Reviews

  • The Defiant Ones (1958)

    The Defiant Ones (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) I know, from 2020’s vantage point, that Tony Curtis has played a number of dramatic and unlikable roles in his career. But there’s a good reason why his performance as a racist criminal in The Defiant Ones is still surprising: Even today, well after the end of his career, Curtis is far better remembered as a funny romantic protagonist than anything else. His enduring renown for comedy makes his performance in The Defiant Ones still compelling: In this socially-minded Stanley Kramer film, he plays an unrepentant white racist who finds himself chained to a black man (the excellent Sidney Poitier in one of his earliest performances) while escaping a chain gang. There’s little surprise as to where the film’s overall dramatic arc is going, but some of the details along the way are interesting—the portrait of the American South, with its heavily racist atmosphere and punitive justice, is asphyxiating and almost alien. The film is at its strongest in leaning upon its literalized metaphor of two races chained together, finding a way to get past their animosity for a common goal. The stark black-and-white cinematography works in favour of the film more often than not, leaving all the space necessary for the actors to show their skills playing off each other. By contemporary standards, The Defiant Ones can feel a bit rough on messaging, but is not really any less effective for it.

  • Fantastic Voyage (1966)

    Fantastic Voyage (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) I’ve been on a self-imposed quest to watch past nominees and winners of the Best Special Effects Academy Award, and it’s proven a far more interesting project than many of the Best Picture nominees. Of course, it’s a category that dating faster than any other, and Fantastic Voyage is a prime example of the sort. It’s the kind of movie that exists because of special effects, so there’s no surprise if the plot takes a distant backseat to the visuals. (My first exposure to the story was through Isaac Asimov’s novelization, which had two distinctions: For one, Asimov wrote quickly while the film experienced one delay after another; for another, Asimov as a trained scientist and practising SF writer left no plot holes unexplained—leading to a situation where his novel had been out for six months by the time the dumbed-down movie came out, leading many to assume that the film was an inferior adaptation of Asimov’s concept. ) The narrative confusion and outdated technology are exhibited from the film’s first few minutes, as the film ponderously takes us through “high technology” offices that look ridiculously dated, barely explaining a premise that makes increasingly less sense. Then Fantastic Voyage compounds its own technology and narrative problems by treating its sole female character (played by Raquel Welsh, no less) as a piece of art to be ogled. In the dialogue. From a contemporary perspective, we can deal with the outdated special effects far more easily than the misogyny. There’s plenty of evidence that usually-competent director Richard Fleischer was outmatched by the premise, starting with the lack of energy in the editing. Some stylistic intentions (such as the wordless opening, or the first forty minutes without a score) become more annoying than inspiring, and that’s without discussing the increasingly psychedelic visuals. Despite my best intentions, I can’t say that I enjoyed Fantastic Voyage. While there’s some charm in seeing how they faked some of the visual effects, the film itself feels long and ponderous. It also doesn’t help that a much better take on the same idea—Innerspace—has been released since then.

  • The Refrigerator (1991)

    The Refrigerator (1991)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) There is, amazingly enough, quite a subgenre of “killer objects” horror comedies out there. Cars, dolls, beds… refrigerators: anything mundane can be possessed enough to kill you if you’re not careful. The Refrigerator at least delivers on its premise, having a fridge eating people. (You’d be surprised how many high-concept horror movies barely deliver on their main attraction.) Of course, the whole thing is silly and is executed in a silly way—even if calling it a “funny” film is overselling it. Writer-director Nicholas Jacobs isn’t afraid to go for the truly weird along the way, and that’s how we end up with actors playing opposite human-sized bottles of milk in shots meant to portray the weirdness taking place inside the fridge. The late-1980s fashions add to The Refrigerator’s eeriness. In keeping with the time/tone/genre, there is some welcome nudity—although most of it leads to death or other gruesome gore. Phyllis Salaberrios looks good—too bad she’s not in more of the film. Narratively, it becomes clearer as the film advances that there’s not quite enough plot to fill the film’s running time. Some domestic-abuse material feels out of place until it later justifies a death that would have been off-putting without that background. But the weirdness doesn’t quite gel, unfortunately, and we’re left with a film that’s not that funny, not that horrific, not that controlled nor all that satisfying. The low budget of The Refrigerator clearly takes a toll, but not as much as its unfocused script.

  • Ji yi da shi [Battle of Memories] (2017)

    Ji yi da shi [Battle of Memories] (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, February 2020) I’m willing to be indulgent when it comes to watching Science Fiction films, and especially SF films from outside the Anglosphere, but Battle of Memories seems determined to burn all accumulated goodwill in short order. It doesn’t help that the weak SF rationale becomes increasingly unimportant as the film advances. For the first few minutes, at least, we can be convinced that this will be a science fiction film that deals with ideas: As our protagonist, soon to be divorced, gets his painful memories of his marriage erased, Battle of Memories dangles the possibility of an intriguing romantic drama. But the erasure takes maybe ten minutes of screentime, as he’s flatly told that his wife will not grant him his divorce unless he reinstates those memories. This narrative loop only exists for the protagonist to start remembering things that never happened—murders, most notably. Trying to go to the police to confess or testify, reality quickly gets increasingly blurry as two policemen, his not-so-ex-wife and a pretty scientist start interacting in increasingly disturbing ways. The memory SF device is soon chucked in the irrelevancy bin as the film shifts toward a murder mystery… except that with a handful of lead actors, the solution is as hermetic as it is narratively baffling, with a villain’s convoluted plan that makes no sense once everything is accounted for. The conclusion feels unconvincing, as if one of the actors had to be the killer because of excessive narrative trimming. It certainly doesn’t help that there’s a noticeable lull in the film’s second act, as it doesn’t seem to know how to switch gears from its premise to its conclusion. Yet Battle of Memories, despite significant weaknesses, is not quite a dud: Executed rather well with a good budget and better intentions, it does feature some intriguing imagery and an eerie atmosphere. But there’s only so much you can do without a convincing plot to tie it all together, and the third act is when Battle of Memories solidifies its disappointment. While I have nice things to say about Leste Chen’s work as a director here (except for not being concise enough), I’m not so generous when it comes to his work as a screenwriter.

  • Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

    Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) From what I can gather from Silent Night, Deadly Night’s production history and context, the notion of an evil Santa Claus was somewhat new at the time. Nowadays, of course, we barely blink at the idea of Santa being repurposed as something other than a beloved icon—nearly every long-running sitcom has Santa showing up and not being jolly, while Christmas Horror has become a sub-genre in its own right. But 1984 wasn’t as far on the postmodern scale as 2020 is, and so many pearls were clutched at this slasher repurposing Christmas iconology for its own purposes. Of course, being used to evil Santas means that Silent Night, Deadly Night feels surprisingly dull by a modern perspective. It’s a very standard slasher in Christmas disguise, and even the explanations behind why a killer would dress up as Santa feel overused in a genre that has twisted human psychology past its breaking point. Not being a fan of slashers, I don’t find anything of value left once the originality of the Christmas theme has faded: Silent Night, Deadly Night remains an ugly cheap film with little to say.

  • Something Wild (1986)

    Something Wild (1986)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) Much of Something Wild feels like a film on autopilot, as long as you account for one mid-movie swerve into slightly different territory. It doesn’t take a long time for the premise to be established: here’s a straight-arrow corporate guy who gets snagged in the schemes of a flighty bohemian-type girl and—somehow—goes along with her on a road trip away from Manhattan back to her small town. Stuff happens, lessons are learned, characters revealed, cars crashed and chuckles obtained but that only takes us to the middle of the movie, as the last half gets significantly darker as the female lead’s dangerous ex-boyfriend shows up to make trouble for everyone. Jeff Daniels and Melanie Griffith are the lead couple, while Ray Liotta makes an early bid at his tough-guy screen persona with his role as the ex-boyfriend. The casting seems appropriate; Griffith, in particular, gets to play a few roles all by herself and her chameleonic character. Still, much of the fun of Something Wild is in seeing what else it has in store for the pair’s difficult trip and how they will deal with the unbelievable coincidences that keep complicating their lives. I’m not sure about the darker shift in tone toward the end, but it does feel as if it lives up to its “anything can happen” credo. Not a bad choice for fans of the lead actors or director Jonathan Demme, but there have been quite a few similar movies since then.

  • Ninotchka (1939)

    Ninotchka (1939)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) As unfair as it can be to judge a film by its remake, I do like Ninotchka quite a bit, but not as much as its musical remake Silk Stockings. Of course, there’s the star factor to consider: While Ninotchka has an impressive pairing with Melvyn Douglas and Greta Garbo, Silk Stockings has Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse—a most unfair comparison. Silk Stockings has finger-snapping tunes, while Ninotchka is a straight-up comedy. It’s really too bad for Ninotchka that Silk Stockings happens to be one of the most successful musical remakes in a subgenre littered with inferior results. Still—Ninotchka, what about it? It’s a story about three bumbling Soviet men coming to Paris to get back a piece of artwork, but being seduced by the hedonistic French lifestyle… which leads the Soviet government to send a hard-as-nail operative to clean up the mess. A perfect plan, except when she, too, falls under the charm of a Frenchman. The lead pair in nigh perfect: Melvyn Douglas approaches William Powell’s levels of pure suave charm, while Greta Garbo is a legend for a good reason. Ninotchka is one of the few comedies she’s even made (the tagline for the film was the fondly remembered “Garbo Laughs!”) and the film cleverly uses her persona as a façade against which Douglas’s charming powers crash time and time again. The bumbling Soviet emissaries are a lot of fun in the way they succumb to the pressures of Paris, but the highlight here is the interplay between Douglas and Garbo. The pro-Western jabs and Soviet rigidity are somewhat prescient of the Cold War, and do help the film feel more modern than its 1939 production date. Director Ernst Lubitsch turns in another success here, although perhaps a bit less impressive than some of his other features. Occluding unfair comparisons with its remake, Ninotchka remains a decent-enough romantic comedy, with sly one-liners and some good flirting dialogue.

  • Young Adult (2011)

    Young Adult (2011)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) When we get around to Charlize Theron’s career retrospective, I suspect that most will be gobsmacked by the sheer range of performances, roles and physical transformation that she has kept up throughout her career. Rather than coast along on classic beauty roles (which she could have done), Theron has played glamorous, homely, tough, fast, furious, comic, tragic and whatever comes in-between, often jumping from one role to a very different one in an entirely different genre. Films like Young Adult are further evidence of her range, as she takes on a somewhat repellent character; a woman in her thirties who still thinks and behaves like an overgrown teenager, and whose trip back to her small hometown doesn’t necessarily translate into personal growth—not that she was heading back for noble reasons either. Physically, Theron’s character is attractive, but her personality is the issue and the film does cleverly play with that distinction. Although, with Cody Diablo writing the script and Jason Reitman directing, we could have expected that. (Patton Oswalt also turns in an effective polar-opposite performance.) A fairly intense drama under the occasional guise of a silly comedy, Young Adult doesn’t bring us anywhere comfortable or inspiring: the conclusion does not force easy epiphanies on a character who refuses to have any. It’s quite good at sketching small-scale character studies and upending expectations at least half the time. While the result certainly won’t qualify for any feel-good awards, Young Adult is a well-handled drama with some surprisingly funny moments in-between the protagonist’s destructive cluelessness. It’s significantly more interesting than even the best plot summary would suggest.

  • Of Human Bondage (1964)

    Of Human Bondage (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) In retrospect, it wasn’t such an idea to watch all three filmed adaptations (1934, 1946 and 1964) of W. Somerset Maugham’s novel Of Human Bondage back-to-back-to-back. Not so much because they all blend together (they all have their own particularities) but because their story is so trite that a triple dose of it can be overdoing it. This third version is, in almost a tautological way, the most modern of them: the camera moves and the staging are self-consciously cinematic as opposed to the quasi-theatrical way the first two movies were directed. The use of deep shadow, more naturalistic sets and less expensive costumes don’t necessarily work in the film’s favour, especially when measured against the first film. While this Of Human Bondage is a bit more daring, story-wise, than its Hays Era predecessor, it does remain curiously stiff and old-fashioned, something that the black-and-white cinematography doesn’t help even at its most visually three-dimensional. While the film’s technique narrowly gives it a second-place finish in the remake trilogy, the narrowness is against the third-place finish for the 1946 version and not the untouchable 1934 one.

  • Of Human Bondage (1946)

    Of Human Bondage (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) In retrospect, it wasn’t such an idea to watch all three filmed adaptations (1934, 1946 and 1964) of W. Somerset Maugham’s novel Of Human Bondage back-to-back-to-back. Not so much because they all blend together (they all have their own particularities) but because their story is so trite that a triple dose of it can be overdoing it. This second version is probably the worst of the three—or at least the least interesting. It does crank up the melodrama, but doesn’t quite manage to catch up to the grandeur of the first adaptation—although it’s probably a bit more accessible, taking into account twelve years of improved filmmaking and decreased stiffness from the actors. This being said, it’s also the weakest from a cinematographic standpoint: Even when broadcast on TCM—known to use the highest-quality copies available—, this Of Human Bondage suffers from high-contrast cinematography, with details being absorbed in the overwhelming blackness of the picture. Story-wise, the film also suffers (read: is made boring) from having been made at the nadir of the Hays Code era—it’s remarkably tamer than its pre-Code forebear or post-Code successor. This 1946 version is nowhere as essential as the first film’s star-launching role for Bette Davis nor as relatively modern as the 1964 version…, which is another way of saying that’s probably not worth watching unless you’re really going to be a completist.

  • Of Human Bondage (1934)

    Of Human Bondage (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) In retrospect, it wasn’t such an idea to watch all three filmed adaptations (1934, 1946 and 1964) of W. Somerset Maugham’s novel Of Human Bondage back-to-back-to-back. Not so much because they all blend together (they all have their own particularities) but because their story is so trite that a triple dose of it can be overdoing it. This first version is probably the best—or at least the most interesting. Casting makes it worthwhile: With Bette Davis’s star-making role here, the film becomes a showcase for both her (in a shrill, somewhat unpleasant role) and for co-star Leslie Howard—although we know who’s the biggest star here. The film’s most striking moment is simply seeing Davis in full frame, her big eyes staring at the camera and showing where the Kim Carnes song comes from. Other than that, this Of Human Bondage does manage to make good use of its pre-Code status by showing a destructive love affair between two flawed individuals. It does have the qualities of 1930s prestige productions: Despite the restrained camera techniques, rough technical qualities and acting styles, the sets and costumes are lush, and the brightly-lit cinematography does have its own charms. The antagonistic romance between the two leads is interesting, and the literary origins of the story are never too far away. (Although the film, like its later remakes, does occlude a lot of detail from the original novel in the interest of focus and length.) Even today, the film is best remembered for offering Davis a plum role that would define her persona—she was at her best playing devious, often unlikable characters and she gets a good dose of that here. Given that the film is in the public domain, who can even watch it from the film’s Wikipedia page.

  • McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)

    McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) In retrospect, it makes sense that the western genre—for years the stereotypical Hollywood exemplar, would have been one of the most deconstructed genres by the 1970s. New Hollywood was eager to show how different it was from the old one, and in that context it’s not surprising to see Robert Altman squarely taking on the genre in McCabe & Mrs. Miller. Though technically a western, it’s almost at the opposite end of the usual Western iconography. It’s set deep in a forest in snowy cold northwestern American, with flawed characters unable to resist the corrupt business interests against them. Visually, nearly every optical trick in the cinematographic art is used to give a distressed look to the film: Washed-out colour, rainbow highlights, hazy soft focus and so on. It’s all gritty and dirty and colour-muted like many 1970s films, which viewers are liable to love or hate. To be fair, the period recreation is a lavish representation of a western work camp—it’s just the way it’s captured that’s liable to make some viewers crazy. Warren Beatty is quite good as McCabe (it’s a kind of role he’d often play in his career, all the way to the tragic conclusion), while Julie Christie is also remarkable as the other half of the lead sort-of-couple. Even with nearly fifty years of subsequent Western deconstruction, there is still something in McCabe & Mrs. Miller that feels unique—perhaps because no one else since has dared to be so resolutely indifferent to audience expectations. The early 1970s were another time entirely in Hollywood history, for better or for worse.

  • The Chapman Report (1962)

    The Chapman Report (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) Expectations are a dangerous thing, especially when we’ve been conditioned by later movies to assume a certain style or tone given plot summaries. Considering the spate of 1960s sex comedies exploring the loosened mores of mainstream America, you would be more than forgiven for thinking that The Chapman Report, revolving as it does around academics researching the sexual habits of average Americans, would be a silly farce. Something light and perhaps naughty, if dozens of later movies are any guide. But light and naughty are exactly what it is not: This is an early-1960s movie that clearly shows signs of being stuck in the 1950s—from the opening few minutes, it’s clear that this will be an earnest drama about characters coping with sexual permissiveness and how it can ruin their lives. As our sex researchers become entangled with their volunteer subjects, the heavy relationship drama becomes increasingly suffocating. Even on those terms, it becomes long, turgid and so incredibly dull that I had to make a conscious effort to remember why I had recorded it—because it’s from director George Cukor, far better known for his Classic Hollywood lighthearted comedies. But 1960s Cukor wasn’t as nimble at 1930s Cukor—his growing misanthropy is reflected in the high-contrast colour cinematography, with entire character’s clothing disappearing in the deep blacks of the background. It’s essential to remind ourselves that The Chapman Report was daringly made for an audience still tittering uncomfortably over the Kinsey Report on human sexuality (obviously the inspiration for the film)—it’s almost inevitable that the film would become abnormally boring to today’s far more sophisticated audiences. It certainly doesn’t help that the film is far more analytical than emotional, putting an atmosphere of dishonesty over something that could have been animated by honest emotions. (There are far more restrained movies from the Hays Code that are more heartfelt than this one, and much of it has to do with real emotions being used rather than couching it in quasi-legal dramatic analysis.) Ah well—I didn’t expect all Cukor movies to be worth my time, but The Chapman Report is particularly disappointing.

  • Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967)

    Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) Common wisdom has it that the 1960s were terrible years for the movie musical, but I don’t quite agree with that—the overly serious 1970s were far worse, and there are plenty of enjoyable 1960s musicals to be watched now… even if the box-office receipts at the time were less than the studios expected. Thoroughly Modern Millie is a particularly fun and weird take on the genre. It’s a sixties-style musical set in the 1920s, with a flapper protagonist played by Julie Andrews. (I’m not a big fan of Andrews, and was particularly amused to find that the opening makeover number makes her less attractive and closer to her persona at each step.) Despite my own reservations about Andrews (legend has it that Mary Tyler Moore was intended to be the film’s lead until Andrews signed up, at which point the film was recentred around her and made into a musical), the result is a fun farce with inventive musical numbers. I quite liked the xylophone dancing in “Jazz Baby,” or the entire “Tapioca” number, which best showcases the exuberant filmmaking of the movie. Going well beyond musical numbers, there are flashy scene transitions through irises in/out, title cards to tell us what the heroine thinks as she looks at the audience and a lot of practical comic effects (such as an apple deflating). The twice-stylized 1960s execution and 1920s setting make for a doubly interesting viewing experience. As a farce, it’s probably a bit too long for its own good at more than two hours and a half (weariness sets in the second half), and the easy Asian stereotypes have not aged well at all. Still, it’s cute and fun most of the time—I would have preferred Mary Tyler Moore than the androgynous Andrews as a heroine (while keeping Stockard Channing as the film’s MVP), but Thoroughly Modern Millie remains a fun farce, amply earning a spot on a list of good 1960s musicals.

  • Soapdish (1991)

    Soapdish (1991)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) I wasn’t expecting much of Soapdish, a comedy revolving around the world of daytime soap operas. But much to my surprise, the film proved far more interesting than I expected, and got a few good laughs out of me. Sally Fields does well as an aging actress obsessed by her age, and convinced that the staff of the show is working against her. As it turns out, she’s not wrong—everyone around her despises her diva behaviour, and the showrunner sets a plan in motion to get her to quit. This goes through an old ex-flame of hers, a washed-up actor (Kevin Kline, hilarious) rescued from the tragedy of overacting in dinner theatre. Robert Downey Jr. is not exactly the best choice as the showrunner (at least not compared to his later persona) but he does get a few of the movie’s best lines, often delivered halfway to the camera at the end of his scenes. Whoopi Goldberg also gets a few choice lines (although, checking the quotes of the film, I realize that Soapdish is far funnier in English than the French dub). For someone my age, seeing Leeza Gibbons show up as herself is a welcome sight, almost outdone by Teri Hatcher as a self-aware sexpot. Hollywood does love to talk about itself, and using soaps as a satirical playground does offer it some plausible deniability. The script does occasionally teeter between comedy and drama, but much of the drama eventually reveals itself to be a mere setup for further comedy. The big third-act twist is a lot of fun, and it speaks to the success of the film that I didn’t bother anticipating it despite ample evidence pointing to its nature. The score is very catchy, with Latin influence and a main melody fit for humming. The one thing that hasn’t aged all that well is one late-movie transphobic joke—to be clear, having a character revealed as a transsexual (or transvestite—the film isn’t too clear about that and that’s an issue in itself) is not necessarily a problem: but having characters react as if it’s the worst thing in the world is what feels so terrible. Still, the rest of the film is far funnier than I would have expected, and Soapdish will score high on the rewatch desirability index.