Lola: Jacques Demy

I've never been very impressed with the films of Jacques Demy. But his film Lola surprised me with its warmth, melancholy, and beautiful cinematography. The whole film is about the desire people feel for each other. The angry young man wants the cabaret singer because she reminds him of their childhood together. But the American sailor also wants the cabaret singer, perhaps because he felt some semblance of home while in her arms. Then there's the young girl also wants the American, maybe because he represents the unknown and the possibly rebellious. But what does the cabaret singer want? An old lover who abandoned her and their young child. Why does she want him when there are so many others desperate to love her? I'm not sure she even knows. But it's the desire that drives her and all of the other sad and hopeful characters in the film. How wonderful it would be for them if the characters learned to first love themselves. I mentioned that the cinematography was beautiful, but I don't think that description does it enough credit. I've rarely seen light so bountifully and enthusiastically utilized. The film is drenched in rich, deep swathes of light. Most black-and-white films emphasize shadows and darkness. But here light, like love, is life.

7/10

The Unknown: Tod Browning

[Revisit Review]

I wasn't as impressed with Tod Browning's The Unknown when I watched it a second time as I was the first time that I watched it. After my first viewing, I was so amazed that I wrote about it on my site Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear. But now I have cooled considerably towards it. Lon Chaney's performance is still the stuff of legend. But there are too many gaps in the film for it to be a cohesive narrative (like the startling cut between Chaney commenting on how he can't let anybody learn the secret of his arms to him walking out in the open with his arms out only to be discovered by the circus owner). I understand that several scenes have been lost, but a few explanatory title cards would have greatly helped. Also, the film doesn't have the visual panache of Browning's better films like Dracula (1931).

7/10

Reality Bites: Ben Stiller

The main fault of Ben Stiller's Reality Bites is that it is not detached enough from its principal characters. It celebrates, if not outright heroizes, its misdirected and confused characters. Winona Ryder is triumphed as a bastion of artistic integrity when she refuses to let her work be pulverized by Ben Stiller's company. But the film doesn't consider the fact that her actual work is atrocious and her refusal to work minimum wage jobs to support herself actually does make her out to seem spoiled in the manner that her father suggests. Ethan Hawke is idolized as a tortured soul so out of touch with his emotions that his verbal and emotional abuse of his friends is not only forgivable but warranted. But the film doesn't seem to realize that he is, and let's be blunt here, just an asshole. And finally, Stiller is shown to be an incompetent yuppie sellout who deserves to lose Ryder to the oh-so-noble Hawke. But again, the film seems to forget that he is the only one of the love triangle who actually has a steady job, financial security, and the willingness to try and make a romantic relationship work instead of resigning himself to a come-what-may attitude towards love and sex. I'm not saying that these characters couldn't have worked in a film like this. Kevin Smith's Clerks (1994) was also full of characters who were massive f--k-ups and failures in their personal and professional lives. But the difference between Clerks and Reality Bites is that Smith's film had the insight to acknowledge that its characters were personal disasters. Clerks ends with its characters coming to terms with their shortcomings and yet resolving to keep on trying despite themselves. Reality Bites ends with its characters (and the film itself) forgetting that they are, respectively, a talentless slacker, an asshole, and an earnestly good person who unfairly got the shaft. And what happened to Janeane Garofalo and Steve Zahn's characters?! They were the most interesting and compelling parts of the film!

5/10

Begin Again: John Carney

John Carney's Begin Again is a warm, sloppy hug of a movie that deftly blends music, naturalistic acting, and the understated emotional pathos that defined his earlier triumph Once (2006). After seeing the film twice in the theaters I still find myself thinking about it almost every day. It's a film about people whose lives have been upended finding comfort, solace, and healing in a community of musicians. Keira Knightley received some criticism for her less-than-professional vocal performances. But that was the point of the character! She wasn't a professional or even semi-professional singer/songwriter. She was just a woman who wrote songs for herself who happened to meet the right person at the right time to help her find her voice. Mark Ruffalo's performance is also a stark reminder that we shouldn't lose sight of his considerable talents just because he now periodically transforms into a rampaging green giant. Begin Again is just the kind of film that Hollywood needs right now: honest, sincere, authentic.

8/10

Americathon: Neal Israel

I feel like I really should have liked Neal Israel's Americathon more than I did. After all, it's a late 70s satire of American culture that features a ton of great actors and delightful cameos (like Meat Loaf, Jay Leno, and Elvis Costello), an absurd premise (America must raise hundreds of billions of dollars via a telethon or it will default to its Native American lenders), and a plethora of eerily accurate predictions concerning the future (such as China embracing capitalism, the fall of the USSR, and the rise of reality television). And yet, Americanthon left me feeling cold and unimpressed. There's no agenda behind the satire, no unifying idea that guides the film. The result is a film that feels hollow, disorganized, and even unnecessary. It's paint-by-numbers politically incorrect satire. Some of the concepts and ideas are clever enough, but they're stymied by poor execution. Chief among Americathon's sins was the wasting of a perfectly good Harvey Korman performance as the beleaguered and drug-addicted telethon host. Korman bravely gives it his all, but the script and direction just can't rise to the occasion.

5/10

Les Diaboliques: Henri-Georges Clouzot

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/film/the-film-canon-les-diaboliques-1955/37010.

10/10

The Naked Kiss: Samuel Fuller

[Revisit Review]

The most brilliant aspect of Samuel Fuller's The Naked Kiss is its structure. At the one hour mark it feels like the entire film has been neatly resolved. But then a shocking revelation occurs concerning J.L. Grant that turns the entire film on its head. Then, one by one, all of the people that Kelly has either helped or hurt turns up to either praise or condemn her. The Naked Kiss reminds me of Henri-Georges Clouzot's Les Diaboliques (1955) and Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) in how they trick the audience into thinking that they're watching one kind of story, one kind of film only to pull the rug out from under them with a sudden realization that redefines the entire experience. This isn't just a film with a shocking twist. The twist is a means to an end more terrible and fascinating than we could ever have imagined.

8/10

Our Hospitality: John G. Blystone, Buster Keaton

[Revisit Review]

I'm just going to say it: Clyde Bruckman and Buster Keaton's The General (1926) is extremely overrated. One of Keaton's earlier films that he co-directed with John G. Blystone entitled Our Hospitality is better in practically every conceivable manner. The gags are funnier and more dangerous (at least they look that way), the gentle parody of Southern culture is more creative, and the opening sequence involving Keaton's journey on a Stephenson's Rocket is more delightful than all of the train sequences in The General put together. I also liked how there weren't any jokes until after Keaton's character was all grown up. If gags had been added during the early scenes where the back-stories concerning the dueling families had been revealed it would have made the constant threat of death later in the film seem less threatening and believable.

9/10

Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster: Ishirō Honda

This is it, folks: the moment when Godzilla stopped being a villain and became a genuine hero. The Godzilla films had been becoming more and more child-friendly for years, so it was only a matter of time before he stopped being a villain who destroyed indiscriminately. Thankfully, Ishirō Honda provided a plausible explanation for Godzilla's turn in Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster: he either teamed up with Rodan and Mothra to defeat King Ghidorah or the entire world would be destroyed. I think this was the first Godzilla film chronologically that actually addressed the kaiju's motivations. In the scene where Mothra tries to recruit Rodan and Godzilla, the Shobijin telepathically translate their conversation to reveal that Godzilla and Rodan fight each other because...well...they hate each other. And they attack mankind because...well...they hate humanity, too. I admire the purity of their motivations. When kaiju develop complex personalities and motivations, it usually doesn't bode well for the films they star in (Mothra being the exception since she was always a complex character because of her relationship with humans and the Shobijin). Here's my big problem with the film, though: the special effects and fight scenes aren't very good. The final four-way fight is excellent and watching Mothra, Godzilla, and Rodan use actual tactics to defeat King Ghidorah instead of just charging him all at once was delightful. But the other fights pale in comparison. Godzilla's bouts with Rodan should have felt epic and grand, but they come off as really cheesy and childish due to poor costumes (you can see the plastic folds on Rodan's neck) and ridiculous battle choreography (Godzilla resorts to kicking rocks like soccer balls at Rodan more than once). The inanity reaches a fever pitch when Godzilla and Rodan start knocking a giant boulder back and forth like it was a volleyball. Kaiju films require a massive willful suspension of disbelief. But during that scene it was damn near impossible not to look on the screen and see anything other than two men in rubber suits playing with a plastic ball.

6/10

Mothra vs. Godzilla: Ishirō Honda

[Spoilers Ahead]

One of the things that has always bothered me about kaiju films is that it is extremely difficult to feel any kind of sympathy or empathy for giant rubber suits beating the stuffing outta each other. In the best case scenario, the kaiju don't have any real motivations except to consume and destroy. In the worst case scenarios, they become Friends to All Mankind and become amusement park mascots. Ishirō Honda's Mothra vs. Godzilla manages to find a comfortable middle ground in its tale of the titanic struggle between two of the greatest kaiju of all time. Godzilla just wants to destroy, Mothra wants to protect mankind and its eggs. It's a simple yet surprisingly effective conflict. I actually felt myself tearing up a little when Mothra laid down to die with her wings resting over her egg. The film is also structured very well. The first hour is a real slow burn that sets all of the pieces for the battle between Mothra, Godzilla, and Mothra's children. By devoting the last third to the kaiju battles, the film doesn't feel uneven or bizarrely paced like Godzilla Raids Again (1955) and Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah (1991) which seemed to struggle for direction in between the giant battles. It also helps that the kaiju fights are some of the best that I have ever seen from the Showa Era. The first battle where Mothra literally drags Godzilla by the tail was delightful and contained some surprisingly effective special effects. And who couldn't love watching Mothra's children capture Godzilla in a whirlwind of silk spray?

7/10

King Kong vs. Godzilla: Ishirō Honda

Ishirō Honda's King Kong vs. Godzilla was a real turning point for the Godzilla franchise as it was where the series began to redirect itself so as to appeal to children. In time, this would result in Godzilla becoming a bona fide hero who defended Japan against other kaiju. But here he still remains a rampaging monster. The film has a few technical problems: some of the composite shots are sloppy, some of the models are unconvincing, and some of the early fight scenes between King Kong and Godzilla are laughable for the wrong reasons (I love how King Kong just...gives up during one of their first fights). But remember one of Roger Ebert's Golden Rules: A film is not about its subject; it's about how it's about its subject. And as a movie intended for children where two kaiju icons beat the crap outta each other, King Kong vs. Godzilla is very well done. The plot is stripped of bizarre narrative cul-de-sacs involving insignificant characters (the one concerning Fumiko, Sakurai's sister, gets a pass because it sets the stage for the film's big King Kong homage) and out-of-place gore (Godzilla vs. Hedorah, anyone?). Also, I liked the homages to the original films starring King Kong and Godzilla vis-à-vis their introductions: King Kong was captured by outsiders looking for fame and Godzilla was unleashed by an American nuclear submarine. Also, I can't believe that Honda managed to include "island natives" on King Kong's island that were less politically correct than the ones in the original 1933 Hollywood film.

7/10

Godzilla vs. Hedorah: Yoshimitsu Banno

I know most of you probably won't believe me, but I don't have some kind of vendetta against the Godzilla franchise that compels me to give all of the original film's sequels 6/10 scores. But...here we are again. Despite my score, I kinda liked Yoshimitsu Banno's Godzilla vs. Hedorah even though many things about it bugged the hell outta me. The eleventh film in the franchise, it was plain enough to see that at this point the Godzilla films were increasingly being envisioned, created, and sold as children's movies. In fact, one could be forgiven for mistaking it for a Gamera film: a deadly alien creature arrives on earth, terrorizes the masses, and is defeated by a Good Kaiju which, for some inexplicable reason, is connected with a young boy. Yes, Big G does certainly come off like The Friend of All Children this time around. But he also seems to be The Friend of All Teenagers, too. Many sections of the film are bizarrely devoted to rambunctious teenagers who just happen to show up whenever the monster du jour, this time an alien life-form named Hedorah who feeds off pollution, shows up and/or fights Godzilla. The Hedorah and pollution effects are top-notch and stand alongside Yoichi Manoda's eclectic cinematography as the film's ultimate highlights. One last thing about Godzilla vs. Hedorah that annoyed me: for a children's film (and we know it IS a children's film because of the child protagonist and animated segments), it is disturbingly violent. People die in every Godzilla movie. But here people just don't die, they are disintegrated into piles of goop and bones courtesy of deadly chemicals. It's a bit whiplash-inducing in terms of tone.

6/10

Tunnel Vision: Neal Israel, Bradley R. Swirnoff

I think that if I had to compare Neal Israel and Bradley R. Swirnoff's Tunnel Vision (1976) and John Landis' Kentucky Fried Movie (1977), I would say that the latter was the funniest. But between the two, Tunnel Vision is easily the smartest and most overtly political. Because of this, and not in spite of it, I think that I like it more than Landis' film. Tunnel Vision plays like the screaming id of 1970s America: all of the racism, all of the post-Vietnam anxieties, all of the Cold War fears and apprehensions are on full display. Some of the skits straddle the line between parody and outright racial bile, particularly one sketch that mocks upbeat laugh-track sitcoms where the happy family is comprised of horrific racists and homophobes. But the film itself is about the nature of free speech. After all, the framing narrative involves the producers of "TunnelVision," the eponymous television channel from which all of the clips are taken, on trial before the Senate for refusing to censor itself and for the debilitating effect it is having on millions of Americans. The producers point out that they are not forcing the American populace to watch their programming. If America chooses to watch it, then clearly they identify with (and possibly even sympathize with) the offensive programming. Here is perhaps the greatest miracle of Tunnel Vision: it's an anthology film with a frame narrative that enhances instead of detracts from the sketches. Of course, it also helps that the film is very, very funny. One sketch in particular concerning Israel's ever-expanding borders is so intelligent and timely that you could literally show it on the next episode of Saturday Night Live and it would be a hit.

7/10

Stone Cold: Craig R. Baxley

You know, I kinda get what Brian Bosworth was going for with his performance in Craig R. Baxley's Stone Cold. He was trying to go for the whole "too cool to care" routine, almost like an action movie Chevy Chase. But instead of coming off like a badass, he comes off as barely awake for most of the film. Stone Cold is a rather paint-by-numbers action movie about a wild card cop who is "enlisted" by the FBI to infiltrate a sinister biker gang involved in the drug trade and the murder of a government official. If you've seen one film like this, you've seen them all: hero tries to get into gang, regular members reject him, the leader takes an unusually enthusiastic interest in him, the hero is betrayed, and it all ends with a massive gunfight. I'll say this about Stone Cold: the action sequences are fantastic. This is one of those action movies where vehicles barely have to be grazed by bullets for them to erupt into cataclysmic fireballs. And to be fair, Lance Henriksen is a lot of fun as the villain, even if his characterization as a psychopathic biker leader is a bit generic. As a side note, I was pleasantly surprised by the film's payoff concerning Bosworth's useless, germophobic partner. Well done, movie, well done.

5/10

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman: Nathan H. Juran

Nathan H. Juran's Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is one of those films that has probably gotten more fame and notoriety for its title and poster than for the quality of the movie itself. I freely admit that my expectations weren't very high when I began this film. But to my great surprise, it was actually really good! To be fair, some of the special effects left much to be desired. When the eponymous giant becomes giant, the film switches between impressive model shots and...not-so-impressive process shots. The process shots make her seem transparent and there is a noticeable discrepancy between her size in these shots when compared with the model shots. But these errors are forgivable for one very important reason: Attack of the 50 Foot Woman isn't really a film about a giant woman. Instead, it's a fascinating examination of psychological neuroses and the pressures placed upon women in the 1950s. I wouldn't go so far as to label it feminist, but there is much more going on in this film than most people might give it credit for. The unfortunate woman is a wealthy heiress with a history of mental instability and self-destructive alcoholism. At the start of the movie she's clean. But that doesn't stop the whole town from piteously dismissing her as drunk and crazy when she witnesses a real-life UFO and giant alien. Her philandering husband whose cheating nearly destroyed their marriage once before even conspires with his latest squeeze to get her locked up in a mental hospital to get rid of her. Failing that...there's always murder. She is very rich, after all. As the whole town ignores her and treats her like a madwoman, she begins to lose her grip on her sanity. When she finally grows and seeks revenge on her husband, it can be interpreted as her tortured id finally breaking free and fighting back against a society which has refused to help her and has instead actively tried to dispose of her. Like I said, the movie isn't perfect (come to think of it, I don't think the film ever actually explains how she grows into a giant), but the acting is incredible, the characters memorable, the cinematography excellent, and the sub-text marvelous.

7/10

The Groove Tube: Ken Shapiro

Ken Shapiro's The Groove Tube suffers from one primary problem: it doesn't know when to let the bits stop. There are some legitimately funny sketches in this spoof anthology film. But almost all of them go on and on and on for far too long. The best sketch involves a group of political pundits whose round-table discussion turns into an impromptu cafeteria. It's pitch perfect comedy: take something slightly ridiculous and carry it to its logical extreme. And the best part is that when it hits the apex of absurdity it ends. I wish they would have done the same for the rest of the sketches. Take the opening sequence. It involves a group of humanoid apes who discover a television set in the middle of desolate environment. Within seconds of seeing the first ape costume we know that it will be a 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) spoof. And yet it goes on for several unbearable minutes. Then there's the abominable drug dealers sequence, the longest in the film, that is singularly unfunny, poorly shot, and almost impossible to hear due to bad sound mixing. There's a saying about music: don't bore us, get to the chorus. The same can be said for comedy.

4/10

Phantom of the Paradise: Brian De Palma

Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise doesn't really work. In fact, I'm not sure it ever could have worked under any circumstances. The film just has too much going on for its own good. For the most part it's an adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera (the French novel, not the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical) with elements from Faust and The Picture of Dorian Gray mixed in. Set in the world of rock 'n' roll instead of opera, the film also showcases prominent sequences that tribute films such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), Touch of Evil (1958), and Psycho (1960). And yet, the film has acquired a cult following. Why? Well, first of all, the film features genuinely incredible music from Paul Williams. Second, one can't help but be mesmerized by its sheer bravado and courage in attempting so much. The film may have failed, but it was a glorious, honorable failure.

6/10

Queen of Outer Space: Edward Bernds

I was originally going to say that Edward Bernds' Queen of Outer Space doesn’t know what kind of movie it wants to be, but that’s isn't true. It knows EXACTLY what it wants to be: an absurd masculine power fantasy where three burly astronauts arrive at a planet populated by women and teach them how great loving men is. Tragically, this absurd premise is treated too seriously for it to work as camp. There's no moment when you can sense the film winking at the audience as if to say, "Get a load of THIS!" There is so much that can be said for how insanely misogynistic this film is. But I'll spare you all and instead focus on some objective observations concerning the film as a piece of craftsmanship. Zsa Zsa Gabor, despite her best (read: worst) Marilyn Monroe impersonation, can't act. The special effects and costumes would make Ed Wood, Jr. cackle with incredulity. I was going to chastise cinematographer William P. Whitley for his inability to frame even basic compositions, but then I learned that I had watched a miserably cropped version of the film that reduced its original 2.35 : 1 aspect ratio to about 1.33 : 1. You get a pass and the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Whitley. Everyone else does not.

2/10

Lisztomania: Ken Russell

I think it was around the time when Roger Daltrey rode a 10-foot penis statue into a giant guillotine that I realized that I had never seen anything quite like Ken Russell's Lisztomania before. A bizarre, stream-of-consciousness musical about the life and times of legendary pianist Franz Liszt, the film plays fast and loose with historical fact to the point where it's almost entirely a piece of original fiction. Two ideas dominate Lisztomania. The first is that Liszt was a rock star before there were rock stars. His concerts are swarmed with screaming girls who carry on like they were watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. The other idea is that Liszt's music and talents were stolen by none other than Richard Wagner who used them to promote anti-Semitic ideals which would one day evolve into the Nazi party. I can't speak as to whether or not either of these claims are based in fact, but I can admit that it makes compelling cinema. Russell channels the boundless creative anarchy of Terry Gilliam as he skips from one incredulous set-piece to another. In one scene Wagner will literally be sucking the blood from Liszt's neck while composing music. In the next Liszt will be gunning Wagner down with a weaponized piano equipped with wheels and flamethrowers. Russell's willingness to use historical anachronisms like Superman comics and an Incredible Thor costume reminds me of Derek Jarman's Caravaggio (1986) while his flippant re-interpretations of history smack of Alex Cox's Walker (1987). Whatever the case, Lisztomania is a film so unusual that seeing it isn't enough to make oneself believe it.

8/10

Black Narcissus: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-black-narcissus-1947/36083

9/10

The Human Condition: No Greater Love: Masaki Kobayashi

The first installment of Masaki Kobayashi's The Human Condition trilogy asks the difficult question of whether or not a good man can still be good when forced into a terrible environment. Kaji is a staunch pacifist and humanist who is assigned to a Manchurian work camp named Loh Hu Liong to work as a supervisor in an iron ore mine. He is appalled by the terrible working conditions and the brutal "treatment" of the Chinese "miners" by his fellow Japanese. But things are made even worse when the Japanese military sends them six hundred Chinese POWs (who are in all likelihood just villagers who were arrested and shipped to Loh Hu Liong as slave laborers). Trapped between the barbaric Japanese military police and his fellow supervisors who view the Chinese as a disposable means to an end, Kaji's ethics are put to the test as he tries to maintain his humanity while simultaneously oppressing his fellow man. Two sequences stand out the most prominently in my mind. The first is the arrival of the POWs in a giant train. When Kaji opens the train doors he is mortified by the literal waves of emaciated prisoners who spill out into the harsh sunlight like zombies. The second sequence is a mass execution where Kaji is forced to participate in the slaughter of a group of prisoners who were falsely accused of trying to escape. I won't ruin the climax, but it was simply stunning.

8/10

The Mask of Fu Manchu: Charles Brabin, Charles Vidor

How does one approach a film like The Mask of Fu Manchu? If you can get beyond the abhorrent racial politics, you will find a delightfully entertaining film that stands as one of the finest distillations of pulp fiction this side of Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981): the heroes are handsome, intelligent, and useful in a fight, the villains are cartoonish grotesqueries, the sets are lavish and exotic, and the torture/execution devices are deliciously impractical and ridiculous (my favorite perhaps being a time-released lever that slowly lowers a bound victim into a pit of crocodiles). Prisoners aren't just hypnotized or mind-controlled, they are injected with a brain-washing serum mixed from an assortment of spider venom, snake venom (circuitously gathered by having a snake bite a servant and then drawing his blood as he dies), and seven "magic herbs." The villains are monsters who adore cruelty and take great pleasure in toying with and destroying people's lives. The plot is Orientalism nonsense: Fu Manchu wants to recover the sword and mask of Genghis Khan so he can unite all of Asia in an uprising to eliminate the white race from the face of the earth. But is it acceptable to give this movie a good review...and possibly even like it? Basically, if I didn't give this film a good review I would be a hypocrite. I've already expressed my admiration for films like The Birth of a Nation (1915) and Safety Last! (1923) despite their inclusion of horrific racial stereotypes. The reason is that both films are brilliant on a technical level and focusing on their racial politics would ruin my objectivity as a historian and film theorist. It's essential that we acknowledge such despicable racism. But when it comes to movies made over 80 years ago, my job as a critic is to assess the craftsmanship. And The Mask of Fu Manchu is a very, very well made film.

7/10

Frankenstein: James Whale

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-frankenstein-1931/35901

9/10

The Wolf Man: George Waggner

[Revisit Review]

Re-watching George Waggner's The Wolf Man, I was astonished by how damn charismatic Lon Chaney, Jr. was while not in his werewolf makeup. This is particularly apparent in an early scene where he flirts with Evelyn Ankers in her antique shop. Notice how his eyes never leave her face, not even when she starts to show him her wares. He's like a lovesick puppy (pun maybe not intended). It's easy to forget that the film was made almost a decade after the first wave of Universal Monster movies like Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931), and The Mummy (1932). Though it was made on a smaller budget than all three of those films, it demonstrates a more confident and deliberate visual style and narrative structure. I was also surprised by just how little you actually see the Wolf Man in this film. I think you may literally see less of him than you do of the shark in Jaws (1975).

8/10

Mean Streets: Martin Scorsese

[Revisit Review]

Martin Scorsese's Mean Streets is not a perfect film. It meanders and lacks a unifying sense of purpose other than the overwhelming Catholic guilt experienced by Harvey Keitel. But Mean Streets also sees the stylistic and thematic blossoming of the man who would go on to become one of the world's greatest filmmakers. It might be unpolished, but it contains a fierce, undeniable energy and passion that galvanizes it to this day. The scenes with Keitel and Robert De Niro in the last twenty minutes where De Niro is cracking up and Keitel knows that he knows that he's cracking up are especially irresistible in their magnetism.

8/10

Ruggles of Red Gap: Leo McCarey

Scanning the IMDB page of Leo McCarey's Ruggles of Red Gap, I was surprised by how many user reviews gave the film nine or ten star reviews, heralding it as a masterpiece of 30s American comedy. I cannot join in their enthusiasm. Ruggles of Red Gap, a film about a prim and proper British butler who is "won" in a card game by an American millionaire who then forces him to move out West to rural Washington with him, it by no means a bad film. But it is also by no means a good one. The film is, in a word, pleasant. The characters are pleasant. The humor is pleasant. Charles Laughton as the butler is pleasant. And yet, there is no spontaneity to any of the proceedings. The film's high point is a scene where Laughton recites the Gettysburg Address from memory in front of a saloon-full of astonished patrons. The scene reminds me of a similar sequence in John Ford's My Darling Clementine (1946) where Doc Holliday recites a soliloquy from Hamlet from memory. These are the moments that make me love Westerns: the sudden revelations of civilization poking through the untamed West. But the rest of Ruggles of Red Gap cannot live up to this climax. It is far too preoccupied with being...well...pleasant.

5/10

The New Babylon: Grigori Kozintsev, Leonid Trauberg

Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg's The New Babylon represented an admirable attempt to reconcile two of the most stylistically disparate film movements of the early Twentieth century: Soviet montage filmmaking (which favored the power of editing) and German Expressionism (which favored powerful imagery). The film concerns the formation and destruction of the 1871 Paris Commune. The eponymous "New Babylon" was a massive department store in Paris that epitomized the bourgeois excess which led the the Commune's formation. The scenes in the store where the wealthy customers battle over expensive goods in a bacchanalian frenzy features some of the most startling imagery that I have ever witness in a Soviet film. Rows and shelves of goods rotate and spin in frightening geometric patterns and the wealthy seem to transform into grotesque beasts. One of the most infamous moments of the film had to do with Dmitri Shostakovich's original score which featured the La Marseillaise juxtaposed with the French Can-can during a scene where the aristocrats convinced the remnants of the French army to destroy the Commune by appealing to their sense of patriotism. Indeed, one of the most chillings aspects of The New Babylon is how the bourgeoisie seem to regard all of the power struggles and massacres as some kind of game. At the beginning they cheer and throw parties when the French army ships off to the Franco-Prussian War. At the end they celebrate with the same abandon and vigor when those same troops massacre the members of the Commune.

8/10

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: Robert Wiene

[Revisit Review]

Robert Wiene's The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari works best as a piece of hallucinogenic dream logic. The plot is too circuitous and doesn't really make much sense when you think about it. But the film isn't about its plot. But to say that it is primarily about its visuals isn't entirely accurate, either. The film is about a paranoid universe infected with inexplicable occurrences. The film's biggest failing is its third act where an entire story's worth of exposition is clumsily dumped on the audience in the form of a stream of intertitles and close-ups of book pages. For a film that had been dominated by mood and atmosphere such sudden attention on the specifics of the narrative seems jarring and out of place. I'm not saying that the twist concerning Dr. Caligari's true identity and the mental fortitude of the narrator couldn't work. But it's a shame that Wiene couldn't have figured out a purely visual way to reveal it.

9/10

Bulworth: Warren Beatty

Warren Beatty's Bulworth is the Network (1976) of the 90s. It's an unapologetically political film about a prominent man who gets so fed up with the state of American society that he cracks and decides to rebel. But whereas Network followed a news anchor, Bulworth follows a Democratic Senator named Jay Billington Bulworth. Disgusted with how he has had to abandon his socialist beliefs in the name of re-election, Bulworth hires a hitman to kill him after taking out a gigantic life insurance policy for $10 million. With the hit scheduled to take place within two days, Bulworth engages in the most dangerous form of catharsis known to politicians: he tells the truth. He insults his wealthy donors, concedes to a black rally that neither the Democrats nor the Republicans actually care about them, and he undertakes a journey of self-discovery in a black ghetto. Unfortunately, his devil-may-care honesty makes him extraordinarily popular. And for the first time in years, Bulworth begins to believe that he might actually be able to make a difference. Now if only he can call off the hit...Bulworth is an outstandingly audacious film. Beatty gives one of the most powerful performances of his career as the beleaguered Bulworth and his transformation from shell-shocked politician to modern day prophet is outstanding. Some may find his adoption of black fashion, behavior, and speech to be condescending and even patronizing. But I saw it as the expression of a man who has become so disillusioned with his white, upper class persona that he could only hang on to his sanity by adopting another: the cultural paradigm of the people he should have been fighting for and helping for so many years. Some might say that Bulworth went insane. I say that his final moments saw him recover the sanity that he had lost so long ago.

9/10

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah: Kazuki Ōmori

After the box office disappointment of Kazuki Ōmori's Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989), Toho understandably wanted to bring back one of Godzilla's greatest and most popular enemies for his next cinematic outing. The choice of King Ghidorah, Godzilla's three-headed nemesis, was a sound one. Unfortunately, in bringing King Ghidorah back for a new era of Godzilla films, Toho designed one of the most needlessly complicated and circuitous origin stories imaginable involving time travel, World War Two, cyborgs, and genetic engineering. Basically, to prevent Godzilla from destroying Japan, humans from the future try to destroy Godzilla while he was still just a "dinosaur" during the 40s. Of course, this is all a ploy to create King Ghidorah so the future humans can subjugate 20th century Japan. But they accidentally create ANOTHER Godzilla which destroys King Ghidorah. So via time shenanigans, one of the future humans transforms King Ghidorah into a cyborg and uses him to destroy the new Godzilla. I hope that summary made sense. I could only write it after consulting several other sources because the plotting in the film itself is so scatter-shot that it is almost impossible to follow what is going on. The film is so hard to follow that it almost defies explanation. By the end all the audience can follow is "GIANT MONSTERS FIGHT EACH OTHER." And I know that that is the essence of kaiju films. But the film is obviously proud of its labyrinthine plot. Why else would it devote so much damned time to it? Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah can be summarized in two words: pointlessly confusing.

5/10

Hallelujah!: King Vidor

Given the technical limitations of 1929, King Vidor's Hallelujah! is nothing short of a revelation. It makes Harry Beaumont's The Broadway Melody (1929) look absolutely primitive. As a historical document, Hallelujah! is priceless: it was one of the first all-black films by a major studio, it presented African-Americans with an almost unheard of amount of dignity, and it contains authentic representations and reconstructions of black musical culture in the early Twentieth century. However the film falls apart about halfway through after a sudden murder takes place. Vidor's narrative cohesion disintegrates as the film stumbles from one romantic conquest and religious awakening to another. Individually these scenes have their merits. But by the last act it becomes almost impossible to keep track of who is loving and/or abandoning who for what. But the film is still admirable for its technical qualities and its historical significance.

7/10