Reviews

  • The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)

    The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, In Theaters, February 2019) Considering the unexpected, almost miraculous success of 2013’s The Lego Movie, it’s not such a surprise that the inevitable sequel would turn out to be far closer to the average. Unable, almost by design, to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle nature of the first film, The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part nonetheless manages to turn out a pretty good family film, poking and prodding at as many narrative tropes as the first one, except without the element of conceptual surprise. Moving forward in time, our kid protagonist has become a Teen Fan of Lego more interested in radical postapocalyptic builds, and his Duplo-loving sister has become more ambitious in girly minidoll creations. This sequel tackles sibling rivalry, clash between styles of Lego play and certainly toys with the idea of an imaginary doppelganger. Once again, the plot is more than complemented by complex fantastic visuals, whether it’s the post-apocalyptic Bricksburg, the expansive Sistar system or another bout of animated/live-action integration. There’s a lot of fun here both for kids and adults (“Now I understand Radiohead”), as well as a message of family reconciliation and collaboration. As a confirmed Lego fan, I can testify that the density of specialized Lego jokes here isn’t as impressive than the first film, even if the result is decent. A handful of bouncy songs helps, as does a Maya Rudolph live-action cameo. Of course, what this Second Part doesn’t have is the novelty effect—in between the two mainline Lego movies, we’ve had a fairly decent Batman film, and a rather average Ninjago one released the same year. That was a bit too much for such a distinctive property, and now we’re faced with an extended drought of Lego movies. Too bad—I rather liked them.

    (On Blu-ray, December 2019) A second viewing at home doesn’t do much to make The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part better or worse—it’s pretty much what I remembered, and what it presents itself to be. The jokes are funny, the character evolution is satisfying, the real world interacts just fine while the animated segments and the Lego creations are eye-popping. Nothing wrong here, but nothing new either.

  • Candyman (1992)

    Candyman (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2019) I remember some of the marketing for Candyman back in 1992, but for some reason had almost forgotten about the film until now. I’m almost glad I did, because it allowed me to discover something that, under the garbs of a horror movie, is quite a bit more than a standard supernatural slasher. In addition to a villain that almost qualifies as original, Candyman does delve quite a bit into themes of urban decay, social injustice and black mythology as presented through urban legends. From a gripping opening, the film develops a specific visual style made of overhead shots of Chicago slums, bee imagery and askew camera angles. When combined with the fantastic screen presence of Tony Todd as the titular boogeyman and a rather good turn by a young Virginia Madsen (plus Kasi Lemmons in a supporting role), Candyman is significantly more interesting than most horror films of the early 1990s. Unusual plot developments keep our attention, and the well-executed sense of alienation of a white woman plunged into urban black myth leads to an effective descent into hell. Writer/director Bernard Rose cleverly adapts a Clive Barker story to an American setting, throws narrative curveballs and manages an effective atmosphere of dread making judicious use of its slum setting. It’s a much better film than you’d expect from its era. My biggest (minor) qualms are not the film’s fault—I happen to think that 1990s Virginia Madsen doesn’t look as good as 2010s Madsen, and catching the film in French deprived me of Todd’s distinctive voice. All the better reasons to rewatch the film again at some point. Considering the renewed interest in black-themed horror with social relevance, Candyman seems almost perfectly placed for a remake and whaddaya know—one is being planned right now.

  • Dragon Seed (1944)

    Dragon Seed (1944)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Oh boy—at a time when we talk a lot about cultural appropriation, it’s worth remembering that once upon a time Hollywood had no qualms about using the whitest of white actors to play other ethnicities, and so I suspect that Dragon Seed will forever live in infamy as the movie where Katharine Hepburn plays a Chinese peasant. That’s right: New England exemplar Hepburn as an Asian woman, in grotesque makeup. Oh boy. Beyond sharing a common literary origin in Pearl S. Buck’s novels, there’s a clear line from The Good Earth (with similar Caucasian casting) to Dragon Seed, and the film is trying to make heroes out of its Chinese characters … just as much as it’s trying to make despicable villains out of its Japanese antagonists occupying the village. But do remember that the film was made at the height of WW2, and designed to be a propaganda piece as to why the United States should fight Japan. Still: the miscasting here is astonishing, and while the black-and-white of the film makes it just slightly more convincing … it’s still incredibly gauche. There’s a small consolation in that this allowed Chinese characters to be made accessible to American audiences and in that light the idea to use a strong-willed actress such as Hepburn to present a female character with a strong agenda feels just a bit more acceptable. But there’s no denying that the film takes and gives racism—this is a war film, and it’s meant to whip up anti-Japanese fervour. The wartime focus of the film does make it more interesting than the similar The Good Earth, but also more offensive as well: while some scene do offer a warm and sympathetic portrayal of Chinese couples in love, it also makes for an infuriating portrait of the Japanese occupation. Dragon Seed is clearly a film of its time, but I feel better knowing that it would be unacceptable these days.

  • Revolt (2017)

    Revolt (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Despite knowing better, I’m game to try just about any Science Fiction movie on Cable TV listings, which is how I ended up watching Revolt. In terms of concept, it comes to the whole alien invasion subgenre about seven years too late, what with its protagonists fighting against alien invaders entrenched on Earth. What saves the film from ennui is, at least initially, its setting: Taking place in Kenya, the film certainly looks different from most other entries in the subgenre. (I wonder how much of this had to do with shooting location incentives, constraints and lower costs?) The other surprise her is seeing Lee Pace as the lead, a soldier with amnesia trying to piece together what happened and what makes him special in resisting some alien attacks. The special effects are decent, which is increasingly the case even on cable TV originals. Alas, much of the story feels recycled, from overall plot structure to the way characters are introduced and then disposed in fairly short order. Bérénice Marlohe looks nice as the female lead, but the film becomes steadily more conventional as it goes on—by the time the last act takes place at night in an urban setting, we’re back to pretty much where nearly every other similar-themed film has landed as well. Despite going for the whole “triumph of the human spirit, even a small victory can create an avalanche” kind of thing, it doesn’t offer much in terms of victory. Still, while Revolt does rise to the level of a watchable film, it can’t quite meet the next level of a memorable one—you’re liable to forget almost all about it moments after watching the end credits.

  • The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

    The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Considering Hollywood’s enduring love affair for American heroes (even if we have to scrub a bit of their non-heroics along the way), it was inevitable that sooner or later, Charles Lindbergh would be brought to the forefront with The Spirit of St. Louis. And while James Stewart was far too old at 49 to play Lindbergh (who was 25 at the time of the film’s event), you have to take into account Stewart’s obvious enthusiasm and technical qualifications to play the role of an experienced flyer—as a draftee and then a reserve officer, he flew bombers from WW2 to the Vietnam War. The script focuses tightly on Lindbergh’s trip and not so much on the less heroic aspects of his later life, but as co-written by Billy Wilder The Spirit of St. Louis becomes a fascinating aeronautical procedural as Lindbergh works to develop the plane that will carry him from one side of the Atlantic to the other, and then wait patiently for a good weather opportunity even as others are also racing to make the trip. Director Howard Hawks is in his element here as he describes the relationship between Lindbergh and his plane during the gruelling transatlantic flight. Even the film’s length and overused voiceovers help us feel the isolation and experimental nature of the solo trip. The predictable shout-outs to divine power become annoying, but the film’s clever structure keeps things more interesting than a strictly chronological approach would have done. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the film is how it manages to create suspense out of a story that everyone knows, with a foreordained conclusion. The Spirit of St. Louis is certainly not a perfect film, but it does create something very entertaining out of three legendary creators (Wilder, Hawks, Stewart) and a landmark historical event.

  • The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fifth with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France aka Henry V (1944)

    The Chronicle History of King Henry the Fifth with His Battell Fought at Agincourt in France aka Henry V (1944)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) As regular readers of these reviews know, I do poorly with Shakespearian adaptations. I find the language nigh incomprehensible, the premises overly familiar, the staging artificial, etc. It takes a lot to get me to perk up at a Shakespearian adaptation, but Laurence Oliver’s Henry V does have quite a bit to offer only on a visual level, least of it being shot in colour. Perhaps the most distinctive thing about it is how it operates stylistically like an onion. The opening has a very detailed model shot of Shakespearian London, which gives place to an obviously staged theatrical production, then again to a less stylized production, then to surprisingly cinematographic battles, and then back again to the outer layers as the story wraps up. Considering that I usually spend my time watching Shakespearian productions for the visuals rather than the dialogue or story, this scratched just the right spot for me. Still, I can’t guarantee that I remained awake through it all … but while I was aware of Laurence Olivier’s skills as an actor, in Henry V he shows quite a bit of skill as a director as well.

  • Bronenosets Potemkin [Battleship Potemkin] (1925)

    Bronenosets Potemkin [Battleship Potemkin] (1925)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) Some of the most groundbreaking cinema of the 1920s was coming out of the Soviet Union, and while Battleship Potemkin isn’t quite the experience that Man with a Camera remains, it’s still quite an instructive example of the far more daring school of editing that was in vogue around Moscow back then. Best known today for its Odessa Steps sequence, this is a film about an urban uprising. It’s violent, dramatic, action-packed, and this is no mere hyperbole: The density of editing cuts approaches modern action movies at time. Obviously made by writer/director Sergei Eisenstein as an epic victory-for-the-proletariat propaganda piece, it does remain spectacular at time while mixing fancy camera moves with fast-paced editing. It’s well worth a look for movie history buffs, although I’d be more cautious in recommending it for general audiences—while the Odessa Steps sequence remains impressive, the rest of the film can be a chore to get through despite the technical innovation. It’s a measure of its success that much of Battleship Potemkin now simply feels adequate rather than groundbreaking.

  • Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

    Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) If anyone wonders what caused the movie musical to go bust in the late 1960s and 1970s, you can point at the changing nature of New Hollywood and at many wrong-headed examples of the form. Perhaps the most egregious of them was the run of musical adaptations of downbeat stories, often remaking perfectly good movies that had no business being remade at all, let alone as semi-musicals. Case in Point: Goodbye, Mr. Chips, the infamous tear-jerking boarding school story tracing the path not of students, but a teacher at the school through love and heartbreak from his first year at the school to retirement. The story itself is solid (if merciless at making its protagonist suffer), but transforming a beloved 1939 movie in a 1969 colour musical was not the way to go. The beginning of the film is particularly trying, what with a pompous teacher as a lead. He learns to be humbler, but it’s a rough start to a film that does itself no favour through musical elements that are not particularly enjoyable, needed or well integrated. The film eventually fights its way back into the audience’s good graces, but it’s a long slog in more ways than one, with musical numbers interrupting the story more than illustrating it. It doesn’t help that director Herbert Ross makes everything feel dreary and dull, with the final tear-jerking sequences being more trying than satisfying. Neither Peter O’Toole nor Petula Clark bring much to the film. While I do like Goodbye, Mr. Chips for taking a slightly different tack from most boarding school stories (namely, following a teacher through decades rather than students through a few months/years), it’s still a bit too downbeat, and overcooked as a musical. [July 2020: Seeing the original film further sinks the remake for me—the original feels as if all the pieces are better balanced, and the tone far more appropriate to the story it’s telling, tragic death included.]

  • The Last House on the Left (1972)

    The Last House on the Left (1972)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2019) There are two things that are guaranteed to drive me up the wall in terms of movies, and Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left manages to hit both of them at once: Amateurish filmmaking and nihilistic horror. To be fair, this was an incredibly innovative film at the time of its release: by the early-1970s, horror films hadn’t yet gone to the extremes that we’ve somehow grown accustomed to, and there was an undeniable New Hollywood quality to the intention of turning out an exploitative gory cinema-vérité horror film in which a heroine is raped and killed, only for the parents to take merciless revenge. Public reaction at the time was aghast, and even today it’s easy to see why: the film is an extremely unpleasant combination of naturalistic filmmaking and merciless gore. Craven’s first film did not have the budget to be slick, and even the film’s biggest opponents (that would be me) will recognize that the overbearing musical cues, hair stuck in the film, muddy picture quality, choppy editing, neighbourhood sets and static cameras do create an eerie realism that would have been destroyed by higher production values. Even today, the very early-1970s fashion and music fix the film to a very specific time. Still, there’s no denying that the movie is excruciating to watch, especially when the filmmakers refuse any easy escape. The rape sequence drags on and on, and the film doesn’t spare anyone even when the parents of the murdered girl take their revenge. At some point, even jaded reviewer such as myself have to recognize that this is a specific kind of movie and that it appeals to a specific kind of audience. But certainly not everyone.

  • Topaz (1969)

    Topaz (1969)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2019) In the Alfred Hitchcock filmography, Topaz stands out as one of the least liked later-era Hitchcock films. The reason quickly becomes obvious as the film unspools: Despite a few typical Hitchcockian touches—the long shots, the unconventional presentation, a few striking images—, the entire film feels like a perfunctory slog. Adapted from a Leon Uris novel that presented a complex but ultimately boring spying triangle between France, Cuba and the United States, Topaz fails to take off, fly or land. The emphasis on this being a pseudo-realistic take on events that may have happened seems to be an excuse to try nothing interesting and to mute down anything that could have been exciting from a more fictional story. Hitchcock, clearly, was far more at ease in twisted thrillers than the minutia of romantic espionage thrillers. Even the mere two-hour running time feels punishing considering the slow pacing and striking lack of humour in the results. This is mediocre Hitchcock—polished, but long and scattered to the point where it would be more difficult to guess that this is coming from Hitchcock. I did like some of the early-1960s atmosphere, but otherwise I’m joining the popular opinion: Topaz goes straight to the director’s bottom tier.

  • House on Haunted Hill (1959)

    House on Haunted Hill (1959)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) By design, I programmed myself a haunted house double bill going immediately from the very respectable The Haunting to the rather far less serious House on Haunted Hill. The contrast was refreshing, and probably worked to both films’ advantage. From the very first moments, we’re clearly not meant to take this William Castle production very seriously: the opening sets the tone of an over-the-top horror film with ponderous narration and overdone characters. There is, for modern viewers, a deliciously comfortable feeling in watching this granddaddy of all “spend a night in a haunted house IF YOU DARE” plots: we think we know where it’s going, and the well-worn mechanics of that kind of story are great good fun. (The real fun of the movie begins when you realize that the stated plot of the film really isn’t its real plot—the other one is hidden and only revealed late after both collide.) Vincent Price has seldom been so deliciously overacting as he is here, and that only adds to the fun of it. The infamous skeleton sequence late in the film doesn’t make a whole lot of sense when everything is revealed and laid bare … but who cares? Some horror films have earned a legacy because they were utterly serious about what they’re doing (The Haunting being one of them) but House on Haunted Hill chose to go another way and improbably ended up being something of a classic in another vein. I know there’s been a remake already, but how about another good remake one of these days? On second thought, never mind: This film is good enough as it is, and no one will ever recapture its delicate campiness.

  • The Haunting (1963)

    The Haunting (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) If there’s a single path to longevity for horror movies, I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s atmosphere. The Haunting may be one of the best examples of this: As strangers travel to an isolated mansion to investigate its paranormal nature, the plot is far less important than the sheer oozing oppression of its setting. Taking place in a grand gothic manor, The Haunting never misses an occasion to crank up the eeriness of its location. Director Robert Wise uses a succession of askew angles in order to reinforce the foreboding production design. The Haunting is remarkable for its black-and-white cinematography in that it almost always imposes incredibly dense images, with immensely detailed walls, cluttered decoration and intricate architectural flourishes. By the time the house walls seem to breathe, well, The Haunting has earned its place in the horror pantheon. Richard Johnson is quite good in a familiar kind of role, while Julie Harris has perhaps the most skillful performance as a haunted person. There’s a dash of humour and self-awareness to the proceedings, but The Haunting still feels respectable and highly efficient—taking chances that still feel daring such as giving extensive internal voiceover monologues to the characters. Even the strong hints that the entire thing may be in the character’s heads isn’t quite enough to lessen the supernatural experience. This is one horror film that can still hold its own against more recent entries—in fact, it has now clearly outlasted even its own remake as a still-worthwhile film.

  • 102 Dalmatians (2000)

    102 Dalmatians (2000)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, February 2019) There are times when I’m tempted to keep reviews strictly factual and let readers figure out the rest. In talking about 102 Dalmatians, for instance, is it really useful to say anything but “this is a sequel to the live-action Disney animal comedy film featuring Glenn Close”? There’s a lot packed in that statement. It implies a continuity of tone, and if you know about live-action Disney comedies of the mid-nineties then there’s not a lot more left to say. Glenn Close is remarkable as usual, but clearly slumming in a cartoonish role. (At least she gets a chance to try out-acting Gérard Depardieu.) Nothing in the film, from script to production design, is meant to be even halfway realistic. The dogs will predictably outwit their human opponents. It does without saying that the previous film’s villain, introduced as being reformed, will snap back to form. (If I was of a more analytical disposition at the moment, I’d probably look at 102 Dalmatians’ troubling portrayal of a former villain going back to evil action, reinforcing contemporary society’s prejudices against those who have suffered from mental health issues or narcotic addition, always considered at risk of relapse.) There is, to be fair, a bit of imagination on display in production design terms, but much of the film feels like a straight rethread of the original, and the innovations aren’t much of an improvement. I mean: what’s with “Digga Digga Dog”, the Snoop Doggy Dog inspired theme rap song? At least it’s catchy.

  • My Man Godfrey (1936)

    My Man Godfrey (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) There’s a good reason why My Man Godfrey comes up again and again on lists of classic 1930s comedies—it impeccably charming, and still oozes class and cool even eighty years later. The star of the show, of course, is William Powell, who’s unflappable as a homeless man plucked out of the scrap heap by a rich family on a dare, and who eventually becomes an all-knowing, all-capable butler to a quirky dysfunctional family. It’s a kind of suave character that he’d play many times later on, and you can see why. Carole Lombard is just as good in her own way as a flighty socialite, and they play off each other beautifully: neither would be as funny without the dynamic created by the other. While incredibly accessible to modern audiences, My Man Godfrey does remain a clear product of the mid-1930s—there’s an oblique reference to the Dionne quintuplets, for instance, and the film does start by taking for granted a social situation that would only exist in Depression-era America. Surprisingly enough for Depression-era Hollywood, there is a fair amount of class critique here (after all, the film does begin with a treasure hunt in which one of the collectibles in a homeless man), with the deck clearly stacked against the rich characters. (It can’t quite reconcile its populist intent with its escapism.) Interestingly enough, though, much of the humour in My Man Godfrey isn’t in the one-liners or crazy situation as much as it’s found in the coolness and eccentricity of the characters, with a little bit of physical comedy thrown in. The script is a bit rough around the edges—the beginning is a bit much to take, and the ending has pieces falling together so quickly that it becomes unconvincing—but the result is one great film, one that has aged gracefully as a terrific product of its era.

  • Rio Bravo (1959)

    Rio Bravo (1959)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) As the story goes, Rio Bravo was director Howard Hawks and star John Wayne’s response to High Noon’s deconstruction of western heroism. Unable to tolerate even the slightest amount of criticism (you should read Wayne’s hyperbolic commentary), they teamed up like fearful clucking hens to reconstruct the Western archetype. (They clearly had no idea of what was in store in later years.) Despite my lack of sympathy for their intentions, even I have to admit that Rio Bravo is rather well done in the end. It’s a straight-up formula with a sadistic macho streak of bloodthirstiness as confused with American values (and I’m being charitable in drawing a distinction between the two), but Howard handles it with his usual energy, and Wayne delivers exactly what his creepy robotic persona was designed to do. Rather than look in vain for help from an apathetic population as in High Noon, here we have a sheriff with an overabundance of help as they wait for the enemy attack on their small western town. (Wayne being Wayne, it goes without saying that his character is proven right at every turn of the story.) The overindulgence of the film’s intentions most clearly shows in the film’s inflated run-time at two hours and twenty minutes—there’s no good reason for the film to run this long, but it does. (It doesn’t help that, with two of his actors being also singers, the film pauses for songs. Yes, really.) Fortunately for everyone, most of the film’s interminable lengths come early in the film, leaving the concluding act far better and involving than the rest of the film once the laborious scene-setting ends and we go to the main event promised all along. “Go out of a high note” is the usual tip for filmmakers, and Hawks was too much of a veteran by that point in his career to do otherwise. Despite an overstuffed script, Rio Bravo eventually pulls off a success … but don’t stop watching after the first hour or you’ll never get there.