The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner: Tony Richardson

Tony Richardson's The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is a sad yet illuminating glimpse into the soul of a young man thrown to the wayside by British society. Brought up in desperate poverty and a broken home, Colin Smith lived as a petty criminal until he was arrested for breaking into a bakery and stealing their cashbox. Instead of prison, he is sent to Ruxton Towers, a reform school for juvenile offenders. There, he quickly catches the eye of "The Governor," the school's overseer, after he discovers that he is a skilled runner. Eager for Ruxton Towers to gain glory at an upcoming five-mile cross country race against a wealthy public school, The Governor gives Colin special privileges in exchange for promising to compete. But this isolates him from his peers. And those lonely training sessions by himself in the woods around the school keep bringing up memories of his old life and his old resentment towards authority...The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is well-shot and visually engaging despite its meager budget. As an entry of the British New Wave, it is essential. As a human drama, it is indispensable.

8/10

Way Out West: James W. Horne

The more and more of their films I watch, the more and more I become convinced that even Laurel and Hardy's "good" sound films weren't all that good. Of all of their feature-length sound films that I have seen, so far James W. Horne's Way Out West has been the best and funniest. But it still suffers from the problems that plague their other sound efforts: gags that go on for far too long in withering silence, an over-reliance on double-takes, and Laurel's piercing scream whenever threatened or attacked. But Way Out West does have its undeniable charms. The occasional flourishes of "white magic" are delightful: Laurel using his thumb as a lighter, Hardy's head becoming stretchable when trapped in a floor, and an old but effective gag where Laurel's singing voice changes pitch when bashed on the head. Also, the dance number where Laurel and Hardy swing and sway along with The Avalon Boys is one of my favorite moments of their entire careers.

6/10

High and Low: Akira Kurosawa

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-high-and-low-1963/38892.

10/10

The Ipcress File: Sidney J. Furie

Six years before Michael Caine would cement the legacy of "British Cool" in the classic crime movie Get Carter (1971), he appeared in a chilly, almost antiseptic spy thriller entitled The Ipcress File. The first in the Harry Palmer film franchise, Sidney J. Furie's The Ipcress File seems to emulate the austere cool of Jean-Pierre Melville's gangster films. The characters are all men and women of few words. Like the characters in Melville's films, they don't speak much because they don't have to; they are so experienced in their professions that they have settled into an almost unconscious routine where extraneous talk isn't just unnecessary, but counter-productive. But if Melville's gangsters exuded existential pathos and professionalism, Furie's almost silent actors are enigmas. Cinematographer Otto Heller manages to wash out most of the colors from London's streets and buildings. His use of odd framings and dutch angles manages to enhance the story without coming across as style for style's sake. Indeed, the film plays like the natural successor of the aggressive stylization of The Third Man (1949) instead of simply seeming like one of its many imitators.

8/10

A Taste of Honey: Tony Richardson

Tony Richardson's A Taste of Honey is an achingly beautiful film about broken people trying to make sense of their broken lives. A classic of British kitchen sink realism, the film is more concerned with the failings, frustrations, and desperate hopes of its working class characters than with any sort of plot. Jo is a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl who gets knocked up by a black sailor who then abruptly exits the film. As an audience, we are accustomed to stories like these where the father comes back at the last minute. But instead Jo (and the audience) merely watches him sail away on the deck of a ship and that is that. Until then, the black sailor had been portrayed as somewhat of an important supporting character. His permanent departure seems odd within the framework of a normal narrative, but this isn't a normal narrative. Instead, it regards its characters as they reach out blindly seeking human companionship in the face of suffocating poverty and loneliness. Friends and lovers come and go as they will. So, too, do people in Jo's life. For a time she seems to find happiness sharing a flat with a friendless homosexual. But their little family is ruined when Jo's mother, an aging alcoholic, bursts into their lives after being ditched by her latest beau. And yet, the film doesn't villainize the mother. Not truly, anyway. If anything, it pities her. The film understands that Jo is essentially repeating all of her mother's mistakes, even getting pregnant by a one-time lover who left her. We get the sense that the film hopes that Jo might be able to make a better life for herself and her baby. But if there's a road to security and happiness, Jo will have to find it herself.

9/10

Tom Jones: Tony Richardson

I really feel like I should have liked Tony Richardson's Tom Jones more than I did. It's a rather free-spirited picaresque film about a bastard born into nobility who goes out into the world to seek his fortune. But...here's the thing...a good chunk of Tom Jones isn't actually about...Tom Jones. The eponymous rogue isn't even banished until the second half of the film. The first half follows his idyllic life as a noble. That's all well and good, but it shoves its titular character to the side in order to focus on the political machinations of his family members. By the time the film properly starts to be about Tom Jones, he is still almost a stranger to the audience. Tom Jones is a film at war with itself. It contains some brilliant sequences (the greatest among them a shockingly kinetic hunting scene in the first quarter of the film that brutally exposes the innate cruelties of the upper classes as they blithely trample and kill the livestock of innocent peasants), but the film never truly comes into its own as a narrative. Too unfocused to be a proper character study, too bland to be a proper comedy, the film collapses in on itself.

5/10

The King’s Speech: Tom Hooper

[Revisit Review]

One of the joys of watching great movies more than once is that it allows you to pay attention to its formal qualities more than its narrative. Tom Hooper's The King's Speech is an excellent film and a shockingly effective human drama. But this time around I was overcome by how beautiful the film is. It's rare to see a color film with such a subdued color palette that nonetheless doesn't seem washed out or dingy. Combined with cinematographer Danny Cohen's constant alternation between cramped and expansive shots, The King's Speech is one of the most visually evocative British films of the past few decades.

9/10

I'm All Right Jack: John Boulting

I'm naturally drawn to stories where good-natured idiots stumble into situations where they are trapped between two opposite and equally absurd sides. I'm reminded of Charlie Chaplin's great Modern Times (1936) where the Tramp repeatedly finds himself in the middle of a battle between organized labor and the police department. I wonder if John Boulting tried to emulate that film somewhat with I'm All Right Jack, a film where a hapless upper class university graduate gets a job as a factory worker only to accidentally start a massive series of strikes that sweep the countryside. One early sequence where the protagonist is given a tour through a sterile sweets factory seems directly inspired from Chaplin, particularly its conveyor belt gags. But the film fails to maintain that level of energy and inventiveness. Too much of the film's comedy comes from surprised guffawing courtesy of the representatives of labor and capitalism as they get drawn further and further into an economic nightmare. Peter Sellers received a BAFTA Best Actor Award for his performance as the factory's trades union shop steward. Now, Sellers was a magnificent actor and he deserved every single award imaginable for his rich and distinguished career. But, quite frankly, he is wasted in this film. Almost his entire performance is comprised of him alternating between two different facial expressions: pained consternation and self-righteous indignation.

6/10

A Man for All Seasons: Fred Zinnemann

To read this review, go to: theretroset.com/blu-ray-review-man-seasons/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=the_retro_set&utm_content=A%20MAN%20FOR%20(nearly)%20ALL%20SEASONS.

8/10

Genevieve: Henry Cornelius

There is the seed of a great comedy in Henry Cornelius' Genevieve. Unfortunately, it never takes root. The film is advertised as being about two teams who get into a vintage car race in England. However, the actual race doesn't start until the last thirty minutes of the film. The run-time before that is dedicated to more gradual comedy and gentle character development. That's all well and good. But I feel like it's false advertising. It also doesn't help that the actual race never builds up enough tension for any of the comedic payoffs to have any gravitas to them. A good racing film, like a good comedy, needs a sense of immediacy. And Genevieve is too laid back and leisurely for it to be effective as the former. As the latter? Certainly. It has that warm, dry, and delicate lilt that defines so many English comedies. But this should have been first and foremost a racing film.

6/10

El Topo: Alejandro Jodorowsky

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-el-topo-1970/38595.

9/10

Il Sorpasso: Dino Risi

One of the most difficult things a storyteller, let alone a filmmaker, can do is balance the tragic and comic within a single narrative. It requires a mastery of tone, pacing, and an innate common sense concerning what is socially inappropriate. There's a reason why Roberto Benigni's Life is Beautiful (1997) was hailed as a masterpiece while Jerry Lewis' The Day the Clown Cried (1972) has yet to see the light of day. Dino Risi's Il Sorpasso, one of the great triumphs of the Commedia all'italiana film genre, manages to find the right balance...at least until the last twenty or so minutes when the film becomes outright maudlin. But the film's structure as a road movie featuring two friends seeking respite from life in the Italian countryside forgives and outright validates this evolution of tone. For the road movie is one of the single most allegorical and symbolic of film genres. The road represents life, the passengers the Everyman (or Everywoman), the pit-stops and road-side distractions the different phases of an average person's life, and their eventual arrival at their destination death. Is it any wonder why so many road movies end with the sudden deaths of their protagonists? The tone of Il Sorpasso wavers between the light and comic and the dark and tragic seemingly at the flip of a coin. But that's just the way it should have been.

7/10

Alfred Hitchcock: The Birds

[Revisit Review]

You know, for a "masterpiece," Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds has some atrocious pacing and absurdly clunky scenes of exposition. It's a good thing that I adore static shot reverse shot dialogue scenes that last upwards of 5 minutes or else I would think that the film was visually bankrupt whenever special effects aren't involved! Listen, Howard Hawks once said that the definition of a good movie is three good scenes and no bad ones. THE BIRDS definitely has three good scenes. It might even have more. But the film fails as a whole. I can't forgive the film for the fact that the majority of its run-time is consumed with static, visually uninteresting, uninspired dialogue and bizarre characters who look and behave like plastic dolls instead of human beings.

5/10

Local Hero: Bill Forsyth

I suspect that many people these days don't have the attention span or patience for Bill Forsyth's Local Hero. And what a shame that is. It is a simple film about a simple community full of simple people. It is a comedy, but the laughs come gradually and organically and are rarely shoved to the forefront in the same manner as most comedies. If I have made Local Hero out to seem prosaic or tedious, then allow me to set the record straight: it is a wonderful film brimming with warmth and humanity. Even the ostensible "villain," an American oil magnate who sends the protagonist to the sleepy Scottish village of Ferness isn't demonized or ostracized. Instead, he ends the film having essentially been accepted into the arms of the community he wanted to destroy to make way for an oil refinery. Local Hero is a charming film and a true delight.

7/10

Closely Watched Trains: Jiří Menzel

[Revisit Review]

After all of these years, I'm still not sure what the appeal of Jiří Menzel's Closely Watched Trains is. It's a fragmentary film full of scenes so short they don't even pass for vignettes about the colorful people who live and work at the train station where the story takes place (my favorite being the Nazi collaborator who steadfastly insists that the Nazi's constant retreats are part of a grand scheme to conquer Europe). Here is a film with practically no overt agenda either political (although there are many who argue otherwise) or social. It's about a young man seeking to lose his virginity as the Second World War explodes around him. But perhaps that's where the film finds its charm: its obsession with the average details of everyday life in the face of extraordinary circumstances.

9/10

Tartuffe: F. W. Murnau

The most entertaining part of F. W. Murnau's Tartuffe is Emil Jannings' face as the eponymous hypocrite-slash-con-man Tartüff. The film is a fine adaptation of Molière's classic play, but the nature of the story prevents Murnau, one of early cinema's supreme visual stylists, from giving the film the same visual panache found in his best works. That's not to say that the film is inadequately framed or shot. But for a director so well-versed in German Expressionism and the stylistic gymnastics of The Last Laugh (1924), his work in Tartuffe feels underwhelming. But, as I said, Jannings' face is a constant source of delight. Perpetually pulled back in a half-sneer, half-grimace, Jannings somehow manages to portray a wide range of emotions while barely moving his face. Rarely have I seen a face that seemed so desperately in need of punching.

7/10

Santa Sangre: Alejandro Jodorowsky

[Revisit Review]

I protest the idea that Alejandro Jodorowsky's Santa Sangre is a horror film. It can be horrifying, but it's much more than that. It isn't just a parade of grotesqueries. There are real emotions at play here. When the clowns take part in the elephant’s funeral procession and spray tears out of their eyes, it’s tragic. Even the scene where Orgo gives Fenix his tattoo is emotionally meaningful. For a brief moment, we see the father express love for his son; a twisted, destructive love, but perhaps the only kind of love he could ever express. Jodorowsky's films all demonstrate a love of images and symbols, but it's his love of characters that surprised me the most in this film.

9/10

A Matter of Life and Death: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger

[Revisit Review]

Powell & Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death is one of the best films ever made about America. So perhaps it's appropriate that it's actually a British film. In a way, it is a British response to the famous American short story "The Devil and Daniel Webster" by Steven Vincent Benét. This time a British protagonist is on trial for appealing to extend his life after a snafu in heaven let him live long enough beyond his designated time of death to fall in love with an American woman. I have to admit that I was annoyed by how the legal argument surrounding the protagonist's case essentially came down to "love conquers all" unlike the original short story which had a much more clever ending (or, at least the 1941 William Dieterle film adaptation did). And I think that the sequences involving Doctor Reeves trying to determine a medical explanation for the protagonist's visions went on a bit too long. But other than that A Matter of Life and Death is a brilliant and poignant piece of filmmaking.

9/10

Hill 24 Doesn’t Answer: Thorold Dickinson

Thorold Dickinson's Hill 24 Doesn't Answer is a propaganda film about four doomed soldiers who give their lives in defensive of the eponymous hill so that it can be claimed as part of Israel following the Israeli-Arab war. I call it a propaganda film because it features two very important attributes that sets it apart from simple patriotism-themed films. First, the Arabs are portrayed either as faceless killers, uncouth brutes, or unsympathetic jerks. Dehumanizing the opposition is a crucial element of propaganda. Second, it features a bevy of characters from all different walks of life who rally together around a single cause: in this case the defense of Israel. The film's narrative preaches a message of self-sacrifice in the name of the Israeli nation. That would be all fine and good if it wasn't for the fact that some of the characters have back-stories that are so absurd that they can only exist within the world of propaganda. There's an Irish officer who joins the fight because he falls in love with a Jewish woman. Fair enough, but it doesn't explain his new-found, fanatical Zionism. An Israelite recounts how he met an ex-Nazi while on the battlefield, but the details of the story and the Nazi himself are so over-the-top that they seem more at home in a war bonds promotion circa World War Two than a serious war film. The only character narrative that really works is an American Jew who undergoes a crisis of faith after being wounded in a skirmish. His scenes, particularly those with a sympathetic rabbi who helps him rediscover his childhood faith, are the highlight of the film.

6/10

Permanent Midnight: David Veloz

There are many films about drugs and addiction. But the ones worth watching are just as interested in their characters before and/or after their struggle as they are while in the throes of their torment. David Veloz's Permanent Midnight is one such film. Told in flashback, the film approaches its story with a strange detachment that really only becomes truly effective in the last act where Ben Stiller's character, writer-turned-junkie-turned-writer Jerry Stahl, goes hunting for a fix while "watching" over his infant daughter. I nearly gagged during a scene where he injects a shot of heroin into his neck in the front seat of his car while the baby wriggles in the passenger seat. The rest of the film is competent enough for its subject matter. It doesn't have the same illuminating insight into the life of addicts that superior drug films like Drugstore Cowboy (1989) and Trainspotting (1996) have. But the story beats are familiar and well executed. Plus, it's always nice to see Stiller in a dramatic role that gives him a chance to truly demonstrate his talents as an actor.

7/10

The Ascent: Larisa Shepitko

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-the-ascent-1977/38179.

10/10

Beverly Hills Cop: Martin Brest

[Revisit Review]

Having seen Martin Brest's Beverly Hills Cop on the big screen thanks to a theatrical re-release, I find myself more in awe of the screenplay than by Eddie Murphy this time around. That's no slight against Murphy, of course. Axel Foley is one of his most memorable and timeless characters for good reason. But having removed myself from Murphy's mystique, I was able to appreciate Daniel Petrie, Jr.'s screenplay for what it was: damn near perfect. For example, there was no need to humanize the cops that served as Judge Reinhold and John Ashton's replacements after they were taken off the Foley case. But lo and behold, they were. Even the Detroit police chief had a spark of simple humanity to him. Such richly drawn three-dimensional characters are a rarity in comedies, and even more exotic in the action-comedy sub-genre.

7/10

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: Ben Stiller

I've heard Ben Stiller's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty described as being a feature-length "Just Do It" ad by Nike. And in a sense, they're not wrong. But they're also not totally right. True, the film is, at its center, about a middle-aged man who sets out to find some kind of meaning in his life by traveling the world. But there is a frank earnestness, a simple sincerity behind Stiller's direction and performance that makes the film truly special. I found myself marveling at a number of tiny details in the film: how the incredible fantasies decrease in number and scope as his life becomes richer, the placing of LIFE magazine's motto in various bits of background when Stiller first leaves the States, and how Stiller restrains himself from (deservedly) humiliating Adam Scott at the end of the film. Stiller's directorial efforts have varied widely in terms of quality and style. But The Secret Life of Walter Mitty seems to be the first step in the development of a genuine directorial style that neither apes from Gen X filmmakers or MTV-style excess. I'm eager to see where Stiller goes next.

7/10

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: Norman Z. McLeod

If somebody walked in on the last act of Norman Z. McLeod's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, they could be forgiven for mistaking the film as a rip-off of the first twenty or so minutes of Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959): a wrong man falsely accused of a crime, said man being drugged via alcohol in an opulent mansion by villains who pretend to be someone else when authorities arrive, and even a strained attitude towards mothers. Of course, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty came out twelve years before North by Northwest. And it is most certainly not a thriller. It is an aggravating comedy about the eponymous pulp magazine editor who loses himself in vivid daydreams and accidentally gets sucked into a real-life web of espionage intrigue surrounding a little black book that contains the locations of the hidden Dutch crown jewels. The film's problems can be summarized in two words: Danny Kaye. When properly restrained, Kaye can be a comedic gold mine. Go watch Henry Koster's The Inspector General (1949) if you don't believe me. But here Kaye is just too much. He's too bumbling and accident-prone. Several times I wanted to scream at him to get on with it after mercilessly long sequences where he fumbles his way through furniture, crowded rooms, and hapless bystanders. The great silent comedians were just as accident-prone, but their indiscretions were rarely lingered on. They would cause their social faux pas and move on within seconds. But McLeod has to hang on every single one of Kaye's clumsy antics until we feel all sympathy for his character drain away. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is frustrating, annoying, and not funny enough to sustain its absurd run-time for a 1940s Hollywood comedy.

4/10

Guardians of the Galaxy: James Gunn

[Spoilers Ahead]

James Gunn's Guardians of the Galaxy is saved from a mediocre script and uninspired villains by its gleeful sense of irrelevance. Ronan feels too much like a watered down Darth Vader, Zoe Saldana and Karen Gillan spend the entire film competing to see who can give the more wooden performance, and the use of CGI is overbearing. And yet, the film is infectiously entertaining. Chris Pratt is perfect as Starlord, Bradley Cooper is a revelation as Rocket Raccoon, and Vin Diesel stole the show as Groot. The film is wickedly endearing and funny. I don't know if there was a dry eye in the theater when Groot said, "We are Groot." I do wish that they had kept Groot dead at the end. A more clever director would have saved Groot's resurrection for the third act of the sequel. But I digress. Guardians of the Galaxy is a bona fide crowd-pleaser. I just hope that the team will develop its own identity in time for the sequel and not just continue their watered-down Star Wars/Firefly shtick.

7/10

Frenzy: Alfred Hitchcock

[Revisit Review]

I don't have much to say about Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy that hasn't already been said a dozen times by more prominent and intelligent scholars and critics. But I do have one observation: this film represents one of the only times that I have ever seen a serious thriller incorporate blatant comedic relief without either ruining the tension or derailing the narrative. The reason is that the comedic relief centers around food: squishy food, slimy food, food that bursts when squeezed and crunches when touched. This adds a layer of nauseous repulsion to the proceedings that enhances the fear and disgust felt by the audience towards the horrific crimes being committed onscreen.

9/10

The Hundred-Foot Journey: Lasse Hallström

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/film/the-hundred-foot-journey-review/37852.

6/10

Persona: Ingmar Bergman

[Revisit Review]

Ingmar Bergman's Persona is one of the cinema's greatest enigmas. Countless critics and intellectuals have pondered over its meanings and possible interpretations. But what strikes me the most about the film is Bergman's use of visual language. One of the most understandable criticisms of Bergman's work is that it wasn't very "cinematic," instead seeming more like filmed theater. But in Persona Bergman invents and utilizes a stark, overbearing, and mesmerizing visual method that was not just unparalleled within the confines of his career, but within avant-garde cinema itself. At the time of my writing this, I have seen 29 of Bergman's films. And to my knowledge, none of them are as visually arresting as this nearly impenetrable riddle of a movie.

9/10

Zoolander: Ben Stiller

[Revisit Review]

Ben Stiller's Zoolander is stupid as hell, but I still love it both in spite of and because of itself. Here is a film that embraces its absurd concept and characters so enthusiastically that it is almost impossible not to fall under its spell. At its worst, Zoolander is well-intentioned but misguided. At its best, it is a fiendishly clever comedy with some genuinely spectacular moments. If I had to pick one, I would probably go with Zoolander's wide-eyed delivery of the line: "You can read minds?!"

6/10

Godzilla: Ishirō Honda

[Revisit Review]

To read this review, go to: http://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/the-film-canon-godzilla-1954/37535

10/10

The Cable Guy: Ben Stiller

I dread movies like Ben Stiller's The Cable Guy. It isn't just bad, it's unpleasant. The entire film is a gauntlet of discomfort. There have been other movies which have elicited similar responses from me that I enjoyed and even loved. But The Cable Guy operates under the false assumption that it's a dark comedy when there isn't anything funny about it at all. The jokes come off as unnecessarily cruel and the slapstick is too over-the-top (at least considering the rest of the film's tone). But the film's biggest miscalculation was Jim Carrey's performance as the eponymous Cable Guy. Carrey is simply too obnoxious to be likable or to seem sympathetic when we learn about his troubled childhood. If his performance had been more low-key, it would have been a lot better. You know who would have been perfect for this role? A younger Robert De Niro. In fact...I think he already did this film with Martin Scorsese. It was entitled The King of Comedy (1982). Think about it. Listen, I can appreciate what Stiller was trying to do with this film. He wanted to comment on modern American society by portraying a character who was almost literally raised by television. Carrey's character was the old stereotype of children whose brains had been rotted by television taken to its natural extreme. But, again, a quieter and more controlled performance might have saved this film.

1/10

Lola: Jacques Demy

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

7/10

The Unknown: Tod Browning

[Revisit Review]

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

7/10

Reality Bites: Ben Stiller

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

5/10

Begin Again: John Carney

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

8/10

Americathon: Neal Israel

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

5/10

Les Diaboliques: Henri-Georges Clouzot

[Revisit Review]

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

10/10

The Naked Kiss: Samuel Fuller

[Revisit Review]

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

8/10

Our Hospitality: John G. Blystone, Buster Keaton

[Revisit Review]

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

9/10

Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster: Ishirō Honda

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

6/10

Mothra vs. Godzilla: Ishirō Honda

[Spoilers Ahead]

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

7/10

King Kong vs. Godzilla: Ishirō Honda

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

7/10

Godzilla vs. Hedorah: Yoshimitsu Banno

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

6/10

Tunnel Vision: Neal Israel, Bradley R. Swirnoff

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

7/10

Stone Cold: Craig R. Baxley

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

5/10

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman: Nathan H. Juran

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

7/10

The Groove Tube: Ken Shapiro

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

4/10

Phantom of the Paradise: Brian De Palma

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

6/10

Queen of Outer Space: Edward Bernds

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

2/10

Lisztomania: Ken Russell

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

8/10