Reviews

  • Happy Birthday to Me (1980)

    Happy Birthday to Me (1980)

    (In French, On Cable TV, August 2020) You’ve seen simple Tuesday slashers, Friday the 13th slashers, Halloween slashers, Christmas slashers, April’s fool slashers, probably Easter slashers and Independence Day slashers—but what about a birthday slasher? That’s the gimmick adopted by Happy Birthday to Me, in which the friends of a girl about to celebrate her 18th birthday all start mysteriously dying. You may guess where this is going, but the filmmakers have a wild climactic plot twist in store. Never mind that it makes most of the plot impossible and meaningless—the original ending having been (correctly) judged too predictable, it was (incorrectly) reworked to make it less obvious no matter whether it still made sense. Production values are equal to what low-budget Canadian horror movies were capable of doing at the time: gritty, dark, fuzzy, slightly charming in their lack of polish. But since this is a slasher, the place of honour (and most obvious craft) is left for the kills, many of them cruel and unusual. It’s all fairly rote for a slasher, although the car stunts and whodunit mystery aspects are slightly better than other comparable films. Still, that doesn’t give it much of an excuse for being worth a look. Sure, Happy Birthday to Me is probably better than other films of the subgenre at the time but that doesn’t make ti a must-see. If you’re writing an encyclopedia on slashers, sure, have a look—otherwise, there are much better movies to see without wasting one’s life on an early-1980s slasher.

  • Lo chiamavano Trinità… [They call me Trinity] (1970)

    Lo chiamavano Trinità… [They call me Trinity] (1970)

    (YouTube Streaming, August 2020) Ah-ha! If you’re looking for the film that really ignited the career of the Bud Spencer/Terence Hill duo, look further than They Call Me Trinity. The success of God Forgives… I Don’t immediately led to a bigger-budgeted follow-up, more closely tailored to their specific skills than anything else. Accordingly, it made money, got good reviews and left a lasting legacy: Not only a (worse) sequel, but an affirmation that the Spencer/Hill duo was good for box office success—indeed, I can find a few reviews simply calling the duo, “The Trinity Brothers.” It’s easy to see why the film was a success: taking the spaghetti western formula but ensuring that it was accessible to all ages, this is a film that plays to packed houses with a blend of action and comedy. Spencer is easy to like—the teddy-bear act is a lot of fun, while Hill has the Cary Grantesque quality of being uncommonly good-looking while also being willing to plunge into whatever’s needed to get a laugh. Combined with writer-director Enzo Barboni’s intention to tone down the violence of the spaghetti western in order to make it even more broadly accessible, well, this is a film that the whole family will enjoy. Call Me Trinity is also, perhaps, the best of their collaboration—the one to highlight when introducing the duo to new audiences.

  • Rooster Cogburn (1975)

    Rooster Cogburn (1975)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) It took a few decades, but in Rooster Cogburn we finally get to see Katharine Hepburn fire a gatling gun. Of course, the price to pay for this treat is having to endure John Wayne’s smarmy arrogance for an entire film. A sequel to True Grit, this film sees Wayne and Hepburn (born the same year; at last, an age-appropriate romance in a Hollywood movie! ) undertake a dangerous journey in the Far West to avenge the death of her friends and family. While both actors are interesting in their own way and the script is tailored to give them plenty of Significant Moments (and riff existing personas; same character for Wayne, same kind of character as The African Queen for Hepburn), Rooster Cogburn at a whole is a disappointment the moment you focus on anything but the stars and the gatling gun. The dialogue is not good, the directing is pedestrian, the narrative is humdrum and while some landscapes are spectacular, that’s really on the location scout more than anyone else. But here’s the thing: When you’ve got WAYNE and HEPBURN together at last (in the only time of their careers), it’s just not possible to pretend to ignore them in the result. Considering this, Rooster Cogburn becomes far more than just its components—it’s nearly a must-watch for classic Hollywood fans, if only for the lone reunion of two screen legends. That’s objective. If you want subjective, consider that Hepburn is at the top of my classic Hollywood list of actors, and Wayne is at the bottom.

  • The Merry Widow (1934)

    The Merry Widow (1934)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) According to some contemporary accounts, Maurice Chevalier was one of Hollywood’s highest-paid actors of the 1930s, and his cultural influence essentially defined the French stereotype in American movies. He reportedly spoke English quite fluently in real-life, only to revert to a distinctive French accent in his movies. As much as I dislike the artifice, I must say that it helped create a strong screen persona: That of a bon vivant, gentle womanizer, easygoing hedonist… or, in other words, close to the stereotype that Americans still carry about French people, one that French people don’t do much to try to dispel. You can see that persona and attitude at play in The Merry Widow, a romantic fantasy in which imaginary European kingdoms are used as reasons for a soldier to court a rich widow. From the get-go, the film seeks an amiable, generally harmless tone: one early scene has soldiers chanting as they go to war, but with lyrics clearly stating that their only reason to go there is to impress the girls at home. Against this backdrop, Chevalier takes on the role of a playboy tasked with the serious business of national union through romantic courtship, and the rest of the film goes from there. There are plenty of reasons why this premise wouldn’t fly today, but the result is quite likable as a historical capsule. Ernest Lubitsch directs with his usual touch, and the music is surprisingly catchy. It’s clear that the film celebrates women, romance and courtship in a harmless fashion without any predatory overtones. Chevalier is truly likable, and Jeanette MacDonald is also quite good as the wooed widow. Top-notch production values in terms of sets and costumes mean that there’s always something lavish to look at. Still, the comedy is the draw and The Merry Widow is funny enough to entertain. Chevalier at his peak was not to be underestimated.

  • The Bridges at Toko-Ri (1954)

    The Bridges at Toko-Ri (1954)

    (On TV, August 2020) You can cleanly fit The Bridges at Toko-Ri in the evolution of the war movie. It borrows equally from the propagandist past of WW2 movies, the reality of the then-recent Korean War and anticipates the nuanced statements of Vietnam-era films. About a third of the film is an exploration of Korean-conflict marine aviation: shot in colour, it focuses on search-and-rescue operations, and on carrier-based bombing missions. Executed with the full cooperation of the US Navy, it harkens to the propaganda films of WW2 in showing us life in the service and what awaited the conscripts who chose that branch of the service. But the formula gets a somewhat more nuanced twist than the WW2 movies—about another third of the film revolves around a protagonist taken from civilian life into the reserves, and asked to fly a dangerous bombing mission. Everyone around him—wife, hierarchical superior, friends— are concerned that he may not come back, and in a larger perspective that the war may not be worth its cost in lives. Such sentiments are a bit unusual to find in military-themed movies of the era (they probably owe much to the James Michener’s novel on which the film was based) and they have contributed to The Bridges at Toko-Ri’s generally well-regarded sophistication. This ambivalence toward combat is carried through the final third of the film, in which our protagonist (William Holden) kisses his wife (Grace Kelly) goodbye and goes bombing. He won’t be back. The dour ending feels like a cold shower if you’re expecting the film to be like the other military adventures of the 1950s—the protagonist is gone, and everyone is mourning a fate that they had clearly anticipated. While I’m ambivalent about my enjoyment of the result (I like my war movies victorious), I can’t deny that the film has plenty of great moments along the way. And The Bridges at Toko-Ri simply feels prescient about the direction that Hollywood war movies would follow a few decades later.

  • The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle (1939)

    The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle (1939)

    (On DVD, August 2020) While it’s always great to see another new-to-me Fred Astaire film, The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle does lead me once again (but not as strongly as in The Barkleys of Broadway) to state that having Astaire play a historical character is a waste—Astaire is Astaire no matter what his character’s name is. Still, this loosely adapted biography of the title characters does let Astaire do a few things—being in a loving relationship from the get-go with frequent screen partner Ginger Rogers, for one (none of that obsessively pursuing the girl until she says yes), playing in a more realistic film and—gulp—dying at the end of the movie. That last particularity isn’t as much of a downer for two reasons: for one thing, it’s historical fact. For another, Astaire is Astaire—he still had nineteen subsequent musicals to go, and it’s not a last-minute death in a minor film that would depress viewers. The lack of characterization may actually help in softening the blow here. Still, it does highlight that of all of Astaire’s musicals (and more specifically the ten Astaire/Rogers collaboration), The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle is a more grounded film, and a duller one as well: absent the genial comedy of Astaire’s other musicals, it feels longer despite the touches of humour and dance numbers. Said dance numbers owe more to the Castles than to Astaire, meaning that they’re more restrained and not quite with the razzle-dazzle of what Astaire pulled off in previous films. While it must have felt natural to cast a great dancing duo to play the roles of famous ballroom dancers, this film stretches the limits of Astaire’s dancing persona as far as it could go in that direction. Elements of The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle would pop up in later movies (having Astaire as a pilot in The Sky’s the Limit, having Rogers and Astaire as a real-life couple in The Barkleys of Broadway), but it’s a good thing that Astaire never once headed back in that direction. I still liked the movie (it’s really hard to dislike an Astaire film), but I would rank it firmly in the actor’s lower tier.

  • Nikita [La femme Nikita] (1990)

    Nikita [La femme Nikita] (1990)

    (Second Viewing, on DVD, August 2020) Coming from the middle of Luc Besson’s classic period (from 1985’s Subway to 1997’s The Fifth Element), Nikita is probably the one film you could showcase in order to show Besson’s strengths as a writer-director without veering into his excesses or self-parody. It features a strong action heroine, distrust of authority, grimy cinematography, Jean Reno, dynamic direction and strong action sequences. At least half a dozen of his later movies would revisit the same elements to various degrees of success but never as successfully. Remade stateside as Point of No Return, the original Nikita has a believable rawness of execution that more than compensate for nonsensical plot justifications. (Seriously: the covert government agency she works for is the worst possible one at what it does… but it heightens the drama.) Even those with fresh memories of the remake will find much to appreciate in the original. I probably saw the original in the mid-nineties, but still had a good time watching it anew. The premise and its execution are ridiculous: yes, let’s send an unpractised operative on an assassination mission and give her thirty seconds to prepare… that’ll go over well. As I said: “worst possible agency.” But Nikita is not so much about solid plotting than Besson’s nervy direction, Anne Parillaud’s performance and the torn stockings accessorizing big guns during the action sequences. Even thirty years and countless hitwomen movies later, this influential action thriller is still worth a watch.

  • A Wrinkle in Time (2018)

    A Wrinkle in Time (2018)

    (On TV, August 2020) There are many ways in which A Wrinkle in Time irritates me. It starts, clearly, with not being part of its target audience. This is a film clearly designed to appeal to teenage girls, a group of which I’ve never been part of. But it’s also self-consciously a fantasy film dressed in science-fiction garb, and I’m of the film belief that you have to play by the rules of SF if you’re hanging in its playground. But it doesn’t—by going for science-fantasy babble ever chance it gets. When the film features people scoffing at the protagonist’s theories, it wants me to feel sorry for them, but I’m rather there thinking, “No, this is actually stupid.” (One notes that the original classic YA novel by Madeleine L’Engle had pretty much the same issues, if not worse.) The dialogue can be overly precious at times, the rhythm of the film is very uneven and even the villains can be cartoonish. Despite basic technobabble about quantum entanglement and such, the film really is a fantasy in which a girl travels to the dark kingdom to rescue a loved one. The mismatch between my expectation of the form and the way it’s executed would normally be enough to put me off the result with a broken suspension of disbelief. In many ways, A Wrinkle in Time feels a lot like the similarly disappointing Tomorrowland, leading me to think that they may be something stupid in the water at Disney Studios. But here’s the thing: Despite all of this, I still have quite a bit of affection for the result. Everything else about A Wrinkle in Time is quite likable. I like Storm Reid as the protagonist, and I think we should make many more movies for young girls. I absolutely enjoyed the casting—if going on a death-defying adventure means having Oprah Whitney, Mandy Kaling and Reese Witherspoon as guardian angels, then sign me up. (Witherspoon gets the chance to be very funny along the way.) Even the supporting actors include likable choices such as Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Michael Peña, Zach Galifianakis and Chris Pine. This is definitely the father in myself speaking, but I really liked the overall message of girl empowerment and positive depiction of father/daughter relationships. The ending wraps things up satisfyingly, and director Ava Duvernay clearly shows a mastery of her craft every step of the way. The now de-rigueur wall-to-wall use of colourful CGI leads to spectacular visuals and, as much as we can use this qualifier on a $100M Disney production, the film does seem to have some earnestness to it. It’s true that I wanted to like the film more than I did. On the other hand, A Wrinkle in Time did manage to keep my sympathy despite flaws that would have destroyed most movies with the very same issues. I strongly suspect that a better film would have moved even farther away from the original L’Engle novel, prompting calls as to why it was even an adaptation.

  • Endings, Beginnings (2019)

    Endings, Beginnings (2019)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) The key to executing a low-stake non-genre slice-of-life drama featuring ordinary people is that, well, it works best if you like those people. Or make them interesting. Or have them played by charismatic actors. Alas, Endings, Beginning is pretty much zero out of three. The beginning is particularly trying, as we’re introduced to an average loser who’s pretty much managed to screw everything in her life, and then ask us to care for her as she navigates a love triangle with opposite partners. She then finds new and painfully irritating ways to screw things up even further as the film goes on and on. Naturalistic cinematography further irritates—at some point, as dumb as it sounds, I was even exasperated by the film using the default iPhone notification sounds, as I kept reaching to see if it was my phone. Shailene Woodley makes an effort here to further distinguish herself from her best-known YA roles, but this persona may not be an improvement. Far too long for its own good, Endings, Beginnings does get slightly more interesting toward the end as the stakes get higher—but again, they’re high because the protagonist has systematically gotten in bigger trouble along the way, never taking any action to actually behave responsibly. As I said, an unlikable character makes for an unlikable film.

  • Jojo Rabbit (2019)

    Jojo Rabbit (2019)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) The premise of Jojo Rabbit is strikingly unappealing (a young German boy, in WW2 Germany, has Hitler as an imaginary friend and befriends a Jewish girl hidden in his attic, as the Nazis close in a start purging non-patriotic Germans) but if there’s any filmmaker who could make it work, that would be Taika Waititi, whose off-beat sense of humour has led to a string of films far better than their premise would suggest. So it is that from its first moments, Jojo Rabbit plays on a knife’s edge of discomfort, applying an ironic comedy filter on events that, in other hands, would have been yet another tragic-but-dull WW2 drama. This is really and constantly not a film to be watched at a surface level, as it plays for laughs while camouflaging some terrible things. Yet it still manages to earn its dramatic moments later on. There’s an interesting mastery of craft here, as Waititi hits his off-beat beats along the way. I don’t exactly love the results, but I’m impressed enough with them.

  • Bande à part [Band of Outsiders] (1964)

    Bande à part [Band of Outsiders] (1964)

    (Youtube Streaming, August 2020) When I think French Nouvelle Vague, I picture a vague mix of black-and-white cinematography, characters in a romantic triangle, the streets of Paris, references to Hollywood, and seemingly improvised philosophical discussions sometimes interrupted by the elements of a criminal subplot. In other words, I’m just about ready to designate Bande à part as the most new-wavish of the French New Wave movies. In writer-director Jean-Luc Godard’s hands, it features one woman and two men plotting a robbery in-between dancing at Parisian cafés, running through the Louvre and discussing Hollywood. It may feature budding criminals, but Bande à part qualifies as a genre-heavy crime film only by the loosest of definitions—it’s far more interested in the relationships and rambling discussions between the trio than the crime they’re planning to commit. As befit such an archetypical film, it has spawned numerous imitators from Tarantino (who practically worships the film and features a striking homage to its dance sequence in Pulp Fiction) to Bertolucci’s The Dreamers. For a cinephile, it’s interesting to see an influential film after its imitators and feel the mental click of puzzle pieces fitting together—it does help that Bande à part fully plays into nearly all of the clichés of its specific era of filmmaking: it’s an archetypical film, and perhaps best of all it’s curiously enjoyable as such—but then again most of Godard’s early movies are a charm to listen to once the characters get talking about such any subject. In the end, I’m not that overly enthusiastic about Bande à part… but I can see what the fuss is about.

  • The Peanut Butter Falcon (2019)

    The Peanut Butter Falcon (2019)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) On paper, there is nothing about The Peanut Butter Falcon that would make me like the film. It’s about a protagonist with Down’s syndrome who escapes from a Southern US placement home in order to go to a wrestling training school. Barely functional in society, he meets a small-time crook on the run, and they soon start to rely on each other, as both social workers and vengeful hoodlums are looking for them. Add to that the naturalistic gritty filmmaking style and it not only sounds like anything I’d enjoy, but it should be fit to send me running for the exits. And yet, even from its first few uncomfortable scenes, The Peanut Butter Falcon does manage to be more interesting than expected. There’s a genuine rawness to Zack Gottsagen’s performance, and a solid leading role for Shia Leboeuf, as well as a good supporting turn for Thomas Haden Church. The sense of place of the Southern US is astonishing, and the story does often allude to Huckleberry Finn in its travels down the river. The film does earn its emotional beats later in the third act, and the result is surprisingly likable, especially as it reinforces its themes of reconstituted family. I’m often more impressed by directors that can make watchable material from unappealing premises than those who do well with surefire starting points, and on that metric, writers-directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz have done quite well here.

  • Non c’è due senza quattro [Double Trouble] (1984)

    Non c’è due senza quattro [Double Trouble] (1984)

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2020) By 1984, the long on-screen partnership between Bud Spencer and Terence Hill was almost over, but both of them were comfortable enough in their on-screen personas that their movies became little more than excuses for comic set-pieces. In Double Trouble’s case, the narrative goes back to the favourite comic trope of doubles—Spencer/Hill playing both rich wimpy characters, and rough-and-tumble doubles hired as decoys due to assassination attempts. It all takes place in Rio de Janeiro for international flavour. The excuse for a plot is enough for the string of gags—both actors are clearly having fun with the highfalutin dialogue and demeanour of the rich guys they’re supposed to replace, and a lot of the film’s comedy has to do with class differences. It’s certainly nothing sophisticated, but the brawls are fun, and fans of the duo get exactly what they’re expecting. While Double Trouble is not their best (although, really, what is their best?), it’s amusing enough to be worth their names on the marquee.

  • Django (1966)

    Django (1966)

    (Tubitv Streaming, July 2020) What’s in the coffin? What’s in the coffin??? From its first few moments, as a lone traveller carries a heavy coffin wherever he goes, Django strikes interest. A Spaghetti western written and directed by Sergio Corbucci and starring Franco Nero, this is a film more concerned about artifice than substance. The story itself (inspired by Yojimbo) is nothing special—a stranger comes to town and dispatches the bad guys—but it’s in the details that the film does better: the hero’s weapon of choice is what’s in the coffin—a machine gun! The bad dubbing does add a bit of charm to the proceedings. Alas, the film is unusually violent for the time, to the point where it’s not as much fun to watch. Still, if you’ve seen and like Leone’s westerns, this is very much in the same vein. Many enthusiasts will tell you that Django is one of the better spaghetti westerns and the good directing, steady rhythm, entertaining gimmicks, likable protagonist and rather happy ending all confirm this.

  • The Barkleys of Broadway (1949)

    The Barkleys of Broadway (1949)

    (On Cable TV, July 2020) Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are reunited for the tenth and final time in The Barkleys of Broadway, playing a married Broadway couple whose bickering gets out of hand, leading to strife and separation. The film’s production history tells us that Judy Garland was first slated to play the female lead but had to bow out and was replaced by Rogers, thus providing an interesting ten-year-later epilogue to the Astaire/Rogers professional duo. In most ways, it’s a classic MGM Freed production from the good years of the unit—where the focus on Broadway presenters means that there are plenty of diegetic occasions to present song and dance numbers. We shouldn’t underestimate the fun of seeing Oscar Levant in a role tailored to fit both his musical talents (as he plays a Tarkovsky piano concerto on-screen, hands flying on the keys) and his comic persona with a penchant for acerbic bon mots. Special effects make the “Shows with Wings on” sequence worth a look, as one of Astaire’s later-career solo numbers with a gimmick. Fittingly enough for an Astaire/Rogers finale, there is some great duet dancing here. Alas, as with many musicals, the balance of comedy to drama is not ideal in the third act—it’s not as if the resolution is in doubt. Even as a rather average Astaire/Rogers film, The Barkleys of Broadway is a lot of fun to watch for musical comedy fans. It also heralds, in its own way, a few spectacular years for MGM musical comedies.