Reviews

  • Harsh Times (2005)

    Harsh Times (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, October 2018) The measure of great actors can often be seen at how they elevate standard material, and so we have Christian Bale single-handedly making Harsh Times a worthwhile watch. Well, OK, that may be overstating things. After all, this film is another one of writer/director David Ayer’s take on the seedier side of Los Angeles (his first as a director after a good run as a screenwriter) as it follows two young men, one of them a troubled combat veteran (Bale) as they attempt to do better with their lives. That’s easier said than done when jobs are scarce, police work isn’t for those with troubled pasts, and a tangled web of obligations holds down both men. As this wouldn’t be an Ayer film without tense gunplay and impossibly tragic choices, Harsh Times does not head in a happy direction—the third act becomes a dramatic ordeal to watch. Interestingly enough, the film has gained a bit of sustained attention in the decade-or-so since its direct-to-DVD release: the star power of Ayer and Bale (and Eva Longoria, here with a thankless role as a girlfriend trying to bring her husband back to respectability) have ensured that the film continues to get attention today. The uneasy mix of graphic violence and emotionally stunted characters may not make for an easy watch, but Harsh Times holds its own as a sombre LA crime film with good performances and a strong atmosphere.

  • Au hasard Balthazar [Balthazar, at random] (1966)

    Au hasard Balthazar [Balthazar, at random] (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy Streaming, October 2018) I have a parody version of French New Wave movies in my mind that has been fed by other parodies, by early unpleasant encounters with the genre and by various readings about the Cahiers du Cinéma/Rive Gauche crew. My theoretical parody is a wholly unfair funhouse version of a valid artistic movement, and I’m astonished to find a movie that surpasses its absurdity. That would be Au hazard Balthazar, a movie about a donkey. A real donkey as a protagonist. A donkey whose life, from birth to death, is followed by the film as an illustration of humanity as it gets new owners—some nice and others not-so-nice. But wait: the absurdity doesn’t stop there, as a donkey protagonist means that we’re stuck in rural France for the duration of the film. But wait! There’s more! Under writer/director Robert Bresson’s instructions, the actors do not emote even in the fiercest of conversations, giving an intense feeling of detached alienation to the proceedings, something that the mostly static camera and stripped-down surroundings definitely heighten. I’ll be the first to admit that this kind of cinema isn’t for me. Really; an emotionally-dampened movie about a donkey?! But then again I’m only beginning to dip seriously into the pool of sixties French cinema. Maybe I’ll revisit Au hasard Balthazar in a few years. In the meantime, I’m afraid I won’t be afraid to use the movie as an example of how absurd Nouvelle Vague cinema can be. A movie about a donkey and emotionless humans. Really.

  • Les parapluies de Cherbourg [The Umbrellas of Cherbourg] (1964)

    Les parapluies de Cherbourg [The Umbrellas of Cherbourg] (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy Streaming, October 2018) You would think that I, being a francophone fan of musicals, would be a natural audience for Les parapluies de Cherbourg, perhaps the best-known musical to emerge from 1960s France and a major influence over films such as Damien Chazelle La-La Land. But I reserve the right to have idiosyncratic reactions, and as it turns out I’m this close to loathing writer/director Jacques Demy’s Les parapluies de Cherbourg. For one thing, it’s a downer musical. For another, it’s a wall-to-wall musical: The characters can’t stop singing even in dialogue scenes when there is no song, no rhymes, no arrangement, no accompanying choreography, no reason to sing. The effect is profoundly irritating. It sounds like incessant meowing for no reason and if I don’t like it from my cat at six o’clock (well, at least she’s hungry—it’s for a reason), I don’t necessarily like it from my TV screen for an hour and a half. Les parapluies de Cherbourg drove me crazy in a way that most musicals don’t, seemingly magnifying everything that usually annoys people about musicals. The reason why I can’t quite bring myself to kick this movie in the trashcan is that it does have some charm once past the meowing. The story is simple and while it ends in a not-so-happy way (well, the guy is happy and the woman isn’t so much and the audience least of all), it does feel rather endearing during its first act, especially before the unrelenting singing becomes unbearable. It’s also immensely colourful, with a portrayal of late-1950s small-town northern France that is affectionate and stylized at once. The ending sequence, as melancholic as it can be, is beautifully shot and doesn’t forget, through a signed “Cherbourgeoisie,” to put its class message front and centre. Given that I followed Les parapluies de Cherbourg by the absurdly ridiculous Au hazard Balthazar, it’s even far from being the worst movie I’ve seen that day. Maybe I’ll revisit it eventually. But maybe I’ll wear earmuffs. [January 2019: I’m happy to report that Les demoiselles de Rochefort, Jacques Demy’s follow-up musical to Les parapluies de Cherbourg, is a far more enjoyable film.]

  • The Post (2017)

    The Post (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2018) There’s something quietly amazing in how Steven Spielberg, now that he has mastered the filmic form, can go from wide-screen spectacle to a far more restrained drama and deliver said smaller movie in the time it takes for the bigger movie to complete post-production. As the story goes, Spielberg read The Post’s script in February 2017, started shooting in May, wrapped up editing in November and the film made it to theatres in time for the December Oscar season—all the while blockbuster Ready Player One underwent post-production and release. That’s ludicrously fast, but you can understand the urgency while watching the film. After all, The Post is a full-throated defence of the power of a free and independent press unafraid to aim for the biggest targets—something very much needed considering the authoritarian behaviour of the current American administration. It specifically tackles the story of the Pentagon Papers, and specifically the decision of The Washington Post to publish from the papers at a time when it wasn’t clear if this was an illegal act. You know how it’s going to end, but the script wisely focuses on then-new owner Katharine Graham as she wrestles with the decision to publish, balancing legal and business exposure with journalistic duty. With Meryl Streep playing Graham and Tom Hanks as the legendary Ben Bradlee, Spielberg can rely on screen legends to deliver the drama, and the film is never quite as good as when it features characters batting around big ideas as they relate to their current situation. It’s an inspiring film, perhaps a bit too rearranged to suit dramatic requirements but not outrageously so. Spielberg’s direction remains satisfying even when there are no car chases, supernatural creatures or fantastic landscapes to behold—this is one of his tight dramatic films that would have been released straight to video had it not featured his producing and directing skills. The Post also explicitly positions itself as a prequel to All the President’s Men and generally sustains the scrutiny created by the association. I’d call it essential viewing in these troubled, often truth-alternative times, but I fear that the only people willing to watch the film are those already convinced of its righteousness.

  • The Gold Rush (1925)

    The Gold Rush (1925)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy Streaming, October 2018) As one of Charlie Chaplin’s classics, The Gold Rush scarcely needs any introduction—this is the one where Chaplin goes to the Klondike, eats his shoes and has a delightful dance number with dinner rolls that many have imitated in real-life. (Unless that’s just me.) But what I found most interesting about the version of The Gold Rush that I saw was that it was the 1942 re-cut version, with narration from Chaplin himself. It’s not quite a silent film and not quite a talking one either, but it does illustrate one of my persistent annoyances with silent cinema: length and pacing. The original The Gold Rush ran for roughly 95 minutes (it’s sometimes hard to tell with silent movies), whereas this talking one runs a significant 23 minutes shorter. Some of this is due to, ahem, artistic choices (such as Chaplin cutting out a kiss with an actress with whom he was involved in 1925 but not in 1942), while other cutting consists in taking out title cards and replacing them with spoken narration in Chaplin’s English-accented voice. It clearly illustrates the difficulties in the pacing of silent movies for modern viewers, even ones in which the title cards aren’t the focus of the film. In comparison, this version feels as if it flows more smoothly, even when the narrator is intrusive and merely keeps describing what we can perfectly grasp from the images. (But then consider that Chaplin was doing assistive audio before anyone else.) As for the film itself, I do like The Gold Rush better than some of Chaplin’s other movies such as The Kid or City Lights—its sentimentalism is under control, and the film does seem focused on being a comedy rather than a collision between intense drama with comic interludes. It’s one of the relatively rare 1920s films still worth a look today, even if I’d recommend the 1942 version over the original one.

  • La battalia di Algeri [The Battle of Algiers] (1966)

    La battalia di Algeri [The Battle of Algiers] (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy Streaming, October 2018) Using docu-fiction to report on recent history is always a delicate exercise, especially if you’re going to attempt a level-headed description of a civil conflict. I’ll be the first to note that as a twenty-first century Canadian I’m probably missing the vast majority of the cultural context that makes The Battle of Algiers so poignant: I wasn’t around for the Algerian War and have no patriotic opinion on the matter. But the film itself speaks loudly as it describes the 1954-57 Algiers uprising and the efforts of the French government to quell it. The Battle of Algiers follows both the insurgency groups and the government responses, and proves remarkably even-handed in describing both their objectives and their reprehensible tactics. Writer/director Gillo Pontecorvo conceived the film as a docu-fiction exercise and as a result its atmosphere is raw and immediate. There’s a credibility to the execution that bolsters the quasi-documentary script. Neither French nor Algerian come across as being particularly noble, and it’s a wonder that the film is able to construct an understandable narrative out of a complex urban warfare situation. At times, it almost acts as a primer on how to rise against occupying forces and on how to counter the uprising. As a result, The Battle of Algiers can (and has) been lauded by a strange assortment of commentators from all political factions, used in military training academies and in insurgency training as well. I watched, fascinated more often than not. It certainly earns a place as one of the most striking films of the 1960s, a decade rich in other defining movies.

  • The Music Man (1962)

    The Music Man (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2018) It actually took me two attempts to get into The Music Man. Made at a time when the Hollywood musical had been defined, achieved and was nearing its degenerative phase, it’s a musical that knows it’s a musical and relies a lot on audience expectations in order to achieve its effects. This is most clearly seen in the rough opening sequence where the sounds of a train provide inspiration for an oddly syncopated and arrhythmic first number that will have more than one viewer wondering what the heck is going on. (Cue my second attempt to watch the film.) Things sharply improve once The Music Man hits the sheer singalong hilarity of “Ya Got Trouble” and then on to “Marian the Librarian” and “Shipoopi.” Once you understand what the film is aiming for, it becomes far more enjoyable. Lead actor Robert Preston certainly helps—his distinctive voice is a joy to listen, and his ease with the role (which he performed for a few years on Broadway) shows in the practised charm of his performance. He certainly lends a lot of his comfort to the story itself, which consciously goes back to early-twentieth-century Midwest small town for its atmosphere and plot devices. By the time the story wraps up with (what else?) a big parade, The Music Man has become a musical classic, easily ranking among the best 1960s musicals. I can envision replaying this one for the sheer fun of the musical numbers. If the lead character feels familiar to first-time viewers, it’s probably because of the classic Simpsons “Marge vs the Monorail” episode, in which the huckster character coming to town is very clearly modelled on Preston’s archetypical work here.

  • For Your Eyes Only (1981)

    For Your Eyes Only (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second or third viewing, On Blu-ray, October 2018) I saw For Your Eyes Only in theatres when it came out! This definitely deserves an exclamation point given how, as a kid, I never went to the movies. My parents weren’t rich enough to take us out regularly, the nearest theatre was more than twenty kilometres away (in fact, more like thirty at the time—closer ones were built some time later) and since we only spoke French in an Anglophone province, going to the movies would have been an exercise in frustration for everyone. We did watch a lot of movies on TV, though, and if I recall correctly, we happened to be visiting relatives in the greater Montréal region when everybody (including a six-year-old boy) agreed to go to the theatre to watch the latest James Bond film. In French. I distinctly recall the scary underwater sequence from the theatre—I suspect that most of the rest of my childhood memories came from watching endless reruns of the film on Radio Canada TV. Now that I’m going through the entire Bond series in order, For Your Eyes Only does take on a very different feel. Coming down from the giddy silliness of Moonraker, it’s a film that goes back to the roots of the Bond character with far more restrained stakes, clearly echoing both From Russia With Love and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service to produce the best of the Roger Moore movies. Bond calms down with the indiscriminate sleeping around: the main female character (played quite well by Carole Bouquet) is strong enough to create some real tension between the two, the secondary Bond girl has her own agenda, and there are some laughs in seeing Bond fend off the advances of an overly pushy teenager. There are other highlights beyond the more grounded approach: Plot-wise, there’s a nice twist midway through, and the film’s standout action sequences involves an underpowered Citroen 2CV. After the space adventure of the previous film, taking up a Cold War-themed thriller mostly set in Greece is a welcome change of pace. But here’s the thing: For all of the talk about a more down-to-earth Bond, For Your Eyes Only doesn’t skimp on the action sequence – there’s a new one every few minutes, and they take us from the mountains to the Mediterranean and then back up again. There’s also some variety to the action in between impressive helicopter stunts, a winding road car chase, downhill ski thrills, underwater action and tense mountain-climbing. It all wraps up in a highly satisfying Bond film that manages to find difficult balance (well, other than the pre-credit sequence) between Roger Moore’s debonair charm, Bond’s tougher roots, competent plotting and hair-raising tension. There was a lot of behind-the-scenes drama in the making of For Your Eyes Only (Moore being unsure if he’d take the role again, and numerous crew changes) but the result ranks as an upper-tier Bond movie.

  • Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)

    Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second or third viewing, on Blu-ray, October 2018) I remember being fascinated by Star Trek: The Motion Picture as a kid in the early 1980s. To me, it was the epitome of high-gloss science fiction and sense of wonder. I watched it a few times on VHS. Another viewing right now has me jumping over to the camp calling it “Star Trek: The Slow-Motion Picture”: Not a whole lot happens over the more than two hours running time of the film, and the pacing makes a bit more sense knowing that it started life as a TV series pilot given a budget boost in the footsteps of Star Wars’ blockbuster success. While I still like much of the film’s concept (including a rather elegant tie-in with the then-topical Voyager space exploration probes) and do have some affection for seeing the original Enterprise crew back again for adventure (including a visibly older William Shatner), Star Trek: The Motion Picture definitely sputters on execution. Note: The Blu-ray version seen here is the original theatrical version, not the reportedly snappier 2001 re-edit with new special effects. As such, the 1979 picture shows its age: there are a lot of effects and they haven’t aged very well: It really doesn’t help that the entire film dwells on those visuals, allowing plenty of time to notice its imperfections. (That wormhole sequence … ew.) The pacing does introduce two other issues—early in the movie, the drawn-out overflight of the USS Enterprise was meant as a loving homage to a ship beloved by its audience, but now comes across as overdone fetishism for an audience that has since seen much better. (I’m an Enterprise-D fan myself). Second, the lengthy overview of the alien ship (especially during Spock’s ill-conceived solo outing) now comes across cut-rate attempts to replicate 2001: A Space Odyssey’s trippy third act. Does it work? Well, yes but probably only for an audience already receptive to Trek’s basic explore-and-empathize ethos. As I said: good concept, but sputtering execution. Star Trek: The Motion Picture is now best seen as the financial reason why the much-better Star Trek II exists.

  • Failure to Launch (2006)

    Failure to Launch (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2018) I you want to hear me at my cantankerous best, just get me started on the hyperbolization of language and (in parallel) the tendency of ironic catchphrases to get normalized to clichés. Never mind my person crusade to teach everyone the deadly origins of the expression “drinking the Kool-Aid”: one of my current bugaboos is how perfectly good middle-ground descriptive words have been perverted into value judgments. “Mediocre” means “ordinary,” but most people now take it to mean “bad.” “Exemplary” means that something is a perfect example of something, and not necessarily among the best. So when I say that Failure to Launch is an exemplary mid-2000s romantic comedy featuring Matthew McConaughey (not as small a sample size as you’d think), then I’m just saying that it’s representative, not a superior example of the form. The plot is the kind of high-concept contrived nonsense that was a staple at the time, this time about a relationship specialist (Sarah Jessica Parker) who can be hired to boost the self-esteem of young men staying at their parent’s house long after they’ve overstayed their welcome. It’s not prostitution, insists Failure to Launch in the rare moments when it actually cares about the implications of its premise, except that parents do hire her to send their boys away from home. The plot built upon that premise is executed by-the-numbers, but as with many examples of the genre the charm of the film lies in the execution, the subplots and the supporting characters. The charm of the leads is considerable (there’s a reason why McConaughey found a niche in romantic comedies for so long—he nearly overpowers the material), and there is a lot of fun to find in the more interesting romantic B-story featuring Zooey Deschanel and the film’s obsession about animal bites. Bradley Cooper and a pre-hair implant Steve Carell show up in minor roles. There’s a funny subplot about a mockingbird. Despite its familiarity, Failure to Launch is not a difficult film to watch: it’s not exceptional, but it’s well-made enough to be entertaining.

  • Yôjinbô (1961)

    Yôjinbô (1961)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy streaming, October 2018) If you really want to know where Clint Eastwood’s screen persona comes from, then have a look at Akira Kurosawa’s Yôjinbô, the classic “man comes to town” western story … except for being set in medieval Japan. And being adapted from a hard-boiled Raymond Chandler novel. As the film begins, a Ronin played by none other than Toshiro Mifune strolls into town, asking for nothing more than a place to stay for the night. But the small town he just walked into is divided between two warring gangs. Many would like to see the gangs gone except … who will take them on? If that feels like an overly familiar premise, keep in mind that it was done here first, with many of the traditional action movie tropes (such as the introduction of the protagonist through some unrelated heroic business) being codified here for the first time. The link between Yôjinbô and Sergio Leone’s films is well documented, but it’s also blindingly obvious from even a casual watch, as you nearly don’t even need the subtitles to tell where we are in a familiar story. Mifune is nothing short of amazing here, a force of nature transcending cultural and temporal borders. While the film definitely feels too long, it also definitely feels like a western despite not being at all in the same time or place. Action movie fans should enjoy a look at this, the progenitor of an entire subgenre.

  • The Kid (1921)

    The Kid (1921)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy streaming, October 2018) Charlie Chaplin’s The Kid, his first full-length motion picture, holds a special place in cinema history. It’s often mentioned as among Chaplin’s finest works and one of the films of the early 1920s that truly codified what audiences could expect of cinema as an ongoing art-form. It’s early-adopter status can perhaps be best seen in the unapologetic highs and lows of its emotional manipulation. Chaplin doesn’t hold anything back as he spends much of the film going for child-endangerment themes and gags—the first few minutes are especially punishing as a newborn becomes the object of rather tasteless abandonment comedy. Chaplin did distinguish himself from other comedians by being willing to fight for his audience’s tears as a counterpart to their laughs, but to modern audiences accustomed to a more even emotional tone (and unused to such reckless treatment of younger characters), The Kid can be a bit tough to digest. It doesn’t help that even at a relatively slim 68 minutes (even shorter in its re-edited 1971 version), the film does overstay its welcome toward the end, with an oneiric sequence that seems even less integrated in the rest of the film than the other episodes. The Kid is still worth a look today for historical reasons, and it does pack some entertainment along the way. But don’t be surprised to be put off by some of the material.

  • Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017)

    Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Hoopla Streaming, October 2018) Yuck. Prison movies have been a staple of Hollywood for decades, but the latest few examples of the form have been simply brutal. This does reflect the growing radicalization of the incarceration/industrial complex, with prison life being portrayed as merciless even in the best of cases. Brawl in Cell Block 99 pushes that tendency as far as it will go in a film that will leave viewers feeling soiled for watching it. Like most prison movies, it begins with a somewhat innocent man being at the wrong place at the wrong time and getting incarcerated for his troubles. But there is little isolation between prison life and outside life when his wife and unborn child are directly threatened by an organized crime group. Our protagonist doesn’t have a lot of choice: He’s going to have to become more brutal than even the biggest brutes in order to save his family. Writer/Director S. Craig Zahler turned a few stomachs with his gory western debut Bone Tomahawk and he’s back for worse here—Brawl in Cell Block 99 is a prison drama with gore exceeding most horror movies and I won’t describe what you’d see because even the description will gross you out. But worse than the images is the unbearably bleak atmosphere of the film, which reinforces its hopeless message with a harsh colour palette that underscores the artificiality of the story. It doesn’t end particularly well, but Brawl in Cell Block 99 teaches its audience to expect the very worst very early on. While I’m not all that happy with the result, special mention must be made of Vince Vaughn’s unusual performance as the protagonist, playing his natural bulk as an imposing physical presence and never once resorting to the man-child persona that made him famous. I’m not really looking forward to Zahler’s next film, though.

  • A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

    A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, October 2018) As the story goes, A Charlie Brown Christmas was commissioned by the Coca-Cola corporation, quickly and cheaply made for TV broadcast and was widely disliked by the network prior to its initial airing. While filmmakers involved in its creation were proud of their work, few could see the appeal in a story overtly criticizing the commercialization of Christmas (in the mid-1960s!), with an oddly syncopated rhythm, strung vignettes and a jazzy score unlike anything else heard before in family specials. Fifty years later, A Charlie Brown Christmas is an undisputable classic: the anti-consumerism message remains as vital as ever, the episodes typify the Peanuts brand of gentle humour, the characters are part of shared culture and Vince Guaraldi’s soundtrack stands on its own as an essential piece of holiday music. (I usually play it a few times each December.) The focus on a character who doesn’t find any joy in the coming of Christmas can even hit home for many people overwhelmed by the complexities of the holidays. It can still be watched today with simple joy and a reasonably upbeat message acknowledging the less interesting aspects of the holidays while highlighting its most laudable virtues. Legend has it that one of the animators who worked on the project, Ed Levitt, predicted that “this show is going to run for a hundred years.” Well, we’re more than halfway there, and A Charlie Brown Christmas is still going strong.

  • Ikiru (1952)

    Ikiru (1952)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Kanopy Streaming, October 2018) As a third-generation public servant, I know all the clichés, heard all the jokes, can predict all the editorials about bureaucrats—and fiction is rarely any kinder. Few creators understand the trade-offs and constraints of a public service job, nor the satisfaction of doing good in the role: In the rare occasions where a bureaucrat shows up in a story, it’s usually to provide one more obstacle for the hero. All of this may explain my instant admiration of Akira Kurosawa’s Ikiru, a quiet and deceptive film as far removed from his Seven Samurai and Yojimbo as it’s possible to be, but far more relevant to my specific circumstances. All of the film revolves around a mid-career municipal bureaucrat who, at the beginning of the film, seems satisfied living out his career until retirement. But he won’t get there: before long, he’s diagnosed with terminal cancer and given a few months to live. After a short period of debauchery (easily the least satisfying part of the film), our protagonist decides to use his last remaining months to do some good. But as we’re anticipating the payoff … the film skips to his funeral, and transforms itself in a very unusual story: A eulogy suspense, in which the remaining characters spend his wake poking and prodding at the dead man’s life while we, the audience, wait to hear whether they will understand his achievements. It all comes together in a strong finale, in which the value of the dead hero is finally revealed. It’s quite the movie, although I suspect I’m most susceptible than most in reading a lot of meaning in the final result. It’s uncanny how a story set in reconstruction Japan can feel as relevant sixty-five years and a continent away, but as far as I’m concerned Ikiru instantly deserves inclusion in the select list of essential works for any public servant. (Office Space; any version of “The Emperor with No Clothes”; any of the stories in Keith Laumer’s Retief series; Yes [Prime] Minister, In the Thick of It and Out of the Loop)