Sunday, July 14, 2013

The Street With No Name: William Keighley


William Keighley's The Street With No Name is an audacious picture which successfully manages to combine a hard-boiled police procedural with a gloomy, atmospheric crime drama. A follow-up to Henry Hathaway's The House on 92nd Street (1945), the film follows undercover FBI agent Gene Cordell as he infiltrates a deadly gang responsible for several murders and robberies. The first part of the film is shot like a documentary: we are treated to a sternly narrated tour of the inner workings of the FBI and the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. Once Cordell is selected for the mission, the film switches gears into a tense and beautifully shot noir drama. Joseph MacDonald, one of the true treasures of classical Hollywood cinematography, is in top form, turning the city into an opaque labyrinth of dim corners, b[l]ack alleys, and street-lights. The film's stylization is organic in nature, somehow riding the thin line between bold noir and outright Expressionism. But the true wonder of The Street With No Name is Richard Widmark's performance as Alec Stiles, the sadistic, ruthless, and paranoid leader of the gang. Out of all of Widmark's infamous roles over the years, including the likes of Tommy Udo in Kiss of Death (1947) and Skip McCoy in Pickup on South Street (1953), Alec Stiles is my favorite of his characters. He propels an already great film into excellence with a performance that is equally intimidating, menacing, and unpredictable.

8/10

REC: Jaume Balagueró, Paco Plaza


Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza's REC is nothing less than the heir apparent to George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968). Both feature helpless people trapped in a claustrophobic building trying to fight off waves of the undead. But whereas Night of the Living Dead was about a group of survivors trying to keep zombies out, REC is about a group of survivors who are trapped in a building that is already infested. When two reporters and a group of firemen respond to an alarm in an old apartment building, they are attacked by a blood-stained elderly woman. Before they can evacuate, the apartment is cordoned off by the military who threaten to shoot anyone who tries to leave. From there, the survivors must figure out how to escape from the building before they are killed by the re-animated corpses of the infected. And who knows? Maybe along the way they will discover the cause of the outbreak. Yes, REC is a found-footage film. But unlike a lot of found-footage films, most of it happens in real-time, thereby making this overused technique fresh and terrifyingly effective. I will also give REC credit for coming up with a new origin for a potential zombie outbreak: demons! Anyhow, the one criticism of this film that keeps it from scoring a 10/10 is that in the last third it relies much too heavily on jump scares that are meant to shock. But the first two-thirds are legitimately horrifying. This may very well be the definitive horror film of the 2000s.

9/10

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: Fritz Lang


[Spoilers Ahead]

How could Fritz Lang, the director of Metropolis (1927), M (1931), and The Big Heat (1953), make a film as soulless and stale as Beyond a Reasonable Doubt? The film is based on an absurd premise, performed by unbelievable characters, and ends with one of the worst final-minute revelations/twists that I can think of. Here's the story: in order to prove the flaws of a justice system that allows capital punishment, newspaper publisher Austin Spencer decides to frame his future son-in-law Tom Garrett for a murder he didn't commit (with Tom's knowledge and participation, of course). When a nightclub dancer is found murdered, Austin and Tom seize the opportunity to plant incriminating evidence. Tom is arrested, charged with murder, and found guilty in a court of law. However, as Austin goes to the courtroom to deliver evidence that reveals the plot and Tom's innocence, he is killed in a car accident. Now Tom's estranged fiancee, Susan, has to find evidence on her own that he isn't guilty. This is an interesting story development. Up until this point, the film has been stylistically barren (a tragedy considering Lang's past status as one of the champions of German Expressionism) and stiltedly acted. But this twist could have been enough to salvage Beyond a Reasonable Doubt. However, Lang ruins it by adding in another twist: it turns out Tom was responsible for the murder and he used Austin's plan as a method to exploit double jeopardy laws. Here's the problem with this twist: for much of the movie we follow Tom. In all that time, I can't think of one instance where that twist was telegraphed. Because this further twist wasn't set up, it comes across as an unnecessarily cynical turn. So in addition to being visually unappealing, the story seems cheap and exploitative (and not in a good way). What a crying shame that this would be the final American film by one of the world's great directors.

5/10

Saturday, July 13, 2013

The Ring: Gore Verbinski


Gore Verbinski's The Ring is a moody, atmospheric experience that could be enshrined as one of the best American horror films of its decade. It could be, but it probably won't be because the film ruins itself with a tacked on epilogue that ruins both the story and our affection for the main characters. For most of the film we watch as journalist Rachel Embry tries to unravel the mystery behind a weird tape that kills anyone who watches it. We like Rachel and we identify with her struggle when she discovers that her young son has accidentally watched the tape (an early scene where she nonchalantly shoos away her boss when he tries to fire her is particularly endearing). The secret surrounding the tape, its killing power, and the little girl who may or may not have created it are extremely compelling and chilling. The vast majority of the film is played like a mystery thriller with horror overtones. It actually reminded me of the scenes where John Ferguson first investigates Madeleine in Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958). But the last few scenes are so out of place that they hurt to watch. Suddenly the lore surrounding the tape is re-written just because and Rachel becomes a heartless murderer. I can't get over how badly this ending betrays the spirit and nature of the rest of the film. I'm still going to give this film a great score because most of its run-time deserves such accolades. If it wasn't for that ending, though...imagine how much higher it could, no, how much higher it should have been.

8/10

Leave Her to Heaven: John M. Stahl


Why is John M. Stahl's Leave Her to Heaven considered a film noir? And no, I'm not just saying that because the film is shot in Technicolor instead of black-and-white. This film is more of a melodramatic thriller about a mentally unbalanced woman who marries a famous writer and kills off anybody who might steal his attention away from her. That's not to say that Leave Her to Heaven is a bad film. Gene Tierney gives a career-defining performance as the murderous Ellen Berent. For the first third of the film we don't even suspect that she is capable of cold-blooded murder. But then she allows her husband's disabled brother to drown while under her care. Next she forces herself to miscarry by "tripping" down a flight of stairs when she feels that he isn't paying enough attention to her. And finally she frames her adoptive sister Ruth for murder when she feels that she has become too chummy with her husband. Whose murder? Well, I won't spoil that for you. But despite the film's quality, I can't think of it as a film noir. According to David Hogan, the four big influences on film noir were: 1) post-World War II anxiety, 2) low budgets, 3) "hard-boiled" crime literature, and 4) the influence of German filmmakers and their predilection towards "expressionism, fatalism, and psychological melodrama. First off, the film makes no mention of World War II. Second, Technicolor cinematography and on-location shooting all over the United States isn't cheap. Third, while the film is based on a novel, its writer, Ben Ames Williams, can hardly be described as "hard-boiled." And fourth, while the film is definitely preoccupied with psychological melodrama, it can hardly be described as "expressionist" or "fatalistic." This is just a very, very pretty melodrama. Nothing more.

7/10

Friday, July 12, 2013

Mardi Gras Massacre: Jack Weis


Jack Weis' Mardi Gras Massacre is a semi-remake of Herschell Gordon Lewis' Blood Feast (1963), a film where a religious zealot mutilates and sacrifices young women to an ancient Babylonian god. Except in Mardi Gras Massacre, it's about a religious zealot sacrificing young prostitutes to an ancient Aztec god. So there are several scenes where the villain hires a prostitute, chains her to an altar, and guts them from genitals to gullet. It may just be me, but I could swear that they used the same torso prop for each of the murders. Anyhow, just like in Blood Feast, this film also has a sub-plot about the cops trying to solve the string of murders. What's more, one of the cops gets a sub-plot of his very own where he gets into a relationship with a prostitute! And guess what? It goes nowhere! I'll give Weis some credit: he at least knows how to frame a shot and take advantage of the fact that he was filming on location in New Orleans. But the acting is still incredibly stilted, the effects amateurish, and the murder scenes deliriously repetitive. At least in Blood Feast the murder scenes changed things up from kill to kill. The best part in Mardi Gras Massacre was a scene where the villain decided to let one of his victims escape because she was too innocent and pure-hearted for his purposes. But she insists on "getting it on" because he already paid her. And guess what happens? He murders her. Shocking, I know.

4/10

The Descent: Neil Marshall


The first 30 or so minutes of Neil Marshall's The Descent gives the audience hope that they may be in for more than the average horror film. The film is about a group of British women who get trapped in an unmarked, unexplored Appalachian cave while spelunking. And for a while the film manages to create an effective claustrophobic atmosphere. Inspired by American horror films like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), The Thing (1982), and (I would argue) Alien (1979), Marshall wanted to ramp up the tension in the first act. And I would argue that he succeeded. There are three scenes that were particularly unnerving: when one woman gets trapped in a narrow passage when it begins to collapse, when the ladies have to cross a giant chasm with only a few tools, and when they are forced to reset a broken leg after one of their number survives a terrible fall. This last scene is a textbook example of how to include gore in a film without it seeming exploitative. But then the subterranean bogeymen show up and start picking them off one-by-one. From here the film becomes a mediocre slasher film. Instead of trying to maintain an atmosphere, the film becomes a series of jump scares and shock reveals that all culminate when one lady falls into pool of what I think was supposed to be blood but actually came across as a vat of spoiled strawberry jam. The creatures designs are interesting, but they lead to one of the film's biggest plot holes. If these monsters are subterranean dwellers who hunt on the outside and have since been undiscovered, why do they screech like banshees whenever they move in for the kill? These creatures have a scream that could give a howler monkey a run for its money. So assuming that it hunted above ground, wouldn't there at least be local legends of screaming monsters? And also, what kind of hunter screams and makes a ruckus before moving in for the kill? Basically, The Descent was a good film that unfortunately lost its nerve a third of the way in.

6/10

Despicable Me: Pierre Coffin, Chris Renaud


I know that one of the main reasons why people like Pierre Coffin and Chris Renaud's Despicable Me is the minions: those yellow, pill-shaped maniacs who seem impervious to injury. And, yes, they do help make an otherwise blasé film memorable. But here's my big problem with the minions: they exist in order to telegraph what emotion the audience should be feeling. During a happy scene, they smile. During a sad scene, they weep. During a funny scene, they cackle and babble in their indecipherable language. It seems like a cheap ploy to intensify audience reaction. But I digress. Despicable Me, a film about super-villain Gru who adopts three young orphans to help him in his super-schemes, does have a few things going for it. First, I did enjoy watching the single-parent dynamic between Gru and the three girls that he gradually starts to love. Watching how the world at large seems to just casually put up with the antics of full-fledged super-villains is also entertaining. The film features a charming art aesthetic, no doubt largely inspired by Pierre Coffin's French heritage. And a few of the film's jokes do work (my personal favorite was how the bank that funds international super-villains was labeled as "Formerly the Lehman Brothers"). But everything else about the film falls flat. Much of Gru's character and back-story is forced and contrived. And while Steve Carrell does an admirable job trying to bring life to this character, we can't help but feel that something is...lacking. Perhaps if Carrell had just picked one accent and not a vague mish-mash of Eastern European speech patterns. In general, the film is harmless children's entertainment. But in the era of Miyazaki and Pixar, "harmless" isn't good enough.

6/10

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Ninja Terminator: Godfrey Ho


There are only two good things about Godfrey Ho's Ninja Terminator: Jang Lee Hwang and Richard Harrison's dub actor. Everything else about this cut-and-paste atrocity is a nightmare. The plot makes absolutely no sense: three ninjas (one played by Richard Harrison) break away from the "Ninja Empire" and steal the sacred Golden Ninja Warrior, an object that contains some kind of supreme ninja power. But about half of the film is made up of footage of Jang Lee Hwang casually kicking the daylights out of random people as part of a plot to rescue a kidnapped girl. Or at least I think that's what was happening. The editing between the Hwang stock footage and Ho's new Harrison footage is so disjointed that following the plot after the one hour mark isn't a possibility. What's worse, some of the footage that was obviously shot in widescreen was cropped for a different aspect ratio. As a result, many shots cut off characters that we are supposed to see. My favorite example was an early scene at a graveyard where the aspect ratio transfer was so terrible that we have to listen to an off-screen character give a prolonged monologue as we stare at an off-center graveyard. Ninja Terminator is an abysmal film and one of the worst martial arts films I've ever seen. That said, I believe that everyone needs to see this movie. It is one of the most unintentionally hysterical films ever made. From Harrison's novelty Garfield phone to the main antagonist's ridiculous blonde wig, everything in Ninja Terminator seems deliberately designed to be the most insane thing ever committed to celluloid. If someone told me that Ninja Terminator was a deliberate spoof of the ninja genre, I would have believed them. Check this film out!

1/10

Monday, July 8, 2013

Misery: Rob Reiner


In a long, distinguished career of giving the world nightmares, few of Stephen King's creations are as horrifying and memorable as Annie Wilkes. Novelist Paul Sheldon didn't know how doomed he was when he woke up inside Wilkes' cabin after surviving a terrible car crash. Every celebrity fears having to hang out with their "number one fan." Why? Because it doesn't seem...natural...for people to devote their lives so intensely to people they don't really know. Annie Wilkes is the summation of all these fears: a bipolar, psychopathic fan with a history of death, murder, and mayhem masked behind a sweet, smiling veneer. The scene where Annie "hobbles" Sheldon is rightfully regarded as one of the most terrifying moments in horror history. The scene's effectiveness is more evidence for my "less is more" theory of cinematic pain. Here's my theory: if you want to make the audience physically uncomfortable via violence, less is more. In the original novel, Annie cuts Paul's legs off. Certainly that is more painful to Paul than the movie's hobbling operation. But an audience will respond more to seeing Paul's feet getting smashed because they have no frame of reference for losing a leg. Everyone has twisted, sprained, broken, or injured their feet before. But few have actually lost limbs. It reminds me of the scene in Luis Puenzo's The Official Story (1985) where one of the character's fingers are smashed in a door hinge. It comes out of nowhere, is almost instantly over, and isn't sensationalized. And yet I still literally consider that to be the most violent thing I've ever seen on film. Remember: less is more. And director Rob Reiner gives us just enough horror and pain in Misery without crossing the line.

8/10

This is the End: Seth Rogen, Evan Goldberg


Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg's This is the End may not be the smartest comedy out there, but it is easily one of the funniest. I can't remember the last time I made such a howling ruckus in a theater. The film begins with a very simple premise: what if a bunch of famous actors were at a party when the biblical Apocalypse happened? Featuring numerous actors playing themselves (like James Franco, Jonah Hill, Seth Rogan, Jay Baruchel), they have to figure out how to survive after the world is consumed by literal hellfire. Of course the theology involved is very sketchy. Apparently the only requirement for being raptured to Heaven is being a good person. I wouldn't mind so much, but the film emphasizes that this isn't a generic apocalypse, but a specifically Christian one (they get their info from the Book of "Revelations," after all). But considering that a large chunk of the cast is Jewish, it makes sense that they side-stepped that essential requirement for salvation: faith in Jesus. But I'm getting side-tracked. There is some pretty jarring CGI used for demons and general shots of destruction. Being a special effects traditionalist, I would have preferred that they used models and costumes. But then I realized that maybe using CGI worked for this film. After all, obvious costume work would have ruined the illusion that the apocalypse is happening. And one of the best things about This is the End is that it makes the end times legitimately terrifying. If the threat of fire and brimstone was disrupted, then the story and comedy would have lapsed into parody. And This is the End is most certainly NOT a parody. It's a simple film about regular people flung into outrageous circumstances. With the exception of one sequence where Jonah Hill is, ahem, "possessed" by a demon, the comedy and drama comes naturally from the situations that the characters find themselves in: how do they protect themselves from looters? Where do they get food? Where do they get water? How do they cope with the literal end of the world? How do they pass the time with nothing but a giant pile of drugs and a single porno mag? What do you do when Emma Watson busts into your house with an axe? The answer: don't talk about rape. Seriously. Don't. She'll steal all of your alcohol.

9/10

Sunday, July 7, 2013

The Quatermass Xperiment: Val Guest


It was in Val Guest's The Quatermass Xperiment that Hammer horror, that legendary cinematic sub-genre of gothic horror produced by Hammer Film Productions, was borne. The film is based on the BBC television serial The Quatermass Experiment (note the proper spelling of 'experiment' when compared to the film's title). The original serial told the story of an astronaut who is infected by an alien organism while in space. When he crash lands on earth, he transforms into a blob-like monstrosity that absorbs any living thing it comes into contact with. It is up to Professor Bernard Quatermass, head of the British Rocket Group, to find this creature and stop it before it releases spores which would destroy all life on earth. As the first Hammer horror film, its lack of overt stylization is fascinating. Exaggerated sets, rich colors, and graphic gore would become Hammer horror trademarks in later films. But Guest shot The Quatermass Xperiment in a more realistic manner, evoking newsreel footage. This realism creates an uneasy atmosphere that is unfortunately lessened in the final act when the plot morphs from a mystery-thriller into a creature feature. That's not to slight the special effects work, of course. The sets, make-up, and creature effects are superb for the era. But the best parts of the film are when Quatermass and his fellows try and figure out what happened to the poor astronaut. The scene where they watch the cockpit footage of the doomed spaceflight in silence is particularly chilling and effective. The Quatermass Xperiment isn't a perfect film. But it is still an enjoyable one.

7/10

Friday, July 5, 2013

The File on Thelma Jordon: Robert Siodmak


There is a great moment near the end of Robert Siodmak's The File on Thelma Jordon where the eponymous Thelma realizes in a sudden moment of clarity that she will never be free of two men who have plagued her for years. The first is her long-time lover Tony Laredo, a crooked jewel thief whose plans have left one woman dead and another man ruined. This poor sap, assistant district attorney Cleve Marshall, is the other man in Thelma's life. While Tony may command Thelma's physical loyalty, her emotions are with Cleve. It's just too bad that she played him like a violin and managed to trick him into getting her off a murder rap. Indeed, The File on Thelma Jordon is a film about loyalty. At first we think that Thelma truly loves Cleve. When she comes to him and reports that her aunt has been murdered and she doesn't know what to do, we sympathize. But, alas, this is all part of the plan. Siodmak does a fantastic job playing with our expectations about who is guilty, who is innocent, and who is a hapless bystander at the wrong place at the wrong time. By the end when Thelma has her moment of clarity, we sympathize once again in her impossible decision. There aren't many film noir femme fatales that manage to hold on to our empathy until the very end. But then again, there aren't many film noir like The File on Thelma Jordon.

7/10

Zombie vs. Ninja: Godfrey Ho


We meet again, Godfrey Ho. For those who are not familiar with this chopsocky legend, Ho was a Hong Kong based film director who made over 80 movies during the 80's via a "cut-and-paste" technique. This technique is described as such: "He would film footage for one micro-budget picture, and then edit and splice the shots together in a different order, adding in footage from...various obscure or unreleased...Asian movies...to fill the gaps, and then dubbing over the result to create a final product. This allowed him to create several Z movies with the budget of one." In an attempt to reach a wider international audience, much of the original footage that Ho would shoot would involve Caucasian actors, such as Richard Harrison or Pierre Kirby, in leading roles. The results were cinematic Frankenstein abominations bereft of narrative coherence. The 1989 film Zombie vs. Ninja was the first Ho film that I managed to watch from beginning to end. I had previously tried watching some of his other films, but they were so boring and confusing that I had to give up. Think about that for a second: I've watched Béla Tarr's Sátántangó (1994) and THESE were the films that exhausted my patience. Anyhow, Zombie vs. Ninja is essentially the South Korean film The Undertaker in Sohwa Province (1983) with new footage featuring Kirby as the legendary ninja Duncan who pops into the film every 15-20 minutes to give a pep talk to the main characters. The basic story is that after a young man named Ethan (yes...a South Korean named 'Ethan') is beaten during an attack that killed his father, he becomes the apprentice of the local undertaker who teaches him an odd style of martial arts. Part of Ethan's training is fighting re-animated corpses brought back to life by his master. I have to complement the South Korean footage: the numerous fight scenes actually do a great job demonstrating Ethan's growth as a fighter. But the atrocious, borderline offensive dubbing and the added Kirby footage do nothing but drag down and complicate this otherwise straightforward martial arts film. And while these additions do provide the film with a layer of camp and kitsch, it is not enough to salvage the production.

3/10

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

The Amityville Horror: Stuart Rosenberg


Whether or not the events Stuart Rosenberg's The Amityville Horror is based on are true is irrelevant. What matters is that for several years much of America thought that it was true. Therefore Rosenberg was able to indulge in many seemingly superfluous details and characters that in hindsight only serve to drag the film down. To viewers in the 70's, Father Delaney's experiences might have seemed like vital information. However, by the time the third act comes along, Delaney has far out-stayed his welcome (despite the fact that the scene where he gets into a shouting match with Church officials is one of the best in the film). While individual moments are certainly chilling, the film loses much of its tension by insisting on portraying the events of the possession within the historically accurate time-frame. By the time 20 or so days have gone by and the supernatural manifestations have become overtly violent, we begin to lose sympathy with the family for not leaving the house. It reminds me of another great horror film that centered on an average, middle class family besieged by a possessed house: Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist (1982). But whereas the family in that film had a reason to stay in the house (their daughter had been sucked into an alternate dimension), The Amityville Horror gives no plausible explanation for why the Lutzes stay at 112 Ocean Avenue. I know that they were trying to be historically accurate, but in a film that relies on jump scares like the glowing eyes outside of the little girl's window, you can't break the pace with huge gaps in the timeline. But there is still much about The Amityville Horror to love: the sets, the acting, and the impeccable atmosphere up until the third act.

6/10

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

The Candy Snatchers: Guerdon Trueblood


I miss the 70s. That decade was really the last time when American cinema was allowed to slow down, take its time, and breathe without risking losing its audience. Take Guerdon Trueblood's The Candy Snatchers, an exploitation film about a trio of amateur criminals who kidnap the step-daughter of a jewelry store employee and hold her for ransom. Despite its content, the film is leisurely paced and unhurried, allowing time to explore the characters. It seems that The Candy Snatchers is labeled an "exploitation" film, but I'm not sure if that description fits. There is nudity, but it is brief. There is violence, but it pales in comparison to other films of the era. And the criminals are not stock characters but actual people with back-stories and motivations. My favorite character is a young autistic boy who is the only witness of the crime. Savagely abused by his frustrated parents, his plight seems to predict a generation of unwanted children raised by pharmaceuticals. One of the criminals, a chubby Army vet named Eddy, is equally magnetic, being simultaneously sympathetic (he is the only criminal who tries to help the girl and has been unfairly abused both by society and the government) and repulsive (in a sexually frustrated rage he rapes his female co-conspirator). The film also features a stunningly cynical twist: the father doesn't want to rescue his step-daughter because he will collect on her $2 million inheritance and plans to flee to Brazil with his lover as soon as he gets the check. The scene where he confronts Eddy and smilingly gives him his thanks for disposing of her is both chilling and infuriating. This film is too smart and too well-made to be clumped in with other exploitation films of the era.

7/10

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Contamination: Luigi Cozzi


I don't care if Luigi Cozzi's Contamination is an obvious Alien (1979) rip-off. It manages to be a decent film in its own right with some absolutely fantastic special effects. Long story short: when a shipment of exploding alien eggs from Mars (yes, really) are found in a derelict boat heading for New York City, a team of astronauts and military personnel travel to Colombia where they discover a sinister conspiracy to use the eggs to destroy humanity. The agents of this underground invasion are being mind-controlled by a massive alien cyclops. The animatronic alien cyclops is quite honestly of Star Wars level caliber, even if director Cozzi had to use clever editing tricks to mask the fact that the damn thing could barely move. The other two effects concern the alien eggs and their effect on humans. The greenish, football-shaped eggs quiver, vibrate, moan, and violently erupt whenever they are heated up. If a living organism is touched by its exploding contents, then they too violently erupt in a geyser of gore, guts, and body parts. The explosions were graphic enough for the film to be labeled a video nasty. But seeing this as a blood and gore schlock-fest does an injustice to the film and Cozzi's competent direction. Cozzi does a wonderful job creating suspense, particularly in the early scenes when scientists investigate the seemingly abandoned ship in New York City. Contamination may be a rip-off, but it certainly is a good one.

6/10

Phantom Lady: Robert Siodmak


Robert Siodmak's first film noir, Phantom Lady, is not only a great film in its own rights, it is also one of the most progressive films of its genre. Here we find a private dick film noir where the roles are reversed: when her boss Scott Henderson is falsely arrested, found guilty, and sentenced to death for the murder of his wife, secretary Carol Richman sets out on her own to find the real killer. The key to freeing Scott is discovering a so-called "phantom lady," a woman he spent the night with after fighting with his wife right before her murder. Scott claims that he went all over town with this lady (whose name he never heard): in a bar, in a cab, and at a show. However, when the police investigate the people who saw the two together, they all swear that Scott was alone that night. Curiouser and curiouser. Carol repeatedly puts herself in danger by diving into the underworld where she discovers that Scott is the unwitting fall guy for a criminal mastermind who, for mysterious reasons, has either bribed or coerced everyone who saw Scott that night to "forget" about his companion. Two scenes stand out the most. The first involves her investigation of the bartender. First, she sits at the bar for an entire day quietly staring at him. Then she follows him as he leaves for the subway, making him implode in a ball of paranoid terror. This is a masterful sequence of psychological storytelling that has lost none of its impact over the years. The second is when she tries to "seduce" the drummer of the show Scott attended who spent a large chunk of time trying to get the "phantom lady's" attention. The drummer, Cliff, played by long-time Hollywood fall guy Elisha Cook, Jr., shines in a scene where he lustily goes crazy during a drum solo in response to Carol's advances. Notice Carol's transformation in this scene in a faux femme fatale. Female leads rarely displayed this much depth and resourcefulness in films of the era. Indeed, Carol's skill and bravery during the film elevate her into a kind of proto-feminist hero. Much of the credit for this goes to Robert Siodmak, a German émigrée who clearly brought European sensibilities to the film. But it would be criminal to neglect the influence of Joan Harrison, Universal's first female executive and former screenwriter for Alfred Hitchcock. Working as the film's producer, her influence both as a woman and as a former Hitchcock collaborator are undeniable. Indeed, the film is full of Hitchcockian touches. My favorite is how each witness reacts when they are first approached by Scott and the police during their search for the "phantom lady." Nervous glances and odd behavioral ticks reinforce the fact that they are clearly lying and therefore helping an innocent man get convicted of a crime he didn't commit (a favorite plot device for Hitchcock). On a side note, Harrison's involvement makes you wonder if the scripts she wrote for Hitchcock also had feminist undertones. If they did, I wouldn't be surprised at all if Hitch "ignored" them in order to fulfill his twisted power fantasies concerning the women who tormented him his entire life.

8/10

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Bernie: Richard Linklater


God bless Bernie Tiede: beloved mortician, musician, philanthropist, friend, and convicted murderer. Yes, the real life Bernie Tiede was convicted of murdering 81-year-old Marjorie Nugent, his long-time companion. But that’s not the whole story. Bernie was so beloved in his home of Carthage, Texas and the populace so convinced of his innocence that the District Attorney had to make a change of venue so he could get a fair trial. Truth really is stranger than fiction. Jack Black gives a career-defining performance as Bernie, a kind, amiable fellow who gets trapped into an abusive relationship with Marjorie. She becomes so demanding and possessive that when Bernie confesses to shooting her four times in a sort of uncontrollable trance, we instantly believe him. Blending documentary footage of the real-life townsfolk involved in the case and tremendous performances by Black, Shirley MacLaine as Marjorie, and Matthew McConaughey as Carthage’s fanatical district attorney, director Richard Linklater's Bernie provides one of the most eclectic and fascinating snapshots of Texan culture since his ground-breaking indie hit Slacker (1991).

7/10

Nightmare City: Umberto Lenzi


I think my favorite moment in Umberto Lenzi's Nightmare City (also known as City of the Walking Dead) is when a horde of radiation zombies break into a surgery room in a hospital. As they start to attack the surgeons operating on a patient, the head surgeon grabs a nearby scalpel and throws it like a shuriken into one of the zombies. I think that scene epitomizes why Nightmare City is such an entertaining film: it embraces sheer over-the-top insanity like scalpel-chucking surgeons while simultaneously maintaining a convincing atmosphere of dread and doom. After a plane full of cannibalistic maniacs driven insane by the radiation from a nuclear accident arrives in an unnamed European city, American reporter Dean Miller tries to escape with his wife from a city that is being quickly overrun by zombie-like monsters. During this time we are treated to several scenes of graphic carnage and gore. One of the most ridiculous scenes is when the zombies break into a television station and massacre the cast of an all-female workout program. Before they attack, we are treated to an extended sequence of the ladies flexing, stretching, and posing for the benefit of the camera. And during the attack, a couple of the ladies inexplicably run around without their tops on. Lenzi sure had his priorities straight. If there is one criticism that I can make against Nightmare City, it's that the survivors are unusually unsympathetic and stupid. Several times we meet friends and family of the military brass who are warned to flee, hide, or barricade themselves somewhere safe. But despite being told that there is a state of emergency in the city, they blithely ignore it. When they are eventually killed, we don't feel sorry for them. Instead, we feel like they got what they deserved. And why does everybody in Italian zombie movies stop and freeze like a deer in headlights whenever they are attacked? I've seen so many instances of people just standing still for 10-15 seconds while they let the zombies slowly walk up to them and kill them. I know they are supposed to be unthinkably horrifying, but zombies aren't Lovecraftian Old Ones. Fight or flight, people! Fight or flight!

6/10

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Antropophagus: Joe D’Amato


I’ve noticed a surprisingly significant number of people dismiss Joe D’Amato’s Antropophagus on the grounds of it being too shocking, grotesque, or violent. And, yes, the film certainly is violent. But do people dismiss this film because it is violent or because Joe D’Amato, a noted exploitation filmmaker and pornographer, made it? The most infamous scene in the film is when the eponymous antropophagus, a term based on the Greek word for “people-eater,” rips a fetus from a pregnant woman’s belly and eats it. Is it obscene and graphic? Of course. But it is by far the most graphic piece of violence in the film. The rest of the gore is either low-key or cheaply presented, like the scene at the end when the antropophagus chews on a very fake-looking handful of his own intestines. And, believe it or not, I believe that the fetus-eating scene was earned. Most of the film centers on atmosphere and creating a sense of tension while a group of vacationers travel to a remote Greek island. There are a couple of death scenes here and there, but for the most part we watch as the vacationers try to figure out why the island is abandoned and what has been responsible for what appear to be a local string of murders. Is some of the violence unnecessary? Sure. But consider this: seven years before Antropophagus was released, William Friedkin’s The Exorcist featured a scene where an underage girl stabbed herself repeatedly in the vagina with a crucifix. At the very least, none of the characters in Antropophagus are underage and none of them are sexually tortured. So why is The Exorcist more widely accepted while Antropophagus isn’t? Well, beside the obvious difference in quality, I think in large part it comes down to the director. One was done by Friedkin, one by D’Amato. One is a respected filmmaker and the other is the director of Porno Holocaust (1981). Are we more willing to forgive grotesque content if it comes from a better movie? You make the call.

5/10

The Rising of the Moon: John Ford


John Ford’s The Rising of the Moon is an anthology of three short stories set in Ireland. The film is obviously a work of love for all those involved, chief among them Ford himself who returned again and again to the Emerald Isle throughout his career as a source of inspiration. However, Ford’s passion for his ancestors’ homeland results in an indulgent production which seems bloated despite its 81 minute runtime. The highlight of the film is the second story, “A Minute’s Wait,” a comedy about a train stopping for a pit stop at a station. Despite the best efforts of the conductor and engineers, odd circumstances prevent the train from leaving several times, forcing them to announce one more “minute’s wait” over and over again. For such a short story, the film is full of richly nuanced and sharply defined characters who give the comedic goings-on extra weight. But perhaps the most fascinating character in the film is Dan O’Flaherty, a proud old man accused of assaulting one of his countrymen in the first short film entitled “The Majesty of the Law.” Fans of Ford’s work will be drawn to the story’s themes of manly honor, tradition, and respected customs which bypass the letter of the law but nevertheless serve the cause of justice. But the average viewer might be turned off by its casual pace and leisurely tone. Indeed, most of the story consists of pleasant, reminiscent conversations. We only learn that there is an actual plot until it is nearly over. The last short film, “The Rising of the Moon,” is a rather unremarkable story about a Police Sergeant during the Black and Tan War who must choose whether or not to let an escaped prisoner scheduled for execution get away. With the exception of some interesting cinematography and dutch angles in the first few minutes, “The Rising of the Moon” is stylistically dull. In short, the film is an interesting curio for fans of John Ford and those curious about America’s views on Irish culture. But other viewers will get bored quickly.

6/10

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

India Song: Marguerite Duras


I don't usually get angry at movies, but Marguerite Duras' India Song made me irrationally furious. I don't think I have seen a film so contemptuous of its audience since Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010). India Song is opaque simply on principle. It claims to be a meditation on upper class ennui and alienation, but instead of trying to engage with an audience, Duras created a cruel joke masquerading as an endurance test. The film follows the wife of a 1930s French ambassador to India who dives into the depths of promiscuity to ease her unbearable boredom. This could make for an intriguing film, but Duras presents us with stale tracking shots that move at a glacier's pace. Even worse, they are accompanied by voice-overs of the characters reciting vague and cryptic "poetical" nonsense. We are treated with punishingly long takes of characters sitting or lying down on the ground perfectly still. One scene that could have been fascinating involves a small handful of dignitaries who move around an empty ballroom while the sounds of a lavish party can be heard. It's a powerful metaphor for how they are completely alone even while immersed in robust social atmospheres. But it goes on for at least 20 minutes without anything happening. India Song isn't just a failed piece of art, it is intellectual masturbation.

1/10

The White Balloon: Jafar Panahi


Jafar Panahi's The White Balloon is the kind of film that I treasure and cherish. It isn't so much about characters as it is about people. Panahi quietly invites us into the world of children to experience a simple story of warmth and compassion. It is the eve of the Iranian New Year. Little Razieh wants to buy a goldfish from a local store to be used during the festivities. Her mother sternly reminds her that they have a pool of goldfish at their house. But, no, Razieh wants a big one from the store that looks like it dances when it swims. After much begging and pleading, her mother gives her enough money to buy one of the shop's prized goldfish. But along the way she loses the money not once, but twice. First she is cheated out of the money by a conniving snake charmer. But his partner returns the money when he realizes what happened. Then she accidentally drops the money into the entrance grate at a nearby store. The film then watches as she enlists the aid of her brother and passersby to help retrieve the money. There's an old lady who tries to help, then a soldier who can't afford to return home for the New Year. And then there's a young Afghan street balloon seller who devises the ingenious method by which the money is rescued. The White Balloon moves at a naturalistic, leisurely pace. It invokes memories of being a child and having to patiently wait and daydream while adults argue on about boring adult things. In this sense, The White Balloon replicates time from the point of view of impatient yet stubborn children. And therein lies the beauty. Therein lies the magic.

9/10

Bloody Moon: Jesús Franco


I mentioned in my review of Devil Hunter (1980) that the films of director Jesús Franco seem to have a cruelty quota. If there isn't a certain amount of misery and pain in one of his movies, then he has to figure out a way to artificially add some. One of the best examples that I can think of is in his film Bloody Moon, a relatively effective slasher flick about a deranged killer going on a murder spree in a Spanish resort/language school. I have only seen a handful of Franco's films, but Devil Hunter stands apart from them with its emphasis on pacing and character psychology. The film's plot is surprisingly well formulated and even provides an interesting twist at the end about the identity of the killer. Standard slasher logic tells us that if you never get a good look at the killer and the film tries to finger a particular character without explicitly confirming their guilt, then that character is a red herring. But Bloody Moon manages to pull a kind of double red herring, subverting genre cliches and expectations without seeming forced or satirical. And while the film is very plot and character driven, Franco still delivers several stomach-churning death scenes. The most notable is when the killer manages to trick a victim into getting tied up in a lumber mill before sawing her head off with a power saw. But even that grisly death scene didn't satiate Franco's cruelty quota. So Franco finishes the sequence with a scene where the killer runs over a young boy who happened to witness the murder and tried to stop it (being hit by a car inexplicably chops this boy in half with such surgical precision that one wonders if there was another power saw beneath the car). And then there's a scene where a real snake was decapitated for a cheap jump scare. While the other murder scenes at least somewhat tie into the plot, this authentic moment of fatal animal cruelty is completely pointless. But that doesn't stop Franco from prepping the audience for this random plot cul-de-sac with an establishing shot of a scientist looking around a laboratory for a lost snake. Nevertheless, Bloody Moon is one of the better Franco films that I have ever seen. Think about that for a bit.

6/10

Monday, June 24, 2013

Devil Hunter: Jesús Franco


Jesús Franco's Devil Hunter is the most boring cannibal film that I have ever seen. And now that I have just finished writing that sentence, I need to go lie down and re-evaluate my life. What does it say about me when I hold a movie like Cannibal Holocaust (1980) or Cannibal Ferox (1981) up as a model that other films should aspire to? Regardless, Devil Hunter is a punishingly boring film about a kidnapped white model being held in a South American country. Two men go into the jungles to try and pay the ransom. But when both sides try to double-cross each other, the woman gets free. However, she is quickly captured once again by a native tribe who intend to sacrifice her to their cannibalistic god. So the surviving rescuer has to try and find her before she is killed. Clocking in at around 100 minutes, the film is mercilessly padded with scenes of people stalking through the jungles and naked native women doing erotic "jungle dances." Most of this is overlaid with audio of the cannibal god gasping and choking through what sounds like an asthma attack. The film's dullness is only occasionally interrupted by scenes of pointless cruelty (the model endures a lengthy rape scene that literally does nothing to further the plot and is never mentioned again). The film is also blatantly misogynistic. It features a leering camera that randomly lingers on close-up shots of the female characters' naked genitals, recalling Franco's work as a pornographer. It's one thing to use porno aesthetics in a porn film and another to use them in a film about women being kidnapped, raped, tortured, murdered, and eaten. Every woman in the film either gets tortured, mutilated, killed, raped, or objectified by Franco's camera. As I watch more and more of Franco's filmography, the more I'm inclined to believe that he had a cruelty quota for every single one of his films. What's worse, I know that Devil Hunter is child's play considering some of the other films in his oeuvre.

3/10

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Hell of the Living Dead: Bruno Mattei, Claudio Fragasso


Is it possible to hate and love a film at the same time? Bruno Mattei and Claudio Fragasso's Hell of the Living Dead may be proof that it is. The film, a grotesque spectacle that follows a squad of commandos and a pair of reporters as they travel through a zombie-infected Papua New Guinea, is disturbing, offensive, and in extremely bad taste. And yet, I loved every minute of it. That doesn't make the film good, mind you. Almost everything in the film is terrible from a technical standpoint: the cinematography is slipshod, the dialogue laughably inane ("Patience is the chief virtue for those who have faith. Mahatma Gandhi, New Delhi, 1946. " "Up your ass. Lieutenant Mike London, Shit Creek, the year is now."), and the special effects are sub-par at best. Not to mention that the film liberally inserts stock footage of dead and dying tribal people during a bizarre interlude that seems straight out of an Amazon cannibal film by Umberto Lenzi or Ruggero Deodato. The wildly anachronistic soundtrack by Italian progressive rock band Goblin doesn't help, either. It is said that both directors had different visions about what the film should be: Fragasso wanted a darker film more akin to Apocalypse Now (1979) while Mattei wanted a lighter, more entertaining take on the zombie genre. So Hell of the Living Dead ended up being a mishmash of extremely bleak and absurdly campy material. Let me be clear: the finished film is not a good piece of filmmaking. But somehow all of its flaws managed to cohere into something that was at the very least entertaining. Of course, that could just be me.

4/10

I, the Jury: Harry Essex


Harry Essex's I, the Jury is unfortunately one of the worst film noir that I have ever seen. Even more tragically, it was the first film to adapt a story featuring Mickey Spillane's infamous pulp character Mike Hammer, a misanthropic private investigator who shocked readers of the era with his extreme violence. After an old war buddy was brutally murdered, Hammer goes on a one-man crusade to bring justice to the killers by any means necessary. He does so by traveling throughout the city and mingling with some truly eccentric characters, many of whom will die during the course of the film. The film is presented more as a series of vignettes than a single, cohesive narrative. Unfortunately, neither the director nor the actor playing Hammer, Biff Elliot, were capable of maintaining the film throughout its entire run-time. The film is also not very appealing visually, a fact that seems even more incredible considering that the cinematography was done by none other than John Alton, one of the single most accomplished and influential noir cinematographers in history. The best scene in the entire movie is when Hammer confronts the main antagonist in the end. Closely following the ending in Spillane's novel, it is emotionally devastating and awe-inspiring. If the entire film could have been as intense and gripping as the ending, then I, the Jury might have been a great film. But it didn't, so it isn't. What a shame.

4/10

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Hound of the Baskervilles: Terence Fisher


The first film adaptation of the classic novel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to be shot in color, Terence Fisher's The Hound of the Baskervilles is a Gothic delight. Traveling to a remote village, Sherlock Holmes (Peter Cushing) and Dr. Watson (André Morell) set out to solve the case of the Hound of the Baskervilles, a demonic dog that kills any member of the Baskerville family if they ever travel alone at night on the moor. When confronted with such a widely adapted story that has been interpreted and re-interpreted many times over the years, it is helpful to focus on two different things: the acting and the tone. The acting in the film is absolutely superb. Cushing gives a commanding performance as the infamous detective, managing to portray him as an actual human instead of just an analytical robot. Morell's Watson is a fascinating creation that is just as entertaining and fascinating as his esteemed partner and colleague. Christopher Lee also gives a towering (both figuratively and literally) performance as the seemingly doomed Sir Henry Baskerville. But the film is also supported by a number of truly wonderful supporting roles. My favorite was Miles Malleson as the absent-minded and sherry-thirsty Bishop Frankland. As for the tone of the film, Fisher turns the story into a kind of thriller instead of a simple detective story. Fisher must have realized that almost everyone going to see the film would already know the true culprits, so less attention is given to the clues than relishing the atmospheric countryside and the eccentric characters surrounding our heroes. It is a fine film that manages to entertain in a wonderful way.

7/10

Monday, June 17, 2013

Man of Steel: Zack Snyder


In the 1930s, he was a populist champion protecting the working man from corrupt politicians, gangsters, and common criminals. In the ‘50s, he became an alien god among men who could move planets with his bare hands. And in the last few decades, he regained his humanity, lost his more outlandish powers, and struggled to find his place in a cynical culture fixated on dark, brooding heroes and stark, joyless realism. But despite every change, he has remained a hero, a symbol, a realization of humanity’s ultimate potential. He is, quite simply, a Superman.

Riding the tide of recent superhero box office sensations, Warner Bros. have released a new take on this first and most iconic of all superheroes entitled Man of Steel. The film boasts a veritable who’s who of industry superstars who have helped establish superheroes as the biggest genre of the decade: director Zack Snyder, the man who brought 300 [2007] and Watchmen [2009] (a work long considered to be unfilmable) to the screen, producer Christopher Nolan, the director of The Dark Night Trilogy (2005-2012), a series of films that became cultural phenomenons and pushed the genre to new levels of artistic respectability, and writer David S. Goyer, one of the main creative forces behind The Blade Trilogy (1998-2004). Disappointed with the box office returns of Green Lantern (2011), DC’s last superhero film that didn’t prominently feature a man who dresses like a flying, nocturnal mammal, Man of Steel was designed to be the last test to see whether or not a DC character could helm not only its own franchise, but the weight of an expanded cinematic crossover universe akin to the one created by Marvel Comics. Early box office results look promising. But how well does the film portray Superman’s mythos?

Man of Steel is yet another retelling of Superman’s origin. Snyder moves us through all of the requisite story beats like they were the Stations of the Cross: launched from a doomed planet named Krypton, the infant Kal-El lands on earth, is raised by a kind Kansas couple as mild-mannered Clark Kent, discovers his powers, and becomes Superman. Perhaps in an effort to keep such a familiar story fresh, Snyder reveals most of the details about Superman’s childhood in flashback. We see how his mother taught him to focus and control his powers when they first manifested during an elementary school class. We see how his father tempered his stern instructions about keeping his powers a secret with promises of a greater destiny. These scenes, some of the best in the entire movie, give practical and convincing explanations for Superman’s indefatigable compassion. While many miss Christopher Reeve’s warm, perpetually smirking interpretation of Superman, Henry Cavill gives us a man haunted by his responsibilities yet guided by a single-minded determination to help others. It is a convincing performance that rises above many other actors’ attempts to make superheroes “realistic” or “relatable.” Cavill is well-balanced by Amy Adams’ performance as Lois Lane. Adams’ Lois continues in the grand tradition of tough, go-get-’em reporters who have served as Superman’s love interest, partner, and soulmate over the decades. If there is one criticism to be leveled towards this Lois, it is that she is not featured nearly enough.

The other true revelation of Man of Steel is Michael Shannon’s performance as General Zod, a criminal from Superman’s home planet determined to retrieve a codex containing the sum of Krypton’s knowledge that was stashed away in Kal-El’s spacecraft by his father. Shannon had equally huge shoes to fill in matching Terence Stamp’s performance as Zod in the first two Superman movies as Cavill did with Reeve’s. Yet he succeeds in capturing the over-the-top mannerisms and wild-eyed fanaticism that made the character so endearing to generations of movie-goers. His band of outlaw Kryptonians are reminiscent of the Ancient Romans in their imperialistic dispositions, rabid militarism, and flair for the dramatic. Indeed, Zod’s ultimatum against earth for the surrender of Kal-El and his subsequent plans to terraform it into a new Krypton are chilling and vengeful. Why doesn’t he just find another planet to terraform with his spaceship capable of traversing the cosmos? We suspect it is because of a grudge against Kal-El’s father for his betrayal at the beginning of the film when he refused to join him in his rebellion against Krypton’s leaders.

This leads to the film’s main problem: its narrative verbosity. We are given Superman’s origin not once, but twice. The film opens with a lengthy sequence where Superman’s father, Jor-El, walks us through every step of Krypton’s destruction and Kal-El’s salvation: his appeal to Krypton’s leaders, his dismissal, his battle against Zod, his dispatching of his son to the stars, his death, and the end of his planet. Then these events are related in full again to Superman when he discovers a Kryptonian scout ship. These segments easily add on 20-30 minutes to an already lengthy final run time that tests its audience’s patience.

But the film nevertheless manages to provide an satisfying and compelling origin for the Man of Tomorrow. Unlike more recent superhero films like The Dark Knight Rises (2012) and Iron Man 3 (2013), Man of Steel doesn’t suffer from game-breaking plot holes (although why General Zod demanded the surrender of Superman and Lois Lane is left unexplained). Here is a film with a film and cohesive grasp on a story that has become an indelible part of American mythology. Many have balked at this new realistic interpretation of Superman which is deliberately reminiscent of Nolan’s Batman. After all, the entire point of a man who can fly and smash through steel buildings is that it isn’t realistic. Superman is supposed to be a character who will never let us down, who will always win, who will always find a way to make everything right in the end. But real life isn’t a comic book. There isn’t always a perfect solution that will leave everyone alive, healthy, and happy at the end of twenty-two pages or a ninety minute run-time. But Man of Steel preaches that while the world is mired in pain, evil, and suffering, mankind is still worth fighting for. And not only are we worth protecting, but every single one of us is a Superman on the inside. Man of Steel offers a practical message of purpose and hope for our troubled times. This isn’t our parents’ Superman. This is a Superman that we need even more.

8/10

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Woman on the Run: Norman Foster


I have friends who would probably sneer at Norman Foster's Woman on the Run because of its ending: after being chased by gangsters and criminals, estranged married couple Frank and Eleanor Johnson tearfully reconcile and make up. At the beginning of the film, Eleanor (played by the wonderful Ann Sheridan) makes no hint of her disdain and possible outright hatred for her husband. But when Frank witnesses a murder and skips town before the cops can force him to testify against the murderous crooks, Eleanor slowly realizes that there may have been real love in their relationship after all. The renewal of their love at the end definitely seems like a relic of the Production Code era where crime was not allowed to go unpunished. And, yes, maybe the film would appeal more to the modern masses of cynical moviegoers if it ended with them both dying. But Sheridan's performance manages to lend credibility and authenticity to this scenario. Woman on the Run is a wonderful film full of twists and turns. Two of my favorite characters are the rough and blunt police Inspector Martin Ferris and the sweetly charming newspaperman Danny Leggett who accompanies Eleanor in her search for Frank. At first, we are suspicious of Ferris and sympathetic towards Danny. Watching Foster subvert our perceptions of the two characters is positively delightful.

7/10

Friday, June 14, 2013

The Two Mrs. Carrolls: Peter Godfrey


Peter Godfrey's The Two Mrs. Carrolls would make an excellent double feature with Nicholas Ray's In a Lonely Place (1950). Both films feature stunning performances by Humphrey Bogart as a mentally unstable artist who is finally driven to violence over his affection towards a beautiful woman. But whereas Dix Steele is a tragic figure seemingly doomed by fate to destroy everything he loves, Geoffrey Carroll is legitimately mentally ill. He has developed a habit wherein he falls in love with a beautiful woman, becomes temporarily endowed with tremendous inspiration and clarity of artistic vision, and suddenly loses his creative spark whereupon he falls in love with yet another woman, restarting the cycle. Unfortunately for the first woman, he believes that once they have served their purpose, they must be disposed of. Enter Sally Morton (Barbara Stanwyck), Carroll's second wife. The film watches as Sally gradually figures out Carroll's terrible secret, successfully creating an enormous amount of dread and suspense. This works in large part because we don't get any clear confirmation that Carroll is a murderer until later in the film. Stanwyck is, as always, incredible. However, there is one exception to an otherwise flawless performance: there is a painful scene where Godfrey lost his nerve and resorted to using second-person narration to explain how Sally figured out Carroll's secret. This scene has Stanwyck standing still and staring obliquely off-screen as her own voice taunts her with her revelations. Watching Stanwyck twist her face in silent agony for 10 or so seconds is simply uncomfortable. Maybe a silent actress could have pulled it off. But the scene clashes with Stanwyck's otherwise bombastic acting style. But there is much to love in The Two Mrs. Carrolls: the use of church bells to underline decaying mental clarity, sumptuous cinematography by J. Peverell Marley, a haunted performance by Bogart, and a wonderful scene near the end where Carroll breaks through a window and throws the massive curtains behind him in an entrance that makes one think of Dracula tossing his cape over his shoulders as he prepares to prey on an innocent young woman.

7/10

Monday, June 10, 2013

The Thing from Another World: Christian Nyby, Howard Hawks


Confirming the old joke that Howard Hawks could direct any genre he damn well wanted, The Thing from Another World is a tense, claustrophobic, and thoroughly enjoyable horror film. Following a stranded Air Force crew at an Arctic research station, the film follows their reactions when they discover nothing less than an authentic flying saucer and its humanoid occupant. They bring the Thing into the base for further study. But through an unfortunate accident it is re-awakened and manages to break free from its bonds. The Thing then goes on a killing spree seeking the one thing that provides it with sustenance: blood! Two things really stood out to me when I watched this film. First, it was fascinating to see Hawksian archetypes and tropes (like split-second, overlapping dialogue and the Unit of Men as a tight-knit community nigh impenetrable to outsiders) applied to a horror movie. Second, the film carries what can be construed as an anti-science disposition. The head scientist makes it very clear in no uncertain tones that he is willing to sacrifice everyone at the base in order to "make contact" with the Thing for scientific purposes. The head scientist even commits the Hawksian cardinal sin: he betrays the community. This suspicion towards science in a sense reflects the sentiments that much of the American populace felt in the wake of World War Two and the atomic bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Thing from Another World is therefore, much like other great sci-fi films, a kind of time capsule of American society.

8/10

Phenomenon: Jon Turteltaub


Now here's a charming little film. Jon Turteltaub’s Phenomenon follows George Malley (John Travolta), a kind yet otherwise unremarkable man living in northern California. On the night of his 37th birthday party, he witnesses a blinding white light in the sky. Afterwards, he becomes a genius with an eidetic memory, extraordinary intellectual stamina, and telekinetic power. He attempts to use his newfound abilities to help his neighbors and woo a local single mother. However, the government becomes involved after he accidentally decodes a top secret military cypher. When he is taken to a hospital, the true nature of his gifts are revealed. Much of this film relies on Travolta's performance. A lesser actor would transform Malley into a creature that would elicit revulsion and suspicion in its audience. But Travolta keeps Malley warmly sympathetic and charming even when his powers reach his full potential and he becomes akin to an intellectual oracle. Robert Duvall also turns in a fantastic performance as the local doctor who becomes Malley's confidant. This film's one glaring flaw is its soundtrack: many scenes that should have been light, emotional, and sweet are drowned in malignantly cheesy 90s pop. But for a film that could have easily become melodramatic schmaltz, Phenomenon manages to hit (most of) the right marks.

7/10

Bowfinger: Frank Oz


After finishing Frank Oz's Bowfinger, I closed my eyes, smiled, and thought to myself, "I am so glad that I watched that." Bowfinger is a true treasure of a comedy, one rooted in a fantastic premise and supported by talented performers. Unlike many modern comedies which rely on shock value and anti-humor, Bowfinger is funny because the writing is funny. The film follows Bobby Bowfinger (Steve Martin), a wannabe film producer desperate to bring his dream picture, a ludicrous sci-fi thriller entitled “Chubby Rain,” into fruition. He just has two problems. First, he only has about $2000 for a budget. Second, his distributor won’t support the film if it doesn’t star Kit Ramsey (Eddie Murphy), the hottest action star in town. However, Ramsey, an extremely high-strung and paranoid follower of a new religious movement named MindHead, won’t agree to do the film. So Bowfinger decides to shoot the film without his knowledge anyway, making his actors approach him on the street and shout gibberish at him. These scenes will then be cleverly edited into the finished product. However, because MindHead is essentially a thinly veiled parody of Scientology which purports to help its members “keep in control” against neurotic delusions of alien invaders, Ramsey begins to believe that he is actually in a sci-fi invasion film. Hardly a minute goes by without some sort of preposterous roadblock or complication springing up in Bowfinger's way. And yet Martin keeps the character endearing and sympathetic, channeling his "asshole with a heart of gold" persona that he largely became famous for. So, in case I haven't made this clear enough...go watch Bowfinger. You'll be glad you did.

9/10

The Possession of Joel Delaney: Waris Hussein


I don't think it's possible to address Waris Hussein's The Possession of Joel Delaney without discussing the last fifteen minutes. Until then, the film was simply a decent story about a young Manhattan socialite that may or may not be possessed by the spirit of an evil, dead Puerto Rican. But in the last fifteen minutes, the young man, Joel Delaney, becomes completely devoured by the spirit inhabiting his body. His sister Norah, the film's protagonist, has taken her children to a beach house for protection. However, he tracks them down and...well...then things get intense. He psychologically tortures Norah, forces her daughter to eat dog food, and makes her (prepubescent) son strip naked and dance for his amusement. Yes, there is (brief) full frontal nudity of a young child. Yes, this wasn't simulated. So, here's the question: is such a horrible thing justified if it is done for the sake of art? These last fifteen minutes are easily the best part of the film. But does the fact that The Possession of Joel Delaney was "good" forgive the child abuse? After all, Harry Revier's Child Bride (1938) had authentic full-frontal nudity of a minor as well. If The Possession of Joel Delaney was as bad as Child Bride, would the film-going culture be so quick to forgive it? I don't know. But The Possession of Joel Delaney is still a good movie. It is intense, unsettling, and manages to earn its scares. I just feel sorry for those kids...

8/10

The Plague of the Zombies: John Gilling


Hammer horror and zombies. What's not to like? John Gilling's The Plague of the Zombies is a wonderful horror film rich in atmosphere, tone, and color. In many ways, the film's plot seems very reminiscent of Bram Stoker's Dracula: two men, a younger gentleman and an older, distinguished doctor, investigate a strange number of disappearances and deaths in 1800s Europe. These deaths are inevitably revealed to be linked to a local aristocrat capable of dark magic. Eventually, when a young woman related to the two men is captured and poisoned by the aristocrat, they must race against time to stop him before the young woman's transformation is complete...and permanent. As I said, these plot points seem directly lifted from Stoker's novel. However, there are enough variations to the story that none but the most acute horror connoisseurs would notice. The Plague of the Zombies may have inspired imagery in future zombie films, but the explanations for their breed of walking undead are firmly planted in a Haitian voodoo tradition. These zombies aren't flesh-eaters, but mindless slaves. It would be another two years before George A. Romero redefined zombie lore in his ground-breaking Night of the Living Dead (1968). So The Plague of the Zombies is a kind of fascinating bridge between what movie zombies originated as and what they would inevitably become.

7/10

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Silver Linings Playbook: David O. Russell


Two things really hit me hard watching David O. Russell's Silver Linings Playbook. First, it was fantastic seeing Robert De Niro back in top form again. I'm sick and tired of seeing him in movies that fail to take advantage of his talents. And, second, Silver Linings Playbook is one of the most kinetic family dramas that I have ever seen. In stark contrast to most films that I've seen centering around serious family dynamics, Russell frequently uses hand-held cameras, lightning editing, and prominent camera movements. Russell seems to work best when dealing with violent stories and characters (think Three Kings [1999] and The Fighter [2010]) and Silver Linings Playbook, a film about Pat Solitano Jr., an adult mental patient who moves back in with his parents after a prolonged stay in a mental health facility, is as violent as they come. During his recovery, he meets and falls in love with another mental malcontent named Tiffany Maxwell who suffers from acute nymphomania. Tiffany convinces Pat to be her partner in an upcoming dance competition. However, Pat's father, played by De Niro, has bet all his money on an upcoming Eagles game on the same night and is convinced that they will lose if Pat doesn't watch it with him. So, as you can imagine, things get heated, violent, loud, and ugly. But at its center, Silver Linings Playbook is a film about healing. You just have to wade through a lot of nastiness to get to it.

7/10

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Innocents: Jack Clayton


I honestly can't remember the last time a horror film made me look behind my shoulder several times to make sure nobody was behind me. I mean, I've seen more horror films than I can count. But Jack Clayton's The Innocents legitimately got under my skin and frightened me. Although, I don't think calling it a "horror" film is appropriate. It's more of a "terror" film. As Stephen King once explained, "terror" is "the suspenseful moment in horror before the actual monster is revealed." The Innocents is all about the anxiety, fear, and panic of knowing that you're not completely alone in a dark room in the middle of the night. It's about the dim figure you spy out of the corner of your eye that disappears when you turn to take a better look. It is a film about fear itself. The film follows Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr), a young woman who gets a job as a governess for two young children under the "care" of their uncle. The children are initially a delight, but soon she begins to suspect that they might have terrible secrets (particularly the boy who acts and speaks more like a grown man than a child)...secrets involving a past caretaker and her relationship with a fiendish valet...a secret that might involve past abuse and demons, both figuratively and literally, that haunt them to this day. Even if the story fails to gain your interest, the film's cinematography by Freddie Francis will. I haven't seen a film use such beautiful framing, deep focus cinematography, and expressive use of chiaroscuro lighting since William Wyler's The Little Foxes (1941). The film is simply mesmerizing to behold. I've often argued that black and white films can be even more inherently colorful than color films. The Innocents is proof of this. Though Kerr's performance veers ever so gently towards blatant over-acting, The Innocents is one of the most perfectly realized and brilliantly effective "terror" films I've ever seen.

Side Note: While watching I accidentally took a screenshot with my computer. When I ended up looking at it, I realized that I might have serendipitously captured the essence of the film (or at the very least a very important part of it) in one frame. I have included it below.


10/10