Reviews

  • Oliver Twist (1948)

    Oliver Twist (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I have now seen three adaptations of Charles Dickens’ classic Oliver Twist in a single year, and that is about two more than strictly necessary. That being said, this 1948 take from director David Lean is about as close to a canonical one as it gets. It’s exceptionally well directed, lavishly produced with very good black-and-white cinematography with deep use of shadows to give an extra-gloomy atmosphere. As usual for the story, this is a tale of misery piled upon misery, with the very detailed set giving a still-credible portrayal of life in gloomy low-class London. Characters die a lot, sometimes not very gracefully. The one aspect in the work I’m really not fond of, however, is the hideously racist Jewish stereotyping that Alec Guinness gives to his interpretation of Fagin—a monumentally wrong note in an otherwise strong literary adaptation. Do not, under any circumstance, prefer the atrocious Oliver! musical adaptation to this version. Sometimes, literary classics deserve the classic filmmaking adaptation treatment.

  • Le gendarme de Saint-Tropez (1964)

    Le gendarme de Saint-Tropez (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2019) It’s not rare for artists and entertainers to have golden years where things suddenly click for them: during that time, they star in multiple memorable projects and clearly define the shape of their career. Jim Carrey’s 1994, for instance. Or, closer to this review, Luis de Funès’ 1964 in which he starred in both Le gendarme de Saint-Tropez and Fantômas—initial instalments of two series that would cement his acknowledged talent into superstardom, first in France and then across the world. No less than six films would eventually form the Gendarmes series chronicling the adventures of a police department in the vacation town of Saint-Tropez and its high-strung maréchal played by de Funès in top form. If you’ve never been exposed to de Funès typical brand of tightly wound hyperactive martinet-ish humour, then this is one of the films to see… even if he’s positively restrained and down-to-earth here compared to later, wilder instalments of the series. After a fake-out in the form of a black-and-white prologue, the film moves to very sunny and colourful cinematography once the protagonist makes it to the French Riviera. The plot itself remains humdrum at first, and pick up once the protagonist gets to protect his daughter and the setups finally come into play. Still, this is de Funès’s show, and the film would a much lesser one without him. This being said, let’s not dismiss out of hand the rather wonderful atmospheric look that this film offers at the mid-1960s south coast of France, complete with nudists, tourists and art thievery. Finally, let’s not discount the formidable earworm that remains “Douliou-douliou Saint-Tropez.” Sure, de Funès is the biggest reason to see Le gendarme de Saint-Tropez, but not quite the only reason.

  • The Running Man (1987)

    The Running Man (1987)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2019) As a former but unrepentant Science Fiction critic, I know better than anyone else that we’re not supposed to grade SF films of past decades on a prescience scorecard where more points are accumulated for accurate predictions. This goes double for dystopias, as we’re perhaps more sensitive to the bad things than the good ones. Still, it’s really hard to resist the impulse when it comes to The Running Man, considering the richness of its vision. Adapted very loosely from the Richard Bachman/Stephen King novel (notably softening the ending but frankly just taking the name of the characters and the rough premise), it ends up being an over-the-top Arnold Schwarzenegger film set in the near future. (To underscore the difference from contemporary films, Schwarzenegger sports a rather cool goatee and otherwise delivers a film that fits well in his classic streak of action films.)  The bare bones of the plot have to do with a totalitarian USA using a TV Show to kill its dissidents, but the execution (once past the setup) is repetitive, with the protagonist dispatching one opponent after another using one-liners, steadily making his way back to the TV show host. The action is bloody and choppy, reinforced by cinematography that’s pitch-dark to the point of exasperation. A few wrestlers—and future co-Governor Jesse Ventura!—make up the opponents, with the romantic interest played by the beautiful but underused Maria Conchita Alonso. (The producers make sure they get their money’s worth by having her character exercise in lingerie.)  The film is limited by 1980s technology in its presentation (such as the early cheap-looking CGI opening credits) but does prove disturbingly prescient in its satirical dystopia, anticipating the 2001–2019 slide of America into cheerful authoritarianism, airport checkpoints, entertainment/capitalism synergy … and reality TV. Also notable without being so flashy is solid-state video. So, while there’s no real point in grading The Running Man for accurate predictions, it’s the kind of additional material that does help the film distinguish itself from many far more generic action films of the 1980s. It has some kind of verve in spitting out groan-worthy one-liners and work its way up to a big spectacle of a conclusion. Not necessarily my go-to-choice for films of the era, but somewhat better than I expected.

  • Romeo and Juliet (1936)

    Romeo and Juliet (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) There are films that I watch out of obligation, and the 1936 version of Romeo and Juliet is one of them—It’s directed by notable filmmaker George Cukor, won a few Oscars, features a few name actors from the era and still ranks on extended best-of lists. The problem (and I’ve discussed this elsewhere) is that Shakespearian dialogue in English bores me beyond belief. So, I may have listened with half an ear—with some help from an adaptation that adapted, shortened and simplified some of the material. This being said, there’s enough in the film on a visual level to keep things interesting—great costumes, decent sets, and actors looking as if they’re really enjoying doing Shakespeare on-screen. (Oh, and Edna May Oliver as the nurse!) Cukor directs with a sure hand, while Leslie Howard does well as Romeo, John Barrymore distinguishes himself as Mercutio, and Norma Shearer makes a decent Juliet. Frankly, the whole thing still looks so good that you can be forgiven from not paying much attention to the dialogue. It’s interesting to compare and contrast it with later versions: Put against the (dull) 1968 Zeffirelli version and the (hyperactive) 1995 Luhrmann version, this Romeo and Juliet feels closer to what we would imagine a lavish theatrical production to look like.

  • The Sea Hawk (1940)

    The Sea Hawk (1940)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) If you want to see swashbuckling adventures at their best, you must see an Errol Flynn film and if you want to see Flynn at his best, there aren’t many better choices than The Sea Hawk. Pitting an Elizabethan-era English hero against the might of the Spanish Armada (doubled with a few parallels to the enemy as Nazis, to whip up patriotic fervour along the way), this is not a film that deals in nuances—the heroes are virtuous, the villains are perfidious, the English ruler is just and the love interest quite lovely indeed. It works, though: the spirit of adventure runs high enough to bulldoze through any credibility objections. Take the first boarding sequences, for instance—dodgy tactics and overconfidence by the British, but it’s still a great sequence. Few genre tropes are left unused, even in the spying business back on the home front. Flynn makes a terrific hero, and Brenda Marshall is quite good as well as the beautiful Spanish girl who can’t help but fall for him. Michael Curtiz directs with energy and confidence, all the way to the landmark final sword-fight, which features energetic performances, shadowed cinematography, cut candles, broken furniture and people being thrown through windows. It’s a final sequence that caps a quintessential adventure film with generous period detail and costumes. The Sea Hawk remains quite an experience event today—it’s still at the top of the genre.

  • The Meg (2018)

    The Meg (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I must have read Steve Alten’s Meg two decades ago and it remains a memorable thriller. (Poke around this site, and you can read my review, then my progressive disenchantment with the rest of Alten’s increasingly unhinged bibliography.) Ever since, I’ve been paying attention to every hint and rumours about a film production. Like most long-gestating movie projects, it seemed consigned to development hell and inglorious failure—even when it involved the unlikely figure of a first-generation movie-site webmaster as producer. After a very long and chaotic development process, a film called The Meg finally made it on-screen. Alas, fans will have to be generous in finding traces of the original novel in the movie adaptation. A gigantic prehistoric shark escaped from the depths? Yes. Everything else? Not so much. Which may not be a problem by itself—given two decades’ progress in digital special effects, even the wild action sequences of the novel can be “improved” with more craziness. Much of the credit for the film’s existence goes to its Chinese investors and their impact is almost impossible to ignore in the finished film, considering that it takes place in south-eastern Asian waters with location-appropriate subplots and a few Asian actors including the very cute Binbing Li. Finally, there’s the lead action hero factor—Jason Statham usually plays the same persona no matter the film, so it’s natural (I didn’t say “preferable”) that the script be tailored to his specifications. So, what do we get? Well, a decent action spectacle for one thing: Statham hasn’t been in many big-budget films of late (Fast and Furious films aside), so that’s interesting even if it downplays his usual macho heroics—you can’t really punch a skyscraper-sized shark in the mouth, right? Even with those changes, I’m relatively content by the results. I liked the initial atmosphere of the film, what with its high-tech research setting, cast of character and inventive adventures. It’s hardly perfect, of course: in the quest for a summer blockbuster, the “scientists” aren’t particularly smart, and the film can’t help but keep a few howlers for dramatic effect, including a massive shark sneaking up on a research station that would presumably have a sonar and other tracking mechanisms. Still, there’s been many aquatic-creature thrillers in the past few years and this one is better than most: veteran director Jon Turteltaub clearly understands that scale matters, and so does a big budget. He also knows how to build thrills rather than horror—compare The Meg’s beach sequence with the one in Piranha in an object lesson on how to build a tense sequence without veering into disgusting horror. No, The Meg is not Meg put on screen as faithfully as possible. But I’m not complaining.

  • Mystic Pizza (1988)

    Mystic Pizza (1988)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) If you know Julia Roberts but wish she’d do something more daring than her usual screen persona, then stop what you’re doing and go watch Mystic Pizza if you haven’t already done so: it’s a revelation. Here, a pre-stardom, pre-Pretty Woman Roberts has a very early role as a fiery curly-haired teenager and you won’t believe the cuss-words coming out of her mouth. That’s more than enough of a reason to watch the film, but fortunately there’s more to it: an affectionate coming-of-age story, coupled with an engaging look at the travails of a small family-owned pizzeria on the brink of closing down. The small-town atmosphere is credibly presented, and while Annabeth Gish hasn’t risen to the same superstardom as her co-star, her work here is also quite good—along with Lily Allen in a supporting role. In the end, Mystic Pizza does feel like its namesake food—a bit cheesy, rather delicious, very familiar, incredibly comforting. Not something to be snobby about.

  • Billy Jack (1971)

    Billy Jack (1971)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) It’s interesting to look at the list of top-grossing movies of decades past and see a few surprises in there. Billy Jack, while somewhat forgotten today, was an interesting blockbuster hit. Its production history and release remain singular, as actor-writer-director-producer Tom Laughlin resurrected his Billy Jack character from The Born Losers and made a movie that he then distributed himself, eventually ranking in significant profits from a low-budget film. Little of this would have worked had the film itself been less interesting. But Billy Jack itself is this weirdly compelling mixture of native-American revindications, vigilantism in the service of pacifism and a martial-arts expert protagonist proudly affirming his Navajo roots. Even executed in grimy low-budget quasi-amateurish fashion, it does have a certain straightforward appeal. Beyond the dull-toned narration, it shows a clear underdog story in which free-spirited (yet violently competent) hippies and Native American face off against square whites. It’s hard not to cheer for the oppressed heroes even as they face caricatures—the council scene is bad enough! The exploitation intent of the result makes it that we’re not supposed to care about the profoundly hypocritical message of preaching pacifism in the middle of an all-out escalation of violence … and that’s how it goes: Billy Jack may grapple with the notion of pacifism in the face of violence, but never comes close to being willing to provide an answer. Laughlin does deliver a very likable performance, even if he’s not exactly a good actor and everyone surrounding him fares even worse. For all of the quirky interest of the film, though, it’s hard not to link it to trends that would emerge later, both in cinema and in society: not only as a prototype for the transformation of New Hollywood into the popular blockbuster release by the late 1970s, but also the rise of Native American activism throughout the 1970s, including the Wounded Knee standoff of 1973. Billy Jack is definitely a curio no matter how you look at it, and an interesting film in its own right.

  • The War of the Roses (1989)

    The War of the Roses (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2019) There’s a good reason why The War of the Roses is often brought up, decades later, in conversations about dark comedies: As a story of a warring couple, it will make most people’s divorces look positively tame in comparison. Featuring Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as the warring couple in their third outing together, it’s directed with devilish glee by Danny DeVito—who also gets a good role as the film’s narrator. It’s clearly not a laugh-a-minute comedy, but the film does an admirable job at controlling its tone (always an issue in dark comedies) as things simply get worse and worse with no upper limit. By the morbid ending, it’s not as if we haven’t been prepared for it. Douglas and Turner were arguably at the height of their own respective fame by the time the film was made, and there’s an interesting aspect to the film capturing those performances at that time. The obvious caution here is that The War of the Roses may not be a film to be watched at anyone at any time—although, ironically enough, it may be most suited to those in the middle of a divorce themselves as a reminder of how bad things can get.

  • Leprechaun Returns (2018)

    Leprechaun Returns (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) At this point, “a Syfy Original” should be interpreted as a warning more than a simple production credit, and Leprechaun Returns doesn’t buck accepted wisdom. This standard “evil force attacks co-eds in a cabin” horror movie has very little to distinguish itself from other similar movies—not in wit, not in execution. Even discounting the silliness of the Leprechaun series, everything about Leprechaun Returns seems extruded from the cheap horror-movie factory, from the bland premise to the off-putting gore to the actors seemingly ordered from some central casting clone farm. The leprechaun-themed humour is obvious and flat, and there’s really nothing anywhere that goes beyond the strict minimal requirements for the genre. Even the modern patina (made out of drones, environmental consciousness, DIY action heroines and media social complaints) fails to bring anything new here. I’ll admit that I’m not that familiar with the seven-instalment Leprechaun series (I’ve seen the first one and only mildly enjoyed it for reasons that had nothing to do with its quality as a horror film), but I doubt that it would have helped. While Leprechaun Returns is a bit too slickly made to escape complete failure, it’s immediately forgettable and eventually a chore to get through.

  • Snatched (2017)

    Snatched (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) The issues with Snatched start from the first title card, where a wittier “The kidnappers were also to blame” was replaced by a much cruder and dumber formulation. But so it goes throughout the entire film—while the premise and structure aren’t bad, the execution rushes to irritating, gross and dumb material every chance it gets. For an actress as polarizing as Amy Schumer, it’s not the best decision to spend the first five minutes of the film establishing the maximally irritating nature of her character. Much of the film goes on in much of the same vein, with Schumer’s vulgar comic persona harming whatever strengths Snatched may have. Not that she’s the sole irritating character in a film that has another character (her brother) also defined by his self-absorbed annoying nature. The film does get a few laughs and has a few high points, mind you: There is a certain welcome unpredictability to the adventures along the way, as plans go awry for both prey and pursuer. Much of the film’s go-for-broke humour should have been reined in, though: the tapeworm sequence depends on an amazing disregard for human biology, is grosser than funny and never leads to a worthwhile laugh, petering out into an unrelated next scene rather than ending on any kind of note high or low. (I suspect that improv is to blame — actors goofing off on a set are far less adept at crafting a punchline as screenwriters tying away with a plan.) And so it goes for the rest of the film. While Wanda Sykes is quite funny (alongside an unrecognizable Joan Cusack), while it’s actually good to see Goldie Hawn making a comeback after fifteen years, while Schumer can manage an occasional moment of comedy, Snatched as a whole is just dumb, exasperating and hypocritical in its attempt to be heartfelt, and far from being as good at it could have been.

  • That’s Dancing (1985)

    That’s Dancing (1985)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Fans of the wonderful That’s Entertainment! anthology series of classical Hollywood musical numbers will get another, albeit smaller, charge out of That’s Dancing, a more modest but focused look at the evolution of big-screen dancing from the silent era to the 1980s. It’s a clip show, of course, but a fun one—the clips (coming mostly but not exclusively from MGM) are introduced by such notables as Gene Kelly, Ray Bolger and Liza Minelli. As an illustrated history of dance in movies, it’s full of small delights for fans of the form, and noted mentions of such legends as Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, the Nicholas Brothers, Fred Astaire and Ginger Allen and Eleanor Powell. Among various little treasures, the film even presents a number cut from The Wizard of Oz! Kelly’s narration is fun, especially as he seems enthusiastic about dance at a venerable age. Mikhail Baryshnikov gamely tries to make on-screen ballet history interesting—a slight challenge compared to everything else on display. It ends with a look at the musicals of the 1970s-80s, all the way to Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video. The result is perhaps not as all-entertaining as the That’s Entertainment series given its focus on dance rather than musical numbers (the distinction in thin but real), but That’s Dancing is still one good moment after another, less constrained by MGM’s archive and quite willing to go past the golden age of Hollywood musicals to the then-present.

  • The Omega Man (1971)

    The Omega Man (1971)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) One of the benefits of a classic Hollywood film education is discovering earlier version of later remakes, and being able to compare how different eras approached similar themes. The Omega Man is (at this time) the middle version of a Richard Matheson novel I am Legend, filmed earlier as The Last Man on Earth (1964, with Vincent Price) and later as I am Legend (2007, with Will Smith). The compelling premise remains the same, as a lone human survives in a city occupied by vampires/creatures/mutants. But this version does have quite a few things making it special even today. The decision to set the film in an eerily deserted early-1970s Los Angeles makes for terrific visuals, and having none other than Charlton Heston makes for a good showcase for him. The interracial romance of the film is still enormously appealing today—and Rosalind Cash looks great despite being saddled with some dated dialogue. I am not, however, so happy with the film’s silly-looking antagonists, or the evolution of a remarkably good first act into the messier and somewhat dumber final section. Much of the action doesn’t hold up, nor do many of the characters’ decisions. While interesting by itself, The Omega Man is perhaps most interesting when compared with other takes on the same story. None of them completely satisfy, but the more I see of the earlier versions, the less I’m impressed by 2007’s I am Legend. Let’s wait another twenty years and maybe the next version will get it right.

  • Wild Orchid (1989)

    Wild Orchid (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2019) One of the fringe benefits of being French-Canadian is a slightly more relaxed attitude toward sex and nudity that translates into some options that would be unusual in the Anglosphere. I’ll spare you the tales of Bleu Nuit’s glory days back when I was a randy teenager, but its spirit lives on in Cinepop’s regular broadcast of the first few Emmanuelle soft-core movies, or Prise 2 having a weekly late-night spot for racier films. Hence being able to record Wild Orchid off non-premium Cable TV and finally having a look at what’s perhaps the Mickey Rourkiest of Mickey Rourke’s roles. Wild Orchid is infamous in cinephile circles for its hedonistic plot, and sex scenes so convincing that generations of viewers have wondered whether they did-it-for-real on camera. (Both actors say they didn’t, so let’s go with that.)  The plot isn’t much more than a fancy excuse for high-gloss erotic scenes, as an American lawyer (Carré Otis) travels to Rio and gets fascinated with a rich businessman (Rourke) and gets swept in the easy Brazilian exoticism. (At least it’s better than Blame it on Rio.)  Rourke’s performance is fit to remind us that he was a sex symbol at the beginning of his career, while Otis is very cute as an innocent Midwestern ingenue thrown in upscale debauchery. Everyone will have their favourite scene, but my money is on that Anya Sartor old-hotel scene—whew! The plot is thin, with 15 minutes of narrative diluted in lengthy slow-motion soft-core sex scenes in a 90-minute film, but it’s familiar because it features many tropes later often imitated: The innocent heroine; the super-rich-and-confident man; the glamorous surroundings—Fifty Shades of Gray never invented anything in the world of racy movies. Wild Orchid isn’t much of a narrative film, but it does have at least a bit of primal interest to it. The Brazilian scenery is gorgeous—and I’m not only talking about the beach, birds, and trees here. No wonder Anglophones across Canada regularly watched Québec channels late at night to, um, learn French.

  • A Room with a View (1985)

    A Room with a View (1985)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Merchant Ivory films get some flak for being middle-of-the-road filmmaking, often undistinguishable and stuck in a very specific style. That’s largely true … but what that criticism misses is that these are consistently good movies, made with some filmmaking skills and great actors. So it is that A Room with a View feels unimpeachable in its chosen genre—a small masterpiece of gentle atmosphere, where every character is impeccably well mannered, humorous and well spoken. It’s a love story with a happy ending—what more do you want? A superlative cast is up to the material: Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, even Daniel Day Lewis is amusing in a bit of a comic role. Meanwhile, baby-faced Helena Bonham Carter is simply adorable in the lead role while there are very likable roles and performances by Denholm Elliott as Mr. Emerson and Simon Callow as Reverend Beebe. The now-period perspective on a 1908 novel does reinforce its then-daring critique of the Victorian era and wraps it up in a 1980s patina. While humorous, the story is made even more respectable through a lush recreation of an earlier era, perhaps slow paced but with some odd enjoyable notes here and there. As a comedy, A Room with a View feels a bit insubstantial to have been nominated for an Oscar, but then again why not? Merchant and Ivory know what they’re doing and why.