Westward Ho: Robert N. Bradbury

I'll be totally honest...I have a hard time differentiating between all of the films that John Wayne did for Republic Pictures back in the 1930s before he hit it big with John Ford in Stagecoach (1939). They tend to blend together into one big mush of bad Western films. But I will never forget Westward Ho. Why? Because this was the first time that I have ever heard John Wayne sing. Well, he didn't sing so much as he moved his mouth and had somebody else dub over it. But I'm counting it! I had heard that Wayne did a stint as a "singing cowboy" early in his career...but I had never heard evidence of it with my own ears until Westward Ho. Oh, sure, there's a plot, I guess. Wayne's family was attacked and killed when he was a child by bandits. These bandits also kidnapped his younger brother. Now, over ten years later, Wayne has organized a group of vigilantes to seek out the bandits who destroyed his family. And, to be fair, Westward Ho has a rare surplus of narrative cohesion for a 1930s Poverty Row Western. But I don't care. For me, this is the film where I finally got to hear John Wayne sing! I guess that makes up for all of the horrific shot editing, sound editing, cinematography, and acting. But just barely.

3/10

Endless Desire: Shohei Imamura

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a rag-tag group of criminals join together to seek a hidden, underground treasure by tunneling towards it from an adjacent building while posing as mild-mannered locals. No...I am not referring to the legendary Ealing Studios comedy The Ladykillers (1955). Instead, I am talking about Shohei Imamura's third film, Endless Desire. Much like its British counterpart, Endless Desire is a comedy about a crime caper gone terribly, terribly wrong. The doomed criminals are a group of soldiers who re-united ten years after the surrender of Japan during World War Two. They seek a treasure buried under a butcher's shop in a poor neighborhood that been slated for demolition. However, things are complicated when they are forced by their landlord to hire a local boy as an assistant. And then there's the problem that each of the criminals are actively trying to cheat and/or kill each other. Endless Desire is a curious addition to the career of one of Japan's most daring and controversial directors. Imamura gained prominence during the Japanese New Wave where he and other directors like Nagisa Oshima challenged the world with daring, abstract, and polemic indictments of Japanese culture and cinema. Seeing him direct such a film as Endless Desire is a serendipitous shock for the average film scholar. I highly recommend it!

7/10 

Swamp Women: Roger Corman

Even at his best, Roger Corman was never known for being the most polished of film-makers. So you can only imagine the quality of his second directorial effort, a film about escaped female convicts entitled Swamp Women. In it, a group of women (one of whom may or may not be an undercover police agent) escape from prison and go hunting in the swamps of Louisiana for a hidden cache of diamonds. Along the way they kidnap a couple on a date, steal their boat, and hold them hostage. In addition, they spontaneously decide to cut the legs of their jeans off. Because why not? I think that the best way to describe Swamp Women is like this: there is a scene where a woman is attacked and killed by stock footage of an alligator. But the stock footage isn't the best part of the scene. The best part is that the shots of the alligator are alternated with shots of the victim thrashing around in a swimming pool. Corman was nothing if not resourceful, after all. Can't get a cast member to swim in an actual swamp? Shoot a close-up of them in a pool and stick it in! The audience will be none the wiser! And just think...in less than two short years Corman would rise from these humble beginnings to direct such films as Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957) and The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent (1957)! That's a success story for the history books, folks!

4/10

Bus Stop: Joshua Logan

And people didn't think that Marilyn Monroe could act. Joshua Logan's Bus Stop stands as an enduring testament to one of Hollywood's greatest sex symbols and her enormous talent that the American people took for granted. Monroe plays Chérie, a young woman from the Ozarks who dreams of becoming a Hollywood star. However, after running out of money, she finds herself working as a cafe singer in Phoenix, Arizona. Things seem bleak for Chérie until the arrival of Beauregard, a hot-headed cowboy from Montana who gets the bizarre notion in his head that she's his angel. Unfortunately, Beauregard has spent most of his life on a ranch and consequently has no idea how to act around women. So Chérie finally has a ticket to leave Phoenix...it's just that she has to share it with a man who won't take "no" for an answer. With almost 60 years of hindsight, Bus Stop's gender politics are disturbing to say the least. But the premise is saved by the extraordinary performances of its cast, including one of Monroe's best. Monroe manages to portray Chérie as a wounded, somewhat naive young woman who is nevertheless determined to survive on her own terms. Many famous actresses have struggled (and failed) to do what Monroe seems to accomplish effortlessly with the character of Chérie. But back to the actual film: what starts as a light (albeit disturbing) romantic comedy evolves into a surprisingly melancholic drama about lost opportunities and chances. If one can swallow the early scenes between Beauregard and Chérie, then they will discover a wonderful film.

7/10

The Brute Man: Jean Yarbrough

Here's a question for you: why is Jean Yarbrough's The Brute Man entitled The Brute Man? True, there is a brutish man who goes around killing people in it. But I don't think that he was ever referred to as such. No, the tragic monster in The Brute Man is constantly called the Creeper. So why isn't the film titled The Creeper? I can't find any movie from the era that could threaten copyright infringement over the name. So what gives? Well, I probably shouldn't lose too much sleep over it. The Brute Man is a turgid, dreary monster movie about a handsome, athletic young man who is tragically deformed in a chemistry accident. So he disappears and goes on a killing spree. Of course, the Creeper is portrayed as more of a Frankenstein's Monster than a Jack the Ripper; he wants to be accepted and loved but he just can't help but kill people. Unfortunately the film is cliche-ridden and generally unfocused. He falls in love with, surprise surprise, a blind woman. An incompetent police chief and mayor argue over capturing the Creeper. The schoolmate who inadvertently caused the Creeper's accident joins the investigation. And the Creeper? He, uh, creeps. That's about it, really. The Brute Man tries to juggle too much at once and ends up dropping everything all over the floor in a lumpy, unpleasant mess.

5/10

Clueless: Amy Heckerling

Were...were the Nineties really like this? I mean...I knew that I grew up in the 90s, but I don't remember everyone looking so garish. But then again, this was the decade when Burger King had a group of mascots that included a boy in a wheelchair named "Wheels" and another with a Virtual Boy permanently stuck to his head called "Kid Vid." But that's neither here nor there. Amy Heckerling's Clueless makes me very, very happy that I only experienced elementary school during the Nineties. The film is a modern adaptation of Jane Austen's novel Emma set in Southern California. Cher Horowitz is a vain, materialistic, but genuinely good-hearted high schooler who fancies herself a match-maker. After she successfully pairs off two of her teachers, she turns her attention to Tai Frasier, a frumpy new student. After she helps her transform into a social butterfly, Cher begins to think that maybe she made her a little too popular. I was honestly surprised by how well Austen's early 19th century novel translated to modern Beverly Hills. I guess that while fashions and cultures change, people do not. I am also fascinated by Cher. Usually vain teenage girls are depicted in movies as dumb and moronic. But one gets the impression that Cher might be one of the smartest kids in her school. So that's...progressive? I guess so. Cher definitely set the stage for Elle Woods and her little yappy chihuahua.

7/10

The Game: David Fincher

The more you try and think about the plot of David Fincher's The Game, the more confused and frustrated you will become. Usually that would guarantee a negative review. After all, the film's narrative constantly teeters on the line between implausibility and impossibility. But there is enough evident craftsmanship and atmosphere to forgive the main narrative. It all begins when Nicholas Van Orton, a miserly investment banker, is given a birthday gift by his brother, Conrad. The gift is a ticket for a game provided by a bizarre company called Consumer Recreation Services (CRS). When Nicholas eventually accepts the gift, he discovers that CRS is a scam. The company drained his assets, stole his property, and put a hit out on his life before completely disappearing. OR DID THEY?!?! See, this is the whole problem behind The Game: the film constantly switches between suggesting that CRS is really a scam and suggesting that absolutely everything that happens to him was coordinated by CRS as part of the game. To say that the film jumps the shark on this premise at the end is an understatement. But the fun is in the game itself, not the resolution. If you can stomach multiple twists that try to out-do each other, then you will probably enjoy The Game. It is, after all, a very good film.

8/10

The Manster: George Breakston, Kenneth G. Crane

The Manster is the kind of name that you would expect to find in a Silver Age issue of Doom Patrol.  Much to my delight, the film manages to be just as crazy and just as awesome as old school Silver Age comics. The story is simple: Dr. Robert Suzuki is a scientist who performs experiments on human beings in an attempt to unlock the secrets of evolution. One of his "volunteers" is American foreign news correspondent Larry Stanford who unwittingly ingests an enzyme created by Dr. Suzuki. The enzyme causes a horrific growth on his shoulder to sprout which quickly mutates into a second head. The transformation also results in Stanford going into murderous rages. My favorite part was when the evil head broke away from the rest of Stanford, formed its own body, and did battle with the "good" Stanford. This American/Japanese co-production is not shy about showing off its exotic locales. There are several prolonged scenes of Stanford flirting with geisha, taking a bath at a hot spring, and even visiting a temple. True, he only visits the temple so he can kill a priest...but I'm still counting it. Overall, there isn't much substance in The Manster. But don't let that stop you from watching it. It's still a very enjoyable 1950s monster flick.

6/10

Central Station: Walter Salles

Walter Salles’ Central Station is the kind of film that I instinctively respond to. It defies traditional genre classification. On one hand, it is a story about two lost, lonely people who discover in each other a second chance for life. On the other, it is a road movie about a quest for something that they realize might not actually exist. It is a character study. It is a journey. It is even a kind of travelogue through Northeast Brazil in the final throes of the 20th century. It all begins when Dora, a retired schoolteacher, meets Josué, a young boy who is tragically orphaned when his mother is hit by a bus. Dora is old and bitter, Josué is young and defiant. And yet, they form a bond that manages to penetrate the shields they have erected against other people. Dora decides to take Josué to the Northeast of Brazil in the vain hope of finding his father. I was struck by Salles’ brutal honesty in his portrayal of Brazilian society. On the one hand, it is unspeakably cruel. At a train station in Rio, Dora watches as a young teenage thief is summarily executed on the spot by the police. Before they travel to the Northeast, Dora has to rescue Josué from two criminals posing as adoption agents who harvest young children for organs. What’s more, I’m pretty sure that she doesn’t report their identities to the police afterwards. Is police corruption so rampant in Brazil that it is just assumed that telling them about such crimes is useless? But Salles also finds great beauty in the people of Brazil: an Evangelist truck-driver who gives them a lift, a flood of pious pilgrims, and the main characters, two very different people who save each other despite the fact that they know that their time together must be brief.

8/10

Troll: John Carl Buechler

John Carl Buechler's Troll is proof that a film doesn't have to be "good" for it to be enjoyable. But don't misunderstand me, I don't think that the film is so-bad-that-it's-good like its infamous "sequel" Troll 2 (1990). Troll is a bad film. And yet, I enjoyed it immensely. The film is about the Potter family which moves to San Francisco only to discover that their apartment complex is home to an evil troll named Torok. What does Torok do? He captures their daughter, Wendy, impersonates her, and begins to transform all of the apartment complex's inhabitants into magical creatures. If he manages to infect every apartment with his magic, then the world of the fairies will burst forth, supposedly in order to take over the world of mortals. The film has two things going for it. First, the special effects are surprisingly effective considering their low budget. Second, the film has several guest stars who bring a lot of strength and heart to an otherwise very silly story. There is Sonny Bono as a lonely swinger, June Lockhart as the good witch who helps the Potters fight Torok, and Phil Fondacaro in a duel role as Malcolm Malory, a sad dwarf professor, and Torok. Fondacaro's performance as Malory is so powerful that I'm actually mad that he had to give it in a movie like this that wouldn't get him nominated for an Academy Award. The film is alternately ridiculous and charming, so much so that I felt sad to see it go when the credits began to roll.

5/10

Four Days in September: Bruno Barreto

My favorite scene in Bruno Barreto's Four Days in September comes near the end when Fernando Gabeira, a young member of the MR-8 group, pulls a gun on his hostage, the American ambassador to Brazil Charles Burke Elbrick. But for some reason, Fernando doesn't kill Elbrick. Afterwards, Elbrick looks up says very gently, "In my fear, I allowed myself a moment of incontinence. Could you help me?" Fernando helps him off the bed he had been confined to for days and into a bathroom. We then see Elbrick, a man who until now had been a paragon of levelheadedness and control, quietly burst into tears. Why is he crying? Is he afraid for his life? Or is it something much simpler: that he allowed himself to be degraded in the eyes of his kidnappers? This speaks to the film's greatest strength: it never loses sight of the people at its center. I grow weary of so-called "political films" where directors lure you in with the pretense of a story only to assault you with long political speeches and diatribes. Films like Jean-Luc Godard's Tout va Bien (1972) and Andrzej Wajda's Man of Iron (1981) are two of the worst offenders. But Four Days in September remembers that at the heart of every revolution there are good people who are forced to do bad things. The film is based on the aforementioned kidnapping of an American ambassador in Brazil in 1969 by revolutionaries who wanted the release of political prisoners. And yes, every one of the revolutionaries believes in their cause...but not necessarily their tactics. And yet, they join the group knowing that they may have to cross that final line and kill in cold blood. Are they willing to pay that price, horrific as it may be? I know many politically-minded friends who would scoff at such dilemmas. But Bruno Barreto doesn't. And neither do I.

9/10

The Beast with a Million Eyes: David Kramarsky

David Kramarsky's The Beast with a Million Eyes is what you would get if you convinced Ray Kellogg to direct The Birds (1963). It's a ridiculous film about an alien that crashes into the California desert and proceeds to telepathically control the local animals and birds in order to attack a small family. These attacks take the form of split-second animal stock footage repeated once or twice in rapid succession. My favorite scene was when the alien makes a local cow attack the family. This is achieved by inserting close-up shots of a cow's face in-between shots of a woman screaming. Kramarsky's cinematic acumen also shines through whenever the alien attempts to mind control someone, an effect achieved by literally waving flashlights around the ground. The film actually reminds me of Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist (1982) in that it revolves around a family besieged by an otherworldly horror which can only be overcome once they work together. But whereas the climax of Poltergeist was exciting and compelling, The Beast with a Million Eyes is content to have the family join hands, approach the alien, and LITERALLY defeat it with the power of love. On a side note, I could swear that the film was playing something by Stravinsky over the final showdown. In any case, The Beast with a Million Eyes is indicative of most 1950s creature features: slowly paced, rife with terrible special effects, and complete with a monster that is laughably incompetent in its design.

4/10

A Shot in the Dark: Blake Edwards

I must confess that I had never seen a proper Pink Panther film until now. As a child, I remember occasionally catching a Pink Panther cartoon. There was even one time that my family watched Curse of the Pink Panther (1983), one of the Pink Panther films made after the original Inspector Clouseau, Peter Sellers, had died. But A Shot in the Dark was my first real exposure to the classic Clouseau schtick. I must say that I was quite pleased. The film follows the clumsy, inept Inspector Clouseau of the French Sûreté as he investigates a series of murders at a rich aristocrat's house. I expected the film to be much more over-the-top, due in large part to my exposure to Steve Martin's re-interpretation of the character. But I was delighted to discover that the entire film plays Clouseau and his incompetence straight. Clouseau legitimately takes great pride in his occupation and carries himself as a man of utmost importance. He just happens to constantly break things, accidentally get other people killed, and inadvertently drive his superiors to insanity. It also helps that Sellers was a comedic genius of the same caliber as Charlie Chaplin and the Monty Python troupe. It seems that I will be spending a lot of time with Monsieur Clouseau in the future...

8/10

The Dungeonmaster: Dave Allen, Charles Band, John Carl Buechler, Steven Ford, Peter Manoogian, Ted Nicolaou, Rosemarie Turko

Featuring not one, not two, but seven directors and eight writers, The Dungeonmaster is a hallucinatory fever dream drenched in the enthusiastic, unironic style of low-budget 1980s fantasy. It follows computer wunderkind Paul Bradford as he is yanked into another world by the evil sorcerer Mestema. He is tasked with seven scenarios (read: seven scenes written and directed by seven different people) which he must overcome in order to rescue his girlfriend Gwen. These scenarios include being forced to do battle with a giant rock monster, zombies, ice people, and most unusually, the metal band W.A.S.P.  He is aided in his journey by his wristband computer X-CaliBR8, a strange little device that has the inexplicable ability to do anything that Bradford wants. It's all very schlocky and cheesy, but it carries a sincere charm. I enjoyed The Dungeonmaster for the same reason that I love Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead (1981) and Dennis Muren and Jack Woods' Equinox (1970): sheer, visceral pleasure. None of these films attempted to be anything other than themselves. They wear their low budgets and cheap (yet effective) special effects with pride and dignity. And you know what? That's okay in my book.

6/10

Will Eisner: Portrait of a Sequential Artist: Andrew D. Cooke

I almost wish that I hadn't seen Andrew D. Cooke's Will Eisner: Portrait of a Sequential Artist. The reason is that I have wasted almost a week gorging myself on the man's comics. I needed that time for school work, y'know? Now that I have begun this review with one of my trademark bait-and-switch intros, I feel that I should get around to saying what I think of this film. In truth, the film is a fantastic examination of one of sequential art's most important pioneers: Will Eisner. Perhaps best known for the masked detective/crime-fighter named The Spirit, Eisner helped transform comics from immature serials for children into genuine art. But this film is about more than just Eisner. It is, in fact, about the birth of the comic industry itself. Again and again, as the industry expands and grows, Eisner keeps popping up as the man responsible for many of its most daring creative leaps. Unconventional paneling and perspectives? Eisner. Comics that both children and adults can enjoy? Eisner. Graphic novels? Eisner. I had always known that Eisner was just as important to the comic industry as, say, Jack Kirby. But Will Eisner: Portrait of a Sequential Artist was the first time that I truly grasped and understood what that meant.

8/10

Posthumous Memories: André Klotzel

When I think of post-modern film narratives wherein the lead character serves as both protagonist and self-referential narrator, I usually picture the work of directors like Ingmar Bergman and Woody Allen. I am well aware that such storytelling devices predate the cinema, but those are the film-makers that I associate them with. However, after watching André Klotzel’s Posthumous Memories, I feel that I might need to revise those preconceptions. Based on Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis’ groundbreaking novel The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas, the film follows a recently deceased aristocrat named Brás Cubas as he recounts his life and many lost loves. Both the novel and the film prominently feature a sardonic disregard for conventional narrative techniques: Brás Cubas interrupts his narrative several times to go on tangents, directly interacts with his past self, and provides grating commentary on both his own life and 19th century Brazil. As he is quick to point out, he did nothing to improve or worsen the state of the world with his life. But this leads to one of the film’s main problem: Brás Cubas is not a very interesting person in and of himself. As such, the film relies heavily on the narrator breaking the fourth wall to engage the audience. But the film does this less and less as trudges on. Near the end it frequently feels like a standard, Merchant Ivory production. Still, most of the film is wildly inventive and stands as a fitting adaption of one of Brazil’s most important literary masterpieces.

7/10

Bye Bye Brazil: Carlos Diegues

Carlos Diegues’ Bye Bye Brazil spoke to me on a very basic level. At its core, it is a road movie. It begins when a traveling sideshow visits a small town in the hopes of making some money. The show consists of a “Gypsy Lord” magician, an exotic dancer named Salomé, and Swallow, a mute strongman. A local accordion player is mesmerized by Salomé and begs to travel with them along with his very pregnant wife. So begins a long, strange journey through Brazil. At its emotional center is the love triangle between Salomé, the accordion player, and his wife Dasdô. The accordion player lusts after Salomé, completely oblivious to Dasdô and her plight. A key moment of the film occurs when Salomé sleeps with the accordion player while Dasdô sits nearby powerless to do anything. However, when the Gypsy Lord loses everything in a bet, the accordion player must make a terrible choice: force Dasdô into prostitution or leave the sideshow and his beloved Salomé. Two things really strike me about Bye Bye Brazil. First, it is a fascinating portrayal of a nation in the throes of modernization. After a show gets abysmal attendance in a town that had always proved a reliable moneymaker, the Gypsy Lord discovers that the townsfolk have all been hypnotized by a “public television” provided by local politicians. New roads and communities spring up, blocking the sideshow’s travels. At one point they even fall in with a group of Indians seeking a new place to live. As Brazil moves into the future, the sideshow discovers that they are being left behind. Second, the portrayal of women in Bye Bye Brazil is discomforting, to say the least. There are exactly two kinds of women in the film, represented by Salomé (the sex worker; the temptress; the gold-digger) and Dasdô (the subservient, unquestioning wife; suffering mother). But despite its gender politics, Bye Bye Brazil remains a moving and wonderful piece of Brazilian cinema.

8/10

Gor II: Outlaw of Gor: John Cardos

Here's a tip for film-makers working on sequels: if you add a character who exists solely as an exposition sponge so the audience (who may or may not have seen the first film) can get caught up with the over-arching storyline, don't make him an annoying, one-dimensional idiot. Unfortunately, this is exactly what director John Cardos did in his film Outlaw of Gor. The sequel to Gor (1988), it continues the story of Tarl Cabot, a professor who was mysteriously transported to the desert planet of Gor where he helped save the Kingdom of Koruba and became a mighty hero. This is mostly explained to the audience via confusing flashbacks and expository onslaughts directed towards Watney Smith, a tremendously annoying little man who accidentally accompanies Cabot when he is transported back to Gor. While Cabot is off with the film's actual plot (something about a woman who murders the king and usurps political power), we are forced to watch Watney make a royal ass out of himself. See, Outlaw of Gor commits one of the ultimate cinematic sins: it isn't just bad, it's annoying. Yes, besides the campy plot, ridiculous costumes, and a generally repugnant attitude towards women, Outlaw of Gor is almost awe-inspiring in its ability to annoy the audience. I can only hope that this was my last trip to Gor...

3/10

Hour of the Star: Suzana Amaral

Suzana Amaral's Hour of the Star exists in a kind of cinematic negative space that might take the uninitiated by surprise. The film features almost no soundtrack. In fact, many of the scenes take place in near silence. The protagonist, Macabéa, is an uneducated, unattractive, and generally repulsive young woman who arrives in Rio after the death of her aunt seeking work. I use terms like "unattractive" and "repulsive" only because Clarice Lispector, the author of the original novel, explicitly designed her as such. She gets a job as a typist but gets fired because she is dirty and incompetent. She moves in with several other women but is mocked for being a naive virgin. She gets a boyfriend but spends most of her time with him sitting in awkward silences groping for something to say. Yes, this is definitely one of those kinds of films, as detractors of art cinema like to say. And yet, the film is a beautiful lament for a woman who has been abused and abandoned by society. Amaral makes no attempt to romanticize Macabéa. One early scene comes to mind where we watch her pissing in a bedpan while chewing on a discarded chicken wing. But it is for that exact reason that we begin to emphasize with Macabéa. Here is a character of pure innocence doomed to be overlooked by the rest of humanity. It reminds me of the work of that great Saint of the Cinema, Robert Bresson. Both directors were fascinated by characters trapped in existential dilemmas. What reason does Macabéa have for continuing the day-to-day struggles she faces? I would point you to a scene where she dances alone to a radio after skipping work for the answer.

7/10

The Beatniks: Paul Frees

I don't think Paul Frees actually knew what a beatnik was when he made The Beatniks. Now, I'm not a scholar on beatnik culture, but I'm pretty sure that they didn't spend their time robbing gas stations, killing diner owners, and getting into shoot-outs with the police. It seems to me that Paul Frees needed a gimmick for his new teen crime-spree movie, so he labeled his characters "beatniks," threw in some truly terrible faux-slang, and went about like it was business as usual. And so we have The Beatniks, a film with a tiny bit of interesting character drama that is unfortunately drowned in a rip-tide of schlocky performances and terrible film-making. It all starts when a young man with a golden voice named Eddy Crane is discovered by a music exec at a roadside diner. Eddy is offered a big-time music contract and the opportunity to be a big star! The only problem is that Eddy is the leader of a gang of "beatniks" who get their kicks robbing people. So Eddy's friends demand that they tag along and get famous as well. This problem is exacerbated when it is revealed that Eddy's friends are absolutely psychotic. When one of them commits a murder, he threatens to drag Eddy's name through the mud if he doesn't protect him. I'm actually surprised that Eddy's friend apparently hadn't killed before considering that fact that he looks and acts like Norman Bates crossed with Daffy Duck. Gibbering like a complete maniac didn't help him, either. But I digress. The Beatniks is so over-the-top that it borders on camp. Too bad that it's not entertaining like the kind of camp that's actually fun to watch.

4/10

The Garden of the Finzi-Continis: Vittorio de Sica

Vittorio de Sica's The Garden of the Finzi-Continis is a film of remarkable power and restraint painted in vivid pastel colors that seem to evoke an aesthetic ideal instead of a time period. Considering that it's about Italian Jews right before the Holocaust, de Sica should be praised for making a film that doesn't fall into the usual emotional pit-falls common to such themes. It is a film about love and loss with the persecution of Jews as an impetus, but not the main focus. Instead, it focuses on Giorgio, a middle class Jew who falls in love with Micol Finzi-Contini. The Finzi-Contini are one of the wealthiest Jewish families in the area. But they live in a kind of self-imposed exile behind a massive wall that surrounds their property. Existing in a removed, aloof state, the Finzi-Contini (and Micol by extension) are completely removed from the harsh reality of late 1930s Italy. The Finzi-Contini only realize that they are in trouble when the Nazis literally knock at their door. There is a melancholy warmth to The Garden of the Finzi-Continis. Of course, it ends as honest films about the Holocaust must inevitably end. But my own personal experience with this film left me with a greater impression of the relationship between Giorgio and Micol. It is rich with the obliviousness of new love, echoed by the Finzi-Contini family's inability to confront the outside world. This is a film of metaphor and subtleties during one of the most tumultuous moments in world history. Quite impressive, don't you think?

8/10

Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie: Tim Heidecker, Eric Wareheim

One of the ultimate challenges for film critics is to develop a criteria by which they judge comedies. What should be more important: skill, technique, performance quality? Or should we simply judge comedies based on how much they make us laugh? If I chose the latter, then I'd be forced to give Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie a good review and a positive recommendation. Because, truth be told, there were several moments in the film when I found myself laughing unironically. And yet, I can't help but remind myself that it was a bad, bad, bad, bad movie. Based on Adult Swim's Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!, the film's eponymous leads blow a billion dollar budget on a three minute film and are forced to flee from their understandably miffed producers. How do they make the money back so they won't be killed? Why, renovate and re-open a mall, of course! This simple plot merely acts as a showcase for Tim and Eric to indulge in their trademark surrealistic forays into anti-humor through a number of sketches with bizarre, unpleasant people. And, yes, there were moments when I found their hijinks legitimately funny. But they were too few and far between. Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie is obnoxious and frequently nauseating. And, yes, I know that that was the entire point of Tim and Eric's shtick. But just because you are being ironically unfunny doesn't mean that somebody isn't going to unironically not like it.

2/10

The Canterbury Tales: Pier Paolo Pasolini

While watching Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Canterbury Tales, I believe that I finally isolated the thing about his work that so turns me off: he revels in cruelty. His characters are cruel, unrepentant, and almost always get away scott free. I understand that he's trying to do social commentary. But he offers no answers or solutions, only scorn and contempt for the victims. Some would argue that Pasolini has no obligation to propose answers. If that is the case, then Pasolini is revealed to be nothing but a cinematic sadist. One of the best examples of this tendency is when two men are caught in the act of sodomy. One of them, a rich man, is able to bribe his way to freedom. The other, a poor man, is unable to purchase his release and is consequently burned at the stake. Pasolini takes an almost perverse glee in highlighting this injustice and how the people pulling the strings are able to get away with their abuses of power. But I digress. Pasolini's film adapts just a handful of stories from Chaucer's famous text: the cheating wife with the blind husband, the adulterer who tricks his lover's husband into preparing for an imaginary flood, Death and the tax collector, and the three thieves who end up killing each other for the same treasure. There are other stories that are told as well. Different storytellers from the original text can be seen occasionally, like the Pardoner in an early scene selling his wares. There's a curious bit where Perkyn is portrayed as a Charlie Chaplin-esque fellow that I found compelling. But the film left a bitter taste in my mouth. Too much of it feels like nastiness for nastiness' sake. 

6/10

Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Crash of the Moons: Hollingsworth Morse

As soon as I finished writing my review of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Manhunt in Space (1954), I discovered to my extreme displeasure that there was yet another Rocky Jones, Space Ranger movie. So of course I had to watch it! How could I not? I love classic, cheesy science fiction. But to my surprise, Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Crash of the Moons was actually a better film than its predecessor. It wasn't by much, mind you, but it was still a better viewing experience. In this film, Rocky Jones and his clean-cut crew return to help save the population of a planet about to collide with its moon! Unfortunately, that planet is the preposterously named Ophiuchius, seat of power of the wicked ruler Cleolanthe. Cleolanthe was the evil empress at the center of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Manhunt in Space, so you can imagine my enthusiasm at her return. But I actually like her dynamic in this film. She is a brutal tyrant who has completely deprived her subjects of contact with the outside universe. So when she is told to evacuate or die, she is tormented. Does she accept help and potentially lose her legitimacy as ruler? Or does she accuse Rocky Jones of lying and try to kill him? I'm sure you can guess which route she pursued. But the fact that such a dilemma was implied in the first place speaks well for the creators behind the series. But let's not get carried away. Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Crash of the Moons is still a terrible movie. Let's just hope that this is our last interstellar rendezvous with ol' Rocky Jones.

4/10

Rocky Jones, Space Ranger: Manhunt in Space: Hollingsworth Morse

Hey everyone, remember Rocky Jones? No? You know...Rocky Jones, the greatest of the Space Rangers! You still don't remember him? Well, I guess it's nothing to worry about. Almost nobody remembers Rocky Jones, the clean-cut hero of the 50s sci-fi television series Rocky Jones, Space Ranger. But 50s sci-fi fans rejoice! Three episodes of his show have been combined into a single movie that you can share with your children! It's called Manhunt in Space! Too bad that it is almost unwatchable. In a future where colored people have apparently been ethnically cleansed en masse, Rocky Jones is a space ranger, a futuristic force of interstellar policemen. He patrols the stars with a crew composed of a bimbo, an idiot pilot, and an annoying little kid. For this adventure, Rocky Jones & Co. must unravel a case of mysterious ship disappearances. Along the way, the movie submits the viewer to some of the most ridiculous sci-fi special effects and pseudo-science this side of Star Trek. Did you know that you can decrease the temperature of light to make yourself invisible? No? Well the creators of Manhunt in Space didn't know that. In fact, the creators of Manhunt in Space didn't know a lot of things, primarily how to make a good television show.

4/10

Weekend: Andrew Haigh

Alone in a tiny flat in Nottingham, Russell lives a sad, sterile life. During the day he works as a life-guard, a job he is ashamed of. In the evening he spends time with his mates. But he never really seems comfortable with them. At night he hits the local gay clubs looking for a one-night stand. Russell essentially seems to be standing still in his life. But then he meets and sleeps with Glen, an artist investigating the sex-lives of other homosexuals for a project. At first they seem to be complete opposites: Russell is quiet and introspective and Glen is bombastic and confrontational. But from their one-night-stand, they develop a deep bond. Could it be love? Maybe. It's more of a desperate need to reach out and touch someone who understands their own personal demons. Andrew Haigh's Weekend is a touching exploration of love and sex. When Russell is with Glen, director Andrew Haigh uses tight, hand-held shots to accentuate their intimacy. When Glen leaves, Russell's life becomes dominated by slow, static shots that seem to isolate him. The film features some of the most incredibly earnest dialogue concerning sex since Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy (1997), another film which grappled with the modern disconnection between sexual identity, physical intimacy, and love. Are sex and love intrinsically linked? Can one lead to the other? Haigh gives the compelling answer that it can, but not because such things are destined to occur. The relationship between Glen and Russell is organic and gradual, not forced and immediate. Therein lies its power. Therein lies the truth.

8/10

The Killer Shrews: Ray Kellogg

I knew that Ray Kellogg was a terrible film-maker, but I had still over-estimated his cinematic "talents" after watching The Giant Gila Monster (1959). The film was a dreadfully boring, uneventful creature feature about an iguana that destroys a bunch of poorly-made scale replicas of rural Texas. Afterwards, I consoled myself with the false assumption that his other films couldn't have been as bad. I was wrong. So very, very wrong. The Killer Shrews is about a group of people who get trapped on an isolated island where a group of giant, mutated shrews run rampant. These "shrews" are obviously dogs wearing coats made of shaggy carpet. Here's a tip to aspiring film-makers: if you are making a movie about a mutated monster, make it large enough that a good drop-kick wouldn't be seen as an ideal way to fight them off. Of course, we don't actually see these "shrews" until late in the movie. The first hour is comprised of almost nothing but stuffy white people standing around poorly lit rooms getting drunk. I know I criticized The Giant Gila Monster for its bad pacing, but at least we saw the eponymous monster before the third act! Having already shot itself in the foot with the first hour, The Killer Shrews somehow manages to get even worse when the "shrews" appear. Of course the hapless survivors have to figure out a way to get off the island. But their method is so ludicrous that it's a miracle that the film-makers managed to film it without keeling over from laughter. I read that The Killer Shrews actually debuted as one-half of a double feature bill alongside The Giant Gila Monster. I'm amazed that their release wasn't immediately followed by reports of entire drive-in theaters committing suicide.

3/10