Reviews

  • For All Mankind (1989)

    For All Mankind (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) I have far too many issues with For All Mankind to consider it the best possible documentary about the American Moon Program, but I’m willing to concede that it’s probably one of the best documentaries ever made about it. Perhaps my biggest objection with the film is one of its fundamental artistic decisions to meld recollections of all the astronauts on all the flights in one single narrative. This is not the right film to watch in order to learn all about the fine differences between Apollo 8 and 11 and 13 and 15—For All Mankind works hard at erasing those distinctions, showing us one narrative in which there are a few issues along the way (13!), wonder at the first view of the Earth from so far away (8), the first steps on the moon (11) and taking a rover out for a spin (15). That’s the film’s central conceit, and it does work most of the time in blurring all missions together into one shared experience. Recording of astronaut interviews are combined with historical footage to form the spine of the film, along with incidental music by Brian Eno. The result manages to make an ethereal, dreamlike, expressionist experience out of the most famous engineering project of the 1960s, giving far more importance to the human aspect of being on another world than what it took to get there. Once more; it’s a fundamental choice, perhaps not the one I would have made … but then again director Al Reinert is the one who sifted through incredible amounts of footage to condense the essence of the project in barely 80 minutes, and there are incredible moments of humanity in hearing about dreams that the astronauts had on the moon, or the way they goof around (slipping and falling) over there, walking or driving their way across the surface. It is, in other words, quite an effective documentary even if you can quibble about its choices. I ended up watching it on the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing and it felt like the right movie at the right time.

  • The Hate U Give (2018)

    The Hate U Give (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) The personal rarely meets the political as clearly as in The Hate U Give, a surprisingly effective movie about a teenager having to confront a system of systemic violence that leads to the death of her friend. Adapted from a young adult novel by Angie Thomas, the film first takes us deeply in the inner world of one sixteen-year-old black teenager as she has to juggle two identities; one at home, with her complex family, and another at an upscale school, making sure she’s not too black for the privileged white crowd. If you suspect that a synthesis of her identities is in order, you’d be right: it all comes crashing together as a childhood friend of hers gets shot by a police officer right next to her during what should have been a routine traffic stop. The Hate U Give is impressive on several levels, and one of them certainly is the density of the themes it tackles (racism, obviously, but also fitting in, the impact of childhood on teenagers, education, trying to improve a neighbourhood rather than fleeing … and so on.), and the effectiveness of the way it clearly indicts social forces for contributing to personal struggles. It’s a sophisticated film, fully up-to-date on the dense tapestry of issues affecting today’s teenagers—it’s never one thing, and you can’t pick at something without something else being affected. Amandla Stenberg is terrific among a strong supporting cast, and the script is so good at creating her character that we’re really sorry when bad things start happening—the protagonist clearly deserves better. Director George Tillman Jr. build to a climax that is perhaps a touch overdone, but still remarkably effective. I’d call it like a Spike Lee film for teenage audiences, vigorous and clever, except that this feels like a diminutive moniker—The Hate U Give is perfectly capable of standing up for itself without comparisons: it’s got its own take on a familiar story, a style of its own, and just as appropriate a set of demands. I liked it quite a bit more than I expected, and would have no problem calling it one of the best dramas of 2018.

  • The Postman Always Rings Twice (1981)

    The Postman Always Rings Twice (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) After watching both the 1946 and 1981 versions of The Postman Always Rings Twice back-to-back, I feel as if I’ve been handed a quick course on the importance of style. More faithfully adapting James M. Cain’s novel to the big screen (including going back to its depression-era setting), this 1981 version ironically feels more dated and less respectable than the noir-era version. That’s an important clue as to the enduring popularity of noir—by discussing distasteful topics of murder and sex in a restrained, even glamorous style, noir now often exists out of time as a style of its own, to be appreciated by audiences at all periods. (Also useful to compare: Double Indemnity and Body Heat, another pair of noir and remake released along a nearly identical timeframe.)  Also, Jessica Lange isn’t Lana Turner, but then again only Lana Turner was Lana Turner. But, back to the 1981 version: Jack Nicholson portrays the qualities of the remake—he’s humourless, gritty, disreputable. There is a lot more detail to this version, and the rough eroticism is played up in ways that would have been unthinkable back in the 1940s. The feral cat subplot of the novel is back (featuring none other than Anjelica Huston), the lead character is far more criminal than drifter, and the entire thing is far more cinematic (by modern standards) than the previous one. It does, mind you, make for a decently entertaining watch, perhaps closer to an erotic thriller than to generic crime fiction. But for all of its realism, polish, harshness and style, this version of The Postman Always Rings Twice just can’t quite measure to the deliberate approach of the 1946 version.

  • The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

    The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) As others have said, noir is a style more than a narrative genre, and as such it can allow itself multiple deviations from reality that would be unforgivable in another kind of movie. Does The Postman Always Rings Twice make sense? Only barely—even the most forgiving of audiences will probably cry out in disbelief a few times, whether we want to talk about narrative, romantic or even legal incoherencies. But this is mid-1940s noir, and believability takes a distant back step to the atmosphere of two lovers plotting murder and then trying to get away with it. Adapted from a novel by crime-fiction legend James M. Cain, it doesn’t take long for the film to revel in the particularities of that kind of fiction, with all the darkly humorous complications, twisted characters, fatal ironies and (in)convenient contrivances. It does help that the film is spearheaded by capable actors, starting with one of Lana Turner’s best individual performances (as others have said, the problem with being a star is that you’re often appreciated for a body … of work—not always a single role) and John Garfield as a blandly likable drifter who finds reason to stick around. For more contemporary viewers, there’s also a young Hume Cronyn turning in a memorable performance as a devious defence lawyer. At times, it does feel as if the third act runs far too long after what would have been a climax in another movie, but it ultimately turns out that the script has quite a bit more on its mind for the real end of the film—and even gives meaning to the title. The Postman Always Rings Twice all amounts to a classic noir with the qualities and issue of its genre, but no less of a pure pleasure to watch.

  • Le mépris [Contempt] (1963)

    Le mépris [Contempt] (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) There are a few things colliding in Le Mépris. Writer-director Jean-Luc Godard shows us what happens when a marriage crashes into a film production, comparing the nitty-gritty of making a movie and the heightened melodrama of a suddenly disintegrating relationship. The film stars Brigitte Bardot in of her most dramatically challenging roles, as her picture-perfect sex-appeal bolsters her role as a woman who realizes that her husband is trying to sell her to a film producer in an attempt to get more money. Cue the titular but no less furious contempt. The anti-romantic plot thread is perhaps best exemplified by a very long sequence midway through the film in which the married couple argues in measured terms throughout their apartment—the kind of sequence that makes film students think about the use of space and character separation. The other subplot, about the multilingual production of a movie based on The Odyssey, is far droller: Featuring no less than Fritz Lang in an amusing role as the film director, it also stars a young Jack Palance as a hard-driving film producer who may or may not be interested in Bardot’s character. The banter here is far funnier than expected, what with a poor translator trying her best efforts to bring together a cast and crew speaking four languages, Lang arguing about the meaning of The Odyssey, and metatextual glimpses at a movie production. The blend of two tones and styles is provocative, especially when they literally involve a car crash at the climax, resolving a few plot threads in far too convenient a manner. Much of Le mépris is interesting; much of it is long—ultimately, it’s up to the viewer to pick and choose their favourite parts.

  • Ridicule (1996)

    Ridicule (1996)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, July 2019) I’m so used to watching English aristocracy comedies of manners than watching a French aristocracy comedy of manners is a change of pace. In Ridicule, there are two premises at play: The first being that of an 18th century French lord, heading to Versailles to convince the court to approve an expensive project to drain his disease-ridden swamps. The second is that of a royal court where battles of wit have very real consequences in terms of influence and royal access. Thus our valorous hero (Charles Berling, solid) being asked to deliver one bon mot after another in an attempt to raise his social profile and get the approval he craves. To complicate things, there’s also a romance with a brainy young girl (Judith Godrèche, quite good) betrothed to an older man, and even further complications when an experienced woman (Fanny Ardent, magnificent) joins the fray. The good news here is that for a film based on verbal wit, Ridicule’s script is exceptionally good—all in impeccably formal French. It’s a pleasure to listen to, even if the story voluntarily turns itself in a dead-end as a conclusion. There’s a lot packed in the epilogue, as we are left to ponder how the French Revolution took care of that hypocritical backstabbing court while our ridiculed and humbled protagonists manage to avoid the reckoning by retreating on their own terms. Still, the period detail is fascinating (eek, bleeding) and the unusual quality of the dialogues makes it all worthwhile.

  • Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975)

    Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) As far as I’m aware, Salò is one of the rare films to straddle the line between pornography, gory horror, social statement and arthouse cinema. Among other distinctions, it has been banned from a few countries for decades, features copious full-frontal male nudity, updates a Marquis de Sade story for the Italian fascist regime of WW2 and is featured in the prestigious Criterion collection. Oh, and: the film’s most noteworthy scene involves a lengthy, unflinching and self-indulgent sequence of coprophagy—not once, but twice. The result is a film both repulsive and provocative, with writer-director Pier Paolo Pasolini using perversions of all kinds (far exceeding even most perverts’ limits) to illustrate the depraved ideology of fascism pushed to its conclusion. Despite the nudity, sadomasochism and scatophilia, Salò somehow doesn’t quite come across as an exploitation film—nearly everything here is not meant to titillate as much as to make audiences deeply uncomfortable for the entire duration of the film. On the other hand, many viewers won’t make it to the end, and most people who see the film once will never make it to a second viewing. (This being said, and this is not a favourable comment on our times or my own jadedness, Salò is definitely disturbing but somehow not quite as graphically violent as many other horror movies.)  I’ve seen it only because it is of some historical importance (its Wikipedia page is a wild read), but got no enjoyment out of it—now that I’ve seen it, I’m quite happy to never revisit it.

  • Le problème d’infiltration [The infiltration problem] (2017)

    Le problème d’infiltration [The infiltration problem] (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) I have a soft spot for cinematic style experiments even when the plot itself isn’t so noteworthy, and I got most of my attention’s worth in Le problème d’infiltration, which chronicles how a successful plastic surgeon’s life falls apart over a day or so. The stylistic trick here is a series of very long takes with lighting shifts, “impossible” camera moves (through a windshield, or a mirror) and never looking too far away from the lead actor’s face. The first 15-minute scene alone, recording an argument between a plastic surgeon (Christian Bégin, interesting) and badly disfigured patient that escalates into a physical confrontation, is enough to tell us that we’re in for a special kind of film. Writer-director Robert Morin is a seasoned professional (this is his 15th film), and he seems to be having fun here despite the sombre subject matter, using modern tools to harken back to expressionist filmmaking (the opening epigraph is from F.W. Murnau). The digital stitching of handheld camera shots is often obvious, but the cumulative impact of the wizardry at play is intriguing. Alas, Le problème d’infiltration’s narrative doesn’t always measure up to its execution, nor does it always get its intended impact. The ending feels abrupt (despite the protagonist telling what he thinks to the audience as his entire life burns down), the individual segments can feel far too long despite the film’s spry 90 minutes (the sequence in which he goes out to borrow bottles of wine from a neighbour feels forced) and at times the film feels as if it’s holding its punches toward a detestable protagonist. I found myself unaccountably giggling through a sequence meant to be harrowing—as the protagonist discovers that his son has a fondness for gangsta rap and bawls his eyes out, I found myself laughing at the overdone melodrama of the sequence—not only were the lyrics of the song a hilarious mashup of tough-guy Frenglish (“Je met ma bitch sur le corner”—ow, my brain), but it’s as if white teenagers hadn’t been acting like thug wannabes since the mid-1980s or so. Get with the times, Morin. Of course, the real tragedy of the sequence isn’t a patsy-white boy pretending to be a gangsta pimp—it’s the revelation of the protagonist as a full-blown narcissist who deserves everything he gets at the end of the movie. (If the point isn’t made yet, there’s a rape sequence moments later to make him irremediable.)  Of course, there’s a lot left to the viewer’s interpretation here—Le Problème d’infiltration is a psychological drama, after all, not a cut-and-dried genre film. Still, there’s quite a bit here to hold anyone’s interest, especially for the rather rare fusion of form and technological innovation in a made-in-Québec film.

  • The Delta Force (1986)

    The Delta Force (1986)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) I’ve come to be grateful for the “time-travel effect” of watching older movies that take us to a past time and place, but that appreciation has its limits, especially when it takes us to a time and place that should remain distant. Part of The Delta Force’s anti-charm is that it takes us to a radicalized version of the mid-1980s where terrorists were everywhere and the only possible solution was violent action taken against them. To be fair, I can imagine a number of good scripts in which this idea is discussed. But none of them happen to feature Chuck Norris as a former Delta Force operative taking on the terrorist almost single-handedly. And few of them go for the cheap theatrics and hyper-manipulative tactics used here. On the other hand, if you really want a taste of how American foreign policy was perceived in America circa 1986ish, then this is the film to watch: it’s not good and it’s not refined and it tells you everything you need to know in as blatant a way as possible. The stereotypes are as blunt as they can be, with Palestinian hijackers, Jewish hostages, American muscle and ineffective Middle Eastern help—is it even useful to note that The Delta Force was produced, written and directed by the very Israeli Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus? Calling it a piece of propaganda doesn’t quite capture it—considering that the villain’s plot was based on two early-eighties real-life events, it’s perhaps fairer to call it a fantasy of excessive retribution. It’s not fair to say that the film rests on a lot of unexamined assumptions about terrorism and violent response—it’s more accurate to say that the film stakes itself on not revisiting those assumptions. There are a few interesting things about The Delta Force. Chuck Norris may or may not be to anyone’s liking, but he is surrounded by an astonishing number of grade-A actors in big-to-minor roles, from Lee Marvin to George Kennedy to Shelley Winters to Robert Vaughn, to Robert Foster. For all of its emotional manipulation, the film does stumble into a few effective scenes (usually sandwiched between far less effective material). Finally, there’s a violent wish fulfillment of seeing terrorists getting their comeuppance, which works even when you’re not a far-right-winger. Any history of 1980s Hollywood movies and their relationship with American foreign policy can talk about Top Gun and Rambo, but it has to include a chapter on The Delta Force: It’s so blunt, with all subtext being presented as text, that it pretty much spells out what other films hesitantly allude to.

  • Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

    Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) The premise of Invasion of the Body Snatchers has been made and remade so often (often with the serial numbers filed off, meaning that the 1956 film’s three official remakes only hint at a much wider legacy) that I expected a return to the original to be, well, a bit dull. Hadn’t I seen all of this in 1978, 1993 or 2007? But as this predecessor played, I found myself gradually taken with the sure-footed execution of director Don Siegel and even more so by its atmosphere. Setting a story of viral conformity in a small town of the mid-1950s now feels like the best of all possible choices despite how on-the-nose it feels—a then-contemporary setting now accumulates a great deal of subsequent respectability: one imagines that if nothing of the sort had been made, a later filmmaker would have done it. The execution also dovetails into the growing nightmare of realizing that your friend and neighbours are being replaced by alien doubles—as the film advances, the period black-and-white cinematography (widescreen!) becomes harsher as the night falls—while one can remain unconvinced by the framing the device, the voiceover narration and the high-contrast cinematography combine to evoke a delicious sense of late-period noir science fiction that definitely underscores the film’s origins. And there’s the thick political allegory of the story, which (fascinatingly enough) can be read as either anti-Communist, anti-McCarthyism, or both, or neither. In more timeless matters, the performances of Kevin McCarthy and Dana Wynter are essential to the film—their characters’ obvious love for each other tightens the screws of the conclusion (the real conclusion, not the tacked-on happy epilogue) and makes the film much stronger as well. It’s not only that Invasion of the Body Snatchers has aged well—it’s that, from the get-go, it nailed down the essentials of the story in such a way that its predecessors could not improve upon.

  • Harry and the Hendersons (1987)

    Harry and the Hendersons (1987)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, July 2019) I expected quite a bit less from Harry and the Hendersons. There are only so many ways that a family film about vacationers picking up a Sasquatch can go, and I thought I had a handle on the film as a kid’s movie before it even started. But as it turns out, Harry and the Hendersons goes a bit wider, to include quite a bit of dramatic material for the father character, as well as a dogged antagonist with a dramatic arc of his own. I’m not saying that it’s a particularly good movie—but it is more entertaining and interesting than expected. Very good makeup effects still work today, but it’s the script that works best despite using well-worn tropes unapologetically: it’s best when it goes beyond those tropes. John Lithgow turns in a decent performance as the patriarch of the family, with some added visual interest when you see the Sasquatch character towering above an already-imposing Lithgow. Not particularly sophisticated but well executed, Harry and the Hendersons proves to be a more decent than expected product of the 1980s.

  • Vampyr (1932)

    Vampyr (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) For all its qualities, Vampyr is best recommended to those who have already seen Dracula and Nosferatu among the early vampire films, because it strikes out in a direction of its own that remains remarkable (if not completely satisfying) even to modern audiences. Going for eeriness rather than more straightforward horrific qualities, writer-director Carl Theodor Dreyer, fresh off the success of La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc, decided to mash up a few vampire-themed short stories and to deliver something not yet seen in cinema. After equipping his camera with gauze for a soft-lens look that almost looks like a restoration error today, Dreyer shot a story that takes off from Stoker’s classic tale (what with a young man coming to a small town and a woman lying in a coma after being bitten) to deliver something far stranger than a straight-ahead vampire-fighting film. Primitive but still-effective camera tricks are used to present shadows without figures, events happening backwards and villagers behaving strangely. It doesn’t quite work for modern audiences—the deliberate lack of narrative clarity is annoying, and the stylistic quirks of the film can be difficult to distinguish from early-1930s cinematic amateurishness. Still, those very quirks are also what makes the film worth a look for fans of the subgenre—it’s clearly a forebear of more arthouse horror movie sensibilities. Very much executed in the manner of a silent film despite having a synchronized soundtrack, Vampyr is thankfully short at no more than 75 minutes—at that length, it’s worth a quick look just to see the difference with other classic vampire movies.

  • Desperately Seeking Susan (1985)

    Desperately Seeking Susan (1985)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) There are two reasons to watch Desperately Seeking Susan, and both involve a bit of time travel. The first is a look at mid-1980s Madonna, before she started exposing herself (in all senses of the word) as an in-your-face sex symbol. It turns out that naturalistic Madonna was an incredibly cute performer, and some of the best moments of the film revolve around her smashing through the other character’s suburban lives. The other reason to watch the film has something to do with director Susan Seidelman’s portrayal of the mid-1980s New York City bohemian subculture, living at night in between the big buildings of the city. Rosanna Arquette is nominally the film’s protagonist, but she gets overshadowed, by design, by flashier performers—including early turns from John Turturro, Laurie Metcalf, Aidan Quinn (as a Byronian hero) and Steven Wright. The plot is refreshingly indescribable, belonging to the “one-damn-thing-after-another” school of screenwriting where weirdness and strange encounters (and dropped subplots) aren’t necessarily flaws to be corrected. Desperately Seeking Susan is not quite your usual bored-housewife, free-spirit film and that’s to its advantage. I only moderately liked it, but it’s certainly something else even today.

  • Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018)

    Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) As someone who liked Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them more than most, I was primed for more of the same with The Crimes of Grindelwald: Another trip through J.K. Rowling’s universe, perhaps a bit of fantastical sightseeing and enough special effects fit for a blockbuster. I got all of that indeed, except that it came with a scattered script and a barely-sensical plot. Reading about the making of the movie, or specifically its post-production reassured me: Many of the most nagging plot points in the film are explained by the overenthusiastic editing process that took away several explanatory scenes. Director David Yates has a lot to answer for. Unfortunately, the films’ lackadaisical plotting, which seems to be spinning in circles for most of its first half, is not so easily explained. Nor are the convoluted coincidences. They do end up robbing The Crimes of Grindelwald of most of its urgency, not helping the added confusion of the truncated narrative content. Adding further strangeness is the retconning of some plot elements of the first film, which is particularly vexing considering that the whole cycle of movies is said to have been planned well beforehand. (I think there’s more to the story here, considering the constantly changing plans for the overall series.) Plot weirdness aside, at least there is something to see when the film gets cracking: heading for Paris rather than New York, The Crimes of Grindelwald multiplies vintage visuals, even though it squanders quite an opportunity to ground its wonders in French magic—whatever glimpse we get at Paris’s magical societies feel exceptionally generic. The images aren’t bad in their non-specific ways, though. The actors are also usually good. Eddie Redmayne doesn’t have as much to do here than in the prequel, but Johnny Depp has one of his most dynamic roles in years here, with Jude Law offering a bit of support along with Carmen Ejogo, Zoe Kravitz and Claudia Kim. Still, the overall mix doesn’t quite gel— The Crimes of Grindelwald seems to be loitering in place for its first hour and a half, then rushes through predetermined plot points in a way that doesn’t seem organic. There’s some dodgy ethnicity stuff that seems tacked on a pre-existing mythology (many of the convoluted plot points have to do with integrating non-white characters in a very Caucasian mythology—I appreciate the attempt, but wish it had been done more gracefully) and some eye-raising revelations that feel forced. I still mildly enjoyed it, but more as a visual showcase than an actual fantasy film. By the end of this second volume, it seems as if Rowling has clumsily placed a lot of cards on the table, but it doesn’t feel as if we’re ready for the real story to start yet. Suddenly, I don’t feel so optimistic about the rest of the series.

  • Saint Elmo’s Fire (1985)

    Saint Elmo’s Fire (1985)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) It’s one thing to have complex nuanced characters, especially in an ensemble film. But Saint Elmo’s Fire is almost impressive in the way that it features one unpleasant character after another, self-absorbed and terrible to each other. It does start promisingly in its mid-1980s Georgetown setting, as its freshly-graduated protagonists try to figure out life, love and everything else. Alas, this quickly goes nowhere as the characters engage in self-defeating behaviour, do terrible things to each other and can’t seem to learn a single thing. The point of the film, for many viewers, will be the cast and director: A defining work of the “Brat Pack,” Saint Elmo’s Fire features Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, Judd Nelson, Andrew McCarthy and, not quite in the Brat Pack nor all that long in the movie, my own favourite Andie MacDowell, with Joel Schumacher at the helm (and, unusually, as a co-writer). It does feel like an immature teen movie with characters who only happen to be old enough for sex but not anything feeling like human interaction. It’s hard to believe that anyone involved in the film wasn’t aware of the inanity of the script, but if they tried doing a comedy then it’s a complete misfire. Trying to explain the finer details of the film’s plot is begging someone to call you insane. Anyone thinking of watching Saint Elmo’s Fire for the cast may want to reconsider the limits of that intention.