Reviews

  • The Karate Kid Part II (1986)

    The Karate Kid Part II (1986)

    (On TV, March 2017) The first ten minutes of The Karate Kid—Part II do something very obnoxious and then very interesting. It starts with a TV-show-style recap of the previous episode (ugh), but then follows-up by delivering the epilogue that the first movie so clearly lacked. Then, in the next ten minutes, it draws up a fantasy of a quiet summer spent chilling and training … only for adventure to beckon. From that moment, it’s off to exotic Okinama (actually Hawaii, but the change of scenery is significant) for an adventure in foreign lands, flipping the agency of the story from the younger protagonist to the older one. As a “here’s what I did during my summer vacations” story, it’s pretty good despite odd missteps along the way: the ending is ridiculously overdone, with elements that wouldn’t pass muster even in a less demanding kid’s movie. (I was particularly disappointed by the whole “let’s lift a beam” shtick, and even less convinced by the subsequent “I will run away and threaten a girl” follow-up. Still, the charm than made The Karate Kid is mostly intact, and this sequel at least has the advantage of not redoing the first film’s plot verbatim. Much of the strengths of the film can be traced back to likable performances by Ralph Macchio and Noriyuki “Pat” Morita, even though the latter’s character does lose a considerable amount of mystery as his history is detailed. Still, as a sequel, it’s decent enough—not quite as iconic at the first movie, but worthy of being watched by fans of the first film.

  • Wimbledon (2004)

    Wimbledon (2004)

    (On Cable TV, March 2017) The secret of romantic comedies isn’t that hard to piece together. Give us likable protagonists and a competent execution, and who cares if you’re telling the oldest story in the world? Of course, it’s nice if you can set the plot in an interesting environment, add witty dialogues, showcase some directing style and depend on good actors. Fortunately, Wimbledon manages to get all of these right. From casting Paul Bettany as an aging tennis player, to Kirsten Dunst as a top contender, to setting the story over a Wimbledon tournament, to funny dialogue (including worthwhile voiceovers) and directing flourishes, Wimbledon cleverly combines underdog sports comedy with romance and the result is surprisingly good … even for those who know next to nothing about tennis. The film quickly zips by, carried by the charm of its leads and Richard Loncraine’s sure-footed direction. There are issues with the film (it’s clearly told from the male lead’s point of view, often marginalizing the agency of the female character) and a few longer moments, but generally speaking Wimbledon is a big bowl of unassuming romantic comedy, unsurprising but satisfying nonetheless. I like it quite a bit better than I expected from the plot summary and found myself more engrossed in the characters than I thought. Not bad. For more ridiculous fun, follow this film with 7 Days in Hell as an absurdist Wimbledon chaser.

  • Beauty and the Beast (2017)

    Beauty and the Beast (2017)

    (In French, In theatres, March 2017) Disney’s been on a roll in adapting its own animated classics to live-action lately, but the surprise is how consistently solid the result have been. They clearly understand their own material, and if the result tends to be unsurprising by design, there’s something to be said about delivering exactly what viewers are expecting. So it is with Beauty and the Beast, a film not designed for today’s kids as much as it’s aimed to everyone who has flipped over the original film at any time in the past twenty-five years. Emma Watson stars but does not impress as Belle—she plays the character like about a dozen other actresses her age would, and that’s good enough without being particularly impressive. The point of the film isn’t the human actors, though—not only is there a lot of CGI here, but the nearly-overwhelming set design takes center-stage early on and doesn’t let go. The tunes are the ones you remember (curiously enough, I like “Gaston” and “Be Our Guest” a lot, but it’s “Belle” that I hum most often.), and the “Be Our Guest” number is spectacular enough to be compared to then-ground-breaking original. I still don’t particularly like the story, even though much care has been spent explaining and justifying its least convincing elements. Having seen the French version, I can’t speak about the voice acting of the furniture (now here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write when I woke up today) but their characters are surprisingly sympathetic—this remake wrings all possible pathos out of their plight until the final moment. For Disney, this is a success: the kids will love it (although it’s a bit too dark for younger children), the parents will be reminded of the original and there’s enough to see to make things interesting to everyone else. Of all of Disney’s various live-action remakes so far, I think that this is the one that has the best shot at displacing (but not eclipsing) the original—it’s not that different in tone, and manages to update the weaknesses of the original without neglecting to play up its iconic elements. Time will tell—and I say this as someone who dislikes the idea of remakes supplanting the originals.

  • Pulp Fiction (1994)

    Pulp Fiction (1994)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, March 2017) The trouble with re-watching classics is the tension of judging whether it’s still a classic. I first saw Pulp Fiction, like every twentysomething at the time, in the mid-nineties on VHS—a good friend had brought it home and took delight in seeing me react to specific moments in the movie, whether it was the infamous watch speech or the “Garçon!” time-fixing moment. I filed away Pulp Fiction as a great movie and didn’t think about it. Now that I’m consciously re-watching big hits of the nineties, though, the question was: Did Pulp Fiction hold up, once past more than twenty years of imitators, Tarantino’s evolution and popularization of what (non-linear storytelling, witty dialogues, etc.) made it so special back then? What I clearly had forgotten about the movie was how long it was—at more than two hours and a half, the film is a daunting prospect, and the non-linear structure means that there’s almost an entire unexpected act added to a normal running time. Pulp Fiction, admittedly, doesn’t have the impact of surprise: Tarantino’s shtick is a known quantity by now, and seeing his characters go off on lengthy tangents isn’t surprising, nor seeing full sequences play in nearly real-time. The fractured chronology is still effective—I guarantee that even twenty years later, you will remember a lot of the film’s individual highlights … but not necessarily in which order they’re placed. I had near-verbatim recall of much of the John Travolta storyline, quite a bit of Bruce Willis’s segment (how could I forget the taxi driver, though?) but not much of Samuel L Jackson’s act. Fortunately, the dialogue still works, the dark comedy still feels solid, the cinematic flourishes (from “square” to the dance sequence to Harvey Keitel) still work very well and the movie still impresses by the mastery of its execution. It’s daring, sure, but it’s more importantly put together nearly flawlessly. Pulp Fiction has been endlessly imitated over the years, but it remains a solid best-of-class representation of its own subgenre. It’s well worth a revisit, especially if it’s been a while and yet you’re sure you remember most of it.

  • An American Werewolf in London (1981)

    An American Werewolf in London (1981)

    (On TV, March 2017) It’s a good thing that director John Landis knows how to have fun, because otherwise there really isn’t much to An American Werewolf in London in terms of plotting. Young man gets bitten; young man contemplates the horrors of turning into a werewolf; young man dies. There’s the plot right there, but don’t get angry at the spoilers because this is not a movie about plot. Thanks to jolting dream sequences, sympathetic characters, a good dose of off-beat humour and the kind of why-the-hell-not filmmaking that disappeared after the eighties, An American Werewolf in London is an experience more than a story. The pacing picks up considerably after the first half-hour, if only because the main character gets hallucinations and dream sequences that allow for Nazi werewolves and sustained conversations with a dead decomposing friend (Griffin Dunne, far more interesting than the rather dull protagonist). Jenny Agutter is cute as a British nurse with a thing for lost American tourists, but the true nature of her role is looking sad in the film’s last moments. Otherwise, An American Werewolf in London is about the kind of genre horror practised so joyously in the early eighties. The humour of the film is undercut by the downbeat (but inevitable) ending. The pre-CGI transformation effects remain mildly impressive even today, while the soundtrack has a not-so-sly succession of “Moon”-titled songs. The abrupt ending does feel unsatisfying, but so does the end of a roller-coaster—it’s not the point of the experience.

  • Basic Instinct (1992)

    Basic Instinct (1992)

    (Second viewing, On TV, March 2017) I definitely remember seeing Basic Instinct a long time ago (in French, given that I remember the crude final lines as the ridiculous “… comme des castors”) but I’d forgotten enough of it to be mesmerized by a second viewing. Even today, it remains a pedal-to-the-metal borderline-insane thriller, rich in violence and a degree of eroticism seldom matched since then. I ended up watching the unrated version (on a basic-cable movie TV channel … go figure) and it features three of the most graphic sex scenes I can recall from a Hollywood film—the Jeanne Tripplehorn scene alone is worth the watch. Not that the rest of the movie is dull—under the combined daring of screenwriter Joe Eszterhas and director Paul Verhoeven, the film cranks up nearly every single exploitative dial to eleven. It throws in a car chase on twisty backroads because, well, why not? It throws another car chase through downtown San Francisco because, again, why not? When bisexuality and murder are the most ordinary elements of the story, that’s not even getting into the twisted psychos-sexual games played between the two characters. Michael Douglas is in peak form as a risk-addicted policeman, and while Sharon Stone is still remembered for the ice-cold danger she projects, I had forgotten how her character is balanced by some cute impishness. The interrogation sequence has been parodied endlessly, but remains no less effective today in seeing a lone woman defy half a dozen alpha males by sheer (or not-so-sheer) chutzpah. Basic Instinct is pure wilful exploitation, and that’s why it’s so remarkable. The murder mystery is almost besides the point—something that the double-ending practically dies laughing about. I still think it’s far too bloody … but that’s part of the film’s twisted fun. Morally reprehensible yet slickly executed, Basic Instinct almost looks even better twenty-five years later.

  • The Squid and the Whale (2005)

    The Squid and the Whale (2005)

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2017) My allergy to muddy family dramas remain just as pronounced, as a viewing of The Squid and the Whale confirms. Writer/director Noah Baumbach takes a small budget, some quirky ideas, well-known actors and a heartbreaking subject as the basic elements of an eighties-set drama in which two boys react badly to their parents’ ongoing divorce. It’s more of a darkly amusing drama than a somber comedy: While the humour is there, much of the film is intensely depressing. At least there are great performances along the way. Jesse Eisenberg turns in a nuanced performance, while Jeff Daniels is fantastic as a deeply flawed, yet oddly captivating father. Laura Linney doesn’t get as good of a role as the mother (given that the film is largely written from the elder son’s unsympathetic perspective, she doesn’t get the best role in the ongoing mess) while Anna Paquin merely … shows up as a student with a deeply inappropriate relationship. Much of the film is mumbled through domestic scenes of heartbreak and aimless fury, set in intellectual-class New York intelligentsia. It’s not fun, but it ends up being more absorbing than you’d expect considering the flawed characters, super-16mm cinematography and life-goes-on ending. The Squid and the Whale was less painful than expected, which actually stands as outstanding praise in this case.

  • Fanarchy! (2015)

    Fanarchy! (2015)

    (On Cable TV, March 2017) As geek culture becomes mainstream culture, it’s inevitable that hitherto ultra-specialized areas of geek obsession would be explored and presented in documentaries accessible to general audiences. So it is that Fanarchy! delves into the trend of fans making movies to parody/replicate/extend their favourite media properties. Fan-fiction isn’t anything new, of course (by nature of its topic, Fanarchy! barely mentions how written fanfic, slash or otherwise, has a history now dating back nearly fifty years) but being able to show clips of the results can make for an entertaining film, breaking up the talking heads with examples of the form, with animated interludes as bridges between sections. Interviewees include Star Trek actress Denise Crosby (given her role in producing predecessor documentary Trekkies), has-been internet talkback pioneer Harry Knowles, pro critic Leonard Maltin, and fan filmmakers such as Maya Glick, Vic Mignogna and Chris Strompolos. Fanarchy! is interesting, but by remaining so enthusiastic about its subject, it can’t help but remain prisoner of its own fannish bubble and lack a critical perspective about it. While the film cogently explains how and why fans can’t help but play with their favourite characters and stories, bemoaning the lock-down of such stories by large companies, that viewpoint seems limited at best. I’m predictably old-school when I opine that the real creative revolution remains creating original characters and stories rather than using someone else’s labels. Ah well. People who are allergic to fandom (something that describes me about half the time) will also have a hard time with the Comicon-friendly fannish triumphalism that permeates the film. But Halifax-based writer/director Donna Davies clearly knows to whom she’s selling this film, and they’re probably not interested in questioning its premise. Once you’re willing to play along, Fanarchy! is interesting enough—perhaps repetitive in its second half, but handled with some energy from beginning to end. Even at a time when most of the movies mentioned are available on YouTube, there’s a non-negligible pleasure in hearing someone guide us through the vast landscape of fan-films and show us (without buffering!) some of the most interesting examples of the genre. Fanarchy!, interestingly enough, is a co-production between some of Canada’s biggest movie cable channels—while the film is widely available in Canada, it may be harder to track down anywhere else. (As a Canadian, one of the nice things about government contributions to the arts is seeing tax dollars and subsidies being directed to sympathetic purposes.) One warning, though: The closed captioning on the film is terrible, with homophones often substituting for the real words.

  • Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

    Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

    (On Cable TV, March 2017) Back when Meg Ryan reigned supreme as America’s Sweetheart, the idea of pairing her with American Everyman Tom Hanks seemed like a natural fit, and why not? Seeing Sleepless in Seattle, the result speaks for itself. Unusually structured (the two main characters barely meet for much of the movie) but successful thanks to some wit along the way, the film doesn’t revolutionize anything as much as it shows two actors at the top of their game. A lot of it feels like filler, as befits a narrative that holds back reunion for a climax—there’s some back-and-forth about Ryan’s character “settling” for a comfortable life that feels particularly dragged-out. Still, Sleepless in Seattle remains a bit unusual even twenty-five years later. Some of the father/son dialogue is clever, and the way the film moves forward is almost enough to sidestep how contrived it is. Relying on tired clichés about true love, love at first sight and soulmates destined to meet, it’s not a particularly inspiring movie, but the charm of the two lead actors somewhat compensate for a manufactured hollow core. It’s squarely within the confine of the romantic comedy subgenre, but Sleepless in Seattle does play well with familiar elements, and casts them in sufficiently unusual situations that it almost feels fresh again.

  • The Princess Bride (1987)

    The Princess Bride (1987)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, March 2017) Surprisingly enough, I wasn’t looking forward to revisiting The Princess Bride: I had such good memories of the film that I feared seeing it again would damage the magic. Fortunately, I shouldn’t have worried: The good parts of The Princess Bride are still as good today, and I had managed to forget much of the less-quoted second half of the film. Penned by William Goldman (from his own equally hilarious novel), the script manages to be self-aware, witty, clever and warm at once—the pedestrian direction is low on flashy moments, but clearly doesn’t get in the way of the script. It helps that the actors are almost all perfect for their role: André the Giant may not be a gifted thespian, but he’s just right for his character, and the same goes for most of the cast. Cary Elwes is a B-grade actor at best, but he’s fantastic here as the hero. Robin Wright Penn has the advantage of perfectly incarnating how a princess should look and behave, while Wallace Shawn remains forever linked to his distinctive role as Vizzini. If anything, The Princess Bride is even funnier now that the codes and tropes of fantasy and fairy tales have been widely internalized, and as Hollywood is still churning out remakes of known fairy-tales into unremarkable fantasy epics. It’s a light and funny film, but it’s certainly not simple-minded or content with superficiality. It’s still great even now. See it again with a member of a younger generation to pass the fun along.

  • Me Before You (2016)

    Me Before You (2016)

    (On Cable TV, March 2017) Much has been said about the rom-com and its demise, but there’s still a vein of opportunity in talking about the 2010–2016 wave of romantic dramas adapted from novels. How they feature damaged protagonists, look like comedies while behaving like dramas, take place over lengthy spans of time, and often kill their love interest. One Day, Love, Rosie, Stuck in Love, Dear John … although if we bring in Nicholas Sparks, we’ll be here all day. Me Before You fits squarely in this sub-genre, as a young free-spirited woman comes to care for a disabled suicidal quasi-aristocrat. Unconventional romance soon blooms, but we know it’s not going to have a conventionally happy ending. No surprises, but what about the execution? Here, unfortunately, Me Before You only manages an average score. While there are a few odd pearls in the result, much of it is played very obviously with few delights along the way. This is probably the best performance I’ve seen from Emilia Clarke, but it’s still not much more than okay—although there is a good rapport between her and male lead Sam Claflin. Pretty much everything else about the film is solid mediocrity, good enough to keep the worst criticism at bay, but nowhere near enough to make this interesting. The finale aims for a big bath of tears and settles for “yeah, we’ve seen this coming for the past hour or so.” There’s been quite a few better movies even in the recent rom-dram subgenre. There’s no need to go out of your way to see Me Before You.

  • Unforgiven (1992)

    Unforgiven (1992)

    (On DVD, March 2017) You would think that after twenty-five years, so-called “revisionism” would be absorbed, normalized, taken as granted and disappear into the background of a changed genre. But as Unforgiven continues to prove even today, revisionism can be an evergreen state of mind. Even now, the film’s treatment of violence in its western setting still rings as faintly blasphemous. As hurt women put a bounty on the head of an aggressor, as greedy killers converge on a town where the sheriff won’t tolerate guns carried by strangers, as a stained hero picks up his weapons in order to keep the family farm afloat, Unforgiven still has something special to offer. It plays with the codes of heroism (few characters are either all-good or all-bad), undermines who should be sympathetic and seems almost aghast when excessive violence does resolve problems. What makes it even more interesting is seeing Clint Eastwood take on the project both as a director and as a star—there’s a finality to his performance that stands as his closing statement on the genre. (This being said, this wouldn’t be the last time Eastwood would puncture his own myth—Grand Torino also has a few things to say about the toxicity of violence as he himself portrayed in a string of earlier movies.) Eastwood is terrific as a retired gunman reluctantly picking up his guns (and being thrown off his horse a few times for his troubles), while Morgan Freeman shows up in a rougher role than usual. Gene Hackman makes for a credible antagonist, unlikable although not purely evil in his goals of pacifying the Wild West by all means necessary. The result is absorbing even for viewers without natural or national affinities for the Western as a genre—Unforgiven manages to escape the western to become a great film of its own.

  • Doctor Strange (2016)

    Doctor Strange (2016)

    (Video on-Demand, March 2017) Given Marvel Studio’s accumulating success with the Marvel Cinematic Universe, they now find themselves both freed to try new things, and doomed to refresh their formula before it become stale. Doctor Strange certainly shows how they tread the line, as it introduces yet another character, but in a realm far … stranger than the consensually rational universe of most of the non-Thor series so far. The paradox with Doctor Strange is that it’s narratively interesting at its basic character-driven level (which is to say: a gifted surgeon trying to regain his abilities after a terrible accident) and visually fascinating when it throws the rules of reality outside the window in time from some spectacular action sequences, but there’s a big mushy intermediate step in-between that’s almost unbearably dull. But such is the trouble with otherworldly fantasy: In between the characters and the cool sequences, there’s often a stultifying accumulation of bad-guy names, dull plots to enslave the Earth and other assorted generic material from the genre fantasy playbook. Doctor Strange succumbs to that issue, but can still fortunately rely on enough special effects to remain afloat. Benedict Cumberbatch may not be playing a role very much outside his established persona (it’s why he was cast, after all), but he’s compelling enough—and so is Tilda Swinton as an ethereal sorceress. Then there’s the work from Industrial Light and Magic, conjuring an Escheresque nightmare of an urban landscape folding upon itself during an action sequence. Doctor Strange is worth seeing for either (or both) of those reasons, but don’t be surprised to wish for the film to move faster during the rest of it—we know the origin stories by now, and the galactic-threat ones … it’s time for something else.

  • Ballerina (2016)

    Ballerina (2016)

    (In French, In theatres, March 2017) I don’t expect that many people will ever see the Franco-Canadian animated film Ballerina, and that’s too bad: While it’s a bit clunky, predictable and suffers from the limits of its budget and/or skillset, it’s a charming look at the world of ballet for kids, a rousing adventure and an inspiring you-can-do-it motivator. Featuring a young orphan girl dreaming of escaping her provincial orphanage to dance in Paris, Ballerina manages to make us believe in how a gifted but untrained girl could develop as a ballerina in a few days. (Meanwhile, her male friend is up to some engineering shenanigans in the shadow of Gustave Eiffel’s work.) The best moments in Ballerina come as we’re given an entertaining glimpse into the world of ballet, as our heroine is tutored by a grumpy ex-dancer. Despite the film’s occasionally stiff character animation (especially in the early sequences), those sequences flow well and show some cinematic joy. The ending sequence is also cleverly balanced between action and dance, making us temporarily forget about the kids-grade plot cheats required to get there. The jukebox selection of modern pop songs is occasionally baffling, but then again the movie does play to its audience. Nonetheless, Ballerina is a likable film, and one that should have a much better fate as an on-demand offering than in theatres. At the very least, it’s a must-see in the vicinity of little girls with an interest in ballet.

  • The Karate Kid (1984)

    The Karate Kid (1984)

    (Second viewing, On TV, March 2017) I remember seeing The Karate Kid as a kid, being entertained for most of it but mystified at some sequences such as the spaghetti-spill. Seeing the film in middle age makes for a different experience—the theme of surrogate fatherhood seems more obvious now, and the spaghetti spilling now makes perfect sense in a “when everything goes wrong…” sense. Surprisingly enough, my middle-age jadedness also leads to a better appreciation of the formula at the heart of the script. There is little that’s new or revolutionary about The Karate Kid (although the interracial component of the main relationship still remains almost unusual today), but it is exceptionally well-executed, with numerous telling details that help ground the film in reality … and still make for cultural references even thirty years later. Noriyuki “Pat” Morita is terrific as the older man taking our teenage protagonist under his care (the script even allowing him a few moments of ornery frustration), while Ralph Macchio is unpolished but likable in the lead role. The Karate Kid isn’t a perfect film—it ends far too soon without the luxury of a coda in which to enjoy its triumph, occasionally zigs and zags without control and often veers into overplayed on-the-nose moments. But it’s well-balanced, and strong enough in its assets to overcome its imperfections. No wonder it’s still relatively popular even today.