Mother India: Mehboob Khan

"All Hindi films come from Mother India.”  —Javed Akhtar

It can be daunting to dive into a foreign culture's cinema for the first time. After all, it's impossible to tell whether or not you will find the films artistically satisfying to your personal tastes. Sometimes, the transition is easy. And other times, the transition can be jarring. The latter sums my time with Mehboob Khan's Mother India, my first experience with Bollywood cinema. I had already sampled the wares of Bengali cinema courtesy of Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak. But Bollywood had remained elusive to me. And now, having sat through Mother India, I can say with certainty that my first foray into Bollywood cinema was a transcendent one. The story of a poor woman named Radha, Mother India watches as she struggles to provide for her three sons all while protecting her dignity from a deliciously despicable money-lender. Much has been said about the plot and its parallels to Indian mythology and culture. I hardly need to recount these details. All that matters to me personally is the experience of watching it. And what a movie to watch! Luscious colors, jaw-dropping costumes, magical musical numbers (which at first seem out-of-place to viewers like myself raised in a Western musical-theater tradition), and drama that would make Shakespeare himself weep in agony. One thing's for sure: Mother India is definitely not the last Bollywood film I watch.

10/10

The Atomic Brain: Joseph V. Mascelli

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. For all who choose to watch Joseph V. Mascelli's The Atomic Brain are dooming themselves to a hellish fate of mind-numbing blandness and truly fatiguing tedium. After what must be fifteen minutes of a droning voice-over explaining the set-up of the film (so much for showing and not telling), we are treated to a lifeless tale of an elderly woman who intends to transplant her brain into the body of one of three immigrant girls that she hires as servants. I wish I could tell you that something more interesting happens...but it doesn't. The Atomic Brain is dead on arrival. I rarely see films that are this soul-crushingly boring. Imagine, if you will, if somebody took a hypodermic needle and extracted every drop of tension, atmosphere, horror, dread, and talent from a Val Newton RKO horror picture from the 1940s. The only way that The Atomic Brain could redeem itself would be if it was used as a sleeping aid for chronic insomniacs.

2/10

Tentacles: Oliver Hellman

As far as Jaws-clones go, Oliver Hellman's Tentacles is actually one of the best. The idea of a giant murdering octopus is indeed a frightening one. And to the film's credit, it wisely decides to not show the eponymous monstrosity until late in the story. John Huston is delightful as Ned Turner, the newspaperman who first suspects that a rash of dock-side killings might be related. Additionally, the film has the distinction of being a true wide-screen film instead of merely a film that is shot in that format. An early scene where a baby carriage disappears behind a moving bus is particularly ingenious in its use of widescreen framing and composition. But the film does have several inescapable problems. The climax where two killer whales do battle with the octopus is too murky and dark for it to be properly effective. And it's easy to spot that the film was made by Italians who didn't have the best grasp of the English language. A couple of the characters are burdened with truly bizarre lines that might have worked in Italian but seemed forced an artificial in English. For example, there are two young boys who are attacked by the octopus during a boat race. They talk like children twice their age and use inflections that recall the strained, falsetto voice-overs frequently given to young characters in Italian exploitation films. Also, Henry Fonda is wasted as a local captain of industry who discovers his company might be responsible for the octopus attacks. He moves and speaks like a robot, almost as if the director forced him to recite his awkwardly translated lines verbatim. Such a pity...

6/10

Fatal Beauty: Tom Holland

It's tempting to dismiss Tom Holland's Fatal Beauty as a Lethal Weapon (1987) clone that only exists as a star vehicle for Whoopi Goldberg. After all, it does feature Goldberg as Detective Rita Rizzoli, a street-smart black Narcotics detective who does the whole buddy-cop shtick with Mike Marshak (Sam Elliot), an older gentleman who is clearly "too old for this shit." And, yes, Mike Marshak isn't technically another cop, but the similarities are impossible to ignore. Holland has a lonely home-life, a tragic back-story involving a dead loved one, and has a tendency to fly off the handle. We are presented with a chilling story: a batch of tainted cocaine labeled "Fatal Beauty" has been accidentally leaked onto the streets. Powerful enough to kill anyone who takes it, Rizzoli has to find the source and stop it before the streets run red with the blood of dead junkies. We get the usual buddy-cop moments: the (occasionally grimace-inducing) jokes, the shootouts, and the corrupt white guy at the top. And then, near the end, Goldberg delivers a monologue to Mike about why she is a Narcotics cop and shy she takes her job so seriously. I won't spoil it, but it obliterates any suspicions that the film is a simple cash-in. Goldberg's performance here is so powerful that it reminds us why she was the second ever black woman to win an Academy Award for acting. Apparently disregarded by critics when first released, Fatal Beauty is a terrific film that warrants a serious re-evaluation.

7/10

The World’s End: Edgar Wright

The best way to approach Edgar Wright's The World's End, a film where five estranged friends return to their hometown of Newton Haven for a 12-bar pub crawl known as the "Golden Mile," is as if it's a musical without any music. As counter-intuitive as that sounds, please hear me out before you dismiss this idea. The film is frequently broken up by fights against alien robots that are replacing everyday people. During these fights, the characters (all men who are decidedly over-the-hill) become championship-tier fighters, executing complex choreography and delivering devastating punishment. And yet, we don't really stop and think why these men who have obviously never taken a martial arts class in their lives can fight so proficiently. Well, it's for the same reason that we don't question why teenage gangsters can spontaneously break into ballet-streetfights in West Side Story (1961). Additionally, nobody truly acts rationally within the diegetic space of a musical. Characters act in ways that will advance the plot and allow for more song and dance numbers. Likewise, the characters in The World's End don't act rationally AT ALL, deciding to continue their inebriating night out even after they discover the robot invasion. Why? Well, the diegetic explanation is that if they don't act the way they would have before their discovery, they will be found out by the robots and get "replaced." As anybody with a brain can attest towards, this is a very dumb explanation. But the REAL reason why they continue is that if they packed up and left Newton Haven after discovering the alien plot, the film would be over. It isn't important WHY they continue the pub crawl, merely that they DO continue it. This, my friends, is musical logic.

7/10

Black Belt Jones: Robert Clouse

Robert Clouse's Black Belt Jones may be confusing, unfocused, and a wee bit homophobic, but I would highly recommend watching it. The reason? It ends with an absolutely fantastic martial arts scene that holds its own against many other better, more highly-budgeted action films. The last sequence is an all-out brawl between the eponymous hero, Black Belt Jones, his partner Sydney, and a whole host of black and Italian gangsters who have been trying to extort the deed of their karate school away from them as part of a city-wide land-grab scheme. But here's the catch: it takes place in a car wash. By the mid-point of the fight, the soap suds are up to everyone's waists. There's also a genuinely funny running gag where Sydney throws the incapacitated bodies of their defeated opponents into a garbage truck. Amazingly, watching the truck lift turn on and dump the unconscious cronies into its hold never gets old. It also helps that Jim Kelly manages to bring a lot of life and charisma into Jones' character. So, yes, Black Belt Jones is generally underwhelming. But the last fight scene is more than worth the price of admission.

5/10

Black Samurai: Al Adamson

The greatest strength of Al Adamson's Black Samurai is that it is cognizant of its own insanity and of how over-the-top it is. The film's sheer enthusiasm manages to redeem its shoddy production values and slightly sociopathic protagonist. Black Samurai is very poorly made and deserves the low score that I have given it. But I still enjoyed it immensely. The plot is about as threadbare as they come: when his girlfriend is kidnapped by a crazed criminal who fancies himself as a master of the Dark Arts, Robert Sand, agent of D.R.A.G.O.N. (Defense Reserve Agency Guardian Of Nations), must bust some heads, kick some ass, and get her back. Here are some of the film's biggest flaws: the fight scenes are occasionally poorly choreographed, needless (and sometimes homophobic) banter was added over some fights in post, and the film can never really establish where it is taking place. During one sequence which I could have sworn was taking place in Europe, Sand is ambushed by a group of African/South American natives. The film's biggest highlight is an extended jet-pack action scene which was actually done rather well from an effects standpoint. We get POV shots that show human hands controlling the "jet-pack" hundreds of feet off the ground. I shudder to think how they did it...but it was impressive nonetheless. A quick side note: why is Sand called the Black Samurai? Because he knows martial arts? He's not very honorable. In fact, he kills several helpless opponents. He doesn't even fight much with a sword! He's just a black...martial artist. But then again, I guess that's not as catchy as "black samurai."

4/10

Blacula: William Crain

One of the most famous blaxploitation films in history, if only because of its unforgettable name, William Crain's Blacula follows an 18th century African prince named Mamuwalde who is transformed into a vampire by the evil Count Dracula. Centuries later, he is resurrected in modern Los Angeles by two gay interior decorators who unwittingly purchased his coffin, thinking that it was just a decoration. Stalking the alien streets of 20th century America, Mamuwalde becomes fixated on a young woman named Tina who may very well be the reincarnation of his dead wife. Blacula could have easily been a cheap, gimmicky cash-grab. But the film went above and beyond the call of duty by providing the audience with not one, but two sympathetic protagonists that we genuinely grow to care for. The first is Dr. Gordon Thomas (Thalmus Rasulala), a Los Angeles Police Department pathologist who grows suspicious of the recent number of murder victims that have been showing up almost completely drained of blood. Not only is he remarkably intelligent (he figures out almost instantly that a vampire is at fault), but he is portrayed as an equal among his fellow white policemen. At no point do the other white cops degrade him, insult him, or call him a nigger (this last example being a common signifier used in blaxploitation to re-enforce the protagonist's otherness from white society). The other sympathetic protagonist is, surprisingly, Mamuwalde. He was unwillingly turned into a vampire by Dracula when he journeyed to his Transylvania castle to negotiate the end of the European slave trade. He kills people because he needs to. In this sense, Mamuwalde is also a victim. It also helps that actor William Marshall brought a lot of dignity to a role that could have lapsed into grotesque parody.

6/10

Bowery at Midnight: Wallace Fox

I actually was looking forward to watching Wallace Fox's Bowery at Midnight, not because it stars Bela Lugosi (I'm more of a Karloff man, myself), but because I lived in the Bowery for a year. And not only that, I lived just a few doors down from a prominent Mission. So when I heard that Bowery at Midnight was about Karloff running a criminal organization out of a Bowery Mission, I was hooked. Tragically, Bowery at Midnight is a complete failure as a movie. The cinematography is uninspired (par for the course for a Monogram Pictures production, unfortunately), the plot is diluted with too many unresolved plot threads (which was your favorite: the junkie doctor or the basement room inexplicably full of zombies?), and it wastes the talents of Lugosi. Lugosi was clearly on auto-pilot at this point in his career and it shows. The story lacks any kind of tension; scenes collide into each other with little purpose or direction. The final scene were Lugosi is murdered by the aforementioned room full of zombies should have been the most memorable moment of the film. But instead it is glazed over almost like an afterthought. I would have been more entertained starring out of my Bowery Street window for an hour than I was watching this drivel.

2/10

The Amazing Transparent Man: Edgar G. Ulmer

It's hard to believe that 15 years before directing The Amazing Transparent Man, director Edgar G. Ulmer made one of the indisputably greatest film noir of all time: Detour. Not only is The Amazing Transparent Man a complete waste of a talented director, it commits the cardinal sin of filmmaking: being boring. Here's the plot: a legendary safe-cracker is busted out of prison by an ex-U.S. Army major obsessed with developing an invisible army. He uses the safe-cracker to steal sensitive materials that will aid in the creation of an invisible ray. But one day the safe-cracker gets a dose of the ray, becomes "transparent," escapes, and begins a crime spree. Admittedly, I like the premise of a hardened criminal becoming invisible instead of just a misguided scientist. But the film spoils any sense of tension with bland sets, preposterous special effects (which frequently take the form of objects "moving" because the transparent man interacts with them), a too many needless supporting characters. Ulmer frequently forgoes rudimentary A-B shots in favor of painfully static compositions where two or more characters in medium close-up just...talk to each other. The Amazing Transparent Man is a depressing film to sit through. But not because of its story. It is because it demonstrates how one of the great Hollywood filmmakers had fallen.

4/10

Gate of Hell: Teinosuke Kinugasa

Teinosuke Kinugasa's Gate of Hell is a majestically beautiful tragedy about uncontrollable desire and the futility of selfishness. When samurai Moritoh Enda saves the life of a lady-in-waiting named Lady Kesa during a failed coup against his lord, he is offered the award of his choosing. He humbly asks to marry Lady Kesa, as he has fallen hopelessly in love with her. There's just one problem: she is already happily married. And yet, Enda refuses to take 'no' for an answer. By the time the film ends, innocent blood will flow forth from his hands. And for what? A fantasy? An impossible dream? An untouchable woman? One wonders if Enda's steadfast pursuit of Lady Kesa might be motivated by more than just romantic feelings. Of course he is fiercely devoted to his lord, so much so that he even fights his own treasonous brother during the failed insurrection. But what draws him to Lady Kesa? Who can say? The answer, if there is one, eludes me. Gate of Hell was the first Japanese color film to be released outside of Japan. And it is striking in its opulence. The costumes radiate bold colors and the sets seem to have leaped straight out of a painter's brush. One sequence in particular left me breathless. In the opening scene we see the imperial court flee from hordes of revolting soldiers. Kinugasa keeps his camera fixed and static, thereby letting the actors and actresses flow through the frame like figures in a painted scroll. The effect is marvelous.

7/10

Village of the Giants: Bert I. Gordon

Now, call me old-fashioned, but if a group of super-sized teenagers terrorized my town, kidnapped my daughter, and imposed a set of ironically Draconian laws on my fellow townsfolk, I wouldn't let them just walk away if they suddenly returned to normal size. I would, you know, ARREST THEM. But I guess that's why I'm not a character in Bert I. Gordon's Village of the Giants, a film where a group of rowdy teens get their hands on an experimental formula that makes them grow to enormous sizes. They then embark on a reign of terror on a nearby town, forcing the populace to surrender their guns, provide them with food, and put up with their (gratuitously shot) dancing. And there is a LOT of dancing in Village of the Giants. There is so much, in fact, that it occasionally feels like Gordon just stitched together different scenes from a giant monster movie and a teen beach party flick. It doesn't help that during the prolonged dancing scenes, the camera fixates on the female giants' "assets." And the less said about the giant animal effects, the better. Admittedly though, the scene where a pair of giant ducks dance at a crowded party is delightfully campy.

4/10

Blue Demon: Daniel Grodnik

There are moments in Daniel Grodnik's Blue Demon where I am unsure whether or not what I'm watching is deliberate parody or merely colossally miscalculated attempts at drama and suspense. On the one hand, many shark attack movie cliches are deliberately played up: the opening scene where a young woman is attacked at night, a harpooning sequence, and even an arrogant authority figure who prevents the heroes from alerting the public about the killer sharks! But then we get scenes that are atrociously misdirected in tone and atmosphere. Take for example one scene where the scientists of a military organization tasked with developing super-evolved Great White sharks that can patrol America's borders are forced to attend a presentation for top military brass. The top commander in attendance is treated like a caricature of General Patton crossed with John Wayne: he's super-dramatic, his guards salute him the entire time he's in the room, and a scene where he has a lackey hold his cigar for him mid-puff is played for laughs. But the scene also has two recently divorced scientists bicker over their marriage while the presentation takes place. It's tonally consistent with the satire being attempted. The movie is dreadfully predictable, too: the sharks get loose, they kill people, the scientists are arrested by the aforementioned commander that turns out to be *GASP* evil, and they end up destroying the sharks via explosions. These recycled story elements could have worked if the film was a straight-up parody for its entire duration. And, of course, they could have worked if they were executed competently with good acting, good editing, and halfway decent special effects. But the film has none of these (well, that's not true considering Danny Woodburn steals every scene he's in as the furious project head and the lead actress, Dedee Pfeiffer, could easily become a competent actress with a bit more experience and polish). This isn't the worst shark attack movie I've ever seen. But it still sucks.

4/10

Stella Maris: Marshall Neilan

Oh Mary, Mary, Mary. I won't tolerate anyone insulting you by claiming that your acting is "stilted" or "dated." As Marshall Neilan's Stella Maris testifies to, you were a one-of-a-kind actress. The plot may be unusual for those unversed in turn-of-the-century melodrama. It involves a tragic love triangle between Stella Maris, a sheltered young woman crippled from birth, John Risca, a handsome journalist trapped in a destructive marriage, and Unity Blake, a ragged orphan who will permanently change their lives. Of course, many might not realize that you played BOTH Stella and Unity. Your transformation goes beyond different costumes and make-up. You managed to use body language to make you seem like a completely different person, let alone another character. Though many might fixate on your ethereal Stella, your performance as Unity pulsates with an energy and awareness that seems modern and fresh even in the 21st century. Stella Maris might have an antiquated story, but you, Mary, make it timeless. Thank you, my dear. Thank you.

8/10

Kill Katie Malone: Carlos Ramos Jr.

Carlos Ramos Jr.'s Kill Katie Malone is...just adorable. It feels like the makers were so enthusiastic and excited to be making a horror film that they accidentally forgot to write a proper script, believable characters, and a sense of diegetic logic behind the villain's actions. Here's the deal: three dumb college students buy a "haunted" box online on a lark. However, it turns out that the box actually IS haunted! Go figure, right? The malevolent spirit quickly starts to kill people who harass the three main characters, like an uptight Shakespeare professor (who was only doing her job in calling one of the three students out on plagiarism), an obnoxious dudebro dating a girl one of the students has a crush on (his death scene is particularly ridiculous and poorly executed), and one of the students' roommates. Her sin? Borrowing clothes without asking. Oh, her death scene is the highlight of the film. The spirit grabs her arm in class, yanks a paper cutter to her seat, and chops her limb off. This absurd scene is made even more preposterous when the professor chastises the CLEARLY HAUNTED GIRL for disrupting class. What, was she a renowned telekinetic beforehand? Also, the rules surrounding the spirit make no sense. Apparently she is motivated to keep her "family" together (i.e. the three students), so at first she starts to grant their wishes. And then, near the end of the movie, she starts to attack two of the students because they tried to set her soul free. Not the spirit's soul, mind you, but the soul attached to the box that she was sworn to protect and...well, it's complicated. It doesn't help that the scenes with the three students seem like they were edited together out of order. They abruptly forget about the spirit destroying and defacing their room only to wonder what could be causing all of the deaths on campus. They alternatively believe in the spirit's power and dismiss it as nonsense. And they switch between being WAY too chummy with each other to being angry and nasty for seemingly no reason. Kill Katie Malone is just a mess.

3/10

The Glenn Miller Story: Anthony Mann

I was honestly a bit apprehensive going into Anthony Mann's The Glenn Miller Story. I had previously seen two of his other non-Western collaborations with James Stewart, Thunder Bay (1953) and Strategic Air Command (1955). Both of them were painfully dull and underwhelming. And unfortunately, The Glenn Miller Story doesn't fare much better...with two exceptions. The film, a biopic of legendary big band leader Glenn Miller, features many cameos by real-life jazz legends. The best moment in the entire film takes place in a club "up in Harlem" where we are treated to an impromptu jam session featuring Babe Russin, Gene Krupa, and LOUIS ARMSTRONG. If you can't appreciate that, then you hate both movies AND music. The second great moment takes place during a concert given for Allied soldiers in World War Two. When an enemy aircraft approaches and starts to fire, Glenn Miller and his orchestra bravely keep playing until it is shot down by friendly forces. When they hear the deafening crash, all of the soldiers begin to cheer for their courage. But with the exception of these two scenes, The Glenn Miller Story is largely unremarkable. James Stewart gives all the conviction of a dead fish in his performance as Miller. Of course, that may have been intentional considering Miller's real life persona. The romance between Miller and his long-suffering wife is also trite and somewhat unconvincing. And considering that it plays a major part in both the narrative and Miller's character arc, such blandness is inexcusable. But, hey, at least the music is great!

6/10

Killer Joe: William Friedkin

In 2012, the Women Film Critics Circle gave William Friedkin's Killer Joe the awards for Worst Female Images and Worst Male Images. Indeed, Killer Joe, a film about a trailer trash family that hires a cop who moonlights as a hit-man to murder an ex-family member for the insurance, fills the screen with grotesque displays of nudity, violence, and filth. One of the very first shots of Sharla, the acerbic mother-in-law, is a close-up of her hairy vagina. To make matters worse, the vagina in question is only about a foot away from the face of her 22 year old son-in-law. There are only two prominent female characters, Sharla and her child-like daughter-in-law Dottie. Both of them will eventually get naked, perform sex on camera (including a truly horrific scene where Sharla is forced by the sheriff to fellate a piece of fried chicken), and assaulted (Sharla physically, Dottie emotionally). But the two male members of the family, Chris, the son, and his father Ansel, will be violently attacked, beaten, savaged, and shot. It would be easy to dismiss Killer Joe as mere exploitation. But here, Friedkin uses the human body as a polemic, both in its objectification and destruction. In the world of Killer Joe, violence, debauchery, and decay are codified to the point of  normalcy (the entire family is shocked to discover that Dottie is a virgin). In this way the graphic content becomes a kind of extension of the film's diegetic reality. The family eagerly pimps Dottie out to the sheriff as a down-payment on the hit. But this is hardly out of the ordinary from their point of view considering the fact that every other woman in the film is either a sex worker, adulterer, or amateur pornographer. When Chris "has the shit kicked out of him" by two loan sharks, the attackers are almost congenial towards him. After all, it's nothing personal. Are the images of men and women in Killer Joe deplorable? Definitely. But they fit perfectly into the film's insane universe.

8/10

Possessed: Curtis Bernhardt

There are only three things that really stand out in Curtis Bernhardt's Possessed, the story of a mentally unstable nurse named Louise Howell. The first is the beautiful cinematography by Joseph Valentine. His use of shadow and high-contrast lighting really makes the film pop visually. The second is a phenomenal sequence early in the film where Louise is wheeled into a hospital and we see everything from her point of view: the hospital doors opening before her, the orderlies glancing at her from the sides and corners of the screen, and barbaric-looking medical instruments careening into our faces. It's a truly unnerving scene that drives home the fact that to many hospitals are nothing more than sterile prisons. And the third stand out part of Possessed is Joan Crawford's tour de force performance as Louise. At times her performance is physically painful to watch, almost like you are witnessing a small animal being tortured. But the rest of the film fails to live up to these three strengths. The story is generally tepid, focusing on how Louise's unrequited love for a man triggered schizophrenic episodes which eventually end in murder. Well, okay, I lied. There IS another good part of the film. It involves a scene where a young woman confronts Louise and threatens to expose her secrets. She reacts by pushing her down a flight of stairs which, in true Hollywood fashion, ends up killing her. And then, suddenly, the same woman walks through the front door of the house Louise is in. Louise looks down at the body only to discover...that it is not there. The whole thing had been a schizophrenic episode. That segment actually managed to catch me off guard. Unfortunately, the film never again manages to recapture that level of tension and drama. Despite the good parts, Possessed is just a lukewarm glass of water.

6/10

20 Feet from Stardom: Morgan Neville

There is a moment in Morgan Neville's 20 Feet from Stardom that epitomizes the power that documentaries can wield. Long-time back-up singer Merry Clayton is taken back to the studio where she recorded her guest vocal on the Rolling Stones' song "Gimme Shelter.' Suddenly the song starts playing. Then all of the music, except for her vocal track, cuts out. As she listens to the infamous recording, she silently starts to cry. This recording was done so very long ago. And yet it remains a desperate testament both to Clayton's talent and to the legions of back-up singers who went largely uncredited and unnoticed during the history of R&B and rock and roll. These are the characters that 20 Feet from Stardom celebrates. These back-up singers gave vital life to songs by groups as eclectic as the Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, Sting, Michael Jackson, and Lynyrd Skynyrd. It's truly an eye-opening experience to meet the people behind the voices that have come to define generations of music listeners. At times jubilant, at times heart-breaking, and at times enraging, the film runs the emotional gambit. Quite simply, 20 Feet from Stardom packs a wallop. I would recommend it for everyone.

Many thanks to my friend Casey for bringing this film to my attention!!

8/10

World on a Wire: Rainer Werner Fassbinder

I don't think Rainer Werner Fassbinder was meant for science fiction. The man was a cinematic genius, releasing masterpieces like Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974). But his made-for-TV movie World on a Wire, based on the novel Simulacron-3 by Daniel F. Galouye, seems hollow and empty. Of course, you could easily argue that the sets, props, locations, and characters are supposed to seem lifeless and robotic. After all, the film centers around a scientist named Dr. Fred Stiller who discovers that he and everybody else that exists are merely computer programs in a Matrix-like simulation. Early scenes before Stiller's revelation are particularly beautiful and striking. In one scene that takes place at a party at a bar/pool/lounge, the people look and move like wind-up toys. But as the film progresses, Fassbinder loses focus on the plot, a gigantic no-no for science-fiction. In fact, his reluctance to stay focused leads to two different occasions when climactic, earth-shattering plot developments come out of nowhere in the last two minutes of a section (the film was released in two 100+ minute segments). This isn't conducive to good cinema. It makes the film seem rushed and projects Fassbinder as a director who wasn't interested in the project. But the film is magnificently beautiful. And when it manages to snap out of its stupor and actually address the central ideas projected by the story, it becomes something truly special.

7/10

I Married a Witch: René Clair

I'll be perfectly honest...I only watched René Clair's I Married a Witch because it was recently added to the Criterion Collection. How could I not with a description like this:

"Many centuries after cursing the male descendants of the Salem puritan who sent her to the stake, [Veronica Lake] finds herself drawn to one of them—a prospective governor (Fredric March) about to marry a spoiled socialite (Susan Hayward). The most delightful of the films the innovative French director René Clair made in Hollywood, I Married a Witch is a comic confection bursting with playful special effects and sparkling witticisms."

But having now seen the film, I have come to the conclusion that this film was only added to the Criterion Collection because it was directed by the man who made Le Million (1931) and À Nous la Liberté (1931). It's not a bad film, mind you. It's just...alright. It's okay. It's upbeat and cheerful enough, I suppose. Veronica Lake is delightful as the alternatively naughty and lovestruck witch. And the film's special effects are charming in their simplicity. But the film isn't extraordinary. In fact, it's a bit misogynistic by today's standards. I'm willing to bet that many people could interpret Lake's accidental, irreversible infatuation with March as a kind of rape. After all, she doesn't willingly fall in love with him. It's only after he accidentally makes her drink a love potion that she imprints on him. Mind control's still mind control, folks. Listen, I'm all in favor of inducting classic Hollywood films into the Criterion Collection. But there are so many other films, even from 1942 (where's my release of Casablanca and Cat People, Criterion!!), that the inclusion of I Married a Witch seems inexplicable.

7/10

Babette’s Feast: Gabriel Axel

In a recent interview, the newly installed Pope Francis revealed that his favorite movie was Gabriel Axel's Babette's Feast. Having now seen the film, I can totally understand why. Babette's Feast isn't so much a movie as a parable that would feel right at home in the Gospels. It is a meditation on charity, selflessness, compassion, and earnest Christian piety. The story centers on two Christian sisters, Martine and Philippa, who live in a small community on the coast of Jutland, Denmark in the 19th century. One day, a woman named Babette arrives and asks them for a job. See, Babette is a refugee from political turmoil in Paris that had left her entire family dead. She was told by an old friend of the sisters that she could seek shelter with them. Though initially uncomfortable with her sudden presence, the sisters, and the village at large, begins to love Babette. Years after her arrival, she receives news that she has won 10,000 francs from the lottery. But instead of going back to her old home, she selfishly (and secretly) spends every franc on a lavish feast for the entire village featuring authentic French cuisine. The food is so magnificent that it washes away old hatreds and grudges among the townsfolk and proves that even something as "sinful" as good food can be a pious act devoted to the glory of God. Religious without seeming preachy, emotional without being melodramatic, and completely earnest in its intentions, Babette's Feast is nothing short of a miracle.

9/10

20 Million Miles to Earth: Nathan H. Juran

Whenever films that feature the effects work of Ray Harryhausen are discussed, there's always a certain temptation to focus solely on the special effects and ignore the films' other formalistic qualities. After all, the effects are the reason why these films have survived for so many decades in the hearts and minds of movie-goers and critics. Nathan H. Juran's 20 Million Miles to Earth is a great example. The story follows a mysterious alien creature known as Ymir that is brought to earth by astronauts. After a very short period of time, it grows to immense size and begins to terrorize the streets of Rome (the spaceship had crashed-landed near Sicily). The film features perhaps one of the single greatest sequences ever brought to life by Harryhausen: the terrified Ymir breaks into a zoo and does battle with an elephant. Because of the limitations of stop-motion animation, their fight is filmed like a dance number from a musical: medium-long shots and incredibly sparse editing. And though we know that we are watching two pieces of clay fight to the death, Harryhausen's creations seem more immediate and real than anything ever created on a computer. But if you ignored the special effects, 20 Million Miles to Earth is still a competently made film that complements Harryhausen's work instead of merely relying on it to carry the production. The opening sequence where a group of Sicilian fishermen investigate the crashed spaceship is particularly effective. There is a magnificent sense of size and scale evoked onscreen as the fishermen are dwarfed by the spaceship in early shots. And the scene where the fishermen try to rescue the injured astronauts while the ship slowly sinks is delightfully tense and suspenseful. The plot may rely a bit too heavily on cliched, stock sci-fi characters, but that's alright. We didn't come for the humans anyhow.

7/10

Lady in the Lake: Robert Montgomery

I can't in good conscience recommend Robert Montgomery's Lady in the Lake as a good movie. However, the film, based on Raymond Chandler's 1944 novel of the same name, is an exceedingly entertaining one. First, let's look at the film's biggest problem: its use of first-person perspective. Almost the entire film is shot from private detective Phillip Marlowe's point of view. At first, this gimmick is fascinating enough to hold our interest. But after about 20 minutes it really begins to wear thin. The plot is par for the course for private dick film noir: a woman has gone missing, Marlowe's been hired to find her, and things go absolutely bananas with the introduction of numerous red herrings, mistaken identities, and jagged femme fatales. This speaks to my main problem with the first-person perspective: nothing in the plot really justifies its use. There are some clever moments were its novelty is exploited, such as doors opening, the screen getting foggy whenever he's punched, and a particularly effective car chase. But these are all stylistic flourishes that are ultimately unnecessary. But again, Lady in the Lake is a delightful guilty pleasure. Why? Because the film borders on high camp. Robert Montgomery is a delightful sonuvabitch as Marlowe. And Audrey Totter's performance as Adrienne Fromsett, a curt blonde that Marlowe keeps running into, is equal parts exasperated, frenzied, and sarcastic. Whenever she shows up onscreen (which is often) you can't take your eyes off her. So, no, Lady in the Lake isn't technically a good movie. But everyone should see it!

6/10

Heaven’s Gate: Michael Cimino

I guess when you get down to it, I don't really see the point behind Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate. If we look beyond the fact that it essentially murdered the director-driven mode of production that had been prominent in Hollywood since the beginning of the Hollywood New Wave, it doesn't really hold up all of these years later. It exists in an artistic vacuum that sprang solely from Cimino's head. It reveals no real influences other than Cimino's eccentricities and hasn't really done anything to advance the cinema. It simply exists as an opaque block of celluloid that treats the viewer with contempt. Heaven's Gate tried to both have a plot (in this case concerning the real-life Johnson County War) while purposefully subverting narrative forms of storytelling. There are characters, intrigue, and drama, but they are often discarded in favor of lengthy non sequiturs that exist simply to add "atmosphere." It tries to mimic the contemplative pace of films like The Tree of Wooden Clogs (1978) while injecting scenes that seem straight out of The Wild Bunch (1969). The result is a film with little coherency which conscientiously tries to frustrate the audience. Here's an example: one plot point involves a posse hired to hunt down 125 settlers accused of "rustling" and other crimes. The local sheriff, Jim Averill, learns of the plot, goes to the town...and does nothing. Instead we are waylaid with about an hour of skating rink dances, tepid romantic triangles, and solemn shots of landscapes and clouds. Meanwhile, several days within the film's diegetic time frame passes. Then, when the posse actually starts to attack the town, ONLY THEN does Averill warn the townsfolk that there is a horde of hired killers coming for them. By that point we have lost sympathy with Averill because of the fact that any actual human being would have TOLD the townsfolk as soon as they arrived. Of course, you could easily argue that the point of Heaven's Gate has nothing to do with its plot. To which I respond: did anybody tell Cimino that while he was making the damn thing? Because I think he missed the memo.

6/10

Lightning Over Water: Wim Wenders, Nicholas Ray

In just a few weeks, legendary American director Nicholas Ray will be dead, his body ravaged by cancer and his spirit eroded by decades of disappointment, failure, and artistic impotence. After years and years of battling against ignorant studio executives, Ray (the director of such masterpieces as In a Lonely Place (1950), Johnny Guitar (1954), and Rebel Without a Cause (1955)) looks like a skeleton with a single layer of skin stretched over it. And yet, in his final days, Ray is still making movies. The film in this case is Lightning Over Water, a co-production with German director and Ray disciple Wim Wenders. A documentary with a few obviously staged scenes sprinkled about here and there, Lightning Over Water is a living document of the last moments of one of the Great American Iconoclasts. Ray and Wenders talk and talk and talk about the "old days" of Hollywood, of the cinema itself, and, of course, of the inevitability of death. We see Ray give a lecture after a screening of The Lusty Men (1952) at Vassar, direct a one-man stage performance of Franz Kafka's "A Report for an Academy," and, in one of the film's bravest and most devastating moments, sputter through a grotesque cough attack that reduces him to a shriveled husk on his bed. Lightning Over Water is a difficult film to watch as it contains nothing less than the destruction and apotheosis of a cinematic maverick.

8/10

Cry of the City: Robert Siodmak

Martin Rome is a bastard. He isn't an anti-hero, he isn't misunderstood, and he isn't a victim of unfortunate circumstances. He is an arrogant criminal who uses people without any concern for their welfare and safety. As Robert Siodmak's Cry of the City progresses, he leaves a trail of broken people behind him on his quest to evade the police, escape a robbery/murder rap, and re-unite with the woman he wants to marry. His victims include his long-suffering mother, a fellow inmate who helps him to escape from a hospital (giving him 5 more years in jail), an emigrant doctor with a sick wife, a giant masseuse, a lawyer, and, of course, his little brother who idolizes him and wants to grow up to be a tough guy, too. Trailing Martin is police lieutenant Candella, an Italian-American who came from the same neighborhood who fights a Sisyphean battle against crime. Martin and Candella take the audience through a tour of tenement buildings, dirty streets, dark cars, and grimy buildings. As infuriating as Martin is, Candella manages to counter him by being such a beacon of hope and justice in an environment that would crush lesser men. But back to Martin: probably the biggest reason why we grow to resent him is that he is not only aware of his own failings, but he revels in them. We get the sense that he enjoys taking advantage of people and killing those who get in his way. Why? Because it beats working 9-to-5.

9/10

Undercurrent: Vincente Minnelli

If you’re going to make a film noir that's over 90 minutes, then you damn well better bring your 'A'-game. Though noir is by its very nature self-reflective, it is also a genre of kineticism, movement, and most importantly, immediacy. The more a noir drags itself out, the more it suffers from creative constipation. There are notable exceptions, of course. But Vincente Minnelli's Undercurrent is not one of them. Not only is the film almost two hours long (which is almost four hours in film noir time), but the plot is so tedious that sitting through the entire thing becomes an endurance test. Basically the film is about a middle-aged woman played by Katharine Hepburn who falls in love and marries a charming man who, surprise, might actually be a jealous, murderous maniac. But the film flows like frozen molasses, forcing us to spend time with unnecessary characters and pointless plot developments. Hepburn's talents are wasted in this excuse for a film as well as those of Robert Taylor (the husband) and Robert Mitchum (Taylor's mysterious brother). In addition, the film is just ugly, utilizing flat, gray camera compositions. It's hard to believe that this film is by the same director who gave the world such Technicolor extravaganzas as Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) and An American in Paris (1951). Undercurrent may be the worst film noir that I've ever seen.

4/10

Hot Blood: Nicholas Ray

Watching Nicholas Ray's Hot Blood, I found myself oddly distracted by the film's gender politics. While I do pride myself on my academic acumen as a film scholar, I almost never go into a film with the intention of dissecting how it addresses factors like gender or race. I prefer to leave that kind of analysis for repeated viewings. But Hot Blood just bothered me. The film is about a California gypsy who is tricked into marrying a woman he doesn't love. After running away with a lover, he discovers that he loves his gypsy heritage so much that he can't stay separated from it. So he returns, becomes King of the Gypsies (apparently that's a thing), and reunites with his wife. The wife is Annie Caldash, played by the magnificent Jane Russell. But time and again we are reminded that her ultimate goal in life is to be a proper wife. Of course, we are told that Annie wants to be the perfect wife just to spite her reluctant husband. But the film floods the audience with gypsy folk tales, songs, and proverbs about how gypsy women must be obedient, faithful, and submissive to their husbands (who are allowed to sleep around however they so choose). So this makes me think: is Annie supposed to be a strong female protagonist because she uses her cultural background as a method for revenge? See, in many of Ray's films, his characters are members of outsider groups like immigrants, soldiers, rodeo riders, outlaws, and poachers. Their association with the outsider group demonstrates how they reject standard cultural norms. But in Hot Blood, we are almost always in the world of gypsies. The gypsy lifestyle is portrayed not as a fringe culture, but as the default one (scenes where the male protagonist is not hired for work because of his background seem forced and don't mesh well with the rest of the film). Therefore Annie Caldash's behavior seems reactionary instead of revolutionary. In this sense, Hot Blood doesn't feel like a Nicholas Ray film. It doesn't help that the film is rather tedious and uninspired. Now, let me be frank for a moment: Hot Blood is a gorgeous film. The cinematography is rich with vibrant reds, a trait that Ray would use again several years later in Party Girl (1958). But the film seems hollow and surprisingly misogynistic.

5/10

Bad Ronald: Buzz Kulik

There's a decent idea for a movie in Buzz Kulik's Bad Ronald. The film is about Ronald Wilby (Scott Jacoby), an asocial young man living with his overbearing mother who occupies a world of fantasy of his own creation. When he accidentally kills a young girl, his mother helps him escape prosecution by claiming that he ran away. But in reality, he holes himself up in a makeshift room behind one of the walls. When his mother suddenly dies, Ronald becomes completely cut off from the outside world and disappears into his own delusions. When a new family moves into the house, they have no idea that it has another occupant. And even worse, they have no idea that Ronald has become infatuated with their youngest daughter and believes that she is his princess. As I said, the plot has some potential. I wonder what Alfred Hitchcock could have done with this material. But unfortunately, Bad Ronald was a made-for-TV movie and therefore suffers from time constraints. Several plot points are either dwelled upon for too long (Ronald's back-story) or rushed (the last ten minutes feel like they tried to cram in about thirty minutes worth of story). But, to the film's credit, it does contain some legitimately creepy moments, most of them courtesy of Jacoby's understated yet excellent performance.

6/10

Desperate: Anthony Mann

Though Desperate was Anthony Mann's first film noir, it features one of the most disturbing and artistically mature moments of his entire oeuvre within the genre. After an attempted robbery goes sour, a group of gangsters corner Steve Randall, their unsuspecting getaway driver who genuinely didn't know that he was participating in a crime. Because Randall alerted a nearby policeman after discovering that he was being played for a sucker, their leader, Walt Radak, blames him for the actions of his stupid younger brother who impulsively shot and killed the officer on the scene before getting captured. Now Radak's brother is going to be sentenced to death...unless of course Randall steps up, confesses to a murder he didn't commit, and takes the fall. Naturally, Steve is less than enthusiastic with this proposition and refuses. So Radak tells his men to "persuade" him. As they begin to beat Steve within an inch of his life, the camera moves in closer on Radak as the overhead light sways back and forth, throwing his stony face in and out of opaque shadow. It's a scene that would make German Expressionists drool. Everything after that is standard noir material concerning the Couple on the Run trope: Steve and his wife retreat to the country, they meet unscrupulous characters who cheat them of what little money they have (like a deliciously evil used car salesman), they run from the law (including a good-natured, laughing sheriff who changes his composure from friendly to threatening in less than the blink of an eye), and for some ridiculous, inexplicable reason, Steve refuses to tell his wife, family, and the police the truth about the crime. It gets to the point where you want to grab Steve by the throat and knock some sense into him. But despite the protagonist's idiocy, the film is competently shot, decently acted, and thoroughly suspenseful.

7/10

Niagara: Henry Hathaway

Without Marilyn Monroe, I doubt very many people would remember Henry Hathaway's Niagara. It's a clunky film about a honeymooning couple who vacation at Niagara Falls and accidentally become involved in the (deadly) destruction of another couple's marriage. This doomed couple is George and Rose Loomis. George is a shell-shocked veteran recently released from a military hospital (read: mental institution). Rose, played by Monroe, is much younger, much more sexually hungry, and much, much more ruthless. She conspires with a lover to murder George and throw his body over the falls. But something goes wrong and it is the lover who ends up dead. Now the already mentally unstable George is on the war-path to give Rose what's coming to her. The highlight of the film is a stunning scene where George finally confronts Rose in a bell tower and strangles her to death. This sequence is one of the rare times when color has actually helped a film noir instead of merely serving as a distraction: the siren-red wall behind the cornered Rose, the dull, yellow bells that held a special significance for Rose and her lover, and the bright tones that make the two actors stand out like a pop-up book compared to the stale building. Hathaway also gives us a truly remarkable bird's-eye shot that places the gigantic bells in the extreme foreground and George and Rose in the background. It is a brilliant moment of visual storytelling that perfectly highlights how they have trapped each other, one physically, one mentally. Of course Rose winds up dead. But whereas a sensible film would either end right there or immediately afterwards, Niagara putters along for a while as George tries to escape the police in a protracted sequence where he steals a boat (and the woman from the other couple) and accidentally runs it over the Falls. It's completely unnecessary. In fact, the other couple is entirely unnecessary! Why couldn't the film have just been about George and Rose? Why did they have to frame the narrative with a pair of outsiders? The other couple doesn't serve as a foil to the Loomis'. They don't try and unwrap the Loomis' mysterious past and current crimes. They're just there because...they're there. Hathaway tries to endear us to them with a number of forcibly cheerful relatives and friends, but because their relationship is too perfect and lacks any sort of emotional conflict, they come across as narrative dead weight. Niagara is a bloated, occasionally beautiful film that should get down on its knees and thank heavens for Marilyn.

6/10

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Saw the film again at the New York Film Festival. The experience changed my opinion of it. You can read my new review here: http://theretroset.com/henry-hathaway-portrait-of-an-underratedd-artist/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=the_retro_set&utm_content=Henry%20Hathaway:%20Portrait%20of%20an%20Underrated%20Artist.

8/10

Journey into Fear: Norman Foster, Orson Welles

Clocking in at barely over an hour, Norman Foster and Orson Welles' Journey into Fear is a delightful film noir treat. The plot is of little consequence: an American arms engineer is put on a slow Turkish boat back to the United States after an Axis plot to kill him is revealed. Along the way, he must contend with a truly fascinating group of supporting characters and a pair of dastardly killers. But all you really need to know is that the engineer is trapped on a boat with people who want him dead...he just isn't sure which ones. The film features some truly fantastic stylistic touches courtesy of Welles: a skipping gramophone that signals the presence of an obese assassin, luscious black and white deep focus cinematography, and the use of tight, claustrophobic sets that highlight the protagonist's terror and desperate struggle. The supporting cast is so genuinely entertaining that I can't chose which one I like the most. Some of them include a capitalist businessman who accidentally became a socialist, the Turkish tobacco salesman who seems a little too eager to insist upon his neutrality concerning the war, and even Orson Welles in a bit part as Colonel Haki, head of the local secret police. And, true to form, Welles manages to steal every single scene he is in (and that includes suddenly showing up in the exciting climax to participate in a gunfight). Joseph Cotten is also reliably cast as the American engineer who is in way, way over his head. If you have about an hour to spare, check Journey into Fear out. It won't disappoint!

8/10