Frank Langella

  • Dracula (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, June 2022) As far as I’m concerned, Dracula is up there with The Three Musketeers and Sherlock Holmes (and A Star is Born) in the pantheon of stories that become more interesting for the particularities of their various film adaptations than their cinematic substance. I know the original story more or less from beginning to end and I’m not that interested in seeing the perfect adaptation of it – I’m more likely to pay attention to the differences between various versions, or, if you’d prefer, the specific characteristics of each version. The 1979 version of Dracula (which makes an interesting contrast to Warner Herzog’s 1979 version of Nosferatu) comes with some pedigree – directed by John Badham (an interesting choice!) and featuring such notables as Frank Langella, Laurence Olivier and Donald Pleasence, it’s already interesting before it even gets started. The other initial surprise is that the film begins well into the events usually covered by adaptations of the story – skipping over the initial Transylvania segment to skip directly to the ominous arrival of Count Dracula in England. Things get weirder after that – working from a stage version of the story, the film focuses on romantic themes and inexplicably switches the names of Mina Van Helsing and Lucy Seward (the director thought it sounded better). While the colour cinematography looks good, the film feels choked in a characteristic late-1970s kind of foggy horror cinematography – not necessarily a bad thing if you’re looking to differentiate the various versions of Dracula, but not necessarily a good thing by itself. I enjoyed watching this Dracula even if I didn’t enjoy the film itself—it’s a diversion from the usual versions of the story, even if hardly the best one.

  • Masters of the Universe (1987)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) I’m old enough to have been in the right age group when the Masters of the Universe toys came out (but never played with them), when the tie-in series was broadcast (but didn’t watch it) and when the film was released (but didn’t see it until now). As a result, I’m approaching Masters of the Universe without any sentimental or nostalgic attachment… and I strongly suspect that any reaction to the film hinges on that. From most perspectives, the film is flat-out terrible. The script is for kids (how could it be otherwise, trying to sell toys?), the execution is constantly hobbled by the state of 1980s special effects technology, the acting is unequal and the film doesn’t have much to keep adult audiences interested. If you’re in a generous mood, you can sort-of-see the elements of a cult film in the results: an obtuse mythology begging to differentiate between true fans and casuals; Dolph Lundgren muscling it up as He-Man but being outclassed by Frank Langella chewing universes of scenery as Skeletor. Courteney Cox has an early role here, and Meg Foster is often arresting as the villainess. While Masters of the Universe doesn’t do much to dress up its mercenary intentions, it’s handled with a blunt candour that’s sometimes disarming. Still, it’s weak sauce compared to the other fantasy films of the 1980s, and if you’re going to play in the overblown campy registry, then you’ll always lose a head-to-had comparison with Flash Gordon. Not coming to Masters of the Universe with a pre-packaged liking, I’m left underwhelmed.

  • Stardom (2000)

    Stardom (2000)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2019) The interesting cinematic conceit on which Stardom is built remains intriguing twenty years later: What if we saw the rise and fall of a supermodel entirely through camera lenses, as if a mad fan collected her TV appearances and home videos in a compilation video? Jessica Paré convincingly stars as a Cornwall (ON) hockey player plucked out of obscurity to become a fashion supermodel, loving and leaving a trail of men in her wake (including a restaurateur played by Dan Aykroyd). Executed at the turn of the century and taking place in a media-saturated environment, Stardom has aged significantly more than many other movies of the time, but it’s already showing signs of being a period piece rather than being dated: the references dwell in the late-1990s, and a circa-2019 take would have more cell phones and social media than we could stand. It does take a few minutes to get used to the collage aspect of the film (save for a brief introduction and a quiet epilogue, we get “in the camera” early on and escape the structure of a typical narrative), but its effectiveness does start to build, especially when we realize that the years are accumulating and the scope of the story is going from Cornwall to New York and places beyond. Could it have been better? Well, yes—as much as it’s enjoyable to piece together the narrative of the protagonist’s life through indirect and often misleading footage, it’s not much of a story. The satire is fine but typical (news reports from the past two decades have made the same point over and over, cutting away from mass tragedy to celebrity gossip) while stock characters abound. Writer-director Denys Arcand does know what he’s doing, though, and the mixture of French-Canadian and English-Canadian actors (plus notables such as Frank Langella) is interesting in its own right. Intriguingly, Stardom does have its built-in distancing mechanism: as interesting as it can be for movie geeks to see a film told through surface footage, there aren’t that many pathways to what the character is thinking or feeling: This is akin to a second-grade biography made of media clippings rather than interviews with the subject. Our protagonist is often used by other people making their own points, which is part of the lesson. Still, Stardom is more than worth a look on a purely experimental level, as an exploration of what cinema can do once it gets away from its own conventions. I’m a bit surprised that the film remains obscure outside Canada, but that’s the nature of non-stardom.

  • Dave (1993)

    Dave (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, December 2018) There have been quite a few movies about the American presidency, but few of them as cutely romantic as Dave, in which a presidential impersonator gets the job on a long-term basis when the real president is medically incapacitated. The plot is familiar from there, but the real fun of the picture has to be seeing Kevin Kline in a dual role, with Sigourney Weaver as the wife who suspects that something is afoot, and Frank Langella as the villain trying to take over the United States through an unwitting patsy. Ving Rhames and Laura Linney also show up in smaller early roles. Oliver Stone has a funny cameo. Clearly, director Ivan Reitman is aiming more for a feel-good romantic fantasy than a hard-edged political thriller, especially given how the film plays with the idea of the everyday man replacement being better in all aspects of the job than the original. There’s an interesting comparison to be made here with near-contemporary The American President, but also with the classic idealistic films by Frank Capra, in which he took pleasure in scrutinizing the American political system to reveal the good intentions underneath it. Dave is a lightweight comedy, but a charming one, and certainly a welcome antidote to the kinds of heavier thrillers that the American presidency usually invites.

  • Robot & Frank (2012)

    Robot & Frank (2012)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2013) At a time when most Hollywood Science Fiction blockbusters seem to be exercises in over-the-top action and densely dazzling visuals with little left for heart and compassion, it’s good to find an antidote in the form of a low-key SF comedy.  Here, five minutes in the future, an aging robber reluctantly forms a bond with his newly-imposed robotic assistant, to the extent of recruiting his new buddy for one last score.  Filmed with a surprisingly low budget, Robot & Frank even dispenses with extensive special effects work by using a simple robot suit worn by dancer Rachael Ma: it’s a film about relationships and subtle ideas, not really about spectacular visuals.  Frank Langella is essential to the film as the protagonist with a troubled past: he anchors the film in a believable reality and effectively acts as a foil to the entire cast as they all seem determined to do what’s best for him.  Meanwhile, Susan Sarandon is lovely as an aging librarian who becomes the object of his affection, and Liv Tyler makes the most out of limited screen-time as a daughter who learns better.  Much of the film is a slow burn, executed with calm and confidence.  It does builds up to an effective moral dilemma, though, and its exploration of memory (the tragedy of losing it, but also the curse of remembering everything) is as subtle as any film about aging could hope to feature.  While some late-film twists and revelations fail to convince, much of Robot & Frank remains charming in its own quiet way.  One of the best things about the mainstreaming of Science Fiction and the greater availability of filmmaking tools is that SF movies can now reflect a variety of viewpoints.  The blockbusters are here to stay, thankfully, but it’s good to know that there’s something else out there.