King of Kings: Nicholas Ray

Second only to Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964), Nicholas Ray's King of Kings is my all-time favorite cinematic adaption of the life of Jesus Christ. Combining his meticulous eye for cinematic composition and his propensity for societal outsiders, Ray's take on Jesus' life never loses sight of the compassion, courage, and humanity that fueled one of mankind's greatest philosophers. Many adaptions of Jesus' life tend to portray him as aloof or detached from society. But Ray goes to pains to depict Jesus as a man who was both a product of his time and an outsider from it. His version of the Sermon on the Mount is particularly moving and emotional: Jesus moves amongst the peoples while preaching instead of merely standing at the mountain-top talking down to everyone else. Ray understood that Jesus was born into a chaotic, violent, and bloody time and that much of his appeal came from his ability to appeal for peace, love, and tolerance despite this. King of Kings is one of the best works from Ray's later career. While many films tried to give Jesus a timeless quality, Ray knew that, again, he was first and foremost a product of his time and it was therein that his brilliance and greatness truly lay.

9/10

12 Monkeys: Terry Gilliam

12 Monkeys has quite the cinematic pedigree: it stars Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt, is directed by Terry Gilliam, and is based on Chris Marker's La jetée (1962), a film on the short-list for the greatest short film of all time. Is it any wonder considering its well of talent that 12 Monkeys is an intelligent, expertly crafted sci-fi film? In a future where mankind has been forced underground by a horrific virus, James Cole (Willis) is a convicted criminal subjected to scientific tests with the intent of sending him back in time in order to stop the apocalypse. Upon arrival in the past, Cole must unravel the secret of the Army of the Twelve Monkeys, the terrorist group suspected of being behind the virus. This being a) a time travel film and b) a Terry Gilliam picture, 12 Monkeys is a wash of impossible visuals, fantastic performances, and revolutionary ideas. Willis' performance as Cole, particularly in scenes in the "past" where he is captured, committed to a mental institution, and pumped full of drugs, ranks among the very best of his career. This is a film that rewards multiple, meticulous viewings. Thankfully, the film is so well made that the audience will want to re-watch it as soon as possible anyway.

8/10

Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure: Stephen Herek

Stephen Herek's Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure was always one of those films that I kicked myself for never having watched. Not only was it a personal favorite of many of my friends, it was one of the most frequently quoted and incessantly referenced films of the 1980s. That's quite an impressive feat for a decade that also gave us Back to the Future (1985) and Indiana Jones. After finally kicking myself enough times, I gave the film a watch. And now, I can finally understand why it was so popular. This film about two high school slackers who come into possession of a time machine is no work of high art in the vein of Kubrick or Bresson. But it still remains an incredibly entertaining, thoroughly enjoyable piece of cinema. It may be as formulaic as Hollywood films come in terms of story structure (I could hear the individual parts of the three-act story structure fall into place with deafening 'thuds'), but that does little to diminish the pleasure that this film delivers. Its sense of irreverence, indefatigable joy, and enthusiasm elevate this simple film into cinematic Valhalla.

7/10

Party Girl: Nicholas Ray

After the disastrous production of Wind Across the Everglades (1958) which saw him being fired by the studio before the film's completion, Nicholas Ray rebounded with Party Girl, a film about a mob lawyer who falls in love with a showgirl. The lawyer, Thomas Farrell, has spent his life keeping the worst mobsters in America out of jail. However, his life is hollow and empty. But when he meets a showgirl named Vicki (played by the stunning Cyd Charisse) he decides that he wants to leave the mob and start a new life with her. But, of course, nobody just leaves the mob. Mob boss Rico Angelo (loosely based on gangsters like Al Capone and Lucky Luciano) threatens to hurt Vicki if Farrell abandons him. But I'm just recounting the plot. The real meat of the film is found in Ray's direction, Robert J. Bronner's gob-smacking color CinemaScope cinematography, and two musical dance numbers with Charisse. What it lacks in plot it more than makes up for in visual flare. Party Girl easily ranks with In a Lonely Place (1950) and Johnny Guitar (1954) as Ray's most beautiful films.

7/10

Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat: Anthony Hickox

Anthony Hickox's Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat (1989) isn't just a good movie; it is also a smart one. The idea of vampires who want to re-integrate with the rest of humanity isn't necessarily a new idea, particularly in this day and age when vampires seem to permeate all over the popular media. So instead, Hickox turns his camera on the minutiae of vampires trying to live during the daytime. Sentry vampires in sombreros work at gas stations to monitor anyone who might come too close to their community. A crowd of vampires pantomime eating at a diner when human guests show up. Vats of heavy-duty sunblock are scattered everywhere, just in case. These are the details that make the film work. But what about the plot? Well, it's not too shabby, either. In the quiet desert town of Purgatory, a colony of vampires try to build an artificial-bloodmaking machine that will allow them to re-enter the world of humans. However, when their attempts fail, they call in the plant's designer, a regular human, and his family to Purgatory. It's too bad that they decided to call them just as an evil vampire elder starts a literal revolution. The appearance of one of Van Helsing's descendants doesn't help things, either. It would have been so easy for Hickox to make Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat a cliched vampire film. Thank heavens that he didn't. This is a film that deserves more than a purgatory of its own in old video rental stores.

7/10

Born to Be Bad: Nicholas Ray

What a disappointing follow-up to In a Lonely Place (1950). After directing one of the single greatest film noir in history, director Nicholas Ray released Born to Be Bad, a dull, mediocre picture about an opportunistic woman who back-stabs and betrays her way to high society. Joan Fontaine plays Christabel, a young gold-digger who breaks up a marriage so she can marry the husband and get his money. Along the way she also strings along an aspiring author that she secretly desires. She doesn't pursue him, of course, because he's not the one with any money. This all leads to a decent confrontation moment when everyone gangs up on her and reveals that they discovered the truth behind her sickening actions. But the film is simply tedious and tiring. Maybe another director could have salvaged this film. But regardless, Nicholas Ray was the wrong director for this film and it shows.

5/10

Coffin Joe 2: This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse: José Mojica Marins

Immediately after the events of At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul (1963), the film's eponymous character is rushed to the emergency room where his life is miraculously saved. Just, don't tell Coffin Joe that because he'll probably kill you for suggesting that God had an influence in his life. Yes, director José Mojica Marins' greatest creation is back for more blood, torture, and blasphemy in his search for the perfect woman to give birth to his "perfect" son. This time, there are more victims, more diabolical murders, and even a nightmare sequence in Hell done in color to provoke and terrify the audience. After kidnapping six young women, Coffin Joe submits them to a horrific test to see if they are free from fear. This test involves covering them with dozens upon dozens of (real) giant spiders to see which ones scream. After finding his "superior" woman, he viciously murders the other five by throwing them into a pit filled with (once again, real) poisonous snakes. He soon gets the "winner" pregnant. However, Coffin Joe is devastated to learn that one of the five women was also with child. Lacking any kind of morals except an extreme protectiveness of children, the news sends Coffin Joe into a dangerous, and potentially fatal, down-ward spiral. Coffin Joe isn't helped by the fact that the local villagers have finally worked up the courage to rebel against him, sending several hired killers to dispatch him. But Coffin Joe refuses to go down without a fight. He is, after all, superior to all of them. This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse is a visceral, terrifying delight. Anyone who loves horror needs to see this film.

9/10

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey: Peter Jackson

After long last, it is finally here! I have waited with excitement for Peter Jackson's cinematic adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. After all, I still believe that his Lord of the Rings trilogy was one of the most important moments in the cinema of the last decade. So does the first film in this new trilogy, An Unexpected Journey, live up to its expectations? Yes...but not as much as it could have. Without going into the matter of Jackson's decision to split the book into three movies, I don't think that there is enough plot to keep this film held together. There are too many plot diversions (did we really need the Morgul-blade scene?) and moments when it felt like Jackson was deliberately stretching things. One of the best observations that I have heard about this film was that it felt like an extended edition with deleted scenes. But still, the film has a lot of the heart that was the lifeblood of Tolkien's work. The opening scene with the Dwarves at Bag End is one of the most virtuosic moments of Jackson's career, speaking both to his talents as a filmmaker and as an interpreter of the novel's more upbeat, comical tone. Even for Jackson, the film seems over-burdened with CGI special effects. The Goblin-Town scenes, in particular, could have really benefited from more practical effects like trick shots and puppetry. I can only hope that Jackson can reel in the computer effects by the time we get around to Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies.

6/10

Mogambo: John Ford

Still reeling from the failure of The Sun Shines Bright (1953), director John Ford was in desperate need of a profitable hit film. Despite his health problems, Ford packed up and traveled to Africa in order to film MGM’s remake of its own 1932 romantic melodrama Red Dust. The film followed the romantic triangle between big game hunter Victor Marswell (Clark Gable), misplaced playgirl Eloise “Honey Bear” Kelly (Ava Gardner), and the naive wife of a milquetoast scientist named Linda Nordley (Grace Kelly) against the exotic back-drop of the African wilderness. After a physically grueling shoot that saw him endure amoebic dysentery, the film, titled Mogambo (1953) was released to incredible success. In addition to grossing $5.2 million and garnering Oscar nominations for both Gardner and Kelly, the film revitalized Gable’s career and, to another extent, Ford’s. But despite the film being one of Ford’s biggest hits, it seems almost mechanical in its twists and turns. After Ford’s self-described favorite and most personal film, Mogambo seems like a movie straight from a cookie cutter. As such, the film fits snugly into the thematic and social patterns that have since been identified as typical of Fifties Hollywood cinema.

6/10

Coffin Joe: At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul: José Mojica Marins

Based on a “faceless figure dressed in black” from one of director José Mojica Marins' nightmares, Zé do Caixão, or 'Coffin Joe' in English, is a vicious undertaker in a tiny, superstitious Brazilian town. Harboring a malicious hatred for religion, a sociopathic disdain for its followers, and a deep-seated belief in his own superiority, he holds the townspeople in a constant state of terror, periodically intimidating and assaulting those who step out of line. Obsessed with continuing his bloodline, the only thing in life to which he assigns any meaning, Coffin Joe embarks on a reign of rape and murder as he seeks out the ‘perfect’ woman to give birth to his ‘perfect’ son. At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul, this first film with the character of Coffin Joe, was part of a much bigger avant-garde movement raging in the movie theaters and film circles of Brazil during the 1960s: Udigrudi cinema. The Brazilian pronunciation of ‘Underground,’ Udigrudi was the term given to the work of a group of filmmakers who rejected cinematic norms in favor of a “dirty screen” and a “garbage” esthetic. But in addition to its place in the development of Brazilian cinema, At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul's greatest impact was found in the character of Coffin Joe himself. Screenwriter Rubens F. Lucchetti explained the true significance of the character of Coffin Joe, saying, “I didn’t think it was possible to create a Brazilian character like Frankenstein or Dracula. I thought there was no equivalent. But Mojica created one. He copied nothing from anyone, the character is pure Brazilian.” Indeed, Coffin Joe’s appeal to the Brazilian public came from his rebellion against the country’s societal norms. For much of the population that suffered under military rule from 1964 to 1985, the Coffin Joe films served as a vicarious release for their feelings of unrest. One of the most powerful examples of how Coffin Joe would have registered among Brazilian sensibilities of the day but not necessarily to those of foreigners involves an early scene that shows Coffin Joe feasting on a leg of lamb while perched above an Easter procession near his house on Good Friday. For Brazilians, who were forbidden by the Catholic Church from consuming meat on Holy Days, this simple act was seen as extreme blasphemy. Outsiders without a deep understanding of Brazilian culture would have more than likely failed to grasp the symbolic nature and import of Coffin Joe’s feast. Such was Marins' skill as a director that At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul remains to this day as a film of undeniable power and horror.

8/10

Meteorango Kid: Galactic Hero: André Luiz Oliveira

André Luiz Oliveira’s Meteorango Kid: Intergalactic Hero follows a disenchanted teenager from the northeastern Brazilian state of Bahia named Lula amidst the political turmoil of the late 1960s. As Lula wanders from one location to another, he frequently slips into vibrant fantasies where he envisions himself as famous characters like Tarzan and Batman. Scenes that would normally carry considerable weight as moments of narrative progression or character development, such as a meeting with a film producer and his birthday party, are swiftly lost in a wash of cacophonous pop music, bizarre images (the first shot of the film consists of reversed footage of Lula being crucified on a palm tree), and other forms of mass media detritus. If other films from the Brazilian Udigrudi movement like Rogério Sganzerla's The Red Light Bandit (1968) used the pretense of a cinematic narrative to make a statement on the cinema, then Meteorango Kid: Intergalactic Hero used a similar strategy to examine Brazilian society, or at the very least, a small portion of it.

7/10

Bang Bang: Andrea Tonacci

Andrea Tonacci’s Bang Bang represents one of the Brazilian Udigrudi, or 'Underground', movement’s most radical departures from conventional narratives. Defined by Tonacci as a “Maoist detective comedy,” the film is about a story that, for one reason or another, never quite begins. The film features an unnamed protagonist on the run from three gangsters and a magician. Who is this man? Why are the gangsters chasing him? Why does the magician keep interfering? These questions are never answered or even momentarily considered. Near the end, one of the gangsters, a beefy transvestite with a bottomless appetite, attempts to summarize the “plot” for the audience. The gangster can barely get out more than a couple sentences before she is silenced by a cream pie (originating off-camera) that flies into her face. The protagonist spends most of his time in the film getting into fights with taxi drivers over directions (a scene that is mercilessly repeated twice) and lounging around in his bathroom wearing a monkey mask. There are chase scenes bereft of impetus, explanation, and resolution. A conversation between a man and a woman is repeated successively five times in a row. And, perhaps most memorably, there is a musical number performed by the monkey-masked protagonist. With Bang Bang, Tonacci stripped the diegetic world of cinema of context, interpretation, and relevancy. With a mere 85 minutes’ worth of celluloid, he forced narrative cinema into obsolescence. But despite this, even with the proper cultural and historical context, Bang Bang is a blistering challenge to watch. It was never intended as an easy film for its audience, of course. But that doesn't work as an excuse for the casual, non-academic viewer.

5/10

12 to the Moon: David Bradley

I'll give David Bradley and his film 12 to the Moon credit where credit is due: in the same year that African-Americans were organizing sit-ins as part of the Civil Rights Movement, here is a film with a multicultural cast (including black and Asian crew-members) that implies that mankind can only truly advance as a species once we set aside our differences and work together. Of course, most of the crew-members die, the "ethnic" characters are almost always stereotypes, and the film's approach to science would make a Young Earth Creationist blush. Upon landing on the Moon during an international space expedition, they find a partially breathable atmosphere, a massive deposit of gold, and signs of an advanced civilization living beneath the Moon's surface. These denizens of the Moon decide that humanity is a threat, so they flash-freeze all of North America. So the survivors of the space-flight, which at this point are surprisingly sparse, must somehow unfreeze the continent while proving their worth as a species to the inhabitants of the Moon. 12 to the Moon is a bizarre sci-fi film, even for its era. But, hey, it gets points for good intentions. I think...

5/10

Jesse James at Bay: Joseph Kane

This is the second Roy Rogers film that I have seen that has involved Jesse James. The first, Days of Jesse James (1939), was a bizarre little movie where Rogers, playing himself, teams up with the legendary outlaw to foil the evil schemes of a group of bankers. Jesse James at Bay actually sees Rogers take up the mantle of James. This film is a supposed reconstruction of a folk tale where Jesse James survived being shot by Robert Ford, went into seclusion, and started a new life. But he is called out from "retirement" when a group of railroad businessmen swindle a group of settlers of their land and demand an outrageous amount of money under penalty of foreclosure from their homes. To keep a long story short, James arrives in town at the same time as a look-alike gambler (also played by Rogers) who is hired by the businessmen to stir up trouble. This film continues the myth of Jesse James as an American Robin Hood who materializes out of the desert (Sherwood Forest) to protect the settlers from the evil authorities (Prince John) only to disappear once his work is done. It's ridiculous, but Rogers puts in a surprisingly good dual-performance as both hero and villain. The film is worth checking out.

5/10

Dracula’s Widow: Christopher Coppola

Wait, how many Coppola's involved with film-making are there in the world? It seems like you can't go more than ten feet in a video store (remember those?) without tripping over one of their films. This time around, the Coppola in the director's seat is Christopher Coppola. The film? Dracula's Widow. This film is a dime-a-dozen adaptation of the old story of a vampire rising from the dead in the modern world only to go on a killing spree while seeking out their long-lost mate. This time around it's Dracula's widow, Vanessa, who awakens in 1980s-era Hollywood. I must say that it's not a good sign when I have a hard time telling a film's plot apart from William Crain's Blacula (1972). But thankfully, Christopher Coppola demonstrates his cinematic acumen by injecting the film with fantastic, colorful visuals. In a strange sense, the film's visual style seems like a watered down version of his uncle's vastly superior vampire film Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992). The film abounds with practical effects, fluorescent-colored sets, and admirable gore set-pieces. It may be completely predictable, but it's enjoyable in its own right.

6/10

Hondo: John Farrow

John Farrow's Hondo is one of the purest distillations of the John Wayne persona that I have ever encountered. From the first scene where a dusty, trail-weary Wayne stumbles out of the desert to the film's final cavalry battle, he is perfectly portrayed as a larger-than-life icon. It follows Wayne as Hondo Lane, a gunfighter-turned-US Army Cavalry dispatch rider, as he stumbles into the lives of Mrs. Angie Lowe and her young son Johnny. They live in a ranch in the middle of Apache territory. For the longest time they lived in peace with the Apache. But after being betrayed by the Army, the Apache are on the war-path. Soon Hondo finds himself trapped between loyalty to the Army, loyalty to Lowe and her son, loyalty to the Apache way of life (they raised him as a child), and loyalty to his own moral code. But the heart of the film is Wayne's relationship with Lowe and her son. Wayne quickly becomes a surrogate father figure to Johnny, teaching him how to fish, swim, and even be a man. He falls in love with Angie, but their love is challenged when Hondo unknowingly kills her husband. The film also demonstrates a keen awareness of the plight of Native Americans against the forces of White Civilization. The Apache are certainly depicted as "noble savages" that must be overcome in order for America to expand. But the film takes pains to point out that the Apache are the true victims. Hondo is a film that manages to combine high adventure with emotional subtleties the likes of which are rarely seen outside of John Ford Westerns. (Side note: That last sentence seems apropos considering that Ford actually directed the film's final shoot-out.)

9/10

Days of Jesse James: Joseph Kane

Now here's an interesting take on the Jesse James mythos: a group of dishonest bankers impersonate James and his gang during a train robbery. As the law goes after the falsely accused James gang, peace officer Roy Rogers (played by...Roy Rogers) begins to believe that the whole situation might be a frame-up. So he goes on a personal crusade to clear the name of the notorious outlaw. First off, I had no idea that you could play yourself in a Western. I don't think John Wayne ever appeared in a movie as John Wayne. Second, the whole idea of Jesse James being framed seems like a desperate attempt on the part of the filmmakers to have their cake and eat it, too. At this point in American history, Jesse James was already a mythologized figure in American history. But he was still a criminal. So how could he star in a film with the clean-cut Roy Rogers? Simple: have him be framed. It's such a mind-boggling concept. My favorite scene was when Roy Rogers says something along the lines of, "I knew that Jesse James was too noble to do that." Don't get me wrong, Days of Jesse James isn't very good (although I did legitimately enjoy a running gag where a newspaper salesman on a train lies about Jesse James being in the headlines to sell papers). But as an anthropological specimen of the evolution of Western archetypes, it is strangely compelling.

5/10

I Shot Jesse James: Samuel Fuller

Mr. Robert Ford was one of the most fascinating and hated men of the American Old West for his vicious murder of his friend Jesse James when his back was turned. Historians and writers have tried for decades to decode Ford's true motivation for his infamous act of betrayal. In Samuel Fuller's first directorial effort, I Shot Jesse James, he realizes that it is impossible for us to know what actually went through Ford's mind on that fateful day. Instead, Fuller is interested in how Ford rationalized his treachery to himself after the fact. Ford seems to convince himself that with the reward for killing James he can finally start a new life with his childhood sweetheart, Cynthy Waters. But there is obviously more going on in Ford's head than he lets on. I Shot Jesse James demonstrates Fuller's knack for the psychological pathos that would come to dominate his characters in the rest of his career. Perhaps my favorite scene in the film is when Ford is drinking at a bar and a wandering musicians walks in and begins to sing the legendary Ballad of Jesse James. Ford stands up, introduces himself, and forces the horrified musician to finish the song. It is a scene of such perfectly balanced emotional intensity that it is nearly inconceivable to believe that it was shot by a first-time director. I Shot Jesse James is a grimy gem of a film that announces the arrival of one of America's greatest filmmakers.

7/10

Gamera II: Gamera vs. Barugon: Shigeo Tanaka

I've always enjoyed kaiju films where the eponymous giant monsters are portrayed more like uncontrollable, amoral forces of nature than cheerful allies of humanity. It may just be me, but the allure of a fire-breathing lizard the size of a skyscraper is largely diminished when it jumps up and down in celebration when it finally defeats another giant monster with the aid of a scrappy group of scientists and, inevitably, children. Thankfully, the second film to feature Daiei's premiere giant monster Gamera, Gamera vs. Barugon, makes no pretense to continue the idea that Gamera is the "friend of all children." After a group of criminals accidentally hatch a giant lizard-creature named Barugon from an egg that they believed was a valuable opal, Gamera arrives to fight it. Why does Gamera attack it? Is it because it is destroying the world and killing people? Nope. You honestly get the feeling that Gamera attacks Barugon because he considers the earth to be his territory. Surprisingly, Barugon quickly defeats Gamera with his freeze-breath. Most of the film after this follows humanity as they try to defeat Barugon themselves! Gamera only shows up again at the very end to deliver the coup de grace! This was a Gamera movie where Gamera was a supporting character! But despite this, Gamera vs. Barugon is a relatively entertaining film about men in rubber suits pummeling each other into oblivion.

6/10

Wind Across the Everglades: Nicholas Ray

The following is a re-print of a mini essay I wrote for one of my graduate classes about Nicholas Ray's use of mise-en-scène in this film.

Is it possible to examine Wind Across the Everglades within the context of Nicholas Ray’s career? Is it even fair? After all, Ray was fired before the film’s completion. Somebody else had to finish and edit the film. Despite this, I would argue that the film fits alongside of Ray’s other works. The reasons why can best be illustrated by Ray’s use of blocking and shot composition. For most of the film, we witness Walt Murdock’s fight against Cottonmouth from his point of view. When he first meets Cottonmouth, it is in an upside-down shot from the inside of Murdock’s camera. After talking for a bit, Cottonmouth mysteriously disappears. In this shot, the frame mimics Murdock’s inability to follow him in the swamp. Compare this to scenes in Cottonmouth’s camp where the camera becomes more omnipotent, free from the visual inhibitions of a single character. During the last few scenes, the shots literally become distorted and blurry, thereby representing Murdock’s incredible fatigue. But the camera foregoes Murdock’s perspective during the scene where he confronts Cottonmouth at his camp during the storm. The shots should have become more and more blurry as Murdock became more and more inebriated. But the camera-work is steady and deliberate during these scenes where Murdock seems to bond with the outlaw and his men. Ray always identified with outsiders and renegades in his work. The fact that the camera becomes passive when Murdock is one with the outlaws enforces this. When he is with them, the world is in focus. When Murdock returns to the world of laws and conservation, his perspective falls out of that focus. All of this is echoed by Ray’s camera-work.

8/10

The Mummy: Karl Freund

Karl Freund's The Mummy was one of the last of the great Universal Monsters films that I needed to see. I had already seen the first three Frankenstein films, the first two Gill-Man films, Dracula (1931), The Invisible Man (1933), and The Wolf Man (1941). Now I'm mad that I saved The Mummy for last. It follows the resurrection of an Ancient Egyptian priest named Imhotep who was mummified alive for trying to bring his lost love back to life. I must say that Imhotep is my favorite classic Boris Karloff role. Yes, he defined Frankenstein's Monster. But there's an intensity and sadness that dominates Imhotep that puts him into a completely different league than the Monster. Plus, there's just something about the Mummy character archetype that appeals to me: the willingness to wait thousands of years for a loved one, the desperation to find her again, the selflessness of his search. And, yes, he kills people in his search. But he's not some diluted "vegetarian" monster, after all. I love the character's pathos. But I'm just rambling again. I enjoyed The Mummy. It's probably my favorite Universal Monster film, second only to Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). Move over, Dracula, Imhotep is here!

7/10

Radar Secret Service: Sam Newfield

Did you know that radar can be used to fight crime and stop foreign powers from stealing our precious Uranium-238? No? Well, that's probably because that is preposterous. Too bad nobody told Sam Newfield, director of Radar Secret Service. The film depicts radar as a one-stop cure-all for criminal behavior. When a group of thieves steal the aforementioned Uranium-238 (a key ingredient for nuclear weapons), the government must use radar to stop them! There's just one problem: radar can't detect Uranium-238 when it isn't moving. So all the criminals have to do to thwart pursuing authorities while transporting the Uranium-238 is stop the car. Now, to me, this seems like a fatal flaw on the part of radar. But the government authorities don't thin so! Their solution? Use a female mole to break into their operation. In the end, it is the mole who ultimately defeats the criminals. And who do the authorities give the credit for their successful operation? Radar! It may be me, but it seems like Radar Secret Service only proves the worthlessness of radar. It doesn't help that the rest of the film is boring, tedious, and monotonous.

3/10

Operation Double 007: Alberto De Martino

I don't feel that I need to say much about Alberto De Martino's Operation Double 007. This good-natured spoof of James Bond films has enough charm to pass muster. If you approach this film with the same sense of humor that the creators did, then you'll enjoy it. If you don't and you expect a serious spy film, then you will be sorely disappointed. The premise is so laughably absurd but strangely organic that it could be mistaken as the pitch for an SNL sketch: when James Bond is too busy doing work for the British government, his kid brother Neil Connery is called in to save Europe from an evil organization named THANATOS. Their evil plan has something to do with magnetization machines that could help them conquer the world...or something like that. What's important is that Operation Double 007 has enough action and silliness to keep it afloat. In addition, Neil Connery isn't that bad of an actor, to be honest. He is also provided with enough fun gadgets, random skills (instant hypnosis and lip-reading!), and exotic women to satisfy even the most jaded Bond fan. Not to mention that the film has an incredible theme song...

5/10

I Accuse My Parents: Sam Newfield

Sam Newfield's I Accuse My Parents is one of the better social delinquency films to come out of the 1930s and 1940s. It is still incredibly heavy-handed in its message, but I find that the actual plot and the main character are strong enough to carry the film without collapsing under the weight of moralistic melodrama. Here's what you need to know: a young man named Jimmy with neglectful parents accidentally gets drawn into the world of organized crime while trying to impress his night-club singer girlfriend. But unlike a lot of other protagonists in these films, Jimmy's parents are so warped and destructive that you actually sympathize with him. These are parents who literally don't pay any attention to him, are constantly drunk, endlessly fight, and abandon him on his birthday to go party at the beach. So we can understand why Jimmy has such extreme psychological hang-ups, unlike, say, the murderous gang in Ed Wood's The Sinister Urge (1961). Plus, the kindly diner-keeper who finally gives him a break when he's on the run was a refreshing breath of air in an otherwise gloomy film. I usually can't stand these films...but if I was forced at gunpoint to watch one...I would choose I Accuse My Parents.

5/10

Westward Ho: Robert N. Bradbury

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

3/10

Endless Desire: Shohei Imamura

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

7/10 

Swamp Women: Roger Corman

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

4/10

Bus Stop: Joshua Logan

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

7/10

The Brute Man: Jean Yarbrough

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

5/10

Clueless: Amy Heckerling

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

7/10

The Game: David Fincher

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

8/10

The Manster: George Breakston, Kenneth G. Crane

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

6/10

Central Station: Walter Salles

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

8/10

Troll: John Carl Buechler

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

5/10

Four Days in September: Bruno Barreto

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

9/10

The Beast with a Million Eyes: David Kramarsky

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

4/10

A Shot in the Dark: Blake Edwards

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

8/10

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

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

6/10

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

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

8/10

Posthumous Memories: André Klotzel

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

7/10

Bye Bye Brazil: Carlos Diegues

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

8/10

Gor II: Outlaw of Gor: John Cardos

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

3/10

Hour of the Star: Suzana Amaral

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

7/10

The Beatniks: Paul Frees

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

4/10

The Garden of the Finzi-Continis: Vittorio de Sica

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

8/10

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

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

2/10

The Canterbury Tales: Pier Paolo Pasolini

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

6/10