Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.

Review #1994: Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.

Cast: 

Delphine Seyrig (Jeanne Dielman), Jan Decorte (Sylvain Dielman), Henri Storck (the first client), Jacques Doniol-Valcroze (the second client), Yves Bical (the third client), and Chantal Akerman (the voice of a neighbor in the hallway) Written and Directed by Chantal Akerman.

Review: 

 "a love film for my mother. It gives recognition to that kind of woman."

It only makes sense to talk about the bond of a filmmaker with their parent, if you think about it. Born in Brussels, Belgium to Holocaust survivors from Poland, Chantel Akerman was encouraged from a young age by her mother to pursue a career (once describing her childhood as "suffocating") Seeing the film Pierrot Le Fou (as directed by Jean-Luc Godard) as a teenager made her want to become involved in cinema. She attended the film school Institut National Supérieur des Arts du Spectacle et des Techniques de Diffusion before dropping out and later moved to Paris and New York, making short films, which included documentaries such as Hotel Monterey (1973) and Hanging Out Yonkers (1973).  In 1974, she directed her first feature with Je, Tu, Il, Elle, which she co-wrote, produced, and starred in (complete with filming a lesbian sex sequence involving herself). Resisting the urge to be labeled as just a feminist filmmaker, Akerman would make a variety of films until her death in 2015 at the age of 65, such as News from Home (1977), Les Rendez-vous d'Anna (1978), and No Home Movie (2015), a film involving conversations with her mother right before her death. Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles was a co-production between Belgium and France that was filmed on location in Brussels, Belgium in French for five weeks, with the obsessive habits of Akerman's mother being the inspiration for the title character here.

So yes, this is a movie that goes like this: a woman lives in an apartment with her teenage son and does a routine over and over again: brewing coffee, shining shoes, shopping, cooking before eating meals with her kid. Oh, and a session of earning a living by working as a prostitute. If that sounds like something that you would think is 201 minutes long, you would be correct. In a portrait of a woman that is utterly alone and wrapped in a depressive state of self, the movie will only work for those who accept its terms. Look, I get why people like movies that are, well, meant to be the kind of film watched by movie-lovers (I would use the term cinephile, but dear God that just doesn't roll off the tongue), but that does not mean I have to grant it credit for being anything other than "fine". Seyring (a French person born in Lebanon) was actually a well-known figure in France who worked with various directors from Akerman to Francois Truffaut while also serving as a director on three of her own films. This surely must have been one of the toughest challenges, as it is a role that focuses on one paying attention to what she is doing with her movement (and what isn't shown, obviously), even if it is something like peeling potatoes (as for the sex work, well...). As the film goes on and you start to notice the cracks within the banalities, the performance holds the film all the way to its natural conclusion. It is a mundane way to spend time watching long takes in life, which means that a viewer should just go in cold when viewing it and let it dwell in your mind. Boring on purpose or boring on principle, this means that the only appropriate rating to give it is to be as boring as possible in calling it average. A desire for order as you get to hear every little sound and see every little thing may work for you, but I am not in the business of searching for order within the bounds of what the movie is selling me. There are better ways to embrace the chaos of films, where a film that makes you laugh is a film that makes you laugh, and so on. I can respect the craft and then say that the film is best suited for those who have the patience to sit through something I probably won't see again for years, if ever. But don't let that stop you from enjoying something from the world of cinema, because it is a curious and confrontational movie. It challenges your perceptions of what film means to a viewer, and in a subjective world full of tastes in all shapes, enter if you dare.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Amended: rating to #1993 relegated from 7 to 6 stars due to error.

Congratulations to all who have enjoyed this month of women directors for the third straight March. I enjoyed finding fourteen films to cover from the depths of history that went from the 1910s all the way to 2023 that I hope showed something interesting about history within women actors or directors in cinema and where we still can go. As always, here's to the next month. 

#2000 looms in April.

Where Are My Children?

Review #1993: Where Are My Children?

Cast: 

Tyrone Power Sr (District Attorney Richard Walton), Helen Riaume (Mrs. Richard Walton), Marie Walcamp (Mrs. William Carlo), Cora Drew (Walton's Housekeeper), Rena Rogers (Lillian - Housekeeper's Daughter), A.D. Blake (Roger - Mrs. Walton's Brother), Juan de la Cruz (Dr. Herman Malfit), and C. Norman Hammond (Dr. William Homer) Directed by Lois Weber (#644 - The Blot and #1809 - A Chapter in Her Life) and Phillips Smalley.

Review: 

In 1914, Margaret Sanger found herself indicted for violating obscenity laws because she sent a pro-contraception newsletter in the mail. She fled the country for a time and then returned. In 1916, she opened a family planning and birth control clinic in Brooklyn. She was arrested not long after the clinic opened and later tried as both running a public nuisance and distributing prohibited contraceptives. A staunch opposer of abortion, she founded the American Birth Control League in 1921, which later became known as Planned Parenthood (there were other people involved in the push for birth control as a movement, such as Emma Goldman and Mary Dennett, incidentally). Perhaps it isn't a surprise that the Universal Film Manufacturing Company made a film loosely inspired by the proceedings. The film was directed by Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley, who were married at the time and worked on a variety of films together (in 1908 for example, he worked in the Gaumont Film Company). Of course, they were not listed as directors in the original credit (so yes, the rare no-director credit for a film), and they also served as producers and writers that was based on a story by Lucy Payton and Franklin Hall. Weber and Smalley returned to the subject of birth control with The Hand That Rocks the Cradle (1917), which they each directed and starred in as a film about a birth control advocate imprisoned for her work. Sanger wrote and produced her own film about birth control that same year. Each film is lost, however (the latter was found by the Supreme Court to not fall under the protection of the First Amendment in free speech). The print I watched was a reconstruction (as funded by the Women's Film Preservation Fund of New York Women in Film and Television) that had been done in 2000 from several incomplete prints from America and Europe that saw a surviving post-production script used to help with ordering shots and give text to incomplete intertitles. 

You know, it is not every day that you see a movie that has a lead character that believes in eugenics (incidentally, Sanger was a believer in negative eugenics, but I can think of worse things to be a part of, such as talking about eugenics in any kind of good light in the current day). That, or a 62-minute movie that doesn't even bother to give a name to one of the lead characters besides "Ms." Of course, this is also a movie that starts by talking about unborn children residing in "Heaven's gates" until they are either born on Earth (wanted or not) or they are sent back, complete with a shot used a couple of times over involving the gates. Honestly, I wish the 1917 film was the one we could see instead. Maybe there was something more compelling about a film that actually talked about birth control rather than the distinct anti-abortion film present here. It shows mostly affluent women going with abortions while an attorney discovers just why his wife has more parties than children around the house. The only time it really talks about birth control is when the doctor (early in the film) is asked about the pamphlets he is giving out (which say stuff such as: "when only those children who are wanted are born, the race will conquer the evils that weigh it down" or positing the question about if unwanted children born to ignorant people could suffer disease and asking for people to save the lives of mothers not willing to give birth to unwanted children), since his work usually takes him to the slums. Really it just invites the question as to why the rich are getting abortions in the first place rather than birth control, or why we are not focusing on a movie about the less fortunate dealing with unwanted children, but who knows. Power was a noted actor of his time, but be doesn't really help the role seem anything more than just an off-putting focus to have (i.e., who the hell wants a lead that likes eugenics?). The rest of actors are okay, but nothing inspiring (it's weird that Riaume was actually credited as "Mrs. Tyrone Power", since she was married to him at the time). It isn't particularly interesting as a look upon child care because it is more about the dangers of abortion (either as something the rich use or when someone dies from it) that is not nearly as compelling as the filmmakers think it is. The shots with the gates for unwanted children is just a weird way to convey the proceedings, but nothing tops an ending where a couple is just shown stewing alone with the children they could've had being ghosts. As a whole, it is a social drama that seems a bit too hollow to make the impact it thinks it wants beyond mild exploitation that probably could've been done better years later rather than this.

 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Next: Women's month ends with Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

The Wild Party (1929)

Review #1992: The Wild Party.

Cast: 

Clara Bow (Stella Ames), Fredric March (James 'Gil' Gilmore), Marceline Day (Faith Morgan), Shirley O'Hara (Helen Owens), Adrienne Dore (Babs), Joyce Compton (Eva Tutt), Jack Oakie (Al), Jack Luden (George), and Phillips Holmes (Phil) Directed by Dorothy Arzner (#1648 - Sarah and Son and #1810 - Working Girls)

Review: 

There are three things to note with this film: it is the earliest surviving film in the career of Dorothy Arzner, as each of her first four works (Fashions for Women (1927), Ten Modern Commandments (1927), Get Your Man (1927), Manhattan Cocktail (1928)) are lost, save for select parts in two of the four. It is also the first "talkie" film featuring the Brooklyn native Clara Bow, who was considered the "it girl" of the 1920s, specifically within silent films. The 1930s would bring more sound films than silents, but Bow (never a fan of the sound process despite receiving reasonable reviews) appeared in just ten more films before retiring in 1933. Malcolm St. Clair was originally slated to be director for the film, but disagreements with Paramount led to the hiring of Arzner, who had directed Bow earlier with Get Your Man. It is also one of the first starring roles for Fredric March, who had been appearing in small roles for various years (while making his Broadway debut in 1926) before making his star turn in films such as this, which was the first of four appearances in an Arzner film. For theaters without sound capabilities, a silent version was constructed (this is also the case for Bow's next film in 1929 with The Saturday Night Kid). There were various writers involved: Samuel Hopkins Adams, known as an investigative writer, wrote the story under the pseudonym Warner Fabian (he also wrote a handful of novels featuring young women in the Jazz Age). E. Lloyd Sheldon was credited with "adaptation", while George Marion Jr and Sheldon wrote the titles and John V.A. Weaver was left uncredited. Apparently Bow was quite nervous when it came to filming in sound, to the point where a microphone exploded on the first day of filming. To help Bow out, Arzner tied a microphone in a fishpole, which basically makes this the first movie with a boom mic. 

The movie is a pretty decent one. It may seem to be a carefree movie about young women having fun, but there is a question that comes through in just what it means to see people treat life like one wild party, seemingly aiming for nothing but cheap sensation. But it is a useful 77-minute feature filled with energy and zip from Bow that goes well with an unconventional romance set by Arzner and company for a decent time with mild laughs and a semi-interesting romance. Reviews of the time were varied on the film, but they all generally focused on the sound of Bow and her voice, but she does quite well here, probably since she doesn't seem constrained to stiff habits that would doom a lesser early sound film. She seems engaging and compelling to view in charm in art of wandering youth. The space created by Arzner of these youthful women works out to reasonable sequences that invite the viewer into the proceeding by stringing them along to what might happen next without chattering time away. They make for a quality group of bad behavior (read: 1929), whether that means the light O'Hara or the feisty Compton. As for March, he makes a bemused counterpart to the action, one where you can see how he might become a bigger name in movies, which mostly means he has a useful growing rapport with Bow, whether that involves a friendly rescue of the latter (with fists, obviously). As a whole, it is a mostly carefree film about the joys of finding a party worth having with people, whether that means in romance or on the wild side. When it comes to viewing Arzner the director or Bow the star, you can't really go wrong here.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Where Are My Children?

Outrage (1950).

Review #1991: Outrage.

Cast: 

Mala Powers (Ann Walton), Tod Andrews (Rev. Bruce Ferguson), Robert Clarke (Jim Owens), Raymond Bond (Eric Walton), Lilian Hamilton (Mrs. Walton), Hal March (Det. Sgt. Hendrix), Kenneth Patterson (Tom Harrison), Jerry Paris (Frank Marini), and Angela Clarke (Madge Harrison) Directed by Ida Lupino (#799 - The Hitch-Hiker, #1651 - Never Fear, #1811 - Not Wanted)

Review: 

In 1950, the Production Code was still prevalent for most motion pictures in the United States. But cracks were starting to flow, and one of those films that helped was Johnny Belinda (1948), since it covered a topic that was prohibited from being depicted: the mention of rape (that movie, incidentally, was a period drama). But there was still lines to not cross when it came to this film, since the Code objected to a variety of phrases such as "sex maniac" and "sex fiend" being used countless times. The script was done by Ida Lupino, Malvin Wald, and Collier Young for Young & Lupino's The Filmakers company. The Production Code Administration (as led by Joseph I. Breen) approved a re-done version of the script that resulted in a film that never says the word "rapist" once. Outrage was the third of six films directed by Lupino from 1949 to 1953.

As a 75-minute B-movie that technically falls under the lines of film noir (with encroaching shadows and situations without being a straight crime drama), it is a fairly decent movie for what it manages to convey as a movie of the times talking about such a sensitive subject. In the act of not actually talking about "rape", it actually has staying power in the present time because of the fact that the film is about the psychological pain that comes with what happens after an assault (which is conveyed carefully). The blame inadvertently seems to be more on the assaulted than the assaulter, whether that involves her ordeal in being asked to participate in an identification lineup or in the ordeal of trying to just walk a corner. It is all about the experience of the woman who suffered this assault upon her that sees her break away in torment on all sides over perceptions that come from being firmly on edge every second. Powers (in her first starring film role) pulls in a well-rounded performance filled with raw conviction, one who evokes all of the qualities required in making her emotional turmoil our turmoil to experience in terms of not veering into exploitation. The plight experienced by the character she plays could happen to anyone of us, and the frustrations and fears showed here remind us that there are no simple absolutes. Andrews does fine with the material in calm stature, which mainly involves being oneself in the eyes of a small town with subtle religious tones. They have the kind of warm chemistry that is meant to rebuild one's sense of self rather than outright romance - admittedly, there is more than one way to recover (if possible) from an assault than what happens here, but the important thing that Lupino shows is a story without artifice. By the time the film gets to a tragic decision with a wrench, you see just how it gets to that point and wince. The ending of the film might seem quite sudden, but the important thing to remember is that it is not quite a movie that reverts everything to the status quo when it comes to the matter of a woman who will have to continue to forge her own path forward where forgetting about the past is simply not something that you can do. It isn't just finding their way back in the arms of a man that gives her identity back, it is finding one's faith in themselves that means the most. Seven decades later, this is still a lesson we are trying to search for inside.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next: The Wild Party (1929).

Olivia (1951).

Review #1990: Olivia (1951).

Cast: 

Edwige Feuillère (Mlle. Julie), Simone Simon (Mlle. Cara), Marie-Claire Olivia (Olivia Dealey), Yvonne de Bray (Victoire), Suzanne Dehelly (Mlle. Dubois), Marina de Berg (Mimi), Lesly Meynard (Frau Riesener), and Danièle Delorme (Une ancienne élève) Directed by Jacqueline Audry (#1650 - Gigi (1949))

Review: 

Once again with Audry, we have the telling of a passionate yearning of a young girl, this time wrapped in tragedy. Admittedly, this is the kind of material I should have seen coming from her, because she liked to specialize in trying to make her mark in the confines of sophisticated melodramas that liked to see literary adaptations. But Olivia is an interesting work to find. The movie is adapted from the novel of the same name that had been written by Dorothy Bussy. Bussy wrote the short novel based on her experiences as a student at Les Ruches, a girls boarding school in Fontainebleau, France that was founded by Marie Souvestre (her most famous student was Eleanor Roosevelt), although the manuscript was kept from publication for many years due to a discouraging response she got from a close friend. At any rate, it was published in 1949 (originally written in French but later translated to English). The screenplay was done by Pierre Laroche, who wrote for a number of his wife's films, while Colette Audry was credited with an adaptation credit. It was not the first publication that dealt with teenage interest with teachers, far from it: Claudine at School was written with debatably autobiographical elements by Colette in 1900, and I'm sure one doesn't need too many reminders of Mädchen in Uniform (1931). The film was known in America as "The Pit of Loneliness"; a re-mastering of the film was done in 2019, complete with a re-release that thankfully can be seen in the way intended (certain trimming was done in censorship back then).

As you might expect, the film grips at one's attention at what is implied rather than actual events, one with a watchful eye in its camera angles more than anything. In a place filled with only women and girls, factions rise up among the devoted. Most of all, it is the story of someone trying to figure out exactly what one's love is when it relates to another woman. At 95 minutes, a movie with plenty of subtext to go around will work for those who accept what the film wants to show in its ambiguities (as opposed to simply calling a more subdued Madchen in Uniform). The film even opens with a quote from "Olivia" that says love has been the key matter of her life forever along with a wish for the Gods to have not let her profane such a memory. This self-realization is one we can all share because we all have had that moment of having a great memory in love that we wish to have never turn into nothingness in affections. Feuillère and Simon are the two distinct forces that hold a certain kind of spell over these people, and one of them spends most of their time writhing in bed. Feuillere essentially dominates the landscape when it comes to definable qualities of the film, one who towers in charisma that you can easily spot as important when trying to decipher the film in the things that are left unsaid. Marie-Claire Olivia is best known for this film because of how she only made a handful of appearances to go with her changing her name before release to have a last name of "Olivia". Her whirlwind of impulses and foibles work more or less to where you anticipate, which means a decent performance in enthusiasm and tension. The camera sweeps over the proceedings with worthy curiosity, one that suits the staging drama set out by Audry without becoming a maudlin mess. As a 19th century tale of awakenings and frustrations, it makes for a decent idea to spend one's time in the pit of yearning.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Outrage. Also...

Cléo from 5 to 7.

Review #1989: Cléo from 5 to 7.

Cast: 

Corinne Marchand (Florence "Cléo"), José Luis de Vilallonga (José), Loye Payen (Irma), Dominique Davray (Angèle), Serge Korber (Maurice), Dorothée Blanck (Dorothée), Raymond Cauchetier (Raoul), Michel Legrand (Bob), Antoine Bourseiller (Antoine), and Robert Postec (Doctor Valineau) Written and Directed by Agnes Varda.

Review: 

“I started totally free and crazy and innocent. Now I’ve seen many films, and many beautiful films. And I try to keep a certain level of quality of my films. I don’t do commercials, I don’t do films pre-prepared by other people, I don’t do star system. So I do my own little thing.”

There are no better words to introduce Agnes Varda aside from the fact that Martin Scorsese once described her as a "one of the Gods of cinema". She was born in Ixelles, Brussels, Belgium to French and Greek parents but raised in Sète in France. She studied literature and psychology at the Sorvonne in Paris before moving onto to studying art history at the École du Louvre and later photography. She was the photographer at the Théâtre National Populaire (as opened by a friend) from 1951 to 1961, but she soon found an interest in what she described as "before and after the snapshot" (she also stated that she did not see many films in her youth, and she thought that perhaps it might have stopped her from wanting to be a filmmaker). Her first film as a director came with La Pointe Courte (1955), filmed in Sète that employed a mix of fact and fiction in a mix of melodrama and cinéma vérité that sees both scenes from a withering romance and the life of villagers in a fishing town. The low-budget film has been cited as a precursor to the "French New Wave" (which she called a "man's club"), but it was not a financial success at the time due to lack of distribution, and Varda spent the next couple of years directing short films. Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962) is her second overall feature film. She described her filmmaking as "cinécriture", which relates to the total concept in a filmmaker and their imprint on a film from the writing to the editing process. All in all, Varda would serve as a director and writer for a mix of theatrical films, documentaries, and short films until her death in 2019 at the age of 90, doing films such as Vagabond (1985) and Faces Places (2017).

In France, there is a term called "cinq à sept" that refers to both the time between 5 and 7pm along with a quick afternoon tryst. The film runs at 90 minutes and basically is told in real-time (yes, that means the film really ends at 6:30, but work with it). It involves a woman who is on the verge of hearing important news that meanders around Paris that seems quite timeless in the plight of seeing one's mortality dangle while others (friends, strangers, whatever) are just doing their own thing. In other words, one discovers the joy that Varda has interest in showing in a film that does not dwell in outright melodrama with a subject matter like this (one part shows a brief amusing film seen with guest appearances from Anna Karina and Jean-Luc Godard, incidentally). In other words, it's not about the cancer, it's about someone who finds people who only spoil her rather than love her, a person who strips the bounds of things to look at her (such as wigs or clothing). Asking about tarot cards in the beginning goes to accepting one as having a choice and of fulfillment, one that finds solace in being oneself without being haunted by looming inevitability. Marchand is most famous for this role, one that shows the ideal level of selfish charm that comes with meeting a desire for emotional support in a world that can only think of itself. The rest of the cast is mostly aloof in the ideal sense required, aside from Cauchetier, who shares the last key scenes with Marchand to establish just what kind of fear lies within a day that happens to be the longest of the year. Its ending is merely just when one happens to pull the cover out rather than just playing to formula, one that can go its own way. Its feminine perspective on the perils of aging within the company one keeps is a capable one. At any rate, the movie is a useful way to spend one's time in seeing the emotional qualities that arise from wondering just really matter when one's life is in transit.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Olivia (1951).

Between the Lines.

Review #1988: Between the Lines.

Cast: 

John Heard (Harry Lucas), Lindsay Crouse (Abbie), Jeff Goldblum (Max Arloft), Jill Eikenberry (Lynn), Bruno Kirby (David Entwhistle), Gwen Welles (Laura), Stephen Collins (Michael), Lewis J. Stadlen (Stanley), Jon Korkes (Frank), Michael J. Pollard (The Hawker), Lane Smith (Roy Walsh), Joe Morton (Ahmed), and Marilu Henner (Danielle) Directed by Joan Micklin Silver (#1818 - Hester Street)

Review: 

Admittedly, if you want to follow up a sleeper hit that was thought to be too "ethnic" from big studios, I suppose an ensemble piece with up-and-coming actors is not the oddest thing to come up with. As with her last effort in Hester Street (1975), Raphael D. Silver served as producer. The film was written by Fred Barron and David M. Helpern Jr. Barron had written for the Boston Phoenix, an alternative weekly periodical and he used his experiences there to help shape the script (incidentally, Silver had worked for the Village Voice before becoming a director. This was the second of a total of seven theatrical films that Silver directed. The cast might be the most standout quality in terms of the sheer rise that came from some of them: this was the debut for Heard, Eikenberry, and Morton, who each had started in stage and television before this film, while Goldblum had made his debut in film only three years prior while Crouse was fresh off supporting roles in All the President's Men (1976) and Slap Shot (1977). Perhaps fitting the tone of the film is the inclusion of Welles, who earlier had a supporting role in Nashville (1976). The film was shot and set in Boston.

The movie has a picturesque style of trying to show a look at a time that was within a bare plot composed of episodic pace and an attempt at forming an interesting ensemble. I just wish it was a better movie to sit through for 101 minutes, because it is an experience that seems hopelessly stuck between wistful reminiscences of a time long ago and mildly interesting humor without ever sticking to one main plot. It lingers in episodic format without making a stand for itself beyond trying to ride with mildly likeable people (except for one glaring case) that has a last act that feels like it should have been firmly in the middle. Look, you don't need much to go on about the dangers of big business in little papers, but the bare minimum is meant to be doubly excelled, not barely cleared. Heard makes for a mostly capable lead in frustration and drive. His on-again, off-again dynamic with Crouse is at least entertaining to try and hold a film longer than the other ideas presented, if only because one would like to see more when presented with someone loaded in talent that could use her as just an excuse to not write. You can already see how Goldblum became a curious presence in film here, since he practically gobbles the attention right out from under folks, one that sees him act like a flake in mostly satisfying ways that might as well be a predecessor to his role in The Big Chill (1983); I especially like a scene where he talks with a performance artist with accompanying acts of "art". Kirby makes a suitable middleman in terms of wistful charm in the foreground. Korkes makes an okay beleaguered head to the process. It should only figure the one actor who is the most loathsome in terms of who they became in later life has the least interesting performance. Collins is simply not fun to watch, seemingly trying to bring humor in self-involved author crap that is bland and easily skippable when contrasted with literally anyone on screen. Whether intended as a caricature of writers who want to write the "great American novel" or not, he doesn't do anything worth mentioning positively. Hell, Pollard is playing a cliche with the newspaper salesman on the street, and he runs circles around him when it comes to general charm because one finds Pollard endearing in the foreground and background in those moments, while Stadlen is at least meant to be a foil in his advertising shill persona. Smith only shows up in the last couple of scenes as the prospective buyer of the news station that clearly means big changes...and since the movie ends quickly after that, his impact is diminished despite the fact that he makes an imposing figure. I mean, sure, make an argument all you want about the creeping danger of big business onto papers that supposedly tap into the city, but don't just latch it in late (putting "rumors of a big buy" through the film doesn't cut it). The presentation of contrasts between Heard-Crouse and Collins-Welles would be interesting if the latter didn't end with a completely lame resolution to the latter that is less a case of "human decision-making" and more just a lazy way to throw things together. As a whole, what I like about the movie is the occasional amusing moments that come within trying to make a living in newspapers with a place now resigned to being a middle-ground on the way up or down for people, one that has some ideas wishing to flow for a stronger experience. The loss of innocence within a newspaper that sees its ambition squashed would make an intriguing tragedy, but here one finds a movie that can barely hold the jockstrap of Park Row (1952) It might be an interesting time capsule for a time long past in terms of newspaper media being more than just the option used for people who don't like reading a phone screen, and that is probably the best compliment one could make. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Cléo from 5 to 7 (1962)

Smithereens.

Review #1987: Smithereens.

Cast: 

Susan Berman (Wren), Brad Rinn (Paul), Richard Hell (Eric), Nada Despotovich (Cecile), Roger Jett (Billy), Kitty Summerall (Eric's wife), Rbynne White (Landlady), and D.J. O'Neill (Ed) Directed by Susan Seidelman.

Review: 

“Back then – but maybe even more so today – the idea of wanting to be famous but not having any specific talent, that idea of reinvention, was everywhere. Back then, a lot of the bands, they weren’t exactly great musically, but they sort of had the energy and attitude that meant they could perform at CBGBs or Max's Kansas City, and in some ways the whole idea of Wren, who’s posting Xeroxed pictures of herself all over the subway, it’s a form of self-promotion that’s not all that different from taking a selfie and posting it on Instagram.”

Admittedly, the films that are best suited for featuring in women cinema are the ones you do not see coming. Susan Seidelman was born and raised in Pennsylvania to a hardware manufacturer and a teacher. She studied fashion and arts at Drexel University before finding an interest in filmmaking from a film appreciation class that talked about filmmakers (such as from the French New Wave). She studied at New York University with their film school. Her influence with this film came from her living experiences in the East Village apartment that she lived in when at NYU, which featured a changing musical scene. This was her debut feature film, which was shot in 16mm for $40,000 with a mix of "guerrilla style" filmmaking on the streets and subways of New York. She co-wrote the film with Peter Askin and Ron Nyswaner (he would later write Philadelphia a decade later) and she also served as co-producer. The film had a delay in production because the lead actress in Berman suffered a broken leg while on a fire escape for a scene. Several bands are featured for a song or two in the background, such as The Feelies, The Nitecaps, The Raybeats, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Dave Weckerman, Singers and Players, and ESG. This film was the first independent film to be screened for competition at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival, which helped open the door for other opportunities. Her second film is likely the one she is most known for with Desperately Seeking Susan (1985), which had a handful of future stars and Madonna. A filmmaker for four decades, she has directed an array of films with a mix of comedy and drama to varying levels of recognition.

The best dramas have a bit of biting humor in them, as is the case with a film that involves a wannabee rock star trying to make their way across the country that has exactly one non-newcomer in Richard Hell, a punk rock artist in several bands of his day. It is a worthy time capsule of a New York in the 1980s that lingers in an enjoyably weird sense that looks at identity and self-fulfillment from a feminine perspective (Seidelman has been quoted as saying that looking at the film shows a New York City that doesn't exist anymore). Berman is exquisite in a devilishly rotten role of narcissism. You know that she isn't the nicest person in the world and yet you are still quite curious to see her on screen in all of her brazen mischief that comes with all of the wandering that she does, right from her first scene of her seeing a pair of sunglasses that happen to match her outfit and snatching them right from under them. Anything has clearly got to be better than languishing in New Jersey in her eyes, even if she has to use folks like a parasite. The idea of re-inventing oneself is something we can all see in ourselves because it still seems prevalent now more than ever in the age of social media. Her utter selfishness at what she thinks she wants out of herself and people makes for quite a compelling movie for 89 minutes that makes for capable drama in how much we see ourselves in her - her impulsive nature is both humorous and tragic in this weird way that she wants recognition to belong somewhere with her one distinct feature being resilience above all. Rinn makes a capable foil in "normalcy", one with plenty of patience to act against Berman that is her antithesis in being a face in the crowd. The scenes spent between the two are shaky because they are meant to be shaky, as if all Berman can think is about anything other than Rinn when in a van. Hell is the ideal punk in all of the cool characteristics that is just as much a user of people as Berman. I especially like a sequence where she is trying to make conversation with Hell before the lady that he was speaking to comes back and loudly tries to get her seat back, which results in petty amusement when they engage in a brief fight while Hell slowly walks away with a grin on his face. The final scene is probably the most striking in terms of showing the film at what it all really means when it comes to needing a place to spend one's time. The cycle begins anew with an outcome yet to be written in the process of trying to morph a persona that others will latch onto in curiosity rather than ignoring her as just a face in the crowd. As a whole, the enjoyability of the movie does not hinge on how much one likes the main character as much as it how much they enjoy the time spent asking about the nature of identity and resilience within a wannabee who (like probably a good deal of people) think they have all the wants in the world. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Between the Lines.

The Decline of Western Civilization Part III.

Review #1986: The Decline of Western Civilization Part III.

Cast: 

Featuring performers Final Conflict, Litmus Green, Naked Aggression, and The Resistance, with interviews of Keith Morris, Rick Wilder (The Mau-Mau's), Flea, among others.

Directed by Penelope Spheeris (#238 - The Little Rascals, #806 - Wayne's World, #1019 - Dudes, #1657 - The Decline of Western Civilization, #1821 - The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years)

Review: 

"I feel that a documentarian has an obligation to tell the truth as he or she interprets it. And what I mean by that is that documentarians don't necessarily have the same sort of obligations that a journalist might have. A journalist might be called upon to be objective, whereas a documentarian is sort of forced to take sides."

Penelope Spheeris has stated that the three Decline films are what she would like to define her career. However, the road to the third film came in a distinct manner different from the last two films. Spheeris has stated that the three Decline films are what she would like to define her career. However, the road to the third film came in a distinct manner different from the last two films. The release of Wayne's World (1992) was both a hit for Spheeris and a future regret. Studios that had perceived her as not being able to do comedy now shifted to believing she wasn't there for serious material, and a rift with a star on that film meant she was not on for the sequel (as such, she has stated she would "probably not have done" that film if she had a second shot). A trip to Burning Man made her come to a revelation to come back and do a third film in the Decline series. Her aim at trying to look at the punk scene in commercialization in the years that followed would soon turn into one about the gutterpunks that were living on the streets of Los Angeles. A reminder that it is the efforts of Anna Fox (the daughter of Spheeris) who helped spur efforts to get Spheeris to get around to re-releasing these films, which is certainly better to see in a boxset rather than bootlegs. It inspired Spheeris, who acquired a license to become a foster parent in 2013. In fact, she met her future boyfriend during the production of the film (one who was homeless for years that is affected with schizophrenia). Spheeris (who had her most recent documentary with We Sold Our Souls for Rock 'n Roll (2001) suffer delays for years because of rights issues, incidentally) has been on the record about apparently working on a fourth film involving music, but whether it will reach completion is unknown. Everything has basically come full circle in the weirdest of ways. Each film has an opening with the bands being recorded about being at this show means one is consenting to being photographed and each one involves a handful of bands being shown on and off the stage in their perspectives. Keith Morris of Black Flag returns from his appearance in the first film, with his enduring line being about how he never wanted to be a rock star. One of the first questions asked in the film is about punks who saw the first film. So yes, the punk scene has moved into a different place from before, where you now see punks living on the streets making due with what they have and the people that they choose to associate with, whether that involves people named "Filth" or with people who claim they can suck an Icee through their nose. There are a handful of people shown in interviews, whether in a booth or live on the street, with such names including "Filth, Spinner, Why-Me, Spoon, Darius, Little Tommy, Troll, and Nate". The one defining characteristic that comes through is the conviction that these people have for who they are in the moment. 

There are other perspectives besides the gutterpunks, because there is still some music shown through the film, and one probably isn't surprised to hear from a cop as well. Honestly, the music is mainly just fine, with the perspectives of the groups probably being more distinct to look into (one of the groups in The Resistance basically practices in an abandoned building), but the film in general is more one of casual decay more than anything. People are reduced to asking folks on the street or taking photos for money ("not begging, asking" being the key here). It has gotten to a point where these punks are the outcasts of society that believe the best way forward is to be who they are in that moment, which mainly involves being away from their family and the use of substances. I think nearly every punk asked in the film admits to a regular habit of drinking alcohol (because if punk is any one thing, it is what you are not). Forget what they look like (like the one with a pen tube) and instead listen to them for who they are beyond appearances, whether that involves them talking about the upbringing they had before they became who they are (namely abuse, which is recounted by every single one of them) or their short-term plans for the future because of how much they believe they will die soon anyway. The shock isn't the fact that there is homeless people who wander the streets every day trying to make a living, the shock is instead the fact that this is even that big of a problem to begin with (one that goes beyond punk music of course, but Spheeris clearly cares about what she is filming by the way she asks her questions on screen). 

The film (which runs for 86 minutes) closes on numerous shots: first a scene a group of the punks walking together on the street (while a title card states that profits of the film will go to charities for the homeless and abused children) before it cuts to shots from the music scene (as one could see from certain moments of the previous two films) and a final blurb detailing the death of "Squid" (who died on July 19, 1997) from stab wounds alongside the arrest and eventual trial of "Spoon" (an account of the two in terms of a separate person shooting photographs and the apparent fate of Spoon can be found in this blog here). The film never got a proper chance to be seen by the public for years. It did make a premiere on the festival circuit (starting with the 1998 Sundance Film Festival), but the demand for a film with its tone were middling, and any offer that came had a stipulation that she refused to take: handing over the rights to the first two films. At any rate, it is hard to believe it has been 25 years since the release of this film, which manages to continue the road set out by the two previous Decline films in showing the nature of what it means to be a person in punk in the realm of oneself and in music. Each film has their own great highlights in terms of perspective and music (for which I say the first is the best in that regard), but you cannot go wrong with any of the films that were done by Spheeris and company. Check them out for yourself to see just why Spheeris holds them dear to her heart and why you may find them really worthwhile in the history of documentaries.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Smithereens (1982).

Beau Travail.

Review #1985: Beau Travail.

Cast: 

Denis Lavant (Adjudant-Chef Galoup), Michel Subor (Commandant Bruno Forestier), Grégoire Colin (Légionnaire Gilles Sentain), Richard Courcet (Légionnaire), and Nicolas Duvauchelle (Légionnaire) Directed by Claire Denis.

Review: 

"A film is an expandable structure, where space is invaded by the actors."

Upbringing and timing matters more often than not when it comes to directors finding themselves. Claire Denis was born in Paris, France, but raised in colonial French Africa owing to her father being a civil servant and moving houses every two years. Her contact with films came three-fold: her mother "told" her films due to her love of the cinema. She got to experience imported war films (albeit in degraded quality) from America. Denis later experienced memories of cherished films such as Pather Panchali (1955). After finding little to relate to in studying economics and Oriental languages, she decided to take her husband's advice to seriously think about what she wanted to do. Denis had an internship for Tele Niger, which was a channel dedicated to literacy education in cinema, but she decided to try to apply to the Institut des hautes études cinématographiques (IDHEC); she made her first short with IDHEC in 1969. After graduation, she became an assistant to directors such as Jacques Rivette and Wim Wenders. Wanting to have her own independence, she decided to make her own films. She made her feature debut with Chocolat (1988), a semi-autobiographical film. The film is loosely based on the novella Billy Budd by Herman Melville. The famed writer (known for his poetry alongside Moby Dick) had started writing it in 1886 but left it in a manuscript form by his death in 1891. The manuscript was not first published until 1924 (although Melville's widow Elizabeth kept it safe), through the efforts of Raymond M. Weaver (Melville's first biographer). There have been three adaptations: a 1949 play (with a revision for Broadway in 1951), a 1951 opera, and a 1962 film. The screenplay for this film was done by Claire Denis and Jean-Pol Fargeau, which was initially in booklet form (as suggested by Fargeau, since the film is basically a recollection of one's time in the Legion). The film was shot in Djibouti (a former French colony) without authorization.

The title translates to "good work". Generally, one finds little dialogue to latch on to here, because one is focused on the images shown more than anything. The film is told through French with a mix of Italian and Russian for a mostly interesting 90 minutes. One perhaps finds self-discovery within the images of bodies that make a curious feature to absorb. In short, camaraderie is not in short supply here in a movie that sets up its great tragedy on its own terms and timing in a harsh landscape. There aren't too many speaking parts because the film mostly shows itself in a relaxed tone involving groups of French Foreign Legion men being, well, men in a legion. The military exercises were even choreographed by ballet choreographer. It all falls on the shoulders of Lavant, who is seen and heard (in voiceover, all throughout the film) in a manner that you would expect when it comes to making for great tragedy: a person who firmly believes that their cause is good enough to perhaps die for. We know the irrational hostility that becomes apparent in this one man because we all have had this kind of weird inkling that, well, there just is something wrong with the person in a group and that's that. Masculine insecurity isn't too far off from feminine insecurity, I guess. Subor probably has the most interesting line when it comes the idea that the only thing that ties these people togethers is "fornication and blood." He doesn't say too much, but you get the general idea of why someone would want to be around someone of his presence; people look the way they look to us because of perceptions, and it can be hard to shake off if a mentor is something they aren't or that a hack is something else. With that in mind, Colin makes a quality presence as the "foil" for Lavant in a movie all about the sun, the sea, and most of all, the skin. Beauty can be a dangerous thing in the eye of the beholder, which means one gets a film with plenty rhythm of the mind for a deliberate and fairly curious time here. The last scene is best left to view for oneself to make for a film that is, well, a distinct and imperfect experience fitting for world cinema.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: The Decline of Western Civilization III.

American Psycho.

Review #1984: American Psycho.

Cast: 

Christian Bale (Patrick Bateman), Justin Theroux (Timothy Bryce), Josh Lucas (Craig McDermott), Bill Sage (David Van Patten), Chloë Sevigny (Jean), Reese Witherspoon (Evelyn Williams), Samantha Mathis (Courtney Rawlinson), Matt Ross (Luis Carruthers), Jared Leto (Paul Allen), Willem Dafoe (Donald Kimball), Cara Seymour (Christie), and Guinevere Turner (Elizabeth) Directed by Mary Harron.

Review: 

"What occurred to me is that just enough time had passed to make a period film about the ’80s, and say things about the ’80s, and bring out the satire. And that was interesting to me."

As a director, Mary Harron has aimed to make above all else movies with meaningful things to say beyond just the label of feminism. Born in Bracebridge, Ontario in Canada to an actor/comedian in Don Harron, although the divorce and re-marriage in her family led to her living between Toronto and Los Angeles and later England. Her parents liked to take her to films they wanted to see that were generally art films (i.e. not exactly suitable for children), with her early large influences being Alfred Hitchcock. Later studies at places such as the National Film Theatre and she studied English at St. Anne's College, Oxford University before moving to the States in New York to become a journalist. She wrote and created a magazine for what became the punk scene in the city before later becoming a drama critic in later years. In the 1990s, her interest in the life of Valerie Solanas spurred her into wanting to do a documentary (since she was working as a producer on a program dedicated to American pop culture at the time). In turn, this idea was suggested to become a film, which resulted in the 1996 film I Shot Andy Warhol. In total, Harron has directed seven films in over two decades, with the most recent being Dalíland (2022). The movie is based on the 1991 novel of the same name by Bret Easton Ellis. The original book generated controversy because of its portrayal of violence toward women (as a whole the book is far more visceral in its descriptions by its unreliable narrator in Patrick Bateman of murder along with emotional psychotic breakdowns). Ellis has described the main character of Bateman as being "crazy the same way I was", although he has only admitted this in recent years (he initially stated during the release of the novel that his father was the inspiration while also later calling the book "a criticism of male values that were around me", one that he found easy to observe as a gay man). Ellis had called the book "unfilmable", but Edward R. Pressman bought the rights to film the book in 1992 and persisted for eight years. Numerous names were considered to direct such as Stuart Gordon and David Cronenberg (with Ellis even writing a draft), but Harron accepted an offer to do the film in 1996 under the condition that she could write her own draft. She brought Guinevere Turner on to help write the script while also trying to find the right Bateman (for her part, Turner found the book horrifying alongside really funny while also believing the right spin could make for a "really subversive, feminist movie"). By 1998, Harron thought she found her ideal actor with Christian Bale (at the time mostly known for Empire of the Sun (1987), when he was 13), because she felt he was the only who understood the role as being (in their words) "an alien who landed in the unabashedly capitalist New York of the '80s" when he found the script quite amusing. However, Lions Gate Films tried for a time to recruit Leonardo DiCaprio to star in the film (which Harron vehemently disagreed with), complete with Oliver Stone taking over as director. Thankfully, disagreements between the two led to the return of Harron and Bale, albeit with a small budget of roughly $7 million.

The movie was indeed a modest success at the time of its release in 2000, albeit with a polarized response by some due to the level of violence. Actually, looking back, it is almost as amusing to consider the perception of the film back then as it is to actually look at the film now and share a laugh as the effective satire it ultimately is. It is the work of somebody who may or may not be guilty of murder slipping by in a world focused entirely on lifestyle above all that examines misogyny and masculinity with an awareness and timing that is brilliant to sift through for 100 minutes. Undeniably, the movie is all on Bale and his performance. His method of performance involves plenty of rhythm to go with clarity and control that brings out plenty in isolation and alienation beyond the winning smile shown in a man that in his words is "simply not there". He has the outward charm of someone like Tom Cruise (intentionally done) that is both unsettling and captivating, one who seems to sell every scene he is in (present in all but one) as one of numerous people that we see within the mask they seem to wear (why else does the axe sequence seem to linger on half of his face covered in blood) It is evident that his method preparation paid off for an effective performance that is the perfect act of a warped man in a warped time that shows the vanity of man through people who are never seen working in any scene. The others can only help but drift in the ideal manner when wrapped in the gloss of the 1980s, such as the restaurant trio of Theroux, Lucas, and Sage, or with Witherspoon and her confidence that goes like oil on water when paired against Bale. Sevigny is probably the most sane person in the general web of things, at least because she is in it slightly more than Dafoe and his blend of investigative query/baiting. There are a handful of interesting moments to note (at least ones that have not become Internet memes), ones that show Bale gliding through his environment in the most entertaining of alienated ways, such as him casually admitting his crimes in conversation or him doing a strut right before the axe death with "Hip to be Square" playing.

Ellis described the book as one that he didn't think needed to be turned into a film, since he felt that the ambiguity of the novel would be turned into something "infinitely less interesting" with a medium of film that seemingly demands answers (incidentally, the book later inspired a 2013 musical). The novel leaves it to one's interpretation about what was real and not real, while Turner and Harron's script was intended to show a real effort to have things be real for the main character but at some point "sort of perceiving things differently, but they're really happening." The ending is deliberately meant to confound one over just what really happened (personally, I assume a chunk really happened because watching a movie about murders being shown only to be told they aren't real is dumb as hell). Ellis has been quoted numerous times as to finding the film either as "fine" without being entirely necessary or as one that is "in some ways a complicated movie for me. But overall I like it." As a whole, American Psycho is a worthwhile use of your time for those who are interested in seeing a film that belongs to more than one genre and thus is not instantly easy to peg in one assumption. It is a lean and mean satire with elements of horror that will sift in your head and not escape any time soon after it is finished, which makes for a pretty good time. It is the kind of really good film that may even grow on you further, which probably says a good deal about how far the film's stature has grown in two decades.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Beau Travail.

Lady Bird.

Review #1983: Lady Bird.

Cast: 

Saoirse Ronan (Christine "Lady Bird" McPherson), Laurie Metcalf (Marion McPherson), Tracy Letts (Larry McPherson), Lucas Hedges (Danny O'Neill), Timothée Chalamet (Kyle Scheible), Beanie Feldstein (Julie Steffans), Lois Smith (Sister Sarah Joan), Stephen McKinley Henderson (Father Leviatch), Odeya Rush (Jenna Walton), Jordan Rodrigues (Miguel McPherson), Marielle Scott (Shelly Yuhan), and Jake McDorman (Mr. Bruno) Written and Directed by Greta Gerwig.

Review: 

“I really wanted to make a movie that was a reflection on home and what does home mean, and how does leaving home define what it is for you and your love for it. I felt like it was a love letter to Sacramento, and I felt like, what better way to make a love letter than through somebody who wants to get out, and then realize that they loved it?”

Sometimes, it really does help to go home in becoming a director. Greta Gerwig was born in Sacramento, California to a nurse and a credit union worker. A self-described "intense child", she attended St. Francis High School before attending Barnard College (one of the undergraduate colleges of Columbia University) to study English and philosophy. After graduation, she wanted to be a playwright but went to acting when she did not receive admission to playwright programs. In 2006, she began an association with Joe Swanberg by appearing in a small role in one of his films. The following year, she served as co-writer and star in Hannah Takes the Stairs, which has been label a "mumblecore film" (basically an independent film with natural acting and dialogue).  Gerwig became a director with Nights and Weekends (2008), serving as co-director with Swanberg while also writing and starring in the film. Lady Bird was the first solo effort for Gerwig; she followed that film up with Little Women (2019), which she also wrote, and her next film as writer and director is slated to come out this year with Barbie.

What a joyful time we have here. It is always a welcome occasion to view a comedy-drama that clearly is meant to evoke a worthwhile memory (it is set in 2002, so seeing a cell phone not in everyone's hand is certainly a given). Gerwig invited the cast and crew to read old yearbooks, photos, journals, and the passages of Joan Didion (a Sacramento native); she has stated that the film has a "core of truth that resonates with what I know". Sure, there have been a handful of coming-of-age films in the recent era such as Boyhood (2014) and Moonlight (2016) that have touched upon the plight of growing up in a modern sense, but Lady Bird manages to strike its own chord in being a lively film full of worthwhile characters and situations that seem real that never seems to linger in artificiality. It is a period piece of a specific time and place, but it is a worthwhile piece, one that depicts the power that comes in love and turbulence in youth and trying to figure oneself out at a key age. In its love letter to Sacramento, it is also a letter that details the importance of what matters most in the realm of families and attention. The truth of the matter is that home never feels like home until you make your way out of it for the first time. This is done in a way that never teeters on the brink of sappiness, mind you. It strolls along for 94 minutes with a pace on the episodic side that shows the general qualities that come along with growth in a youth beyond general labeling. With that in mind, Ronan (an American-born Irish actress already familiar with acting as a teen) has the self-confidence necessary to make the title role wholly believable in all the facets that come in the messiness of people when coming out of their shell. She soars as a bird trying to do flight on their own strength and does so with general warmth and timing to result in an endearing performance of flailing courage. Metcalf (best known for Roseanne alongside Tony Award-winning performances on Broadway) is the perfect match in family turbulence with two determined individuals. In other words, both sides are distinctly human in their qualities and flaws, which is mainly expressed in passive-aggression practicality. Their communication (or lack thereof) is what drives the film beyond the usual dynamic between parent and sibling, probably best represented by the opening sequence: a nice moment of listening to a book-on-tape that segues right into an argument over ungratefulness versus wanting to escape the "Midwest of California" before closing by someone jumping out of a car. Accompanying the action in tender support is Letts (who also has considerable experience in the theater), who proves brilliant in his scenes opposite Ronan. Hedges and Feldstein accompany Ronan in showing the facets of the joys and pain that come with having to accept hard truths about people on the cusp of adulthood that can either range from estrangement to worthwhile reunion (Feldstein in particular is quite amusing and bright). Chalamet practically absorbs the screen with a confidence that is entirely amusing in all the ways intended in the people that the script wishes to evoke of that particular character (which is basically a hipster). There is a small contribution of worthwhile seasoned support from Smith and Henderson, and the rest of the cast contribute well to the film seeming like a memory seared into one's mind, whether that involves spiraling lies or finding some sort of calling on a Sunday. At the end of the day, I enjoyed the film in its searing honesty that is consistently endearing in its elements of comedy and drama that jumps out at you with clear timing and focus. Gerwig has stated her desire to do a spiritual successor to the film that would still be set in Sacramento, and I can safely say I look forward to the possibility of seeing it in a theater someday. That I think is a clear indicator of how a pretty good movie can leave your imagination wanting more.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: American Psycho.

Harriet.

Review #1982: Harriet. 

Cast: 

Cynthia Erivo (Araminta "Minty" Ross / Harriet Tubman), Leslie Odom Jr. (William Still), Joe Alwyn (Gideon Brodess), Clarke Peters (Ben Ross), Vanessa Bell Calloway (Rit Ross), Vondie Curtis-Hall (Reverend Samuel Green), Jennifer Nettles (Eliza Brodess), Janelle Monáe (Marie Buchanon), Omar Dorsey (Bigger Long), Tim Guinee (Thomas Garrett), Zackary Momoh (John Tubman), Deborah Ayorinde (Rachel Ross), and Henry Hunter Hall (Walter) Directed by Kasi Lemmons.

Review: 

"I don't wake up every day saying I'm a black woman because it's too given, but I wake up every day feeling like an artist and I feel I'm an artist."

Admittedly, maintaining a career as a director is no small feat for folks with talent, whether as a man or a woman. Kasi Lemmons was born in St. Louis, Missouri but raised in Massachusetts, complete with an early interest in movies. She attended New York University Tisch School of the Arts before doing study at UCLA. Lemmons first was an actress, starting in television in the late 1980s along with making her film debut in School Daze (1988). She made a handful of appearances in film and television over the next few years, most notably with Candyman (1992). Lemmons directed her first film with Eve's Bayou (1997), a Southern Gothic drama that was a general success on the independent level. Lemmons has directed five further films in the 25 year-span since that film, such as Talk to Me (2007) and Black Nativity (2013). One is never sure how a movie can lend a portrait to a famous name in history, especially with Harriet Tubman (born Araminta Ross), who did indeed make an escape from Maryland to Philadelphia that covered roughly 100 miles (although she actually tried to bring along two of her brothers on the trip as opposed to it being a solo trip - they quit not long into the trip). She rescued roughly seventy people that were born into slavery in her native land of Maryland, whether that meant secret travel by night to the North or in later times, British North America (and yes, she did carry a gun). The Civil War led to her serving as a cook, a nurse, and later a scout for the Union Army (her service did not merit a pension for decades, and when it did come, it did not mention her work as a spy). She lived long enough to also take part in the fight for the right for women to vote, living into her nineties before passing away in 1913. The most mainstream depiction of Tubman before this film was a television miniseries in A Woman Called Moses that was shown in 1978 with Cicely Tyson as Tubman. Not that the film is to be judged entirely on the merits of 100% historical consistency, but one can judge for themselves how to interpret a film that features Alwyn, Monae, and Dorsey each playing characters not based in fact. The screenplay was done by Gregory Allen Howard, who is listed as co-writer of the story with Lemmons. 

Honestly, the movie is just fine. It is comprised of a handful of tropes you would probably see coming from a biopic of 125 minutes. But what exactly does one expect? Well, with the litany of biopics involving men or talking more about the time of 19th century America, I suppose another biopic about someone as remarkable as Harriet Tubman will be fine enough to please those interested in cut-and-dry American stories. It is sincere enough in its direction while having a solid lead performance to make it one of those quality movies that you might rent for a time. Erivo soars fairly well when it comes to handling the lofty expectations laid out in playing a historical character, which basically means she blends into the role without distraction. Tenacity and devout faith (the real Tubman was quite religious and also prone to experiencing visions, as depicted in the film) are key to understanding Tubman in the eyes of Erivo that emanate the power of deliverance. The rest of the cast proves fine, although the dialogue occasionally puts them at risk for wooden traps. Odom makes a fine headliner among the historical character support (the real Still was indeed an abolitionist that was once called "The Father of the Underground Railroad", and his 1872 publishing of records of the people who went through the Railroad is key to understanding the process). Peters pops in to provide warmth against Erivo. Alwyn is at the very least a semi-compelling adversary composite. Others like Monae and Dorsey don't fare as well, but again, there isn't a weak factor in the film, which generally moves on a set pace that makes the Underground Railroad (a series of routes and safe houses) seem quite interesting. As a whole, the movie is generally diligent about keeping focus on its subject without turning mundane or spinning itself away from historical basis too much. It is a fairly entertaining movie that honors its subject with fitting reverence that does exactly what it hopes to do, albeit one that operates within a certain boundary of range. If its gloss of history is that important to keep in our memories for important women in history, it will likely work out just right for a watch.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Lady Bird.

Cocaine Bear.

Review #1981: Cocaine Bear.

Cast: 

Keri Russell (Sari), O'Shea Jackson Jr. (Daveed), Alden Ehrenreich (Eddie), Christian Convery (Henry), Brooklynn Prince (Dee Dee), Isiah Whitlock Jr. (Bob), Margo Martindale (Ranger Liz), Ray Liotta (Syd), Jesse Tyler Ferguson (Peter), and Aaron Holliday (Stache) Directed by Elizabeth Banks.

Review: 

The beginning of a new month always lends itself to surprises and interesting things to talk about in film spotlighting. Such is the case with another March that attempts to spotlight female directors in film beyond just getting to the point. Elizabeth Banks became an actress because she found it interesting after giving it a try for a school play after hurting herself playing softball. She studied at the University of Pennsylvania and the American Conservatory Theater while acting in various plays. This continued throughout the mid-2000s with highlights in films and TV such as The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005), Scrubs (2006-09), and 30 Rock (2010-12). Banks first became involved in directing with Movie 43 (2013), serving as one of numerous co-directors before making a debut on a real movie with Pitch Perfect 2 (2015), having served as producer and co-star on the previous film. Cocaine Bear (2023) is the third feature film from Banks. The film was written by Jimmy Warden, which takes loose inspiration from the story of the "Cocaine Bear", an American black bear that spent a brief amount of time under the influence of cocaine, as the bear ate a large portion of cocaine that was in a jettisoned container (as one sees from drug trafficking, which was done by Andrew C. Thornton, who indeed died in freefall when trying to unload the cocaine into the wilderness); the film is set in the same year as the real-life story of the bear (1985), albeit with fictional characters.

You know, I wonder if the buzz for the film was similar to Snakes on a Plane (2006), a movie that has a catchy title involving animals. Honestly, what do you expect from a movie like this? The fact that the movie lives up to, well, the title of the film, is at least grounds for a decent time with comedy horror for 95 minutes. It is a movie that gives you a (CG rendered) killer bear on the loose that is meant to look ferocious, and it generally works out here in weird amusement. It is mildly funny without turning into vacant self-parody, giving what one exactly thinks they desire in the basic requirements of entertainment. The acting is mildly interesting, albeit in parts. Jackson and Ehrenreich have an interesting rapport together in the grand art of bickering and "old couple energy" that actually may make a more interesting bond than the one meant to be shown between Russell, who in of herself is decent; look, in a movie about a parent trying to protect their daughter in horror, what do you think is going to happen besides, well, you know? Actually, if you really want to be bold and ridiculous with a bear attack movie, putting one of the kid characters in peril may be the way to go, but that is just me (I also believe that if you really want more of these killer animal movies, they should be made in completely ridiculous genres, like a musical horror). What were we talking about? Oh, right: Liotta is my personal highlight, mostly because even in limited screen time he accomplishes the act of ideal horror-target in all the right tones (Liotta passed away shortly after completing his scenes for the film). Whitlock is a moderately amusing authority figure, complete with a vertical standoff. As a whole, the setup for the bear scenes are pretty decent, with no one really overstaying their welcome or killing a bit for too long, which is what you hope even in less ambitious movies. I think the actual fate of the bear body is far more interesting than what the film pulls: After the medical examiner had finished looking at the corpse, he wanted to make sure it was not wasted, so he had it taxidermized (so yes, a bear got stuffed after it died from cocaine). It got donated to the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area (near the National Forest where the bear died) before it got lost and found in a pawn shop before somehow making its way to a mall in Lexington, Kentucky. It almost clouds the other flaw that happens with a good deal of B-movies but seems more apparent here: it has a middling ensemble that seems guilty of having perhaps one too many characters for such a thin amount of interesting things for them to say, as if the movie should either have focused on a bear ravaging a family or a bear ravaging around while dopey fixers try to recover drugs. But hey, the movie accomplishes what it sets out to do: have fun showing a bear high on cocaine taking out disposable characters in disposable situations for moderate results. Man or woman as director, this generally means a good time for those who like what the movie is selling, though it will be up to the viewer to see what will actually endure in its memory after seeing it.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Welcome to Movie Night: Women's History Month III. This time we are going reverse-chronological, which means the month will end in the early 20th century. This means next up is Harriet.