A collection of informal movie reviews for the purpose of documenting my thoughts on the films that I watch.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
A Touch of Sin: Jia Zhangke
Jia Zhangke's A Touch of Sin is a tetraptych of frustration, anxiety, and ultimately, violence. Each of the four sections examines violence in modern day China from a different perspective: 1) Violence as protest/justice, 2) Violence as emotional catharsis, 3) Violence as self-defense, 4) Violence as escape. Each section is also dominated by their own symbols: 1) Fruit, 2) Meat/Animals for the Slaughter, 3) Snakes, 4) Buddha. The film was criticized for having a "weak" screenplay. But I disagree. The screenplay accomplished exactly what it set out to do: create a stifling atmosphere where the characters' actions can be seen not just as natural, but as inevitable conclusions given their environments and societal pressures. I'm willing to bet that the last section is the part where people began to grow tired of the screenplay. And to an extent, that is understandable. It is slower, more gradually paced, and less visceral than the other three segments. But the point of the fourth segment is that it is an inverted romance story where the two potential lovers are doomed by the forces of nascent Chinese capitalism. The young man is repulsed by the young woman when he learns that she became a prostitute so she could support her infant child. As he is shuffled from job to job, we understand the parallels between the two: they must surrender their lives and livelihoods to survive. He must sell his labor. She must sell her body. And though we only see the young man commit suicide, it isn't hard to imagine her following suit soon afterwards.
10/10
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Oldboy: Park Chan-Wook
[Revisit Review]
This time around, I found Park Chan-Wook's storytelling to be a bit lacking in his 2003 film Oldboy. Don't get me wrong: it's a fantastic movie that seems to have been constructed around a menageries of emotional apexes. It's stylish, creative, and wholly original. The central concept alone of a man being imprisoned for 15 years for reasons he doesn't understand is one of the most ingenious in the last two decades of the cinema. So the film's narrative hiccups can be easily overlooked. Oldboy is just one more reminder that during the 2000s South Korean cinema reached new heights of quality that made Hollywood seem populated by rank amateurs.
9/10
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy?: Michel Gondry
Michel Gondry's Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy? is about as pure a personal project as I have ever seen: a hand-drawn animated documentary covering a series of philosophical interviews with Noam Chomsky made during breaks in the production schedules of his other films. Overall, it's a good primer on various philosophical topics and etymology. Such concepts as the Ship of Theseus paradox and the Great Leap Forward of human evolution are touched upon just long enough for the audience to "ooh" and "ahh." The last 20 minutes or so where Gondry goes into Chomsky’s life and his views on the Holocaust seem more like a formality than a natural extension of the previous interviews. Still, there is decent, if not particularly invigorating for those already familiar with the subjects they discourse on, food for thought here. The true appeal here is Gondry's idiosyncratic animation. And that is well worth the ticket price.
7/10
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance: Park Chan-wook
[Revisit Review]
Park Chan-wook knows how to play his spectators like puppets. He knows exactly how he wants his audience to feel in every single scene. And what's more, he knows how to achieve it. Sympathy for Lady Vengeance isn't just, in my opinion, Chan-wook's best film, but it's also the best Asian film of the 2000s. While there is an incredible amount of violence, I think most audiences will miss the fact that by and large most of it is depicted off-screen. Why? Because it feels so real that you don't notice the violence's visual obstruction. The film’s only failing is that it doesn’t achieve Park’s stated goal of proving that revenge is futile. Because here, revenge TOTALLY succeeds. So this is less of a cautionary tale than a very grandiose version of the Death Wish plot formula.
10/10
We Are the Best!: Lukas Moodysson
Lukas Moodysson's We Are the Best! might very well be the best punk movie made since Alex Cox's Repo Man (1984). It perfectly captures the essence of the punk movement: screwing the system, playing as loud as you want, and being yourself. The film follows three misfits as they form the "best punk band" ever. Though much screen time is divided between the original two founders of the band, most of the film is told through the eyes of Bobo. So the film is essentially a coming-of-age story with her involvement in the band a kind of metaphor for establishing her own identity as a teenager and a nascent young woman. However the film is somewhat waylaid in the second half by a love triangle between Bobo and the other founder of the band, her best friend Klara. I understand that the boyfriend subplot went along with the film’s theme of growing up, but it didn’t mesh very well with the overall storyline about becoming a band.
7/10
Friday, December 26, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Tsotsi: Gavin Hood
[Revisit Review]
I had two revelations re-watching Gavin Hood's Tsotsi. First, I couldn't believe that I had never noticed before that literally the only white character in the entire film was the senior police detective. Second, it was that this was an unusually quiet film. Violence is quiet: a man gets stabbed in a subway in silence; a friend is assaulted in a club and the music and background noise drops out. For Tsotsi, violence is the only means of communication that he fully understands. He makes his neighbor feed the baby at gunpoint because he doesn't know that he could just ask her to. Presley Chweneyagae's performance is stunning in its quiet, restrained intensity. The last five minutes of the film alone should have netted him an Oscar.
9/10
Ida: Paweł Pawlikowski
So, I finally got around to seeing Paweł Pawlikowski's Ida (2013). What a monstrously disappointing film. It doesn't have a single original thought. Instead, it counterfeits themes that have been milked ad infinitum by other, better European filmmakers (and a few American ones, too): distrust towards the Church, a recognition of the horrors of Europe's past without outright condemning them (or offering ways they could be made up for), the importance of sexual discovery (oh wait, make that HETERONORMATIVE sexual discovery) as a rite of self passage as if asexuals and sex-repulsed people didn't exist, and a stoic resignation towards the future. It isn't brave enough to emulate Luis Buñuel's anti-clericalism, bold enough for Tarr's nihilism, or intelligent enough for Bergman's introspection. Worst of all, it makes no attempt to establish its own identity.
6/10
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Satan Met a Lady: William Dieterle
Never let it be said that Hollywood never made crappy movies back in the 30s and 40s, even when they used big stars, big directors, and big talent. Have I said that before in another review? I don't care. William Dieterle's Satan Met a Lady is such a powerful example that I will risk repeating myself. So what's wrong with the film? It tries to turn Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon into a screwball comedy. And, oh, how they fail. Warren William does his damndest to be charming as not-Sam-Spade and make the material work as a comedy, but he was doomed to fail. William treats almost every other line in the film like a punch-line, even when there's no joke (thankfully Dieterle had the good sense to treat the scene where not-Sam-Spade finds his partner’s body with a bit of emotional weight and seriousness). Not that anybody else in the film does much better...everybody DEVOURS scenery like they're trying to invent Hollywood campiness almost two decades before John Huston's Beat the Devil (1953). This film is forced smiles and pained laughter for 74 minutes.
4/10
Friday, December 19, 2014
The Maltese Falcon: Roy Del Ruth
It's bizarre to see the pre-John Huston adaptations of Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon. I've now seen both prior adaptations of the film and I have to say that Roy Del Ruth's The Maltese Falcon is easily the better of the two. The film does a fine job giving the cliffnotes version of the book's plot and characterizations, even matching some of Hammett's original dialogue line for line. Though it's about 20 minutes shorter than Huston's version, nothing really feels excluded or rushed. But what the film gains in brevity it loses in atmosphere and tone. Ricardo Cortez is less Sam Spade than Nick Charles; he acts with a smug insouciance as if life is just one big game and only he has the full set of instructions. It's not a bad adaptation, just a mediocre one lacking the heart and soul of Hammett's novel.
6/10
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Three Colors: Red: Krzysztof Kieślowski
[Revisit Review]
Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: Red carves itself out a comfortable middle ground between the overwhelming atmospherics of Three Colors: Blue (1993) and the fastidious plotting of Three Colors: White (1994). The latter film feels more like a lost installment of Kieślowski's The Decalogue than an actual film made to be experienced in theaters. The story is sweet and effective, the cinematography stunning, and there are images in this film that feel included solely because they are beautiful or striking in and of themselves. And whatta ending!
Side note: how much do you want to bet that Stephen Killian was going to be a character in a film that Kieślowski never got around to making before he died?
8/10
Evil Angels: Fred Schepisi
The most fascinating character in Fred Schepisi's Evil Angels is Australia itself: the people who gossiped until a personal family tragedy was transformed into a national travesty. The Azaria Chamberlain murder case became a media circus and the film seems to argue that Lindy Chamberlain-Creighton's wrongful conviction was a kind of manifestation of the will of the Australian people who mistrusted her, her family, and her religion. Brief vignettes of Australians from all walks of life discussing the case (and usually adamant in their condemnation of Lindy) are interspersed throughout the film. And then there is, of course, Meryl Streep's rightfully legendary performance as Lindy. Streep's performance was one of purposeful emotional restraint in the face of incredible pressure and familial tragedy. The role would have crushed a lesser actress. And while everyone remembers Streep's performance, I believe it is important not to overlook Sam Neill’s turn as her husband Michael Chamberlain. It is my humble opinion that he more than matched Streep's performance.
8/10
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies: Peter Jackson
To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-hobbit-the-battle-of-the-five-armies-review/45340.
7/10
Monday, December 15, 2014
Holiday: Lee Man-hee
It isn’t a requisite to like a protagonist for a film to be great. They can be a bastard. But as long as they're an interesting bastard, we can go along with them. Such is the case with Heo Wuk, the protagonist of Lee Man-hee's Holiday. He’s not a good person. He steals from his friends to finance his girlfriend's abortion and then cheats on her while she is having the operation. But we can get a grasp on his volatile emotions. They don’t excuse his terrible actions, but they do explain them. This film was original made in 1968 but was only released in 2005 because of censorship. It was immediately heralded as a masterpiece. But I disagree. The film is too languid, too morose to be more properly devastating. Many of the shots are curiously over-exposed and washed out. A lot of shots are curiously over-exposed. But I wonder if that was just due to the quality of the copy of the print that I watched (which is somewhat unlikely considering the fact that I watched it on the official youtube channel of the Korean Film Archive). It’s so damn tempting to declare censored, lost, or restored films misplaced classics. But we must guard ourselves against labeling them as such when they might not actually deserve it. And, unfortunately, I think this is one such case.
6/10
The Ten Commandments: Cecil B. DeMille
Do not let the name fool you. Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1923) is actually two films, not one. The first is a brilliant tour de force of early Hollywood epic film-making that tells the story of Moses and the Hebrews' exodus from Egypt. It's big, lavish, and jaw-dropping in scale. Alas, it only lasts for the first 40 minutes or so. If the film had ended there and then, it would have easily been one of the best silent films of DeMille's career. In fact, I would confidently say that these 40 minutes are better than his later 1956 remake of the film. But it doesn't stop there. The plot then jumps forward several thousand years to a preachy, stiltedly melodramatic story about two brothers, one who follows the Ten Commandments and another who doesn't (and is subsequently killed). I can't begin to explain how jarring this shift is. It's almost like if somebody took the Normandy landing sequences from Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan (1998) and tacked them onto the front end of William Wyler's The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). It positively kills the entire film despite the fact that the second part has its merits, such as its moral that living the love of God is more important than blind, Puritanical obedience to His laws.
6/10
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Identification Marks: None: Jerzy Skolimowski
In a way, Jerzy Skolimowski's Identification Marks: None feels like a spiritual companion piece to Agnès Varda's Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962). Both films follow a disillusioned young person as they kill time and fruitlessly busy themselves while awaiting a deadline. Cléo waited for a cancer diagnosis. The protagonist of Skolimowski's film waits for the time he is to report to the military to officially answer his draft summons. The protagonist is identified (no pun on the title intended) as an observer early on as we are treated to scenes where he exists on the periphery of events; he walks past a street fight, he drifts through a club where a group of men play darts and dance, and the audience experiences a curious first-person sequence where he is examined by a draft board. Identification Marks: None has a heightened awareness of the mundane and minutia and understands how such things can consume and preoccupy people undergoing stressful waiting periods. At times it almost develops a stream-of-consciousness approach to the narrative. This was an ambitious feature length film debut for a young director, and it shows.
8/10
Through a Glass Darkly: Ingmar Bergman
[Revisit Review]
I'm honestly considering starting an official exploration of what I like to call "Family Horror." And by that, I don't mean horror films geared towards families. I mean films where horrific things seem to spring from the anxieties and fears of a family unit. These manifestations can be many things: ghosts (The Shining [1980]), monsters (The Babadook [2014]), and in the case of Ingmar Bergman's Through a Glass Darkly (1961), mental illness. I don't think Bergman set out to make a horror film here, but many passages are nevertheless downright terrifying. Karin's first visit to the attic where she hears voices through a crack in the wallpaper is particularly unnerving. I was also fascinated by how, in its own weird way, the film has a kind of happy ending with the father reconciling with the son. Well, it's as happy an ending inasmuch as any Bergman film that wasn't an explicit comedy could end happily.
9/10
Friday, December 12, 2014
Exodus: Gods and Kings: Ridley Scott
To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/exodus-gods-and-kings-review/45198.
5/10
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Three Colors: White: Krzysztof Kieślowski
[Revisit Review]
Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: White is a fine film, but I don't think it holds up alongside Three Colors: Blue. Watching the latter, I felt like I was having a transcendental experience whereby I was being revealed some kind of great truth. Three Colors: White feels more pedestrian in comparison. I thought long and hard about why this was, and I think I figured it out: Blue was more focused on character while White was more focused on Plot with a capital "p." Blue had more freedom to explore emotions, build atmosphere, and orient the audience into a different state of mind. White is too busy getting from plot point 'a' to plot point 'b' for it to have time for many of these essential diversions.
7/10
Police Story: Jackie Chan
After years of only hearing Jackie Chan speak English, it was really interesting to hear his original Cantonese performance in Police Story (1985). Something that frequently gets lost in Chan’s dubbed performances is how damn intimidating he can be when speaking Cantonese. Thinking back, I'm not sure if I have ever actually heard Jackie Chan sound angry or intimidating in an English performance. For me, this is one of the main reasons why I think subtitles are superior to dubs: these subtleties in performances are frequently lost in voice-overs. I don't have anything against people who prefer dubs, but my personal preference will always be for subtitles. Anyhow, I actually thought a long time about what score to give this film. I think the humor was a bit much for me. There are many prolonged slapstick sequences. And while some of them may work (particularly one where Chan does an impromptu Michael Jackson impression after accidentally stepping in animal feces), most them go on far too long for my taste. But then I read somewhere that Chan himself didn't "get" the humor in the Rush Hour movies. And then I had an epiphany: because humor is relative, it isn't right to give a foreign film a lower score just because I don't personally appreciate all of the humor. Police Story is a much beloved film in China for its ability to blend Chan's stunt-work (which, coincidentally, is easily some of the best of his career) with comedy. So maybe I might not think that the comedy always works. I might think that it drags on too much. But that’s just me not “getting” it.
9/10
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Young Törless: Volker Schlöndorff
[Revisit Review]
Volker Schlöndorff's Young Törless takes place in a world where cruelty has become an academic exercise. It's shocking how quickly the students (and Törless) dehumanize Basini and decide that he deserves whatever is coming to him. The scene where Törless leaves Basini as he is being tortured and cries out for him is key to understanding the film: Törless is a sociopathic watcher, permanently disengaged from the proceedings. If he shows emotions at an injustice, it isn’t because he is against said injustice, but because he can’t make sense out of the nature of the behavior. It's a curiously oblique yet effective examination of the pre-World War Two German mindset.
9/10
The 36th Chamber of Shaolin: Liu Chia-Liang
[Revisit Review]
I recently joked on twitter that Liu Chia-Liang's The 36th Chamber of Shaolin was the Citizen Kane of kung fu movies. And in many ways, it is. Not only was it massively influential (and mercilessly imitated), it flowed with the same energetic vibrancy and displayed the same surety of storytelling that defined other watershed genre films. Indeed, The 36th Chamber of Shaolin is to the kung fu film what Seven Samurai (1954) was to the samurai film and Star Wars (1977) was to the modern sci-fi film. In addition to my aforementioned tweet, upon re-watching The 36th Chamber of Shaolin I wrote a short essay on how the film can be seen as a metaphor for Buddhism with regards to the mythical origins of the Lotus Sūtra. It can be read here: http://filmsfoodandfandom.tumblr.com/post/104824709421/one-of-the-most-interesting-things-to-me-about-the.
10/10
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Trop tôt/Trop tard: Danièle Huillet, Jean-Marie Straub
Full disclosure: the subtitles on my copy didn’t begin until the six minute mark. So I missed the narration from the much celebrated opening scene.
Films should be judged primarily on how they achieve their stated goals whether they be to entertain, provoke, inspire, or teach. This is difficult to surmise with experimental films like Danièle Huillet and Jean-Marie Straub's Trop tôt/Trop tard. The long shots seem to suggest that the French countryside exists in a time outside of time, in a sense explaining why they were “too early, too late” in their revolutions. The opening shot in particular seems to speak to the futile nature of these revolutions in that they keep going around and around in circles without getting anywhere. The film as a whole succeeds in re-setting the mind to a slower, more contemplative pace. But I think it loses its focus and becomes more of an essay on seeing than a Marxist tract. Jonathan Rosenbaum describes it as a “landscape film.” So that confuses the purpose of the narration even further. Is it to provide context? A bittersweet commentary? I don’t think this is a bad movie, just a confused, misdirected one.
6/10
Royal Space Force: The Wings of Honnêamise: Hiroyuki Yamaga
Toshio Okada, the former president of Gainax, expressed dissatisfaction with the screenplay for Hiroyuki Yamaga's Royal Space Force: The Wings of Honnêamise. And I would have to agree; the screenplay is all over the place. There aren’t really rising or falling actions. Things just happen. This, of course, would be fine if the film wasn't an introspective character study. But the film is a coming of age story and there are multiple montages of him training and preparing for his space flight. So the audience's expectations for a more straight-forward narrative are foiled by plot threads that are introduced and just fade away (like the terrorist bombings) and characters who die off-screen. This is a real shame because Royal Space Force: The Wings of Honnêamise is admirably ambitious. It addresses an idea that I can’t say I’ve ever really seen before in a film, animated or otherwise: the battle between scientific pragmatism and scientific idealism. The animation is nothing short of stunning; some of the backgrounds are so realistic that I literally thought they were real-life sets with animated cels projected on top of them. But before this review can end, I must address the elephant in the room: the attempted rape scene. To be fair, it is actually telegraphed. But it still doesn’t make a lot of sense in the context of the character and its resolution promotes this weird narrative about how women are saintly if they forgive their attackers. After that scene, the protagonist is practically unredeemable, at least in the eyes of the audience.
6/10
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life: Terry Jones
[Revisit Review]
When it's at its best, Terry Jones' Monty Python's The Meaning of Life contains some of the crème de la crème of what is arguably the most influential and innovative comedic troupe of modern history. The Crimson Permanent Assurance, "Every Sperm is Sacred," Mr. Creosote, and Graham Chapman's execution via a pack of naked women are damn near comedic perfection. But, alas, there are parts of the film that simply aren't as good. I wouldn't go so far as to say that any of the segments failed, but some of them definitely overstayed their welcome, such as the tiger costume sketch, Conversational Philosophy, and the surrealist "Find the Fish."
8/10
Tusk: Kevin Smith
[Spoilers Ahead]
The scene where Michael Parks and Justin Long battle to the death in life-like walrus suits made of what I assume to be human skin should have been the comedic climax of Kevin Smith's Tusk. Most of the film was an audacious blend of horror and humor, charting a hapless podcaster who gets abducted by an insane Canadian and transformed via plastic surgery into a human walrus. I’m honestly not sure if I’ve ever seen a film take a stupid concept so damned seriously. It’s not just that they’re playing this concept straight; it’s treated like a bona fide horror film with many moments of genuine terror (most notably the scene where Parks reveals for the first time that he doesn't need a wheelchair). One scene with Génesis Rodríguez where she confesses to having an affair with Long's best friend via one long close-up plays out like it was ripped straight from a New French Extremity film. But the film in large part ruins itself with the Johnny Depp character, an eccentric ex-cop from Quebec who has spent years hunting Parks. His over-the-top performance ruins the film's joke by revealing that the film itself is aware of it. I wish Smith had gone the Team America: World Police (2004) route and played the entire film straight in spite of its absurd concept. If he had done that, Tusk would probably have been an instant cult classic. I still enjoyed it, though. I just wish that I could have enjoyed it more, y'know?
6/10
Saturday, December 6, 2014
A Man's Neck: Julien Duvivier
There are great intentions at work in Julien Duvivier's A Man's Neck. A moody detective thriller, it focuses on beloved French detective Inspector Maigret's quest to locate and capture a nihilistic killer who murdered a rich woman and framed a small-time crook for it. There's one sequence that was particularly excellent: when Maigret and his colleagues force the fall-guy to revisit the crime scene and re-enact the murder himself. But the film lacks a coherency of creative vision. While the first third is a solid detective story, the film falls victim to parades of static scenes where small to large groups of people stand around in small rooms and talk, talk, talk, talk, talk about the crime, the killer, his motives, etc, etc, etc. Partway through the film it shifts to the killer's perspective. A Czech medical student named Radek (played by the excellent Valéry Inkijinoff), he is a standard combination of misanthropic, Raskolnikov-esque qualities. He doesn't kill because he wants money or needs to fulfill some fetishistic urge; he kills because he hates people and society and wants to make them suffer. One potentially interesting sequence takes place near the end of the film where Radek takes a group of people he is extorting on a weird night out on the town before demanding that one of them has sex with him. I understand that Duvivier was using these scenes to demonstrate the steady crumbling of Radek's self-constructed sense of insouciance towards his actions. But they just come out feeling odd and misguided.
5/10
Monty Python and the Holy Grail: Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones
[Revisit Review]
Not having a budget was the best thing that could have happened to Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones' Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I simply couldn't imagine it without the coconut shells or the sudden ending. The jokes in the film aren't just phenomenal and endlessly quotable, they contain some of the best comedic timing ever captured on film. I know some of my film school brethren prefer Terry Jones' Monty Python's The Life of Brian as the "best" Monty Python movie. But for me, picking anything other than The Holy Grail is unthinkable.
10/10
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Three Colors: Blue: Krzysztof Kieślowski
[Revisit Review]
Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: Blue is still one of the most powerful and devastating depictions of grief, loss, and the road to recovery that I have ever seen. But even if I muted the film and completely ignored the story, the craftsmanship would amaze me every time I watched it. The cinematography? Breath-taking. The acting? Heart-breaking. I love how during moments of extreme emotion, the screen cuts to black for a few seconds as an orchestra sting plays. It’s like the audience is taking a moment alongside Julie to gather their thoughts and emotions. And, of course, there are the colors.
9/10
That Night's Wife: Yasujirō Ozu
It’s almost weird to see a Yasujirō Ozu film with such a mobile camera. That Night's Wife has dolly shots (most of which move primarily along a single axis, usually from left to right or from right to left) and zooms. I even spied one interesting transition where a shot that zoomed in on a closed door quick-faded to a shot of a person knocking on it from the other side while zooming out. That’s an almost Dada flourish by Ozu’s standards. I was also pleasantly surprised to find his trademark pillow shots on display. Anyhow, the first half is essentially a crime thriller about a criminal on the run from the police after robbing an office for money to pay for his deathly ill daughter's medical treatment. The second half is a quiet domestic drama where a snooping undercover cop is held hostage by the criminal's wife for the night so that she and her husband can stand vigil over their daughter for the night since the doctor said that if she survives until the morning she will make a complete recovery. Watching the film, I was fascinated by how Ozu's visual language and the physical performances of the actors managed to tell the story without dialogue. Now I'm developing a weird suspicion that the advent of sound had an adverse effect on his work since it forced his films to slow down enough to accommodate dialogue, thereby diluting his ability to be a purely visual storyteller. I'll have to investigate further...
7/10
Panique: Julien Duvivier
I don't know if it will be possible for me to discuss Julien Duvivier's Panique without comparing it to Patrice Leconte's Monsieur Hire (1989), its remake. It has been over a year since I saw Monsieur Hire, but I seem to remember it being very different from Panique. I never got the feeling that Leconte's Hire was a bad or strange person; he was just an isolated voyeur. But there is definitely something...strange...about Duvivier's Hire. He is also more explicitly coded as an "other" within the community because of his Jewish background. I seem to remember Leconte's Hire being more passive, but Duvivier's Hire seems to get a weird pleasure from toying with the woman's boyfriend and the police. Also, the impact of Duvivier's Hire's betrayal has less of an impact because we watch the villains calculate and execute the double-cross whereas it practically came out of nowhere in Monsieur Hire. That's not to say that the ending of Panique isn't powerful. The last third of the film seems to evoke Fritz Lang's Fury (1936), another film where an innocent man is hounded and destroyed by a community with a lynch-mob mentality. The concluding scenes of Panique are downright electric, aided in no small part by Nicolas Hayer’s brilliant cinematography which easily matches the crème de la crème of Hollywood. His interiors and dialogue scenes are moody and dark and the crowd scenes vibrate with captivating energy. One of these days I'll have to re-watch this film back-to-back with Monsieur Hire so that I can confirm (or disprove) my observations about how they are different.
8/10
--------------------
I later revisited this film during my coverage of the 2016 New York Film Festival. Here's the link to my review. I still award this film an 8/10 rating.
http://theretroset.com/2016-new-york-film-festival/
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