Reviews

  • The Player (1992)

    The Player (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, March 2018) I first saw The Player sometime in the mid-nineties and fondly remembered it as a good satire of the Hollywood system. Seeing today, now that I’m venomously better-informed about moviemaking, is almost better than a first viewing. Tim Robbins stars as a studio executive who, harassed by an unknown person, comes to accidentally kill a screenwriter. The rest of the film is about avoiding detection even in the face of persistent investigators. Writer/director Robert Altman has rarely been funnier as he (somewhat gently) skewers the Hollywood machine, portraying nearly everyone as self-absorbed jerks capable of the worst. Back in 1992, much was made of The Player’s nonstop parade of cameos—twenty-five years later, it’s turned into a game to spot people whose fame has considerably waned a quarter of a century later, or non-actors Hollywood royalty whose face were never that well-known in the first place. The film does begin on a very high note with a complex seven-minute shot that neatly introduces a bunch of narrative threads and characters. It spends a remarkable portion of its first half-hour lining up joke after joke even as it gradually builds up its premise. The rest of the film isn’t as constantly funny—The Player does take its plot seriously after a while, and the detective subplot isn’t particularly high on satire. The last few minutes, however, do go back to the satire, with an amusing movie-in-a-movie and a killer last few lines in which, well, “forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown.”  While I don’t think I’m quite as bullish about the movie as when I first saw it, I still like it quite a bit.

  • The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

    The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, March 2018) I wouldn’t go as far as putting The Hunchback of Notre Dame in the upper half of Disney Animation Studio’s production, but I’m relatively pleased with the adaptation. Bringing a dour Victor Hugo novel to the big screen for kids isn’t the easiest of propositions, and including a love triangle between a superb heroine, a movie-star hero and a consciously ugly hunchback doesn’t seem like the kind of bet worth taking. And yet, and yet, The Hunchback of Notre Dame works when it should. Turning the novel in a musical excuses a multitude of tonal shifts (who knew that funny gargoyle sidekicks would turn out to be effective foils for a murderous judge?) and the skill through which the love triangle is resolved (i.e.: without the death of any of the three) is kind of impressive. Of course, I’ve always really liked Esmeralda, unjustly forgotten as one of Disney’s original princesses (along with Megara, my other favourite Disney heroine) and she gets a chance to shine here as a relatively full-featured character—not to mention being one of the most mature Disney heroines. Of course, the surprise here is Quasimodo, underdog champion of the physically deformed yet spiritually admirable. What impresses me most about The Hunchback of Notre Dame is the way it balances many opposite intentions (not the least being delivering a fairly dark story in a format for kids) in ways that are more successful than the comparable Pocahontas (about which I have complex feelings). Still, there are contradictions and tonal inconsistencies and various other little issues. It’s not bad, and it’s quite a bit better than it should be … but it’s still a distance away from the best Disney movies. Although, if you’re looking for a dark horse candidate to argue for the next time you get to rank Disney Animation Studio movies, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is not a bad contrarian choice.

  • Trouble in Paradise (1932)

    Trouble in Paradise (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) As I dig deeper in film history, few words become as interesting as “pre-code comedy”.  The more I watch older films, the more I complain about the Hays Production Code that effectively stunted the thematic development of American cinema between 1934 and 1960 (ish). But there is a brief time, roughly 1930–1934, during which Hollywood movies, having more or less mastered the grammar of cinema, was moving toward bolder and more daring subject matter. These movies feel considerably fresher than many subsequent films in their ability to grapple with authentically adult subject matter. While I wouldn’t call Trouble in Paradise an all-time classic nor a boundary-pushing film, its Pre-Code nature makes it so that it’s just spicy enough to be worth a rewarding viewing experience. Focusing on a pair of expert thieves out to swindle a rich French heiress, this is a romantic crime comedy that works decently well on several levels. As a pure comedy, it features witty dialogue, strong characters and an amiable sense of sophisticated style. Herbert Marshall and Miriam Hopkins make for likable criminal heroes (their introductory dinner is a lot of fun), their loyalty to each other tested when Kay Francis enters the picture as a rich target. Director Ernst Lubitsch handles the elements of his film with a deft touch (indeed, “The Lubitsch touch” that could be seen in later movies such as The Shop Around the Corner), producing a well-rounded piece of work. What’s not so obvious to modern audiences since then used to moral complexity is the idea of presenting two outright thieves as romantic heroes: while it’s since been done over and over again in modern cinema, this was a bit of a sensation at the time, and the film effectively disappeared from public circulation for decades (until 1968) once the Hays Code was enforced two years later. Marvel, then, that we twenty-first century cinephiles now have access to something that many earlier audience didn’t. And marvel that, thanks to more natural non-enforced moral standards, Trouble in Paradise still plays really well today, more than eighty-five years later.

  • Alien: Covenant (2017)

    Alien: Covenant (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) The Alien series has now managed the difficult feat of not making me care about any new film in the series. To be fair, it’s been trending in that direction since Alien3 ignored Aliens and set out to humanize the Alien. But the series usually remained interesting even in ludicrousness: even Alien: Resurrection was too weird not to like a little. No, it took Ridley Scott and a whole lot of unconvincing “actually it’s not really part of the Alien series” nonsense in Prometheus to truly stimulate exasperation in the series. With Covenant, he seems determined to repeat all of the past mistakes of the series, from jettisoning main characters in-between instalments to mortally dumb characters to explaining how it’s the humans, you see, that have created these monsters, and all sorts of other dumb plotting moves. Plus a pitch-dark ending that leaves little hope. The impact is not one of wonder, or satisfaction, or even entertainment: It’s one of caring less and less about a franchise that is being treated incoherently. If they’ll make it up as they go along, then why should we care? As a result, I would rather not see any further instalment of the series and let it die unceremoniously than have another follow up that will make me care less and less. All the mystery of the original Alien has been replaced by pretentious musings on the nature of whatever the screenwriter was smoking at the time, and the schematic approach to the series is now so familiar that there’s little here to be interesting. To be fair, Covenant is almost tolerable in small five-minute segments. Some of the action beats are well done, some of the images are interesting, and Katherine Waterston gradually grew on me throughout the film as her character followed the series’ usual zero-to-hero dramatic arc. Still, people who nitpicked Prometheus’s dumber-than-dirt characters won’t have anything better to say here about the various decisions taken by the characters and the Benny-Hill-like catastrophe of consequences that ensues. Let them all die, if they’re going to be so incredibly stupid. (Not that the stupidity is confined to the character—it often spreads to the screenwriters, as an entirely unmotivated late-movie twist suggests.)  Covenant barely has that visual grandeur of Prometheus—at this point, why even bother seeing the film at all? But that’s movie-watching in the early twenty-first century, with franchises being beaten into the ground until no one is interested—then artificially revived as reboots that usually don’t have anything to say beyond imitating the original. The surest way to ensure that we’ll get better movies is simply not to care about the bad ones. And this review is already long enough to suggest that I haven’t done a very good job of not caring.

  • Going my Way (1944)

    Going my Way (1944)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) On paper, there’s nothing to suggest that Going My Way is going to be an entertaining experience. It is, after all, about a young priest moving to a New York City parish. His small-town ways are not greeted warmly, and it’s an uphill battle for him to be taken seriously. Duller films have been made of more interesting premises. But watching the film makes it better. For one thing, the lead character is played by Bing Crosby, who isn’t just effortlessly charming, but allows the film to gradually shift in semi-musical mode as his character can sing in support of his parish. As antagonists are tamed, songs are sung, the church’s mortgage paid off and things get back in order (at least until one capriciously arbitrary late-movie downturn), Going my Way actually works decently well. Movies rarely spend so much time in the minutiae of church-running, but the film isn’t particularly religious—the parish is usually portrayed as a business with obligations and logistics. Going my Way won the best Picture Oscar for its year, and while I can argue that (then) Gaslight or (now) Double Indemnity would have been better choices, it’s not an incomprehensible one: It’s a warm and uplifting picture, with great performances by Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald. It’s religious-friendly without being secular-unfriendly and as such could (and still can) reach a wide audience.

  • The Quiet Man (1952)

    The Quiet Man (1952)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2018) There’s quite a lot that I don’t particularly enjoy about The Quiet Man, starting with John Wayne and the overly romanticized portrait of the Irish. I should probably add right now that I don’t have anything against Ireland of the Irish diaspora—after all, I’m part Irish myself (much diluted) due to a quirk of French-Canadian history—but I’ve seen enough Irish romanticism in my life to be largely immune to it by now. As for John Wayne, the irony is that I don’t like him but I like many of his movies especially when they feature him as a quasi-villain. Alas, that’s not the case here, as Wayne is out of his traditional element as a disgraced 1920s boxer returning to Ireland to reclaim his family farm. As with most “stranger coming to town” stories, he falls in love (understandably with a character played by Maureen O’Hara), makes a few friends and temporary enemies that he’ll have to deal with before a happy ending comes back. The Quiet Man is in colour largely to showcase Ireland’s Green tone and O’Hara’s fiery-red hair. It ends with a memorable knock-down drag-out fight played for laughs in the middle of the village. Wayne looks a bit lost in trying to act tough in the middle of a comedy, while the film’s blatant idolization of the rural Irish lifestyle will be lost on those who, like myself, can’t see what the fuss is about. As a result, the film is a bit obnoxious at times, and definitely too long otherwise. Director John Ford knows what he’s doing, so I suspect that this is as clear a case of “this film is not for me” as it’s possible to get. The Quiet Man is a fine film, but it just didn’t resonate. At all.

  • The Producers (1967)

    The Producers (1967)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) Being a modern moviegoer taking a look at the classics can lead to blasphemous statements, so here goes: I like the remake of The Producers better than the original. Once you get your rage out of your system, consider this: The original Mel Brooks version of The Producers is scattershot—it aims in all directions, occasionally hitting a bullseye and occasionally firing off in the air. The real highlight of this original production only comes after an hour of various nonsense—it’s really good once the stage musical begins and we get to see the insanity of a camp version of Hitler. In the meantime (and afterwards), The Producers is duller than expected. In contrast, the remake version doesn’t quite capture the stage musical in its unhinged glory, but has a much stronger first and third act, with more memorable supporting characters and a stream of musical numbers throughout. Yeah, I’ll take the remake if only for Uma’s Ulla. Still, preferring the remake over the fifty-year-old original shouldn’t take away from the qualities of the original. As stated, the original has a much stronger musical sequence. It also benefits from Gene Wilder and (to a lesser extent) Zero Mostel in the lead roles. There’s also a definite shock quality to the original that can’t be properly appreciated by modern audiences—although it can be felt secondhand from some reactions baked in the film itself. Remake aside, The Producers remains a film that can be readily watched even today without trouble … but it is definitely of its time, from a writer/director making his debut. Influential, but since then supplanted by a much slicker (and focused) remake. Considering that Brooks himself wrote much of the remake, that’s not that much of a blasphemous statement.

  • Jack Reacher: Never Go Back (2016)

    Jack Reacher: Never Go Back (2016)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, March 2018) What annoys me about Jack Reacher: Never Go Back is that the series of novels upon which the films are based, Lee Child’s “Reacher” cycle, is special. They’re above-average thrillers in which the true shape of the plot is often hidden from view until late in the story. Reacher is an extraordinary character, and Child has honed his writing ability to deliver exactly what a modern adventure series should provide. Sit down with a Reacher book, and you’ll be guaranteed (at one or two exceptions) a solid entertainment experience well above the norm for the genre. Alas, the film adaptation, and particularly this second instalment, has been the definition of average … if not even below average. Plus, as has been endlessly rehashed, Tom Cruise is all wrong for the part. If the first Jack Reacher film managed to be a decent thriller, Never Go Back starts off promisingly, but then becomes less and less interesting until it becomes a bog-standard arms-dealing film, executed limply. It’s actually hard to care for most of what’s happening in the second half of the film given that it feels like so many other similar movies. Cruise is bland in the role, and saddling the story with a potential-paternity subplot does little to humanize the character or give him a personal stake. All told, Never Go Back is a dud—and it should pretty much ensure that a so-so series remains dead for the foreseeable future. That’s not exactly bad news for Reacher fans—at least the books are still coming out every year.

  • Night of the Living Dead (1968)

    Night of the Living Dead (1968)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) A mandatory stop on every horror fan’s checklist, Night of the Living Dead is the father to an entire zombie subgenre, transforming an old Voodoo bogeyman in the undead monster that has been endlessly copied and adapted ever since. Writer/director George Romero does much with a limited budget, although it does take some suspension of disbelief to go along the film’s various basement surprises. Still, and respite the remakes and adaptations and sequel, it still carries an appreciable punch: While the gore and the dread have all been surpassed later on, the original still works rather well. Judith O’Dea initially looks great as Barbra (“They’re coming to get you, Barbra!”), but it’s Duane Jones who steals the show as the only competent one around. The low-budget restrictions of the film make it lean and mean, with maximum thrills in a minimal space: No wonder it would be endlessly imitated. Since Night of the Living Dead has been in the public domain for a long time, watching it is as easy as calling up the film’s Wikipedia page. This being said, there’s some worth in springing for a high-resolution restored versions: While there’s some charm in the low-grade version, it’s a good enough film that it should be watched as it was meant to be seen.

  • How Green Was My Valley (1941)

    How Green Was My Valley (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) Not all Oscar-winning movies are created equal, and it’s mind-boggling that a dull movie such as How Green Was My Valley would beat out Citizen Kane as the best picture of 1941. Not that this is entirely surprising: Director John Ford’s film is the kind of maudlin chronicle of a small town that Hollywood finds it easy to love. Unchallenging, promoting easy virtues and executed with maximum pathos thanks to a few well-chosen deaths and overall atmosphere of nostalgic longing, topped with an entirely respectable sad ending. The title tells you almost everything you need to know. How you’ll react is up to you—I found myself intermittently entertained by some of the episodes, but generally bored by the entire thing. The black-and-white cinematography, though excellent, does How Green Was My Valley no favour—it’s one of those rare cases where a colour film would have been more appropriate (and not solely for Maureen O’Hara’s red hair). Everyone’s mileage will vary. I’d rather watch Citizen Kane another time.

  • Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988)

    Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, On DVD, March 2018) I remembered enough of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? to know that it was a good movie, but I had forgotten what made it a great one. It clicks on several levels, whether you’re looking for simple slapstick comedy, an imaginative fantasy, an ode to cartoons or a homage to noir movies. Perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of the film is its legacy. I’m old enough to remember how groundbreaking the movie was in meshing cartoon characters with live-action actors, which seems old hat in a contemporary cinematic landscape where reality is infinitely malleable and blockbuster movies are routinely computer-generated from beginning to end. Who Framed Roger Rabbit? gave rise to an industry matching imaginary characters with real actors, but it remains so successful as to warrant a look even today. The character of Roger Rabbit is funny enough (his insistence on the Rule of Funny is good for some of the film’s biggest laughs), but add in a classic grizzled detective played in a career-best performance by Bob Hoskins, and the sultriest of femme fatales with Jessica Rabbit (She’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way) and you’ve got something that approaches iconic archetypes. Director Robert Zemeckis has always been interested in pushing the cinematic state of the art, but Who Framed Roger Rabbit? has stood the test of time better than just another gimmicky film. (Heck, The Polar Express has aged more badly than its 1988 predecessor).  I can name a handful of scenes from the movie that all warrant viewing, from the Duck Piano Duel to the Toontown visit to the “Patty Cakes” sequence to the crazed taxi pursuit to the first scene with Judge Doom. (Parents take note: That scene is the reason why the film is suggested for adult audiences. I had to deal with a crying 6-year old when she got interested in the film’s cute cartoons and ended up watching the infamous shoe bath sequence. To my defence, I did not intend to have her watch that sequence—she happened to walk in the room at a bad time.)  As a fan of noir film, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? does happen to nail down several of the genre’s idioms and particular pleasures … perhaps better than many neo-noir earnest attempts. All told, I’m really glad I had an excuse to revisit the film: It’s still a lot of fun and hasn’t aged nearly as much as I was expecting.

  • Pocahontas (1995)

    Pocahontas (1995)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, March 2018) Discussing Pocahontas is … complicated. There are different levels of racism, and not killing others is only the first step in a very long ladder. The recent resurgence of racism in popular (North-) American discourse is a discouraging reminder that a lot of people get stuck halfway in the ladder, pointing to unimaginable cruelty below them as proof of their enlightenment, but only so far as it doesn’t really change anything for them. (With my own white privilege, I’m stuck 2/3 of the way.) Where I’m going with this in discussing a Disney movie is that while Pocahontas is a visible attempt to ennoble and represent Native Americans in a kids-friendly format, it does carry along a number of vexing issues. Anyone who knows anything about the history of race relations from the moment Europeans set foot in North America may be put off by the rewriting of history, the inclusion of magical talking animals, the sexualization of Pocahontas as a tall thin supermodel, or the almost-mystical link between Native Americans and nature. Even on a surface level, the film is problematic: My own daughter was not amused by the film’s more sombre moments (“Savages” may have all sorts of lofty intentions, but its irony and dramatic counterpoint is completely lost on the pre-school set) and the film never became a household favourite like other Disney films. The portrayal of hate in the film, even from characters who are obviously wrong and evil, is troubling to an extent that more fantasy-based antagonists aren’t. Sure, the film is PG-rated and aimed at older audiences. But that’s part of the problem: Pocahontas is dragged in different directions by cute animals, soaring paean to nature, racist antagonists, impossibly virtuous leads, and the result feels scattered. This is even more frustrating given that everyone involved in the film’s conception must have had the best of intention in condemning hate. Still, it doesn’t work as well, and in a far more sensitive 2018 it’s easier to see why. Too bad, because from a technical level, the film is nothing short of terrific: 2D animation was seldom better, and Disney clearly brought in top talent in terms of musical numbers and voice acting. Alas, little of these matters when there is clearly something off with Pocahontas. I wonder how a more modern treatment would deal with these issues … and if it’s possible to tell anything close to this story without annoying someone somewhere.

  • All about Eve (1950)

    All about Eve (1950)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) There’s a deliciously impish quality to All about Eve that becomes apparent only a few moments in the movie, and remains the film’s best quality throughout. It’s a cynical look at showbusiness, triangulated between actors, writers and critics. Writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz can use rich material in his exploration of the dirty side of theatrical showbusiness, and his actors, in-between Bette Davis, Anne Baxter and George Sanders, are all up to the challenges of his vision. (Plus, a small role for Marilyn Monroe.)  All about Eve has a lot to say about fame, acting, age and even a touch of closeted homosexuality. It does so with considerable wit—the film is good throughout, but it improves sharply whenever George Sanders shows up as a waspy critic acting as an impish narrator. The film still plays exceptionally well today: showbusiness hasn’t changed much, and much of the film doesn’t deal in easily dated artifacts … although some of the social conventions have thankfully moved on. A bit like contemporary Sunset Blvd, All about Eve is a film built on wit and a great script, so it’s no surprise that it would stay so engaging sixty-five years later.

  • On the Waterfront (1954)

    On the Waterfront (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) It took me a long time to warm up to On the Waterfront. At first, it felt like a chore of a self-imposed viewing. Taking place low down the social ladder in the working neighborhoods around the port, it talks about corruption, coercion and trying to do the right thing when you’re going to be punished for it. Marlon Brando became famous largely thanks to this film (“I coulda been a contender!”), and it’s easy to understand why—compared to other actors in other films of the time, he feels more real, more alive than most of them. Other standout performances include Karl Malden as a tough priest, and a first appearance by Eva Marie Saint. Still, the film is a grim slog for much of its duration—but it gets much better toward the end, as On the Waterfront finally comes into focus and achieves maximum dramatic intensity. The final ten minutes are riveting, which is a good place for a film to conclude. 

  • Charade (1963)

    Charade (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) It does take a while before Charade comes into focus. It begins strangely, with a contrived meet-cute at a ski resort in the Alps that turns into an even stranger succession of events once the heroine comes back to Paris to find out that her husband has died, a large amount of money is missing, and three strangers really hated her ex-husband. The artificiality of the setup is almost overpowering, and even the comforting presences of Audrey Hepburn as the widow and Cary Grant as a mysterious free agent aren’t quite enough to unpack the heavy-handed setup. But as the deaths and double-crosses being to pile up, Charade does acquire a nice velocity, and even answers the questions raised in the first act. Hepburn is adorable as the endangered heroine, despite being too young for the role. Meanwhile, Grant is terrific as someone who may or may not be friendly—he’s occasionally very funny (ha, that shower scene!), and his last grimace of self-revelation at the very end is like seeing a split-second callback to the classic comedies early in his career. Also noteworthy as supporting roles for Walter Matthau, George Kennedy and James Coburn. Great scores and visual design by Henry Mancini and Saul Bass round up an impressive crew. Surprisingly not directed by Alfred Hitchcock, Charade is increasingly endearing the longer it goes on, and satisfyingly blends romance, comedy and suspense. It’s well worth watching. Just make sure to give it more than thirty minutes to make sense.