Reviews

  • Kelly’s Heroes (1970)

    Kelly’s Heroes (1970)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) In-between MASH, Kelly’s Heroes and Catch-22, 1970 was a banner year for using other conflicts to talk about the Vietnam War. MASH transposed late-sixties war cynicism on the Korean front, while Catch-22 talked disaffection among WW2 bomber crews and Kelly’s Heroes has greedy American infantry soldiers teaming up with a hippie-led crew of tankers to go steal a few million dollars’ worth of Nazi gold. This certainly isn’t your fifties war movie—in between the self-interested soldiers, corrupt officers, friendly fire incidents and a long-haired tank leader memorably played by Donald Sutherland (who was also in MASH), it’s obvious that Kelly’s Heroes had far more on its mind than just a WW2 adventure. It’s clunky (legend has it that the filmmakers didn’t quite get what they were going for, largely because of studio interference) but it still works on a pure entertainment level largely because of the terrific cast. Sutherland aside, there’s Clint Eastwood in the heroic role, supported by Telly Savalas, Don Rickles and Harry Dean Stanton in a small role. The adventure gets going quickly and gets weirder and wilder the deeper in enemy territory it goes. The final resolution has the so-called good guys bribing Nazis to get what they want (with cues echoing Sergio Leone), which is interesting on its own. Kelly’s Heroes is more palatable now that it must have been at the time—we’ve grown used to anti-heroic portrayals of the military, and Vietnam-era attitudes toward war and war movies are now far more familiar. Still, the result is entertaining enough, and while many prefer more straight-ahead drama along the line of Where Eagles Dare, there’s no dismissing that Kelly’s Heroes can still be watched eagerly today.

  • Logan Lucky (2017)

    Logan Lucky (2017)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Only maverick filmmaker Stephen Soderbergh could tackle Logan Lucky, going over such extremely familiar material (a heist movie à la Ocean’s Eleven) that another director might have been accused of copycatting. But, of course, Soderbergh never does things like others, and so Logan Lucky takes the large-scale heist down the social classes to NASCAR-obsessed West Virginia/North Carolina, with blue-collar protagonists motivated by larger economic forces. The exceptional casting (Channing Tatum, Adam Driver, Daniel Craig, etc.) is fantastic, but the real draw here is the way the script is handled with blockbuster entertainment savvy by Soderbergh. The intricate heist plot multiplies one gambit after another, creating a dense tapestry of tricks, plans and improvised manoeuvers in which even dupes unaware of any heist have a role to play—and, hilariously enough, are rewarded for it. Taking ideas for an Ocean’s Fourteen film and recasting in redneck country makes for a refreshing change of pace and unusual heroes, as characters that would be treated as hillbillies in other films here get a chance to prove that they’re criminal masterminds. Then, of course, there’s the idea that the film is handled in pure escapism mode, reaching for comedy as often as it can. (The ridiculous prison riot, complete with Game of Thrones references, is particularly funny.)  Logan Lucky is very successful, and counts as one of the year’s most delightful surprises.

  • Mar Adentro [The Sea Inside] (2004)

    Mar Adentro [The Sea Inside] (2004)

    (In French, On TV, May 2018) I was bracing for the worst in watching The Sea Inside, having seen what seems to be far too many disability-themed films to last me a long time. But the movie itself is far better than expected, anchored by a superb performance from Javier Bardem and a script that confronts issues head-on. Alejandro Amenábar’s direction is also far better than the norm, with a strong supporting cast. The film’s flights of fancy are also noteworthy in keeping audiences on their toes, and the film’s intellectual depth goes significantly beyond the movie-of-the-week nature of the film’s premise. While I’m nowhere near calling Mar Adentro my favourite movie of any year, it’s far more interesting to watch as I anticipated, and there’s much to say about exceeded expectations.

  • The Cocoanuts (1929)

    The Cocoanuts (1929)

    (On DVD, May 2018) Even as I get deeper and deeper in film history, I’m still amazed at older movies’ ability to get big laughs nearly a century later. So it is with the Marx Brothers’ The Cocoanuts, their first surviving film and yet amazing self-assured in the way it features the Brothers at their best. At this stage of their career, of course, the Marxes weren’t amateurs: they had a solid vaudeville career already, and the movies were merely a way to capture many of their stage routines. Where movies went a bit further were in featuring musical numbers, part of the late-1920s definition of what a musical film could be. The plot merely helps arrange the comic routines and the musical numbers—although it does offer a satirical glimpse at the 1920s Florida real estate boom. Despite the uneven picture quality and the not-so-good sound, some sequences are still very funny: the auction scene in particular is still remarkably amusing. While The Cocoanuts is far from the brothers’ best work, it’s still very much aligned with their most successful films and can be seen in continuity without trouble.

  • Suspicion (1941)

    Suspicion (1941)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Great casting can make or break a movie, but I’m still not too sure what it does to Alfred Hitchcock’s Suspicion. Casting Cary Grant as a suave, sophisticated, easily charming man who ends up hiding an inglorious past to his wife seems like a slam-dunk: By that point in his career, Grant had developed a screen persona ideally suited to this kind of role. But the sword cuts both ways, given how audiences weren’t (and still aren’t) so willing to accept Grant as a purely evil character. Hence the ending that explains a few things and allows viewers to walk away satisfied and reassured in Grant’s persona. It’s a relief of an ending, but is it the most appropriate one? I still don’t know. The novel on which the film is based took a far more ambiguous approach to the same material, keeping up the eponymous suspicion through which the heroine (Joan Fontaine; rather good) comes to regard her new husband. Still, Suspicion remains a joy to watch. Hitchcock had achieved an unusual mastery of balance between comedy and suspense at that stage of his career, and the film’s domestic-paranoia theme would dovetail with a number of similar thrillers throughout the 1940s. The lack of a dark ending may stop the film from reaching its ultimate potential, but I’m not sure I’d change it. After all, I do like my Cary Grant suave, debonair and (ultimately) on the side of the angels even if he’s been a little devil along the way.

  • The Awful Truth (1937)

    The Awful Truth (1937)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Considering that The Awful Truth is the movie that created Cary Grant’s comic persona, we should be grateful for its existence and for director Leo McCarey’s instincts in guiding Grant toward his vision of the role. This is a late-thirties screwball comedy that practically exemplifies the sophisticated and urbane “Comedy of remarriage” so characteristic to the years following the introduction of the Hays Code: Here we’ve got Grand and co-star Irene Dunne as an unhappily married couple that decides to divorce, then sabotage each other’s new affairs before realizing that they are each other’s best partners. (Try not to think too much about the liberties allowed to only the very rich people in the 1930s.) It’s decently funny—maybe not as much as other later efforts from Grant, but still amusing, and Dunne has good timing as well. (Plus Skippy the dog!) Divorce has rarely been so much fun. The comedy isn’t just about the lines, but the physical performances of the actors and their interactions—read up on the improvisational making-of imposed by McCarey to learn more about how the picture was shaped by on-set ideas and follow-up. If I didn’t already know how much I love screwball comedy, The Awful Truth would have taught me.

  • The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

    The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Orson Welles does film noir in The Lady from Shanghai, a fairly standard thriller that becomes a great movie through great direction. Welles stars as an everyday man who meets your usual femme fatale, not quite grasping that he’s being framed for murder. Things go from New York City to San Francisco in a flash, and before long our protagonist is unjustly accused, dragged in court and forced to escape to prove his innocence (does that stuff ever works out in real life?)  The plot is familiar, but it’s Welles’ eye for the camera and caustic sense of humour that sets the film apart. There’s a climax of court during the trial sequence, during which the camera can’t seem to stop focusing on tiny inconsequential details rather than the (very familiar) argument being presented to the course, exactly as if the chatter was a foregone conclusion and not worth our attention anyway. The famous ending shootout takes places in a half-of-mirror, something that has been appropriated by at least two other movies already. It all amounts to a very stylish, very competent film noir in the purest tradition of the genre. Legend has it that Welles accepted to do the film because he needed money, and the final result was butchered by studio executives. Still, the film shows a clever craftsman at work: San Francisco looks great, Welles has one of his final “thin Welles” roles, and Rita Hayworth makes for a near-perfect femme fatale. The result, however, is definitely weird and has occasional shifts in tone that can catch viewers unaware—whether deliberately through Welles’ intentions or accidentally through studio interference, The Lady from Shanghai sometimes works best as vignettes rather than a sustained narrative. But it’s still worth seeing.

  • Haxan (1922)

    Haxan (1922)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) The 1920s were very much an experimental time for movies—they progressed to a point where the technology was reliable enough to make movies, but there wasn’t yet an accepted grammar nor storytelling best practices for telling those stories in the most effective way. This explains why the movies of the time can often appear so odd to us: They were still figuring out how to make movies in a very literal sense. In this contest, Haxan makes a bit more sense, because on its own it’s a bizarre, almost baffling film. It begins in documentary mode, as the filmmaker informs us about witchcraft lore through presentation of historical documents unearthed through his research. But then, as the film progresses, more frequent “recreations” illustrate his narrative, portraying the acts of witches and the demonic presence that they cause. Before long, we’re seeing nudity, violence, sexual perversion and all of the hallmarks of a horror film—supposedly for our edification in learning more about these practices, but who’s to say where the line is between information and titillation? (This wouldn’t be the last time salacious material clothed itself under documentary aims—see the history of the erotic film before pornography became mainstream in the early 1970s.)  I have a curious admiration for writer/director Benjamin Christensen for getting away with as much as he did here under such pretences—while Haxan is decidedly tame by today’s standard, it considerably exceeds what would be the Hollywood standard from the thirties to the sixties under the Hays Code. There’s also some clever irony in the film’s conclusion, which brings everything full circle to the 1920s present and asks pointed questions about the then-current treatment of “hysterical” women in psychiatric institutes. What was witchcraft could also be a psychological problem, and that’s the kind of somewhat nuanced take on the topic that you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a film of its era. The overall effect is one of fascination—what if filmmaking had progressed in that direction rather than what we know today? Haxan remains quite fascinating, and holds up as one of the few films of the 1920s to be worth a look today, as much for what it is than what it represents in time.

  • Repulsion (1965)

    Repulsion (1965)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) I’m still not too sure what to make of writer/director Roman Polanski’s Repulsion. I was bored for most of it, not because it’s a dull movie (it does feature a protagonist going murderously crazy) but because it seems like fifteen minutes of plot stuffed in an hour and a half movie. Once the protagonist’s slide into madness begins and the film reflects her inner reality, there aren’t that many places to go, and much of the rest of the film films both repetitive and preordained. To be fair, the film is effective, and perhaps for no better reason than star Catherine Deneuve herself: She looks like a porcelain doll at the beginning of the film, but there are incredible issues boiling behind her perfect façade—as superficial as it sounds, the film would have been a far lesser one with a less beautiful actress or one with a more aggressive kind of beauty. I’m tempted to think that movies have also moved on since 1965—the kind of subjective-perspective show of a schizophrenic breakdown has been remade so often since then that it has lost much of its shock. No matter the reason, I’m cool (but not cold) about Repulsion—it still works fine as a psychological thriller, but it probably could have been better by cleaning up the script and removing thirty minutes from it.

  • Destination Moon (1950)

    Destination Moon (1950)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) Among Science Fiction readers of a certain age, Destination Moon is famous as “The Heinlein movie”—that is, the movie that famed SF author Robert A. Heinlein went to Hollywood to write. Chapters of his biography are dedicated to his Hollywood adventure, and the episode is greatly enhanced by the recognition that for the time and nearly two decades until 2001: A Space Odyssey, Destination Moon remained the purest hard-SF story ever brought to the big screen. (Well, aside from some truly dumb decisions at the end of the first act that seem motivated by ideology rather than any kind of logic.)  Focused on showing how humans could go to the moon and come back, this is a film that eschews aliens, monsters and fantastic situations in order to focus on the nitty-gritty procedural details of space travel. Completed more than a decade before humans went into space and nineteen years before Americans actually landed on the moon, Destination Moon certainly looks dated now, but it remains relatively competent in pure technical details, and its sober treatment of the subject makes it an oddity in the otherwise lurid 1950s SF filmography. A number of legends are found in the credits: Heinlein aside, the film was produced by George Pal and visually informed by noted artist Chesley Bonestell. Much of the film’s heavy exposition is handled through a Woody Woodpecker cartoon, echoing the similar Mr. DNA sequence in Jurassic Park. I’m not particularly charmed by Destination Moon (aside from the film having very little narrative energy, I’m really not happy about the antigovernment pro-business screed at the beginning of the film), but I’m reasonably happy at having seen it at least once. 

  • The Ox-Bow Incident (1943)

    The Ox-Bow Incident (1943)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) For a genre as critically dismissed as the Western, there are a great number of them that questioned the clichés of westerns … and those tend to have endured far more than the basic westerns. The Ox-Bow Incident is one of those, a western that squarely took aim at the crude justice that other westerns seem too quick to condone. Things are set in motion when a rancher disappears while strangers are seen around. Soon enough, a posse is formed to catch those strangers and enact justice. Despite doubts from various characters, the strangers are found and … but that would be spoiling the film. Suffice to say that The Ox-Bow Incident is meant to leave viewers unsettled and more thankful than ever for due process. Visually, the film isn’t special: it’s in your usual early-forties black-and-white, not particularly distinguished. Harry Morgan and Henry Fonda both star, but the real strength of the film is in its daring screenplay. Adapted from a novel, the film was a box-office failure and a modest critical success (it was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar) but it has endured and is still, today, regularly played on cable TV. It certainly belongs alongside films such as The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, The Searchers, The Shootist, Unforgiven and other westerns that weren’t satisfied with the simplistic cowboys-and-Indian stories that westerns often showcased.

  • Police Academy (1984)

    Police Academy (1984)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, May 2018) I will forever embarrass myself by recalling this, but here goes: As a young pre-teenager, I was a moron when it comes to movies. I distinctly recall having a conversation with friends about why (wait for it…) it wasn’t movies like Police Academy that won Oscars. Why not?! From the perspective of a twelve-year-old boy, Police Academy was far better than Terms of Endearment: it has laughs, a simple plot, great characters, plenty of nudity and none of that troublesome meditation on the meaning of life and the relationships we have with others. As I’ve grown older but not necessarily wiser, I approached Police Academy with some reluctance—I knew the movie wouldn’t hold up to teenage memories, but would it at least hold up as a comedy? Fortunately … it mostly does. Not a great comedy, not a classic one (although that theme song is instantly recognizable) but one more or less on the level of similar late seventies/early-eighties offerings. Think Caddyshack, Meatballs, Stripes, Revenge of the Nerds, and Animal House, as comedies in which misfits take on institutions of power and eventually win over the system. Those films are often more politically militant, in a vulgar way, than one would expect: To cheer for the heroes often means cheering for women, gays, blacks, disabled and just plain eccentric people for a more inclusive society. As a result, Police Academy has aged better than I would have thought—what’s more, this first entry in the series benefits from a relatively solid structure and characters that haven’t yet fallen into a self-aware parody. Toronto doubles for an unnamed American city, and Pat Proft (of latter spoof-comedy fame) appears in the writing credits. It is crude (albeit in that relatively sweet early-eighties way that doesn’t seem so crass compared to more recent offering), dumb, and aimed at teenagers. Some of the scenes are markedly worse than others—one of them involves a horse. But Police Academy isn’t quite as bad as I feared, and it doesn’t make me feel all that bad that as an early teen, I liked something clearly aimed at early teens. 

  • Ôdishon [Audition] (1999)

    Ôdishon [Audition] (1999)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2018) I had been warned against Ôdishon so often that by the time I saw it, it had lost much of its impact. Yes, it does feature a middle-aged man holding auditions to find a new girlfriend and then discovering that she’s a serial killer. It does feature a bag with disturbing content and some severe body harm. But if you know that it’s a romantic comedy that slides (and not-so-slowly) into psycho horror, it becomes significantly duller. Director Takashi Miike does have a reputation as a horror filmmaker—seeing his name attached to what initially looks like a cute comedy is enough to ring alarm bells. Then there’s the fact, not often acknowledged, that the protagonist is significantly creepy in how he manipulates young girls to sit for misleading auditions. That does take away a bit of the film’s edge, much as the ending does provide a final victory of sort, cleaning up many threads that could have been left hanging. I’m not going to pretend that this is an easy movie to watch, or that it’s comparatively tame compared to other movies—I’m maybe saying that I’m a jaded viewer, and that Audition’s shocks don’t go much beyond its plot summary. It’s still going to freak out many viewers. 

  • Fahrenheit 451 (2018)

    Fahrenheit 451 (2018)

    (On Cable TV, May 2018) The idea of remaking Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 for the digital age is promising, what with the mutation of digital information, the superficiality of online discourse and the vague contempt that some people (fools!) have developed for paper books. Alas, while the 2018 version of Fahrenheit 451 does manage to score a few points, it falls short of what should have been possible given those ideas. As a vision of a dystopian America in which books (or any non-state-approved information, for that matter) are outlawed, it’s familiar despite a few social media flourishes. Canada once again stands proudly as the nearest haven, something that even most Canadians would have a bit of trouble believing given the troubles that American regularly exports across the border (guns, right-wing nuttiness, bad movies…) even when it has a sane government. This Fahrenheit 451 remake, at least, has managed to snag great actors: Michael B. Jordan is usually dependable no matter the material he’s given, and that goes triple for Michael Shannon as a complex authority figure. I always enjoy seeing Sofia Boutella, and that’s also true for Khandi Alexander even in too-brief roles. The plot is your standard dystopian “hero meets a cute rebel, discovers hidden truths, blows up government” kind of thing, which would be fine if it sustained energetic details and set pieces but that’s not the case here. In fact, some of the scenes are more ridiculous than anything else: as much as I wanted to like the sequence in which the protagonist discovers a library and a militant reader, I couldn’t help but have a quick (guilty) laugh when she revealed a suicide-bomber vest of books. The third act piles up modern nonsense over dull plotting, making science-literate viewers check out well before the ending. Production values are fine (especially for a made-for-TV movie) but Fahrenheit 451’s script simply doesn’t go as far as it could, seems afraid to poke at genuinely dangerous trends and simply fails to ignite like any good rabble-rousing anti-dystopian work should.

  • Animal Crackers (1930)

    Animal Crackers (1930)

    (On DVD, May 2018) The Marx Brothers’ brand(s) of humour has aged exceptionally well, and even their earliest movies such as Animal Crackers prove it. The forgettable plot (about the theft of a painting at a party given in honour of a returning explorer) is just strong enough to feature the various set pieces that everyone remembers. The “Hello, I Must Be Going” reference comes from here, and there are other moments worth savouring: “One morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I don’t know” is hilarious no matter the time or the audience. The film also features Zeppo cracking a joke at Groucho’s expense, and Groucho is always funny, no exceptions. The look back at 1920s society can be amusing as well. Animal Crackers is not the best of the early Marx pictures, but it already showcases them in the mode they’d keep up for the rest of the decade. I’m not sure it’s possible to be a Marx Brothers fan and only see one of their movies.