Reviews

  • The Gumball Rally (1976)

    The Gumball Rally (1976)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) As an unlikely but steadfast enthusiast of car racing movies, films like The Gumball Rally make me happy in ways that short-circuit my usual approach as a film reviewer. It’s clearly not the only racing-across-America movie: It was inspired by the true-life Cannonball Baker Sea-to-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash organized by Brock Yates in the 1970s, an event that also inspired Cannonball (also 1976), as well as the three-film series launched by the “authorized” adaptation Cannonball Run (1979). (Clearly, that “55 MP/H speed limit” thing clearly had American drivers riled up in the 1970s.) It’s not the most polished of them—Cannonball Run, under the direction of Hal Needham, clearly had better stunts and production values. But The Gumball Rally may be the most purely fun of them—not necessarily in matter of straight-up humour, but in its loose amiable celebration of eccentric characters driving fast and crashing hard. It’s a goofy comedy with plenty of stunts, although mid-1970s action filmmaking being what it was, it doesn’t have the degree of polish associated with newer racing films. A large cast of characters adds to the fun, especially in how they are juggled with some aplomb through coincidences that keep them interacting from one coast to another. Acting-wise, the film boasts of an early appearance by Gary Busey, the wonderful Colleen Camp and a hilarious Raul Julia playing a womanizing Italian driver. The mid-1970s atmosphere is quite amazing even when the film has a few lulls. Still, The Gumball Rally is a fun watch. I want more. Hollywood, make a modern version of this right now. [October 2024: In retrospect, it’s hilarious to note that it’s in May 2020, more or less when I was watching the film, that a Cannonball Run record run was completed, taking advantage of roads left empty during the pandemic lockdowns to achieve a coast-to-coast record of 25 hours and 39 minutes at an average speed of 180 km/h. That record is still standing and is not expected to be beaten any time soon.]

  • Appleseed Alpha (2014)

    Appleseed Alpha (2014)

    (In French, On TV, May 2020) My expectations going into Appleseed Alpha were not all that high—I would have settled for a typical 2010s Japanese CGI production and I suppose I got exactly that. I have dim memories of the original manga, but not dim enough to realize that this take on the series is wildly different, taking place in (and around) a post-apocalyptic New York indulging in the most convenient clichés of the genre, with cyberpunk elements thrown willy-nilly in a bleak landscape, except with electricity, a working subway system, fantastic orc-like creatures and many other things that clearly don’t make this a work of serious Science Fiction. The buxom heroine being squeezed in a chest-and-midriff-highlighting outfit doesn’t help any further in taking the film any more seriously. The images are superb, sometimes almost photorealistic—but the animation, as good as it usually is, does have curious shortcomings at times, probably due to budgeting issues as if a few corners were cut. At least the film ends on a bit of a high note, what with a spectacular assault on a massive mobile fortress that helps make up for a lacklustre second act and meandering story. It’s not much, but then again, it’s got enough going for it to make the viewing worthwhile if you’re partial to CGI Science Fiction movies, no matter how little sense they make.

  • Ringu 2 [The Ring 2] (1999)

    Ringu 2 [The Ring 2] (1999)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2020) Considering that I am one of those strange people who think that the American remake of The Ring is better than the Japanese original Ringu, you may safely disregard my opinions about its sequel Ringu 2. But here goes anyway: There are two giant traps in which horror movie sequels can fall, and Ringu 2 manages to hit both of them at once. The first is to redo the first film with a bigger budget; the second one is to expand the mythology, provide answers, add backstory and generally make a mess out of the simplicity that worked so well in the original. Combining the two means that re-threading the first film’s scares is not original, while what’s original is not that scary. Ringu 2 is not without some merit, but it’s ungainly, off-key and just plain insipid when it tries to weld its own additional ideas on the framework built by Ringu—like a rickety addition to an elegant building. Now, director Hideo Nakata does have a rough understanding about how to build a horror sequence, and that instinct probably saves Ringu 2 from an even worse assessment—but the result still isn’t particularly good, no matter whether you’re watching this on its own, or as a follow-up to one of the most highly regarded Japanese horror films of the 1990s.

  • Razorback (1984)

    Razorback (1984)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2020) As far as premises go, “A giant pig kills people,” can be either ridiculous or promising, but Razorback’s competent visual style ensures that the result isn’t that laughable. This killer boar horror is bolstered by a bit of human nastiness, but it’s the atmosphere more than the plot that makes this film work. Director Russell Mulcahy (who would go on to direct Highlander) and his cinematographer capture some great images of the Australian Outback to make it all look better through a strong sense of place. What’s not so good is the messy, unfocused and ordinary script, the bland actors and some of the special effects. Still, the direction is the reason to watch the film—it’s apparent from the first few shots that this creature feature is something a bit more visually ambitious than average. This doesn’t necessarily mean that Razorback is a recommendation, but there are certainly far worse choices out there if you’re stuck watching a 1980s horror film.

  • 47 Meters Down (2017)

    47 Meters Down (2017)

    (In French, On TV, May 2020) Another entry in the surprisingly robust “young Americans go vacationing south of the border, make a questionable decision; terrible things ensue” subgenre, 47 Meters Down is occasionally well made, occasionally infuriating, occasionally surprising and occasionally dumb. If that sounds like an average low-budget thriller, then you’d be right: This time, two sisters are trapped deep below sea level in a cage surrounded by great white sharks. Writer-director Johannes Roberts can manage some great underwater footage, but the blue shark menace gets repetitive after a while. While a bit too technically well executed to be bad, 47 Meters Down can be dull at times. The bait-and-switch ending will not make everyone happy considering that it undoes quite a bit of the film. [October 2024: …and has since become an annoyingly pervasive cliché of the survival subgenre.] Still, the execution of the film shows some promise, and Roberts may end up doing something truly interesting one of these days.

  • Bad Ass (2012)

    Bad Ass (2012)

    (On TV, May 2020) After a few parody films, writer-director Craig Moss gets more ambitious and tries his hand at a low-budget action film starring Danny Trejo as an older man who beat up a few people and becomes a viral sensation. (It’s adapted from a then-viral video, now almost forgotten.) Then the less interesting part of the film begins as he tries to solve the murder of a dear friend. As a straight-to-video action thriller, Bad Ass just about delivers the goods: An interesting trio headlines the film (Trejo, Charles S. Dutton and—briefly—Ron Perlman) but there isn’t much in the script to give them anything interesting to do. It’s an exploitation film that plays it straight, with the only distinction being that it’s an elderly veteran going on a rampage of revenge than some other kind of action hero. Trejo isn’t bad in the lead performance, which is fortunate considering that the entire film depends on it. An expensive-looking bus chase audaciously reuses footage from the climax of Red Heat. That’s worth a few chuckles by itself, which is unfortunately just as much as the rest of the film combined. An unobjectionable but unremarkable evening-filler, Bad Ass is going to have the exact same lifespan of an Internet meme.

  • Diary of the Dead (2007)

    Diary of the Dead (2007)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2020) To reuse a quote, directors can either retire as geniuses, or work long enough to be seen as derivative hacks. So it is that while George A. Romero pretty much co-invented the modern zombie film in (whew) 1968’s Night of the Living Dead, forty years later he was stuck following the found-footage craze for Diary of the Dead. The story is intensely familiar, as the dead rise and start snacking on the living. In this film, the living are film students filming everything that’s happening, and they’re not that different (nor smarter) than countless other sacrificial groups of characters in other zombie movies. Diary of the Dead falls into the same traps than other found-footage films—the weird camera placement, surprisingly good angles and lighting and inexplicable determination to keep shooting no matter what. Romero throws in some philosophy, humour and nihilism, but much of the film plays in the same way as countless straight-to-video found-footage zombie films. While it’s better executed than most of them, Romero is here outclassed and eclipsed by so many imitators that even above-average Diary of the Dead feels dull.

  • The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

    The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) Film noir classic The Strange Love of Martha Ivers may not be all that iconic, but it has enough great things in it to warrant a look for fans of the genre. For one thing, it sports Grande Dame Barbara Stanwyck playing the kind of superpowered character she did best. Then the casting gets surprising: Kirk Douglas (in his film debut) playing her weak and easily cowed husband, then Van Heflin as a street-smart punk whose arrival on the scene creates danger—for he is the third holder of a secret that could have a devastating impact on the two other characters. There’s more, and quite a bit of murderous melodrama along the way, but the film (as with its score) builds up to a grandiose ending. It’s pretty good—although film noir fans will say that it doesn’t have enough noir concision to be a classic. True, but also besides the point: By the standards of mid-1940 Hollywood melodrama, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers is competent and absorbing. See it for Stanwyck, for Douglas or for Heflin, but it’s worth a look.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, September 2021) It’s really interesting to revisit The Strange Love of Matha Ivers after tearing through Barbara Stanwyck and Van Helfin’s filmographies, because their on-screen antagonistic romance is the highlight of the film. It felt like a decent-enough film noir upon first viewing, but re-watching it with particular attention to Stanwyck’s performance as a femme fatale, and Heflin’s unusually muscular turn as a man who easily dominates every room he’s in (often roughly) is a different experience. As is, for that matter, seeing Kirk Douglas’ first film role as a meek, ineffectual, rather loathsome supporting character. The other highlight is the aggressive score, which shows no shame in highlighting the action with bold musical accents every time the characters butt heads – which is often. There are a few subplots and a prologue starring the characters as kids, but the film is most fascinating when Heflin and Stanwyck figuratively dance warily around each other, sometimes kissing, sometimes trying to kill each other. A fine noir melodrama, it’s easy to see why The Strange Love of Matha Ivers continues to earn such acclaim – and even more so if you’re a fan of both lead actors.

  • Take This Waltz (2011)

    Take This Waltz (2011)

    (On TV, May 2020) Things aren’t simple in Take This Waltz, a romantic drama written and directed by good-actress-turned-great-director Sarah Polley: It’s about a young woman who thirsts for a new beau over her comfortable husband of five years, and the subtle tapestry of feelings that go along with that impulse. Is it an empowerment tale, a break-up story, an examination of irresponsible intrusive thoughts, or maybe all of these stories? I have my own take, but Polley doesn’t make it easy, considering her empathy for everyone, wise or foolish. A surprisingly strong cast gives Polley plenty of material — and offers known actors a chance to stretch a bit, with Michelle Williams playing confusion, Seth Rogen comfort, Luke Kirby excitement and Sarah Silverman… well, Sarah Silverman plays a blend of comic relief, amazing screwups and then righteous reason. This is a film that affirmed that Polley’s 2006 directorial debut Away from Her was not a fluke, and the film has its share of stylistic coups. Take This Waltz is surprisingly watchable despite being a film about building infidelity—and it’s a shame that Polley hasn’t returned behind the camera much since then.

  • The Heat: A Kitchen (R)evolution (2018)

    The Heat: A Kitchen (R)evolution (2018)

    (On TV, May 2020) Like a progressive demonstration, documentary film The Heat: A Kitchen (R)evolution carries a lot of different placards, fancy slogans, contradictory messages, a chip on its shoulder and overflowing causes. If the result bubbles all over the place, it does have some energy. Everyone has something they’d like to fix in the world of food services, and The Heat is initially overwhelmed by trying to accommodate all of those socially progressive issues. Fortunately, it does settle into a more comfortable rhythm once the main thesis of the film becomes clearer: The problem in the kitchen is the glorified macho-chef attitude that translates with verbal abuse, hazing and misogyny. The documentary focuses on eight female chefs, making much out of the divide between home cooking (dominated by women) and professional cuisine (dominated by men) and how they’re all trying to bring more equality but also more respect back in restaurant kitchens. It’s not always perfect— Writer-director-producer Maya Gallus veers close to misandry at times (with the self-satisfied underdog smirk knowing that this kind of discrimination is socially acceptable) and its focus on seeing most things through one lens can wear thin at times. Furthermore, the film cooks itself in a corner when it tries to tell audiences that the kitchen world isn’t as macho as it purports to it, while giving us plenty of anecdotes that it is, in fact, as rowdy as portrayed. Ah well—if nothing else, The Heat is an (other) interesting dive into the kitchen behind respectable restaurants, pointing out how an imperfect culture can be changed for the better. It goes well with the flood of other food-related documentaries out there, and it gives voice to other people than the usual celebrity interviewees.

  • Five Graves to Cairo (1943)

    Five Graves to Cairo (1943)

    (On TV, May 2020) While not perfect, Five Graves to Cairo is a very capable WW2 adventure tale put together during WW2 itself. A Billy Wilder film featuring Erich von Stroheim as Rommel, it blends real-world events with pulpish mysteries and thrills to produce something perfectly watchable even today. There are secrets to discover and a tension-filled plotline, even if it does meander at times and the ending takes just a bit too long to resolve. Amusingly, this film has a war-wide scope… and a setting limited to a hotel. It would make a splendid double feature with Sahara. In Wilder’s hand, the timeless Five Graves to Cairo is more than wartime propaganda.

  • Margaret Atwood: A Word after a Word after a Word is Power (2019)

    Margaret Atwood: A Word after a Word after a Word is Power (2019)

    (On TV, May 2020) Ask any literate Canadian, and they will tell you: Margaret Atwood is a national treasure, so precious that we’re going to preserve her for centuries in special places (libraries, that is). Accordingly, we had to have a documentary about her life and career, although it’s kind of gobsmacking to see much of Margaret Atwood: A Word after a Word after a Word is Power filtered through the success of The Handmaid’s Tale TV show as a kind of social proof. Still, it’s hagiography that gives a lot of space to Atwood, and deservedly so given how she can be witty, smart, funny, honest and compelling all at once. A generous use of archival photos and material bulks up the film, along with celebrity testimonies and Atwood herself going through her current career. Quite ironically, it shows Atwood as a feminist/speculative writer, which is a nice (and not shameful) turn considering some of her previous declarations, now recanted, about how she wasn’t really a Science Fiction writer. (She is an SF writer, just not a “genre” SF writer—she was, as not reported in this documentary, a voracious Science Fiction reader when younger.) Is it completely uncritical of its subject? Obviously. Is Margaret Atwood: A Word after a Word after a Word is Power still worth watching? Of course, because Atwood is as close to a beloved public intellectual as Canada has produced recently.

  • Invitation to the Dance (1956)

    Invitation to the Dance (1956)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) In many ways, you could call Invitation to the Dance the apex of writer-director-star Gene Kelly’s preoccupation with modernizing ballet for movie audiences. It’s an amazingly artistic endeavour—a full-length movie in which three separate stories are told entirely through dance, without dialogue. (Four years went by between its first shooting day and its release—the product simply baffled the MGM executives.) It does get better and better as it goes along—the first segment is a bit dull, but the second is wittier with a stylized contemporary circular tale, while the third has an extended number in which Kelly dances with animated characters. The special effects are rough, but still impressive. Tamara Toumanova and Belita are particularly striking in the middle segment. While avant-garde musical Invitation to the Dance can get tiresome when watched in a single sitting (for best results, try the segments on three separate days) but still very impressive and a significant career achievement for Kelly.

  • From Beyond (1986)

    From Beyond (1986)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) I should like—no, I should love From Beyond. In theory, it’s everything I like best about 1980s horror films—off-the-wall premise, Lovecraftian plot elements, wild use of practical effects and makeup, go-for-broke weirdness, over-the-top melodrama, nudity, a sense of fun bigger than the gore, Stuart Gordon directing, Brian Yuzna writing, Jeffrey Combs starring, multidimensional terror and body horror packaged as one, some comedy, some science fiction. If I had to put together my ideal fictional 1980s horror film, it would look a lot like From Beyond. And yet, the result just isn’t where it should be. The pacing is off, the horror seems almost too restrained, and it doesn’t quite seem funny enough for the material. I mean—I still enjoyed From Beyond (it does get admirably gloopy toward the end, not bloody), it’s just that it didn’t feel as if it made the most out of its ambitions. Still, it’s rather over-the-top fun if that’s your thing—and it is my thing.

    (Second Viewing, In French, On Cable TV, February 2021) It hasn’t been that long since I first saw From Beyond, but my willingness to see it a second time has as much to do with it being caught on my DVR as it has with an underappreciated facet of 1980s horror films. The more I watch some of the wilder horror films of the decade, the more I’m struck by how, even limited by practical effects, those movies weren’t afraid to go for pure inspired madness. In From Beyond, we have a wild concoction of body horror, science-fictional nonsense, slimy gloopy creatures, nudity, gore, mutated horrors, dark comedy and explosions and I have to wonder — Have I been watching the wrong movies, or has this streak of utter madness disappeared from the current horror corpus? Why aren’t we using CGI to have some more of that fun? I’m not generally an advocate for gore, but gore is the least of what made films such as From Beyond (or Reanimator, or Evil Dead, or Braindead, or…) — it’s rather the goofy sense of fun with horror/SF tropes, the generous heaping of nudity and humour, the demented scientists and likable protagonists. I feel as if the latest crop of horror films is either far too serious for its own good, unadventurous in its use of special effects despite near-infinite capabilities, and just plain boring in how it simply goes back to the same sources of inspiration. Maybe those films exist and they’ll re-emerge as cult classics in a few years. But there’s a reason why From Beyond and its close equivalents have aged so well for horror fans: in many ways, they’re simply not making them like that any more.

  • Purple Rain (1984)

    Purple Rain (1984)

    (On Cable TV, May 2020) While Purple Rain was, upon release, much criticized as a vehicle for Prince’s egomania, it’s now best appreciated as a showcase for his distinctive purple-tinged aesthetics. Obviously, this is a film with terrific music, taking up the space left by the self-indulgent storytelling. Just witness the spectacular opening sequence, scored to the infectious fun of “Let’s Go Crazy.” The rest is never quite as good, but while most movies would never recover from starting at such a high point, this one just keeps going deeper into Prince’s eccentricity, with a high-camp result that sports sound effects and visuals to highlight its melodramatic moments. The charges of this being a self-indulgent film are a bit strange—if you’re going to go the autobiographical self-congratulatory route, would you pick an abrasive persona with severe romantic and domestic problems? This is where a bit of Hollywood fiction would have helped. At least, visually it’s very stylish. The clothing does get a bit ridiculous at times—would this what you’d wear on a date, at the pond or just returning home? But no matter—the overall acting is not particularly refined, but it would be hard to notice in a film where everything is heightened. Appolonia Kotero looks really good. Amusingly, the closed captioning of the song lyrics adopts Prince’s idiosyncratic spelling (2, u). Purple Rain is an immensely flawed star vehicle, but not in the ways that count: it remains a wonderful showcase for Prince, and the music hits hard.