Reviews

  • Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, March 2022) I have surprisingly few specific memories of The Hitman’s Bodyguard, certainly not enough to be all that enthusiastic about sequel Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard. Both films are cast-centric, in that they use Ryan Reynolds (The Bodyguard), Samuel L. Jackson (The Hitman) and Salma Hayek (The Wife) for their personas rather than for creating a character. It’s fun because we like these actors (or presumably do) and yet insubstantial because it doesn’t do much more. This sequel certainly relies on hazy memories, as a good chunk of the first film’s conclusion is ignored or rolled-back in an attempt to fuel more good-natured conflict between the characters. We’re back to the same characters without their late-film growth, and that’s how it rolls. Less fortunately, the film can’t quite be bothered to stick to a consistent comic tone. Far too violent for what should be a PG-13 rating but is needlessly pushed to R, it has trouble deciding which register of comic reality it wants to inhabit, with a few pokes in absurdist territory (“Send me a sign!”) that are then walked back in less-entertaining fashion. The result still works, but largely on sheer inertia: Ryan in funny, Jackson is tough, Hayek is crazy and that’s what they were hired for. The by-the-numbers execution is oddly fond of the incongruous-song-during-action-scene trope (something flashy twenty years ago, but is gradually less and less fresh as it goes on), but otherwise relies on stock twists, familiar plot beats and expected moments. It’s certainly watchable, but by the time Hitman’s Wife’s Daughter’s Bodyguard is going to roll around, don’t be surprised if you can only hazily remember its predecessors.

  • Temptation: Confessions of a Marriage Counselor (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) It’s been nearly a year since I’ve set out on my Tyler Perry viewing project, and as I start working my way through the last third of his filmography, I’ve become an unlikely fan of his. Not because his films are perfect, but perhaps because they are not. It’s oddly endearing to see him go after his topics with blunt-edged force, cast a long list of attractive actresses, strip down cynical relativism in favour of good old-fashioned moralism and rely on tried-and-true storytelling formulas. Temptation: Confessions of a Marriage Counselor is incredibly flawed, yet oddly entertaining if you’re attuned to Perry’s methods. It’s not a comedy in the Madea universe (he doesn’t even play a role in the film)—instead, it’s part of Tyler’s dramatic line-up, which means a much greater chance to see Tyler stretch himself beyond his comfort zone. That does not happen here: at its heart, Temptation is an old-school morality play about a woman being tempted into straying from her faithful but a bit boring husband (and childhood sweetheart) in favour of a rich, exciting and (eventually, inevitably) morally bankrupt seducer. It’s familiar stuff, executed with the subtlety of an after-school special. (It’s the kind of film in which the moral decrepitude of the protagonist is signposted with her acting drunk throughout the worst of her downfall.)  Don’t start asking too many questions about the plot, because it falls apart—the contrived situations, the preposterous coincidences that come together in the last act, the sheer stupidity of a marriage counsellor gleefully embarking on an affair… it’s crude and still kind of effective in its own way, even when it goes the extra ludicrous mile to punish its adulteress with HIV. But part of the fun is letting go in the face of such emotional manipulation. It does help that, once again, the cast is either attractive or interesting—Jurnee Smollett-Bell looks great even throughout her tragic arc, Brandy Norwood is wonderful, Vanessa Williams plays with an overdone accent and Kim Kardashian… well, I think she could have made it work as a bitchy colleague whose sole plot function is hosting a makeover, but Perry wasn’t going to alter his dialogue to give her something closer to her acting register. As a result, she looks good but feels flat—another flaw that somehow ends up making Temptation livelier. I’ve gone beyond most critical guideposts in my appreciation of Tyler’s movies, but so it goes: I wouldn’t have stuck to my determination to see everything in his filmography if I wasn’t somehow enjoying myself.

  • Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) There’s an almost-cinematic premise at the heart of documentary Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm:  The idea that rock musicians benefit from being lodged away from the city, in rural Welsh surroundings, to have the freedom to record their next songs. The documentary does a rather good job at describing the reality of such an idea, recounting how two technology-savvy farmers gradually converted their rural farm into a legendary destination for a few generations of British rockers. Now, I don’t know enough about British music to be entirely aware of the significance of what’s being retold here, but the film does regularly mention a few illustrious signposts. In addition to a mostly chronological approach to Rockfield’s sixty-year history, the film hits its high points as it mentions how “Bohemian Rhapsody” was recorded at the farm (something re-created in the eponymous biopic), how Oasis’s “Wonderwall” was put together in the studio, or how Coldplay’s Chris Martin was inspired by the setting to write the opening lines of “Yellow.”  Interviews with the family behind Rockfield (and its sister studio), as well as a long list of musicians, form the bulk of the documentary—and the award for the film’s MVP probably goes to Oasis’ Liam Gallagher, preposterously charismatic even despite a carefully studied I-don’t-care attitude. I’m sure that Brit-rock fans will get a lot more out of Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm than less-knowledgeable viewers, but the documentary remains a very distinctive look at how the music recording process can take place in unusual surroundings and circumstances.

  • Beans (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) I definitely had an interesting time watching Beans. As someone with fairly vivid memories of 1990’s Oka Crisis (which took place not even 200 kilometres away) and a typically French-Canadian upbringing at the time, my sympathies were not with the First Nation protesters at the time. But here is a film deliberately designed to present a highly subjective take on that story. It picks its battles carefully: the emphasis here is on a teenager coming on her own, flanked by a younger sister and a determined mother. The protesters themselves are merely supporting characters, far less present than the French Canadians that act as a chorus of oppression throughout the entire film. (It’s hard to avoid noticing that, until the film’s last minutes, nearly every single French-Canadian line of dialogue in the film is an insult or a dismissal aimed at First Nation characters.)  It’s obviously meant as a very loose adaptation of real events, without any real attempts at factual accuracy despite copious use of contemporary footage—but it’s quite effective as a way to look at those events critically, with today’s more even-sided perspective. I don’t think it’s completely successful either at that or as a coming-of-age story set against those events: there are missed opportunities, underwhelming subplots that distract from strong material, and a structure that could have been more effective. But it has its high points and a pair of very compelling performances from Kiawentiio and Rainbow Dickerson. It’s interesting to note that, for all of the harsh criticism of French Canadians in the film, the large majority of Beans’s Montréal-based crew sports French-Canadian names. As the Canadian national conversation talks a lot about Reconciliation, there’s probably a lesson to be gathered from that.

  • The King’s Man (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Disney Streaming, March 2022) There’s a very strange creative decision at the heart of The King’s Man that mystifies me to no end—when you’re making a spinoff to a series known for its action/comedy bent, why change course to something much more serious? For that matter, why even attempt the course correction when it’s so inconsistently applied? Spinning off the Kingsmen series’ blend of gory action and vulgar comedy, writer-director Matthew Vaughn takes this historical prequel to the First World War to explain how the Kingsmen came to be and what shadowy role its founders played in the secret history of the conflict. It’s not necessarily a bad idea… but the opening half-hour is surprisingly, almost unbearably dull: consumed with a misguided intention to be serious (even tragic) and historically half-accurate about the factors leading to World War I. It dissipates much of the potential energy of the film, and it’s telling that, about halfway through, The King’s Man shakes itself off from its torpor for the first in a series of increasingly outlandish action sequences (or good sequences, such as fast-forward through the creation of No Man’s Land) that come too late to save the film from itself. It also does get stupider along the way, which is not necessarily a good thing either. A strong cast (Ralph Fiennes, Gemma Arterton, Djimon Hounsou, Charles Dance, etc.) all feel wasted. The only way in which The King’s Man makes more sense is in a larger British myth-making movement, in which elements of Britannica are examined in a contemporary fashion, and rebuilt as essential elements of British identity—King Arthur, the Monarchy, Benchley Park, James Bond and now World War I. (Which, to be frank, wasn’t such an inspiring moment for the British military.) That’s the best I’ve got—The King’s Man is unexplainably dull at what it first tries to do, then seems to realize the error of its ways but does too little to avoid ending as more than a middling follow-up.

  • Nightmare Alley (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Disney Streaming, March 2022) I framed my experience of this Nightmare Alley in a very specific way by choosing to watch it right after another viewing of the 1947 version. As a result, I may be evaluating the film more on its distinctions from the previous version than on its own merit… but that’s as valid an approach as any other. The first impression of this newest adaptation (not necessarily a remake, as it clearly goes back to the original novel far more than it tries to ape the Classic Hollywood adaptation) is that writer-director Guillermo del Toro has given it the lavish treatment. Visually, it’s polished in ways that would have been unimaginable in earlier decades. In presenting this tale of a circus huckster turning his sight on upper society, the film revels in the carnival atmosphere—at least half of this version’s 30 additional minutes are spent hanging around this low-rent stationary carnival, rubbing shoulders with the mentalists, strongmen, freaks and geeks (in a most literal and R-rated bloody sense) that del Toro finds most likable in this film’s uncharacteristic absence of the supernatural. Bradley Cooper makes a great protagonist, his ability to portray likable bastards being an ideal fit for the role. While Mara Rooney is a bit bland, Toni Colette is very interesting as a carnival mentalist and Cate Blanchett is up to her usual standards as a devious psychologist going head-to-head with a clever conman. The visual polish of the film is immensely satisfying (even compared to the better-than-average visual presentation of the original)—alas, we can’t quite say the same of the film’s pacing: The additional half-hour weighs heavily in the third act, as even del Toro’s greatest admirers may start feeling as if it will never end. As for the coda—it has the advantage of being much snappier than the first film, and reverts to the very bleak ending of the original novel. This Nightmare Alley is quite a slick production—cleverly recreating the 1940s at their art-deco highs and carny lows. It doesn’t replace the first film, but it does update the presentation material in a compelling fashion.

  • Rendezvous (1935)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) What’s perhaps most interesting about Rendezvous is the date at which it was produced. Consider the idea of a thriller featuring a genius-level cryptanalyst fighting on the home front against the warring Germans. It sounds like a post-WW2 movie all the way to 2014’s The Imitation Game, but rather than having Benedict Cumberbatch fighting the Nazis, here we have William Powell (a more-than-decent equivalent to Cumberbatch) fighting in Washington, DC against the Great War Huns, both abroad and working undetected in the capital. Powell is here used in the vein that would ensure his success throughout the late 1930s and 1940s—as a suave, witty, smart protagonist, this time paired up with none other than Rosalind Russell as his romantic interest. It’s quite a pair, and while the film—unfortunately—feels like not much more than the subsequent WW2 propaganda films, it’s not a bad watch. (Indeed, the film was remade in 1942 as the far less remarkable Pacific Rendezvous—somewhat surprisingly considering the top-secret nature of the cryptanalysis work performed by the allies, the bulk of which only became public information more than a generation after the war.)  The film’s production history can explain why some of the material feels disconnected—apparently, much of the ending was reshot after underwhelmed reaction from preview audiences. Now, if you’ll excuse me, as I’ve seen Powell play a Cumberbatch role, I’ll amuse myself by imagining a remake of The Thin Man featuring Cumberbatch.

  • Le convoyeur [Cash Truck] (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) In an ideal world, I would have the time, access and luxury to be able to compare American remakes with their foreign-language originals whenever I feel like it. In practice, though, this is rarely possible: I’ve got other movies to see, the original is often obscure enough to be unavailable, and going through the trouble of procuring it can be more trouble than it’s worth. Sometimes, though, stars align according to the weirdest circumstances. So it is that I was pleasantly surprised to see Le convoyeur show up on the Canadian offshoot of the French cable-TV channel Studioplus, mere weeks after seeing its American remake Wrath of Man. As few will be surprised to learn, this French-language original is leaner, meaner, and not quite as satisfying as the slick Hollywood remake, even if that remake had issues of its own. Much of the story remains the same, however, as a man is hired by an armoured-car company and seems adequate for the job… until we follow him off-hours and discover that he’s clearly planning something by scrutinizing his co-workers and making elaborate notes on the company while it’s being sold off to new owners. What’s going on? Well, more or less the same as the remake: he’s waiting to see if robbers will strike again, as he has revenge on his mind. While Wrath of Man could occasionally pass as violent entertainment, Le convoyeur sometimes forgets about the entertainment: there are a number of brutal scenes, more troubling events along the way, and the ending is merciless. I wouldn’t necessarily claim that the original is better: there are a few loose ends not satisfactorily tied up, some disappointing moments and many missed opportunities made more obvious by the remake. One thing I did like, however, is Albert Dupontel’s lead performance—he plays a true ordinary man (unlike what happens in the preposterous remake) and sells a role that requires an impressively steely attitude. The rest of the film I can take or leave—Jean Dujardin is not bad in a dramatic role, but the ending is saddled with the choices made by the film so far. You can rightfully see Le convoyeur as a foundation on which Wrath of Man was built, sexed-up and made even more high-concept. Which is not that bad whenever comparing a Hollywood remake with their foreign-language original.

  • Interrupted Melody (1955)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) One of the problems in seeing as many movies as I do is that when it becomes obvious that the film plays along familiar lines… well, I can be tempted to tune out. This is particularly pronounced in genres I don’t particularly care for, or in historical context not known for their surprises. When it became obvious that Interrupted Melody, in presenting the life of polio-stricken opera singer Marjorie Lawrence, was going to go through the musical biopic template and the disabled protagonist narrative (according to old-school Classic Hollywood style), well, I had to rewind a few times in order to keep up with my wandering attention. Alas, this attention to reviewing ethics wasn’t rewarded—upon a second look, the film was almost exactly what it had sounded like on a distracted first viewing: an overproduced heroic biography made according to the MGM house style of the time, patently artificial and yet confidently produced as such. Despite being Lawrence’s biography (as she is played by Eleanor Parker), Glenn Ford somehow gets first billing as the somewhat irritating husband who put her through the wringer. Interrupted Melody is not particularly thrilling from a musical point of view, and somewhat pedestrian from a cinematic standpoint. It feels rote despite its intention to inspire, and doesn’t leave much of an impression. It is what it is for that time, but there’s a reason why it doesn’t warrant much attention these days.

  • Dragonwyck (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) While I didn’t particularly care for much of Dragonwyck, I have to appreciate the way it manages to hammer a medieval gothic romance into an upstate New York 19th century framework. Most notable for being the first film written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, it already shows some of the most characteristic traits of his later productions: the dialogue flourishes, keen wit and cinematic self-awareness are all there, albeit in less pronounced form. This can be attributed to the film’s troubled production history, with Ernest Lubitsch (a mismatch!) dropping out as a director and screenwriter Mankiewicz abruptly stepping in—albeit adapting an existing novel, limiting his freedom with the material. What I like most about Dragonwyck is probably the way it heads upstate from 1844 New York City in order to travel even further back in time—a land where a child bride finds herself stuck with a husband ruling as a medieval lord over his vassals, complete with a throne from which to hear grievances. Much of the gothic romance thriller tropes are there—the foreboding manor, the naïve heroine, the evil husband: it’s just impressive to see it transplanted in such a historical context. The next best thing about the rather ordinary result is the cast: The ever-beautiful Gene Tierney in the lead, of course, but also Walter Huston and especially Vincent Price honing his later-career persona as the deeply menacing husband. I can’t say that the result is all that impressive: Mankiewicz later verve with dialogue isn’t quite there yet, and Dragonwyck meanders too long before getting to the hear of its story. But there are a few things worth praising here, even if they’re drowned by the rest of it.

  • Love Crazy (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) By the early 1940s, William Powell’s screen persona was fully defined as the suave, witty, man able to get any girl but far more effective when paired up with an equally super-powered wife. So it is that Love Crazy plays along very familiar lines, although with a few variations fit to amuse. Once again, we find ourselves in the Manhattan upper-crust, as a truly-madly-in-love couple’s anniversary celebrations are derailed by a number of events that, in time, lead the wife (Myrna Loy, naturally) to ask for divorce. Our protagonist (Powell), naturally, doesn’t take this lying down—he counteracts by feigning insanity, a manoeuvre that quickly escalates beyond control. The third act culminates with a moustache-less Powell in drag, providing Love Crazy with the distinguishing factor it needed. While it doesn’t scale the heights of other Powell/Loy comedies, Love Crazy is a solid hit: It allows both stars to play up their distinctive charms, kids around with big comic ideas, zips around the United States, gets Powell to commit to a drag bit (the disappearance of the trademark moustache being the truly shocking bit) and wraps up so efficiently that there’s a coda missing somewhere. I liked it without loving it, but then again—any Powell film at the height of his fame is well-worth watching.

  • The Subject Was Roses (1968)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) While I don’t necessarily think that movies cannot be filmed plays, some have a harder time shaking up their theatrical origins, and The Subject Was Roses is one of those. It sort-of-works if the intention was to lock the audience in an unescapable dramatic pressure cooker. Here, as the story begins, a young man comes back from WW2 to find his parents in open mutual contempt. His return eventually brings the tension to a boil, and in grand theatrical fashion it all explodes over the kitchen table. The most noteworthy piece of casting here is an impossibly young Martin Sheen playing the returning son. The plot summary is very thin, but the dramatic intensity of it all can be impressive if you’re in the right frame of mind. But that isn’t a sure thing, though—and that’s where the film falters as a film: in placing its entire faith on the quality of the theatrical dialogue, it gets a bit lazy on the staging and directing. There’s a place for that kind of material, of course—leaving the actors and the script to shine without complementing the moviemaking polish is going to appeal to a smaller audience, and that’s the feeling I got with this version of The Subject Was Roses: Great script handled with great Oscar-honoured performances, but not much of a memorable film to go along with it.

  • The Sin of Madelon Claudet (1931)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) Holy melodrama! There’s nothing so shameless as a Hollywood director trying to get their audience to cry, and The Sin of Madelon Claudet provides quite an early-sound-era example of the form. Tracking the life of a woman trying to raise her son despite the abrupt disappearance of her boyfriend and an incredible run of bad luck, the film spares no effort in going over-the-top. There’s a better-than-average reason for this, though: Initially put together as The Lullaby, the film went back for significant reshoots that added a framing device, several scenes not found in the original, and even more opportunities from lead actress Helen Hayes (who’s actually quite good) to make audiences bawl their eyes out in a final scene meant to bring the house down. Hayes aside, though, there isn’t all that much worth watching in The Sin of Madelon Claudet unless you’re a sucker for old-fashioned weepers. This being said, it’s fun to see that while Hollywood has become more sophisticated over the decades, the old barker tricks have a long, long history.

  • It Happened at Lakewood Manor (1977)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2022) As unremarkable and unintentionally humorous as It Happened at Lakewood Manor is, you can add it to the list of terrible 1970s horror movies that featured Classic Hollywood stars in some of their last roles. Here, it’s Myrna Loy concluding a fifty-year career with a role as the elderly owner of a hotel about to be taken over by… ants. Aggressive poisonous ants, sure, but ants nonetheless. To say that it’s unconvincing is putting it mildly: no amount of ominous musical stings and close-ups of ants crawling over walls can quite bring this to the level expected of a horror film. (And I say this as someone who once successfully fought an ant invasion in the walls of my bedroom.)  No, it’s not supposed to be a comedy—but maybe it could have been better had it tried to be. To be fair, It Happened at Lakewood Manor was made for TV, with a consequence lack of care for anything resembling posterity—or stars other than Loy, Robert Foxworth or Suzanne Sommers. There are a few interesting moments here, especially if you’re wondering how they’re going to milk anything out of a premise such as “poisonous ants terrorize hotel!”  Still, this isn’t anything for the ages. It’s perhaps worth one “I can’t believe they made a film about that” look, or see how Loy ended her career, but that’s it.

  • Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2022) As I wrap up my trip through John Carpenter’s filmography, my expectations were unrealistically high for Memoirs of an Invisible Man. After all, Carpenter was clearly losing steam throughout the 1990s, and this film is seldom acknowledged by his fans—there’s a reason why it took me so long to see it, considering its non-availability on streaming platforms and rare TV showings. The reason for the film’s lower profile quickly becomes apparent only a few moments into it—Seemingly conceived as an early-1990s special effects showcase, Memoirs of an Invisible Man falters on multiple fronts: an unlikable lead actor preening through a just-as-obnoxious character, a story that can’t quite figure out what it’s about and a narrative rhythm scattered by the demands of a heavy production. By far the worst of those issues is Chevy Chase in the lead role, re-using his irritating screen persona to no good use: his smarmy womanizing well-dressed loser shtick is the epitome of unchecked white male privilege, and any twenty-first century viewer may very well wonder how such a portrayal was perceived as a good idea even thirty years ago. Chase clearly doesn’t want to submit to the most elementary demands of the role—Memoirs of an Invisible Man’s conceit has the “invisible” character very visible throughout most of the film, apparently to better portray what’s going on from his perspective, but with the unfortunate effect that we get even more of Chase’s showboating in what’s supposed to be an invisible role. The film’s blunt-edged romantic subplot is unbearable thanks to Chase’s unwillingness to have the humility required to build up the character, and the way the film goes from thriller to comedy is not handled well at all. Much like Chase’s performance, the special effects have not aged gracefully—it’s historically impressive that they got so much done at the dawn of the digital era, but the film’s limitations as a spectacle fray quickly once the tricks become, well, visible. Memoirs of an Invisible Man is not that terrible in the aggregate—you can see a few good ideas poking through, a heroic intention to one-up all previous invisibility movies and a structure that could have worked in different circumstances. But it’s all negated by a script with substantial problems… and a lead actor who thought of himself as too good for material centred on him.