It’s also a pure genre entertainment piece, unburdened by any overt attempt to tackle broader themes. (At a time when many low-budget Canadian films feel obliged to wave their identity credentials, this almost counts as refreshing.)  I think that writer-director Jesse Ikeman can do much better now that he’s got experience helming a film and being aware of his strengths — I’d certainly like to see A Perfect Plan’s energy applied to a better script and a bigger budget. It’s not that good of a film, but I liked it more than I expected.

  • Judy & Punch (2019)

    Judy & Punch (2019)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) I wasn’t all that fond of writer-director Mirrah Foulkes’s Judy & Punch, and half of it has to do with ignorance, and the other half with mood. The ignorance part first: While I know the Punch & Judy puppet show is an integral part of mainstream Anglo-Saxon culture, I was never exposed to those at an impressionable age, nor did I find much to like when I was finally made aware of it. As a result, an entire film built on a feminist subversion of the puppet show conventions is largely lost on me. The other half of my lack of enthusiasm for the result is plainly a matter of mood — I simply wasn’t in a mood for black comedy featuring the death of a baby and the violent dismemberment of its antagonist by the protagonist. While there are nice odd touches of humour in the opening moments of Judy & Punch, I stopped caring shortly afterwards, and stopped liking not much later. Neither Mia Wasikowska nor Damon Herriman impress much in the lead roles. Some films are like that — no matter how well they’re made, they just don’t work on specific people at specific times.

  • Story of G.I. Joe (1945)

    Story of G.I. Joe (1945)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) You could be forgiven for assuming, from the opening credits, that Story of G.I. Joe is going to be focused on Pulitzer-winning American journalist Ernie Pyle, who famously reported while embedded in WW2 campaigns in Tunisia and Italy. The film contains narration inspired (or copied) from Pyle’s columns and was filmed as Pyle was reporting from the Pacific Front. (Pyle, who was involved in the film’s production, was killed on Okinawa two months before the film premiered.)  But when you get into the film, you eventually notice that Pyle’s character ends up a supporting character reporting the actions of the company he’s with, and so Story of G.I. Joe indeed becomes the story of the grunts working the frontlines. Robert Mitchum gets a first great role as an officer who provides material for the reporter’s columns, easily (and by design) outshining the less flamboyant Burgess Meredith playing Pyle. Entirely produced during WW2, the film ends up being a convincing portrayal of ground troops during the campaigns of Tunisia and Italy. It does have some added interest in having a journalist act as a narrator (one who finds out, in the field, that he won the Pulitzer), giving an additional dimension to what could have been another war movie.

  • Tender Mercies (1983)

    Tender Mercies (1983)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) There’s an entire swath of movies I don’t like, and Tender Mercies is squarely in the middle of them: Slow-paced realistic dramas that are heavy on personal recriminations, atmosphere and sadness. Much of the film is focused on a middle-aged alcoholic who used to have a career as a country singer, but finds himself hitting rock-bottom in the middle of Texas. The narrative describes his slow way back up, thanks to God, the love of a good woman and other things found in country songs. It’s not the kind of film I willingly watch unless there’s a reason for it, and that reason here was the film’s nomination for a Best Picture Academy Award. Still, I’d be churlish not to recognize a few things worth noticing. First off would be Robert Duvall’s performance, as he sports an unusual beard and plays off-persona with a sad-sack role (albeit with dignity). The other thing is the all-encompassing Texan atmosphere, with only yellow plain and blue skies to see anywhere you look around. It’s quite an immersive film at times, and it’s an atmosphere that weighs heavily on the slow-moving plot as well, underscoring people stuck in place despite a horizon of possibilities. Otherwise, Tender Mercies is the kind of film that will make more audiences happy and others bored out of their skulls. But then again, take a look at what did win the Best Picture Oscar in 1983: Terms of Endearment. What should have won if I had my way? The Right Stuff, of course.

  • Beware! The Blob (1972)

    Beware! The Blob (1972)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) Some actors turned director reach for profound artistic statements, or create the conditions required for other actors to perform at the best. Then there’s Larry Hagman (star of TV shows Dallas and I Dream of Jeannie), whose sole film directing credit (in addition to many TV show episodes) is the B-grade monster movie sequel Beware! The Blob. It’s far from being an honour, although he presumably enjoyed the incongruous humour of it all. This sequel to the classic Steve MacQueen monster feature begins explicitly from the conclusion of the first film, as a pipeline worker brings back a mysterious sample from the Arctic. Soon enough, a fly, a cat and a wife are missing, absorbed into the ever-expanding blob. It just gets worse from there, both in-story and on-screen. Production values are low, narrative coherency is hazy and compulsive watchability is practically non-existent. It is a pure low-budget monster feature, and it achieves its objectives. Despite the cheapness of the production, there are actually some good moments to the direction, as characterized by unusual camera angles. But there’s really nothing remotely essential about Beware! The Blob at the exception of Hagman directing — it’s all bland and forgettable, neither funny nor horrifying.

  • The Spanish Main (1945)

    The Spanish Main (1945)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) Ah, pirate movies: For a long time in Hollywood, seeing one of them meant that you’d seen half of them. They’d have a capable hero, a good person forced in service of a pirate until he became the pirate, largely to have the allure of piratical protagonists without, well, being as repellent as a real pirate. Adventures on the high seas would follow: ship battles, sword fights, swinging for the rigging, capturing the corrupt governor, navigating through a storm, but especially romancing a reluctant beauty, progressively seducing her through good deeds and fearless action. In this context, The Spanish Main is no outlier. Perhaps its most distinctive trait is the unusual casting of Paul Heinreid (not normally known as a swashbuckling hero) in the lead role. Oh, there are other niceties as well: Maureen O’Hara is wonderful as the heroine, especially when the colour cinematography does justice to her red hair. Some of the action sequences are thrilling. The dialogue is not bad. In other words, you get what you expect from a pirate adventure in seeing The Spanish Main. Where the film doesn’t do as well is in distinguishing itself from similar films — it’s an average example of the form, without the extra flourish of other better-known examples. But that’s already not bad (and have I mentioned O’Hara?), especially if you know what you’re getting yourself into.

  • Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018)

    Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018)

    (On TV, April 2021) I was very, very late in understanding the accomplishments of Fred Rogers as a kid’s TV host. Much of it is due to the fact that I didn’t speak much English when I was in Mr. Rogers’ target audience. Obviously, I became aware of his saintlike reputation over the years, but it wasn’t until a year or two ago that I actually watched a rerun of the show and was astonished at how… calm and gentle it was. I happened to catch the Tom Hanks biopic a few months ago, but it’s only now that I sat down to watch the documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, exploring Roger’s life, accomplishments, and entire philosophy. Using interviews, show footage and some animated segments featuring Daniel Tiger (explicitly presented as an alter ego for Rogers), this is a documentary that starts from the same question as the Hanks docufiction: Was Mr. Rogers for real? Was he as benevolent and kind-hearted as his reputation made him out to be? As the documentary eventually points out, this seems to be difficult for people to accept — we’d rather believe that he was a Navy SEAL who swore off killing than accept that such a genuinely nice person could exist, incidentally suggesting that we are not as nice as we could be. One of the most intriguing aspects of the film is how it tracks the strong association between Rogers’ approach and his own faith—an ordained minister, Rogers sometimes referred to his show as a ministry, and it’s not rare for the documentary to use spiritual or religious language in describing his actions—anyone calling him a saint, for instance, because the modern vernacular does not have other words descriptive enough. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? does fully engage with the notions of absolute goodness, and as time goes by, I suspect that its 2018 release date will weigh more and more heavily as a reminder of where it came from, two years into a nakedly malevolent American presidency that had viewers struggling to accept how someone without moral qualities could be voted into the highest office of the land. In this light, the example of Mr. Rogers becomes essential. Rogers was kind because he operated from a set of core principles: respect the child, protect the child and be honest with the child. Some of the show footage is gobsmacking in its forthrightness — who would now even dare discuss political assassinations on a kid’s show? What makes a lot of adults very uncomfortable, however, is when Rogers used this same basic honesty on adults — essentially treating adults the way he’d like kids to be treated, and the effect was usually disarming (even against prickly US senators). Won’t You Be My Neighbor? does poke and prod at the legend, but the worst it can find about Rogers is a childhood of being bullied, a bit of dissociation with his puppets, and an increasing righteousness as he became older — not exactly anything embarrassing, nor out-of-character for his public persona. Asked if Mr. Rogers was the real thing, all interviewers agreed that he was. Clips of people criticizing Rogers without even understanding what he was trying to do reflect badly on the criticizers (and may induce some outrage in viewers). But where Won’t You Be My Neighbor? further distinguishes itself from other standard biopics is in its willingness to try using some of Mr. Rogers’ humanity on its interviewees and audience: the film ends on an incredibly poignant note as, in countering despair about the lack of kindness, interviewees are asked to spend one silent minute thinking about kind people who helped them become who they are. Tears well up, the silence holds and the sequence ends with many interviewees thanking director Morgan Neville for the moment. It’s an incredible finish to an exceptional film about an extraordinary man. Yes, Mr. Rogers was exactly who he appeared to be. Yes, he was better than most of us. Yes, we can do better in aspiring to be like him.

  • Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)

    Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) I don’t generally like boxing movies, but there are plenty of exceptions, and Somebody Up There Likes Me is one of them. Based on the life of middleweight legend Rocky Graziano, it’s a film that greatly benefits from early Paul Newman’s streak for rebellious yet somehow likable characters. It’s also a film that, while clearly boxing-centric, has most of its dramatic action take place outside the ring, offering a well-rounded portrait of the lead character. Newman plays Graziano (in a star-making turn) with uneducated roughness but a great deal of charm even if his early life is one of teenage delinquency, troubles within the army and defiant attitude. Things start turning around for him when he discovers an aptitude for boxing and meets his future wife (a good turn from Pier Angeli). Newman is surprisingly good at the physical part of the role — he convincingly plays the boxer and channels the rebelliousness into physical aggression. But more than that is the film’s balancing of personal life and professional life (that is, boxing), all the way to a surprisingly dramatic third act that doesn’t solely depend on the outcome of a big match. In other words, there’s more than boxing in Somebody Up There Likes Me to keep even non-boxing fans happy.