Reviews

  • Romancing the Stone (1984)

    Romancing the Stone (1984)

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2017) If ever you’re in the mood for an action comedy in which a romance author finds adventure and love in South America alongside a dashing rogue, then Romancing the Stone should be your first pick. It does exactly what it sets out to do, and does it relatively well thanks to the lead actors and director Robert Zemeckis’s knack (even at that early stage of his career) for executing complex projects. Here we go from New York City to Colombia, evading government forces, drug lords and criminals along the way. Michael Douglas is quite good as the dashing adventurer, reminding us of his younger leading-man days. Opposite him, Kathleen Turner is not bad as a writer thrust in a series of adventures, loosening up along the way. There is nothing particularly novel to what Romancing the Stone is trying to do, and it can occasionally be annoying in how it goes about it (most notably in presenting the bumbling criminals who are supposed to be one of the two main sets of antagonists) but it does manage to become the adventure film it wants to be, with a good helping of comedy and romance to go along with the thrills. It occasionally fells long, and some of the limitations of 1984 filmmaking do show up from time to time, but Romancing the Stone remains mildly enjoyable even today.

  • Capricorn One (1977)

    Capricorn One (1977)

    (On DVD, September 2017) I’m not that fond of anything bolstering moon landing hoax conspiracy theories, and Capricorn One (despite technically being about a faked Mars landing) is one of the codifiers of that particular delusion. But let’s not blame a glum seventies thriller for contemporary idiocy—and let’s recognize that the film, one of veteran writer/director Peter Hyams’s first popular successes, still has a modest kick to it. Much of Capricorn One’s first half is a procedural thriller explaining why and how a Mars landing would be faked, and the reasons why the astronauts would go along with it. Then, landing successfully faked, it switches gears to a more familiar conspiracy thriller, keeping a trio of desert chases for its third act. The conspiracy itself doesn’t make a lot of sense (although it is good for a few vertiginous moments, such as the lengthy shot that gradually pulls away from a helmet to encompass the studio in which everything has been broadcast) but the film does get better with its thrills as it goes along. Highlights include a first-person runaway speeding sequence through a city that feels viscerally dangerous, and an extended air chase sequence toward the end that rivals anything produced since then. Hyams is a canny filmmaker, and it shows through a film that occasionally feels as gripping as it must have been back then. There are also a few good actors: Hal Holbrook is remarkable as a man who ultimately has to fake everything in order to keep his dream alive, whereas Elliott Gould is in fine form as an unlikely action hero. (For more of Gould as a dashing lead, have a look at the rather good Canadian-made thriller The Silent Partner, also released the same year.)  O.J. Simpson and James Brolin also show up as astronauts, even though they’re severely underwritten. While Capricorn One could have been tightened up considerably, it’s decently enjoyable as it is. I’m not asking for a remake, though.

  • Risk (2016)

    Risk (2016)

    (On Cable TV, September 2017) Filmmaker Laura Poitras rose to prominence with Citizenfour, the Oscar-winning documentary that chronicled the tension-filled week during which Edward Snowden revealed the NSA’s secrets to the world. Now she’s back with Risk, an inside look at Julian Assange and Wikileaks that was actually begun before Citizenfour’s events. As with most independent profiles of Assange, it’s not exactly complimentary. He’s variously portrayed as cranky, sexist, arrogant and misguided. This portrait certainly matches other sources of information about Assange, and Poitras’ growing disenchantment with him does reflect the consensus opinion about him. By the end of the film, Poitras doesn’t even shy away from credible suggestions that Assange has now become an agent, willing or not, of the Russian government in interfering in US affairs (including the 2016 presidential election). Such is the way of history, in which heroes seemingly too good to be true end up revealing their human flaws and being captured by interests outside of their self-reflection. Take on the world, and the world will fight back. While Risk offers original footage that confirms what has been discussed at length on the Internet, it remains a frustrating film for a number of reasons: It lacks a clear focus, or at least a clean line from beginning to end—there’s a sense that we go from one thing to another, somehow ending without a conclusion. To be fair, there is a lot of material discussed here (Manning! Assange! Wikileaks! Tor! Ecuadorian Embassy! Rape allegations! American Elections!), heightening the need for a compelling narrative guide. As with Citizenfour, Poitras chooses to distance herself from the camera, which becomes a less and less appropriate choice as it becomes clear that she was involved as more than a journalist in Wikileaks’s affairs. As it is, Risk exists a bit too removed from her experience—on-screen text and occasional voiceovers don’t quite manage to capture her journey away from Wikileaks and Assange. There are a lot of good ideas in this film, but they’re not developed fully, and may be hampered by the necessity to stick close to the footage she has shot—I’m left wondering if a more direct in-your-face approach, with on-screen appearances might not have produced better results. But who knows? Risk was reportedly reworked for a year in-between its debut at the 2016 Cannes festival and its 2017 wide cable TV release, and real-world event such as the American election clearly influenced the final cut. Wait six months, and I suspect that Assange’s story will have another twist or two. [November 2017: … and there it is, not even three months later: revelations that Assange was in communication with the Trump campaign, offering secrets and asking for an ambassadorship.]

  • Assassin’s Creed (2016)

    Assassin’s Creed (2016)

    (On Cable TV, September 2017) Videogame movie adaptations have a terrible track record, and Assassin’s Creed won’t do much to counter the prevailing opinion. Some things that only make sense when you have a game controller in your hands don’t survive the transition to the big screen very well, which is demonstrated as Assassin’s Creed piles up a mythology that sounds ludicrous from the first time “genetic memory” is mentioned. Even after watching its conclusion, I remain unconvinced that the Assassins are the good guys we’re supposed to be cheering for (and the film does have an unexamined propensity for using violence as a tool that I find off-putting for all sorts of reasons, but again: look at the source material). It doesn’t help that the plot seems to be twisting itself in all sorts of needlessly pointless shapes, grandly referring to things that are of no interest to most viewers. (Deep and sombre contemplation of a “leap of faith” had me scurrying to the nearest explanatory web page, only to discover that it was an overblown game mechanic.)  Still, even as mired in its own lore as Assassin’s Creed can be, it does sport one or two interesting things. Michael Fassbender is vastly overqualified as the lead actor, but he does bring his own kind of interest to the proceedings, helped along by Marion Cotillard and Jeremy Irons. The quality of the images show just how well CGI can now be used to create historical environments and bathe the rest of the film in gauzy haze. The production values are very good, including some impressive costume and set design work in its historical segments. Sadly, little of this leads to a film that can be enjoyed. In between the lengthy moments in which nothing happens, the ludicrous mythology, the confused morals and the self-important nonsense that passes off as dialogue, Assassin’s Creed remains a disappointment and another piece of evidence that no one has yet mastered how to bring interactive entertainment to the movies.

  • Apollo 13 (1995)

    Apollo 13 (1995)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, September 2017) I remember standing in line to watch this film on opening week, and being energized by the result. Decades later, Apollo 13 is still as good as it ever was—as a triumphant look at the American effort to land on the moon, it remains unequalled, and while the then-astonishing special effects have aged, they still hold up reasonably well—that launch sequence is still awe-inspiring. They may never be a movie about Apollo 11 because it went so well, but the Apollo 13 mission was a different story, and it’s through that fateful flight that we get a look at the astonishing achievement of the American space program. The historical details are immediately credible, and there’s much to be said about a film made in the nineties to reflect events that were then barely more than twenty years past—trying to recreate 1973 today would be more difficult and probably less authentic, without mentioning all the people who have since died and wouldn’t be there to provide their advice. Reportedly free of major inaccuracies, Apollo 13 can’t quite escape some artistic licensing issues, whether it’s leaden explanatory dialogue, scenes set up to discuss a thematic concern or the vastly overwrought climax played up for all it’s worth. Still, these are small concerns compared to the entire film—it remains one of director Ron Howard’s most successful films, and it features a cast of a half-dozen great actors, from Tom Hanks’ immediately sympathetic commander Jim Lovell to Kevin Bacon, Bill Paxton, Gary Sinise and one of Ed Harris’s career-best iconic performance as no-nonsense flight director Gene Kranz. Everything clicks together to make up that elusive movie magic, effective even when knowing exactly how everything will play out. It’s not meant to be subtle (the last-act passage in which NASA reflects that Apollo 13 will be remembered as one of their “finest moments” lays out what viewers are expected to take away from the film itself) but it’s remarkably effective. As a lapsed space buff, I can’t help but love Apollo 13, but I’m reasonably sure that it remains a great movie for everyone even today.

  • My Cousin Rachel (2017)

    My Cousin Rachel (2017)

    (Video on-Demand, September 2017) Everything old can be new again, and so it’s not a bad idea to dig up some of Daphne Du Maurier’s Gothic romances as inspiration for movies that set themselves apart from the usual cut-and-dried psycho-killer thriller swill that we see too often today. My Cousin Rachel is a thriller told in suspicions, the viewer going back and forth in believing that a character is out to murder our protagonist. Rachel Weisz is very good as the titular Rachel, keeping us unsettled throughout the film and being able to play menacing or charming at rapid intervals. She makes Sam Claflin look pedestrian in what is supposed to be the protagonist’s role. The production values are high, as we spend a lot of time on a credibly recreated 19th-century British estate. My Cousin Rachel is not a fast-paced film, but it does well in taking its time to present us with an unfolding subtle story. The ending hits harder than it should. It’s the perfect kind of film to watch on a cozy snowy evening.

  • The Paper (1994)

    The Paper (1994)

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, September 2017) I recall seeing The Paper on its opening week, happy (as a former high-school paper editor) to see a film where newspapermen were heroes. I kept a good memory of the result, but I was curious to see if it held up two decades later. Fortunately, The Paper remains almost a definitive statement on 1990s city journalism. Tightly compressed in not much more than 24 hours of action, The Paper follows a hectic day in the life of a newspaper editor juggling work, family and citywide tensions. Directed with a lot of nervous energy by Ron Howard, The Paper can boast of an astonishing cast. Other than a top-form Michael Keaton as a harried news editor, there’s Robert Duvall as a grizzled senior editor, Glenn Close as something of an antagonist, Marisa Tomei as a pregnant journalist desperate for a last bit of newsroom action, Randy Quaid as a rough-and-tough journalist … and so on, all the way to two of my favourite character actresses, Roma Maffia and Siobhan Fallon, in small roles. The dense and taut script by the Koepp brothers offers a fascinating glimpse at the inner working of a nineties NYC newspaper, bolstered by astonishing set design: That newsroom is a thing of beauty as the camera flies by and catches glimpses of dozens of other subplots running along the edges of the screen. You may even be reminded of how things used to work before the rise of the 24-hour Internet-fuelled news cycle. (Of all the things that the Internet has killed, “Stop the presses!” is an under-appreciated loss.)  The Paper is one of those solid, satisfying movies that don’t really revolutionize anything, but happen to execute their premise as well as they could, and ends up being a reference in time. I’m sad to report that by 2017, The Paper seems to have been largely forgotten—while I caught it on Cable TV, it rarely comes up in discussions, has a scant IMDB following, and is rarely mentioned while discussing the careers of the players involved. Too bad—with luck, it will endure as the kind of film you’re happy to discover by yourself. 

  • The Cannonball Run (1981)

    The Cannonball Run (1981)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, September 2017) It’s funny what we remember from our childhood. Watching The Cannonball Run, which I last saw as a young boy in the early eighties, I had regular flashes of recognition or anticipation as I suspected what was about to happen. Of course, I’m not an eight-year-old boy any more, and my current liking of the film’s stunts and cultural references is somewhat tempered by its juvenile tone and wildly uneven script. Legendary action director Hal Needham knew how to direct stunts (there’s a pointed reference to his Smokey and the Bandit that reminds me that I should re-watch that one soon), and so the best moments of the film are the chases, fights and other action hijinks. A young-looking Jackie Chan brings a bit of his patented style to a desert brawl, and the film also features such legends as Burt Reynolds, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Roger Moore (hilariously riffing on his James Bond turn), Peter Fonda, Farrah Fawcett and Adrienne Barbeau (I did remember their outfits) in various roles. I can still recognize some of those references by dint of having been born in the 1970s, but I wonder what younger viewers will make of them. Some of the comedy still works—I’m specifically thinking about the monologue explaining the rules of the transcontinental Cannonball Run, delivered with practised confidence by Brock Yates, the creator of the real-life Cannonball Run. Alas, this action/comedy charge is seriously hampered by the puerile humour (much of it sexist or racist) and uneven scripting. I strongly disliked Dom Deluise’s character(s), for instance, and gritted my teeth at the stereotypes passing off as jokes: seeing notorious Hong Kong native Jackie Chan cast as a Japanese makes no sense, and let’s really not talk about the middle-eastern Sheikh character. That’s not even getting close to the heavily sexist tone of the film—this is a film by boys for boys, and while I’d argue that there’s a place for cleavage-revealing spandex outfits in racing movies, much of the rest of the film (which plays off drug-facilitated kidnapping for laughs and sexiness, among many other things) is more off-putting than anything else. Add to that some primitive anti-government sentiments (as party-poopers) and you get the picture. For all that I like about the stunts in the film, The Cannonball Run is one of those intriguing but flawed movies that should be prime candidates for a polished remake. I promise I won’t complain too much as long as the worst issues with the original are corrected.

  • The Usual Suspects (1995)

    The Usual Suspects (1995)

    (Third viewing, On TV, August 2017) Hmmm … how is it that no review of The Usual Suspects shows up on this web site? I recall seeing the film in the late nineties (at my grandma’s place, on regular TV, probably in French) and loving it. I also recall seeing it much later and still liking it a lot. And yet there are no reviews in my files. Bah, this gives me another chance to formally extol the film’s virtues. The Usual Suspects gets a lot of attention for a surprising ending, but it’s a movie that works just as well when you can anticipate the big twist. In between Christopher McQuarrie’s script and Bryan Singer’s direction, it’s made well enough that it has an unusually effective moment-to-moment immersive quality: you just want to see what will happen next, or bask in great dialogue, capable direction and terrific actors. Nearly everyone in the cast brings their best to their roles, from Kevin Spacey’s Oscar-winning role to Gabriel Byrne’s solid presence, Benicio del Toro’s oddball diction and great turns for Kevin Pollack, Stephen Baldwin and Chazz Palminteri. The set pieces are well done, and for a movie that hinges on deception, there is far more truth to it than I remembered from previous viewings. A minor classic in the crime thriller vein, The Usual Suspects combines engrossing viewing with a deceptively dense story. It qualifies as one of the must-see movies of its genre.

  • Sixteen Candles (1984)

    Sixteen Candles (1984)

    (On TV, August 2017) In retrospect, it may have been a mistake to watch Sixteen Candles the day after Pretty in Pink—while the two films are different, there are enough points in common between those two Molly Ringwald-starring, John Hugues-scripted teenage romantic comedies to blur the edges between the two. Sixteen Candles, to its credit, does have a better premise—what if, in the hustle and bustle of a big wedding, the sixteenth birthday of the younger sister was completely forgotten? Much of the rest of the picture is conventional high school romantic comedy stuff, but the concept is clever and allows the action to be packed within a short period of time without feeling unnatural. To its distinction (shared with other Hughes scripts), Sixteen Candles is suggestive without being raunchy, and treats its teenage characters like full persons rather than archetypes. It’s far more respectable than other teen movies, although it doesn’t escape frowns for some terrible Asian stereotyping and a sequence with a drunk girl that would have nearly everyone justifiably pulling their hair in outrage today. Ringwald, once again, makes for a uniquely appealing teenage heroine, while Anthony Michael Hall is curiously likable in a potentially grating role. Pay attention, and you will see Joan and John Cusack show up in small roles. Sixteen Candles wraps up in a very likable fashion and while it’s not a particularly profound film, it skillfully made with enough charm to satisfy. But then again I’m not exactly the target audience for the film any more.

  • Pretty in Pink (1986)

    Pretty in Pink (1986)

    (On TV, August 2017) As far as girl-meets-boy high school movies go, it’s hard to find a more representative example of the form as Pretty in Pink. The script, by a classic-era John Hughes, is witty and clever while aimed squarely at the teenage set. The eighties atmosphere is strong without being overpowering, while Howard Deutch’s unobtrusive direction gets all the pieces moving in the same direction. Molly Ringwald definitely has a unique appeal in this film while Annie Potts also claims a few highlights, and this quirkiness has contributed to the film’s continued appeal even today—it’s from a familiar recipe, but not so bland as to be undistinguishable from so many other similar films. I can see the appeal of the film for a certain audience, even though I have to admit that I’m not part of that audience.

  • Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988)

    Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988)

    (In French, On TV, August 2017) Cinema often congratulates itself, and Nuovo Cinema Paradiso is an endearing example of the form, as a grown man attending a funeral is reminded of his early experiences at the local cinema and its memorable owner. There isn’t much to the film, but it’s well made and affectionate in this idyllic small-town portrait that is often so popular in nostalgia-fuelled fiction. Much of the expected elements are there—the surrogate father-figure to compensate for a single-mom family; the hated unreasonable clerical authority figure cutting out all the kissing scenes from movies shown at the theatre; the girl; and a hero with big dreams. It helps a lot that Philippe Noiret is very good as the cinema owner who gets to parent our hero. Otherwise, Nuovo Cinema Paradiso is handled with grace and style, just enough to wrap the film in fuzzy feel-good feelings. Not revolutionary, but handled well enough to be pleasant viewing … especially for confirmed cinephiles.

  • Game of Thrones, Season 6 (2017)

    Game of Thrones, Season 6 (2017)

    (On Cable TV, July-August 2017) As Game of Thrones moves farther and farther away from the outline left by George R.R. Martin and closer to a conclusion mandated by contract renewals, its nature changes. This season has to make do with three fewer episodes than previous years, speeding up the rhythm to deliver spectacle in nearly every instalment. The plotting gets more conventional, the characters are all brought together (climaxing in a final-episode summit in which a good chunk of the main players are finally all face-to-face for the first time), and there’s a sense that the series is putting together all its pieces in place for the finale. It works on a breathless scene-to-scene basis, but don’t ask too many questions once the end of the episode arrives—much of the drama is predicated upon TV requirements rather than conventional logic. (For a show in which nearly everything was shown, Season 7 palms numerous scenes in order to set up dramatic reversals—most notably in the Sansa/Arya/Littlefinger arc.) Still, there’s a lot to like in the result, whether it’s dragons finally showing up for extensive action sequences, numerous call-backs to the accumulated history of the show’s characters, very funny fan-service, and some examples of ruthless justice long delayed. Who cares if this isn’t George R.R. Martin’s story any more … fans better brace themselves, because a conclusion is coming.

  • Live by Night (2016)

    Live by Night (2016)

    (On Cable TV, August 2017) As frustrating as it can be to write this, Live by Night should be a much better movie than it is. From afar, it looks like a solid crime epic, spanning years and going from Boston to Florida as a gangster juggles love, crime, social prejudices and warring crime lords. The historical recreation of 1920s Boston and Sarasota is often mesmerizing, Ben Affleck has proven himself to be a capable director and the film can rely on good supporting performers like Elle Fanning, Zoë Saldaña and Chris Cooper. In bits and moments, Live by Night works well: There are a few very good sequences as the bullet start to fly and antique cars go crashing down dirt roads. Seeing criminals sock it to KKK Klansmen is also a sure crowd pleaser. But as a whole, it doesn’t click. It feels long and occasionally meandering, as it tries to bring together a crime story with various other items than don’t necessarily flow well together. Has Affleck gone back once too often to crime drama? Or was the source novel by Dennis Lehane too sprawling to adapt to the screen? I’m not sure, but the frustrating result does no one any favours—especially not Affleck, who gets a dud after three back-to-back successes. Here’s hoping that his next project will be better.

  • Life of Brian (1979)

    Life of Brian (1979)

    (On TV, August 2017) I really thought I’d enjoy Life of Brian more than I did. After all, I claim to have a fondness for British humour, iconoclasm, witty dialogue and absurd comedy—and Life of Brian has all of those in vast quantities. A creation of the Monty Python brain trust, it’s an affectionate poke at the story of Christianity, executed with surprisingly decent means as the film credibly recreates the usual atmosphere of biblical epics. Over and over again, the film uses this visual credibility as a mean through which to heighten the absurdity of its situations and dialogue—most notably in portraying a simple man getting tangled up in revolutionary politics and being mistaken for a profound messiah. But what, on paper, sounds remarkably funny only ends up being mildly amusing on-screen. Some of the less funny stuff (such as Ponce Pilatus’s speech impediment) is hammered until it becomes numbing, and the film does have a tendency to highlight its proudest moments rather than attempt to flow better. One of the consequences of coupling a serious presentation with absurd jokes is that there can be quite a lull between the jokes. As a result, I was more entertained than amused during the film, even though I kept recognizing how clever it was. I’m not saying that it’s a bad film—it’s quite successful at what it tries to do, and better conceived than most comedies. Transforming a tragic ending into an uplifting song number (that is still hummed today!) takes a mad genius … but it doesn’t mean that it will be successful from beginning to end. This being said, so many geeky references are made to Life of Brian than it remains practically mandatory viewing, no matter the effectiveness of the result.