Angels of Sin.

Review #2174: Angels of Sin.

Cast: 

Renée Faure (Anne-Marie Lamaury), Jany Holt (Thérèse), Sylvie (La prieure), Mila Parély (Madeleine), Marie-Hélène Dasté (Mère Saint-Jean), Yolande Laffon (Madame Lamaury), Paula Dehelly (Mère Dominique), Silvia Monfort (Agnès), and Gilberte Terbois (Soeur Marie-Josèphe) Directed by Robert Bresson.

Review: 

"There is the feeling that God is everywhere, and the more I live, the more I see that in nature, in the country. When I see a tree, I see that God exists. I try to catch and to convey the idea that we have a soul and that the soul is in contact with God. That's the first thing I want to get in my films."

Sure, we need a few French voices here and there. Famed director Jean-Luc Godard once wrote of Robert Bresson as "the French cinema, as Dostoevsky is the Russian novel and Mozart is German music." He had done painting in his young years. Bresson was most interested in film when it came to "everything that moved in films", whether that was the leaves on trees, for example. As such, he became a director with the short Les affaires publiques in 1934 (when he was 33), which was not particularly successful (to the point where it was thought lost for years). He served in World War II, only to find himself a prisoner of war for several months. In 1942, Pathe commissioned a film that found itself with Bresson as director (Synops later distributed it themselves). Bresson wrote the film with Raymond Léopold Bruckberger (a priest/writer) and Jean Giraudoux (a dramatist recruited because producers wanted someone well known). This was a film done during the German occupation of France in which he went with the idea of making a film about the Dominican Sisters of Bethany (which deals with visiting prisons). Bresson would go on to direct thirteen films as a feature director, from his debut here to films such as A Man Escaped (1956) to Pickpocket (1959) to Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) all the way to his final film in L'Argent (1983); viewers of him have called the film perhaps his most "conventional". Bresson died in 1999 at the age of 98. This was actually one of just two films (the other being his second effort in Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne [1945]) Bresson made with "professional actors". It basically is melodrama mixed with noir to make for a striking film to talk about religious piety without turning into a longwinded diatribe. In short: one really only finds freedom (spiritual or not) at a price. 

It is a graceful film (known in France as Les anges du péché) one that is gripping in its solid minimal trappings. The differences between Faure and Holt don't end up being that different when it comes to that final sea of hands in clarity. This conflict of wills starts with Faure in that initial battle of belonging to a certain type of order that is not as easy to pin down as it seems. This powder keg of trying to live up to the form of virtuousness is not nearly as easy to pin as it looks. The 86-minute runtime is efficient in lending satisfactory judgement to look upon oneself for what spiritual pursuit can see itself unfold as they are meant to go. Holt is the sharp instrument of where things really lie in the clash of spiritual chase and biting hardness. Even nuns have their own collection of faults for others to potentially use against them, and it happens that, well, Faure's character is merely someone trying to find that calling as opposed to just being another well-off young lady. It takes plenty to answer a call of service and contemplation in the eyes of a higher power to be in a convent with other nuns, and the film gazes upon just what lies beneath the labels one can put on either of them (take a gaze upon how much time is spent away from the convent, particularly with Holt). You've got a nun early on talking about how they haven't seen themselves in a mirror in years right after they try cribbing a mirror from someone fresh to the convent, and it goes on from there for a film where people stand to the world ready to hear their flaws addressed. The film is haunting in its stark and sparse nature that shows a director ready to communicate with us involving the soul right from his very first feature film with no hesitation.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

I hope you folks enjoyed the second edition of New Directors Month in January. I wanted to balance the American and world cinema selections as closely as possible. There were a handful of finalists in films & new directors in the 10-review month that missed the cut, some of which were the following: The Spine of Night [Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King], New Women [Cai Chusheng], The Green Knight [David Lowery].

There may yet be a place to spotlight these films this year or whenever it seems appropriate. As always, suggestions are welcome. To put it bluntly, I believe Movie Night needs a reset to not suffer from burnout. As such, there won't be any reviews for the first week of February. 

Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto.

Review #2173: Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto. 

Cast: 

Toshiro Mifune (Miyamoto Musashi a.k.a. Takezo), Rentarō Mikuni (Honiden Matahachi), Kuroemon Onoe (priest Takuan Sōhō), Kaoru Yachigusa (Otsu), Mariko Okada (Akemi), Mitsuko Mito (Oko), Eiko Miyoshi (Osugi), Akihiko Hirata (Seijuro Yoshioka), Kusuo Abe (Temma Tsujikaze), and Eitaro Ozawa (Terumasa Ikeda) Directed by Hiroshi Inagaki.

Review: 

The career director is a respectable one, identifiable pattern of direction or not. Hiroshi Inagaki directed over eighty films from a span of 1928 to 1972. He was the son of a shinpa actor (i.e. a modern form of Japanese theater) that became an actor himself with the Nikkatsu studio. He had aspirations of directing and did so with Chiezō Productions and then Kikkatsu. In 1935, the first part of a serial, as written by Eiji Yoshikawa, was released in the newspaper Asahi Shimbun. Musashi: An Epic Novel of the Samurai Era eventually finished in 1939 with a novel release and translation following decades later. It detailed the exploits (fictionized) of swordsman Miyamoto Musashi, a legend who lived from 1584 to 1645 in Japan. It made ideal sense to make a film about Musashi, because, well, there have been dozens of them, with Inagaki having done a serial in 1941 about him to go with directors such as Kenji Mizoguchi and Daisuke Ito doing their own films during the same era. Inagaki made Conclusion of Kojiro Sasaki: Duel at Ganryu Island [Kanketsu Sasaki Kojirô: Ganryû-jima ketto] (1951), which had Mifune play Musashi. At any rate, this is a film belonging to a genre labelled the "jidaigeki", or more specifically, a period drama, with this being set around the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600. This was released by Toho in September of 1954, which was behind countless films that would be considered classics that included Seven Samurai (released in April, which also had Mifune) and Godzilla (October). It was this one that was awarded an Honorary Academy Award among the international films, the last "Honorary" award before a formal category was created. Inagaki did further jidaigeki films such as the epic Chūshingura: Hana no Maki, Yuki no Maki (1962) prior to his death in 1980 at the age of 74.

Two further films followed with Inagaki as director among a cast led by Mifune (who appeared in twenty (!) films directed by Inagaki): Samurai II: Duel at Ichijoji Temple (1955) and Samurai III: Duel at Ganryu Island (1956). The pursuit of spiritual wisdom makes for an interesting start with this film, which makes for a worthy folk tale where fact and fiction do not entirely matter when it comes to an entrancing presence and the promise for more. One loves those period dramas that give time to build on the desire to see people use swords in graceful execution. The 93 minutes is handled in two ways: building the legend that must rise from low beginnings (a battle that sees a quest for glory turn to being a fugitive) to the realization of the ways that come in a samurai. In short: it isn't all talk or all about finding where to put the sword in someone's gut. Mifune is at the heart of it all in ways that come in appreciating how he puts his energy into the role that encompasses all of the impulse and rawness that comes in a person wracked in having to figure out who they really are. Sure, Seven Samurai may have been the big Mifune spotlight film of that year (where he played a would-be samurai), but this is just as interesting to watch him in raptured roughness, whether that involves women (such as trying to not cling on Yachigusa) or hanging from a rope. One can only be on the road so much before either stumbling onto enlightenment of some kind of crashing into the end of a sword (literal or not), you might say. Filmed in Eastman Color, you can't beat a film that looks the way it does in showing the landscape of a time long ago with a workman spirit that likes a good legend for the public to see play out for more than just one time, where one really will return without hesitation.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next: Robert Bresson's Angels of Sin.

The War of the Worlds (1953).

Review #2172: The War of the Worlds.

Cast: 

Gene Barry (Doctor Clayton Forrester), Ann Robinson (Sylvia van Buren), Les Tremayne (Major General Mann), Bob Cornthwaite (Doctor Pryor), Sandro Giglio (Doctor Bilderbeck), Lewis Martin (The Reverend Doctor Matthew Collins), Housely Stevenson Jr (General Mann's aide), Bill Phipps (Wash Perry), Vernon Rich (Colonel Ralph Heffner), Henry Brandon (Cop at crash), Jack Kruschen (Salvatore), with Paul Frees (Radio reporter/pre-titles narrator) and Cedric Hardwicke (post-titles narrator) Directed by Byron Haskin.

Review: 

Oh hell, this one was on my mind for quite some time. It is one of those films you either were in the right age as a youth watching alien invasion movies as a kid or one that missed your outlook because the 2005 version of The War of the Worlds was fresher in your mind (in my memory, my parents took 8-year-old me to the theater to watch it and I fell asleep after about 20 minutes). People even older or perhaps a fan of greater history involving a certain director/performer know the 1938 radio play of the book just as well. Luckily, with a month dedicated to "New Directors", this was the perfect time to highlight Byron Haskin. Born in Portland but raised in San Francisco, he was a director and an effects man in his time after service in the Naval Reserve Force in World War I. He served as a cinematographer and effects man in the silent age (with a few directing jobs for 1927 before a decade-long break), which saw him eventually rise to special effects head of Warner Bros. by 1937. His department were given an Academy Award for Technical Achievement with the rear-projection system they came up with for photographing effects. He returned to directing with uncredited work for the morale booster Action in the North Atlantic (1943) before a proper return with the thriller I Walk Alone (1947), the first film to pair Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas together. It was Haskin who was hired to direct the first complete live-action Disney production with Treasure Island (made in 1950 as also the first adaptation of the book in color). Haskin worked with producer George Pal on three further films after this one: The Naked Jungle (1954), Conquest of Space (1955), and The Power (1968), with the latter being Haskin's last as a director prior to his death in 1984 at the age of 84. As for Pal, the Hungarian emigrant had been known in the 1940s for his work on animated short subjects ("Puppetoons", as they were) that saw him nominated for Academy Awards seven straight years). His first feature production was The Great Rupert (1950), which involved stop-motion animation for a squirrel. This was done in tandem with Destination Moon (1950), one of the first big movies about space travel in the Space Age. Other sci-fi productions of his included When Worlds Collide (1951) and films such as this, which cost $2 million. 

The screenplay was done by Barré Lyndon, as done through conversations had with Haskin, Pal, and Frank Freeman Jr (associate producer); it was Pal and Haskin who tasked themselves to not show a scene from the POV of the Martians, no matter what the studio asked. The film is based on 1898 novel of the same name as written by H. G. Wells, which, well, was obviously going to be a distinct story that the film makes modifications to, considering its setting in London (in the Victorian age) with fast moving tripods that were 10 stories tall. Paramount Pictures had the rights to the book since the 1920s (as suggested by Cecil B. DeMille, once tapped for an adaptation), which is how this is the first adaptation of the book Albert Nozaki helped design the war machines of the Martians (as shaped from manta rays), which is made even better with all the matte paintings used to get the disintegration effects (in total for effects, it took over half a year to finish). Haskin worked in "close collaboration" with the sketches that came for the effects that had been done by Nozaki with supervision by art director Hal Pereia. So good was the effects that it was awarded a Special Achievement Award by the Academy Awards (the third time that a Pal production had been awarded in that regard). Of course, for a long time one could only see the film with color stock that made the wires holding the alien creatures visible. It is a captivating film worth the 85 minutes, as I expected. Hardwicke delivers a resounding narration for what leads to the idea of Martians choosing Earth to invade over other planets. It is efficient in establishing suspense with worthwhile adventure due to the quality of the action presented within its effects and suitable characterization to deliver its endpoint (of all the modifications made, the climax of book and film are not too different, go figure). Barry (in his second film role after years on Broadway and television, where he is best known) is at the head of the acting to deal with said effects (remember that one is acting here to effects that won't be there at the time of filming), which he does as the most curious of the bunch to worthy patience that carries his weight to drive the film forward. The terror in seeing Los Angeles run amok in terror is carried by effects for a good chunk of well-executed suspense, but Barry and his desperation to maintain some sort of order is key to that as well. Robinson does reasonably well in the attempts to wind and unwind at the hands of terror, which gets handled with that last couple of sequences involving sanctuary (strangely enough, she was the one returning actor in the syndication series in 1988, which had been planned by Pal prior to his death). I like Martin and the buildup before that last sequence he is to accentuate just how much terror is presented with the creatures (well, aside from the scene before it that cuts right at the ideal time). Tremayne and others deliver the lean and ready exposition required where there are no false notes or bland bluster for what an effects-driven capsule of entertainment it is in the long run. The probe effect is wonderful to look upon, particularly since the film doesn't show much of the overall alien anyway. There was a sea of sci-fi movies with either a big effect involving ships or suits, but one thing that cannot be denied is that The War of the Worlds was near the top of its game at the time of release and even still now for those interested in neatly executed spectacle. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Hiroshi Inagaki's Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto.

Canadian Bacon.

Review #2171: Canadian Bacon.

Cast: 

Alan Alda (The President of the United States), John Candy (Bud B. Boomer), Bill Nunn (Kabral Jabar), Kevin J. O'Connor (Roy Boy), Rhea Perlman (Honey), Kevin Pollak (Stuart Smiley), G. D. Spradlin (R.J. Hacker), Rip Torn (General Dick Panzer), and Steven Wright (Niagara Mountie) Written and Directed by Michael Moore.

Review: 

"I made a film for people like me. People who live in Flint, Michigan or Hamilton, Ontario or Sarnia ... another critic said this is the first left-wing film for the mall crowd ... I consider that a compliment. I wanted to present this hybrid of satire and farce with a mix of politics to get people thinking about a particular issue, in this case, why are Americans led like lemmings to war?"

Michael Moore probably doesn't need much introduction, but maybe my reasoning to select this film does. Simply put, this is a film that became an oddity in his career of over thirty years: a feature film with a narrative. Moore was born in Davison, Michigan, a suburb of Flint in 1954. Not many people can say they went from being elected to the school board as an 18-year-old to becoming a director. Granted, the road to being a director had stops along the way, as he had run his own alternative newspaper for several years before a stint at the magazine Mother Jones, which saw him fired as editor. That loss of his job saw him move back to Flint, where seeing the decline of the city because of layoffs from General Motors (as run by Roger Smith at the time) made him want to film a documentary. After years of funding and production, Roger & Me was release in 1989 that was quite the sensation. A choice vote (i.e. no vote) at the Sundance Film Festival in 1991 in regard to the beginning of Operation Desert Storm gave Moore an idea to fester on. The next film Moore did was a short, called Pets or Meat: The Return to Flint in 1992, which, well, raising pets as snake food. He also did television around this time with TV Nation, a satirical news magazine show that was broadcast for two seasons. Anyway, back to the feature film. As mentioned, the idea of a President gaining public support for war against an enemy such as, well Canada, got Moore onto production with Propaganda Films (irony?) in 1993, which was shot on both sides of the USA-Canada border (such as Buffalo, Hamilton, and Toronto). Right before reshoots were to be done, John Candy, who supported Moore every step of the way, died on March 4, 1994. Moore and Propaganda did not get along well for the reshoots (where because of Candy's death meant a handful of scenes were then shot to focus on others), and perhaps his personality does not rub well with certain folks. Haskell Wexler, who shot the film, described Moore as one with "the aw-shucks homespun character that Moore portrays is a complete falsification." The resulting film, released in 1995 on a budget of $11 million, was seen by very few audiences. Moore moved on, doing a book tour and further documentaries (nine as of 2024) across the social, political, and economic topics that interest him, to varying levels of interest.

Honestly, all of that curiosity kind of goes out the window with the result played here. By god, it is so close to being good. It was probably never going to escape that inevitable comparison of Dr. Strangelove, although it at least predates certain films that touch some of the ideas presented here, such as Wag the Dog, another film about a President using the idea of invasion to attract public attention (of course, that was loosely based on a 1993 satirical conspiracy novel). But all that comes through in a sparse 90-minute movie is the thought that this just doesn't click for great laughs. My god! You have Torn and Spradlin (the former is one of Movie Night's favorite people to see on screen) as supporting players for a mediocre lead in Alda and a middling diversion in the quartet of Candy, Perlman, O'Connor and Nunn. You want to like them, and you want to have something to laugh at in those broad jokes (get it? saying beer sucks makes Canadians fight? eh?), but you just get sitcom stuff. Like, heh, sometimes it is funny, but never to a big level for that first hour. The irony of having a handful of recognizable faces is that this is the first film I've seen with Alda (known mostly for M*A*S*H, but I recognize him from The Blacklist [!]) as a lead. He may be playing a "Clintonite". but man is it really not that funny. It begs for something broad, I almost wish Torn was playing the role, because he sweeps the rug right from both Alda and Pollak (mildly funny) in craven fun. Most of the people just don't seem to have that much fun here, where even cameos by Dan Aykroyd and Jim Belushi just make me wonder what brought them on to do listless cameos (eh? get it? public apologies and having people write Canadian slander in English and French?). One really does wonder just what would have been if Candy had been there for the whole production cycle (he died during production of Wagons East (1994), which apparently was worse). The film just can't strike hard for those looking for broad laughs and it can't really gel well as any grand satire because it just doesn't have the chops to really stick a definitive landing, particularly with its third act. It just feels like a collection of sketches run amok. The jokes are just mild and not very entertaining for a whole film, particularly since the ending doesn't even find anything riotous to say about warmongering or in amusement that hadn't been done in better things. Political firebrand or not, Moore just made a movie that wasn't even worth tearing to shreds or defending to death. A six-star rating out of 10 is sadly appropriate here.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Byron Haskin and H.G. Wells' The War of the Worlds (1953).

The Hunger Games.

Review #2170: The Hunger Games.

Cast: 

Jennifer Lawrence (Katniss Everdeen), Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark), Liam Hemsworth (Gale Hawthorne), Woody Harrelson (Haymitch Abernathy), Elizabeth Banks (Effie Trinket), Lenny Kravitz (Cinna), Stanley Tucci (Caesar Flickerman), Donald Sutherland (President Coriolanus Snow), Wes Bentley (Seneca Crane), Toby Jones (Claudius Templesmith), Alexander Ludwig (Cato), Isabelle Fuhrman (Clove), Amandla Stenberg (Rue), and Jacqueline Emerson (Foxface) Directed by Gary Ross.

Review: 

"There were so many conversations with Suzanne that it’s hard to narrow down to a single thing. One thing I found fascinating was how steeped she was in Roman history and how much of this came from the Roman arena and how she was informed by that. She was exploring how a culture devolves into spectacle and Rome was her starting point. I found that really interesting."

Sure, franchises do leave a tight space for directors to make their presence known. But some are different from others, as with the case for the first film of what became a four-film franchise, with this first one being directed by Gary Ross. Ross had studied at Penn University with a major in English, where he became active in student theater. He was interested in writing as a career for a long time, but he became interested in being a director during this time, which included dropping out of Penn after three years in 1977. He soon became a consultant with speechwriting in two different presidential campaigns. In 1988, he and Anne Spielberg (his neighbor) wrote the screenplay for what became Big, which resulted in an Academy Award nomination. His first script as a primary writer was Dave in 1993 (which resulted in a second Oscar nomination). A couple of script collaborations later, his first film as a director was Pleasantville in 1998, which was followed by Seabiscuit (2003). Ross was attracted to the idea of doing a film of the Hunger Games book because his children liked it, which led him to read it quickly. Ross ended up not doing any of the subsequent Hunger Games films (released in 2013, 2014, 2015) due to the tough schedule that resulted in directing and writing, with him doing the latter with Suzanne Collins and Billy Ray; Francis Lawrence did the latter three films.

I do remember reading the trilogy of books (released in 2008, 2009, and 2010) when I was in 8th/9th grade, but for whatever reason, it never really dawned on me to actually see the films, even as a teenager. I do vaguely remember the first-person perspective of the books from its lead character of Katniss, even if the gore of that first book is toned down here to fit a PG-13 rating (remember that 24 teenagers walk in only to see all but the "lucky" get mowed down). Televised games of people kicking ass is as old as The Running Man, or Battle Royale, or wrestling, complete with narratives to go with the whole thing. The procession of 142 minutes makes for a decent if not somewhat lengthy experience in trying to stand out as a potential "franchise for the youths". The result is fine, but I find myself wondering if there is something lacking in a film that maneuvers a majority of the beats required in action and decadence. It shakes (literally) and moves on the strength of Lawrence. Only the best can make such a selfless action hero that was once described as a "futuristic Theseus" work the way she does in worthy timing. You can see the ideas of hope in this one person that is driven to survive not just for themselves but for others (such as the similar dynamics that come between Katniss / her sister and Katniss / Rue). That realization of hero-to-symbol is especially helped when seeing her with Hutcherson that eventually serves as more than just theatrics. One does see the cynical heart within Harrelson, even if it begs for more guilt than on the side, at least when compared to the plastic pomp of Banks or that soothing sinister nature of Sutherland that lurks in moments (apparently, he wrote a letter when expressing interest to be in the film) or the theatricality that comes with Tucci in doses. I'm not sure exactly how, but there is something lacking in the dreariness of the spectacle that hinders it from being more than just efficient. It isn't like the film bugs me on a "shaky cam" level or with its effects, that much is true. It yearns to be a striking film with the idea that people are watching youths killing each other for sport, but it only scratches the surface of that shock and awe. In short, it is efficient entertainment that sets a stage for looking further for what could lurk further within this rendition of bread and circuses when routine is thrown for a shock.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next up, wait, don't laugh: Michael Moore's Canadian Bacon.

Poor Cow.

Review #2169: Poor Cow.

Cast: 

Carol White (Joy), Terence Stamp (Dave Fuller), John Bindon (Tom), Queenie Watts (Aunt Emm), Kate Williams (Beryl), Billy Murray (Tom's mate), Ken Campbell (Mr Jacks), Tony Selby (Customer in Pub), and Anna Karen (Neighbour) Directed by Ken Loach.

Review: 

Really it shouldn't be a surprise to see another graduate of the dramatic arts reach film with "kitchen sink" dramas, and it seems oddly timely as Ken Loach apparently has released his last film as a director just a few months ago. Born in Nuneaton, Warwickshire (also just known as "The Midlands") in England to an electrician father and a hairdresser mother, Loach had ideas of going for law (but also having the itch to act) as a youth, even after being part of the Royal Air Force. He did so at Oxford University, where the itch to act grew into the realization to have a future in the theatre, complete with being a part of the "Experimental Theatre Club". Eventually, he made his way to directing for BBC Television, which involved a handful of plays for The Wednesday Play such as "Up the Junction" and Cathy Come Home" (each featuring Cathy White as the lead) is likely the most noted of those works. He had been inspired by his favorites of that time in the Czech New Wave and Italian Neorealism when it came to shaping his work, when it came to "people are just being, not performing" (that aforementioned play had a great deal of improvised scenes, such as the ending with select members of the public, for example). The film that became his first as a feature director was based on the novel of the same name by Nell Dunn (who had written the "Up the Junction" book and subsequent TV adaptation; she noted enjoying the lead character of this film years later). Loach and Dunn collaborated on the screenplay for the film. Loach's enjoyment of filming the previous play with White made it pretty easy to have her in the lead role for this film, which had a good deal of improvisation for filming (complete with using a handful of one takes). The film was a general hit, but his next effort with Kes in 1969 became his hallmark feature in a career that had highs and lows (distribution or not) in films and the occasional documentary that generally involved issues near and dear to him and his socialist leanings.

For the most part, this works out to a mostly solid trip with the drippings of social realism and lyrical nature that goes through the long and winding road of 101 minutes in the realm of wavering decisions made by people left to fend for themselves in a changing world. It strums along with occasional music from Donovan for that type of empathy that can only come from folks who know it is better to let the ride go through all the paths required for a decent experience that makes some irreverent observations. It is like a melody of malaise that is both time capsule and sticking point of the now for what works out most of the time in that one particular target of spinning drama, with White (who with performances such as this had a brief run in building a star) in the middle of it. One can only handle so much as a person that can only go where they can go as a woman on the lower rungs of the has-beens and never-weres (if she is the "poor cow", imagine the term one goes with for men that might as well be on the farm). She handles this wandering pursuit of things and other associated items (such as say, a growing child or drifting tastes for how other men feel) in that sense of passiveness and illusions, where the only idea of happiness comes with that spontaneous and confused whirlwind chemistry with Stamp (who isn't as nearly involved in the latter parts of the film by design). I particularly like that scene in bold faced realities where he is sharing snippets of a robbery job that he tried doing only to reveal just how deluded it got (a beating rather than a skirmish). By default, they are the most interesting presences, because life only gives you one or two people that perhaps might spring interest in the odd lives teetering in squalor, whether that involves the pathetic in enablers or abusers. It is a mess of a movie by design, which will result in varied interest from those who end up viewing it, for better or worse. At any rate, it was a useful first start for a career director in Loach who continued to strive for further films in his own way of naturalism and messaging that comes and goes to those who know where to look.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.
Next up: Gary Ross and The Hunger Games

Stone Cold (1991).

Review #2168: Stone Cold.

Cast: 

Brian Bosworth (Detective Joe Huff / John Stone), Lance Henriksen ("Chains" Cooper), William Forsythe ("Ice" Hensley), Arabella Holzbog (Nancy), Sam McMurray (FBI Agent Lance Dockery), Richard Gant (FBI Special Agent In Charge Frank Cunningham), David Tress (District Attorney Brent "The Whip" Whipperton), and Illana Diamant (Officer Sharon) Directed by Craig R. Baxley.

Review: 

Okay, some "new directors" are for the curiosity. I had first heard "Brian Bosworth starring in a movie" and thought, hey, maybe I should consider it for Turkey Week (November 2022). It did not come to pass, but I struggled to find a way to talk about this, because such a goofy title and, uh, a former football star being paired with Lance Henriksen seemed ripe someday. This is currently the last feature film directed by Craig R. Baxley, as he has since directed a long list of television movies and a few miniseries (including multiple based on Stephen King works). Imagine going from Action Jackson (1988) and I Come in Peace (1990) to steady work on television...yes, I can't fathom that. Actually, Baxley had come from the world of stuntmen, eventually rising to positions as second unit director and stunt coordinator before breaking in as a director for stuff such as The A-Team. Bruce Malmuth (probably best known for Hard to Kill [1990]) was the original director intended for the film, and he had done a bit of filming before "personal issues that he couldn't control which poured out on set" led to him being replaced by Baxley. Four weeks had been spent filming with the main character having a family before that firing led to a portrayal instead of a loner (as quoted by Bosworth later, Baxley reportedly had said he was "hired to blow shit up and kill a lot of people"), because Malmuth's footage evidently was not useable. I would like to point out that Michael Douglas served as producer (uncredited). The film was written with Bosworth in mind by Walter Doniger, who actually graduated from Harvard is business before having his first profession being as a scriptwriter with Universal Films that eventually led to directing on occasion. His various scripts or direction included various things such as Duffy of San Quentin (1954) or the TV soap opera Peyton Place. The script was his last as a writer before his death in 2011 at the age of 94. The film was a bomb with audiences, but it has a small following, at least one that can be appreciated by say, a drafthouse screening.

This is the most noted film that featured Bosworth, who has appeared from time to time in direct-to-video fare (such as the Revelation Road trilogy) or guest roles. He was mulling on what he was going to do with himself now that his football career had unexpectedly ended at the age of 24. He apparently never considered himself an actor. His son even pointed out the, uh, interesting decisions made to make an action hero out of someone who doesn't really save that many people, and at one point, gets a motorcycle launched into a helicopter. Believe it or not, it was better than I expected. It was designed as a slam-bang action boiler that wanted to promote the physicality of a "name person" more than name actor that would basically put it probably a notch behind in the expectation levels one would have for a Steven Seagal film. Gratuitous and preposterous but never banging a false note, it is the sweet spot of average times for those who desire a film to see on a silly day besides just putting on The Wild Angels (1966). Henriksen was not keen on the original script for the character, because apparently all of his dialogue was cribbed from the Bible. He then went with doing all of his dialogue instead and also brought in outlaw bikers to serve as extras. I admire the dedication for an over-the-top role that is on point for what the film is selling: ridiculous but never boring (and Movie Night likes Henriksen anyway). Bosworth gets to do a few silly stunts like the opening (robbery at a convenience store? not if hiding man has something to say) and play the biker stuff to the routines you expect anyway. Forsythe seems game already to do any wild thing you ask in the name of acting, so having him being grim and gnarly is on point before that amusing endpoint chase. It is a highly combustible film with all the trappings of what should've been a small hit but instead got buried away. A handful of films like this is far more interesting than just going for direct-to-video fare, I imagine. Could it have been a movie about outlaw biker culture? Sure, but the result of striving for action straight on the line is an enjoyable piece of over-the-top filmmaking that delivers exactly on the expectations laid upon it anyway. Maybe Baxley wasn't destined to be a regular feature filmmaker for very long, but he sure looked like he had fun doing it, which sounds about right. Never a great film but always trying to be entertaining, it's a worthwhile pleasure to encounter.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next: Ken Loach's Poor Cow.

Audition (1999).

Review #2167: Audition.

Cast: 

Eihi Shiina (Asami Yamazaki), Ryo Ishibashi (Shigeharu Aoyama), Jun Kunimura (Yasuhisa Yoshikawa), Tetsu Sawaki (Shigehiko Aoyama), Miyuki Matsuda (Ryoko Aoyama), Toshie Negishi (Rie), Shigeru Saiki (Toastmaster), Ken Mitsuishi (Director), Ren Ohsugi (Shimada), and Renji Ishibashi (Old man in wheelchair) Directed by Takashi Miike.

Review: 

“The life of a movie director is a strange one. What one has done in the past determines the future. And I’m grateful to fans who enjoy my genre films. But I try to focus on the things that I like in the present. I like new ventures There could be disappointments for fans. I like to be diverse. And I’ll keep on being diverse in the future.”

Admittedly, there was no real debate about picking Takashi Miike or not when it came to looking for further faces of directorial vision. Born in the Yao in the Osaka Prefecture of Japan to a welder and a seamstress, Miike had a clear interest in film from a young age. He graduated from the Yokohama Vocational School of Broadcast and Film (as taught by Shohei Imamura) and worked in film crews before becoming a filmmaker in 1991, which started with a variety of television and direct-to-video work. His early work in features for audiences would be films such as Shinjuku Triad Society (1995), which he labeled as the first of a "Black Society trilogy" involving triads and the yakuza. Of course, Audition, which premiered on the festival circuit beginning in late 1999, became one of his more noted films abroad. His further films over the years have had their varying levels of attention. Ichi the Killer (2001) had a publicity gimmick handing out barf bags on the festival circuit with a resulting "controversy" about the gore, while his samurai film 13 Assassins (2010) was apparently a really well-regarded remake of the 1963 film of the same name, and he has continued with television from time to time such as Connect just two years ago. One particular influence that Miike inspired in his filmography of roughly 100 films was with Eli Roth, as Audition had Roth say "This is where horror's at. This is what I wanna do", with his 2005 film Hostel even having Miike make a cameo appearance. 

The screenplay for the film was done by Daisuke Tenga based on the book of the same name by Ryu Murakami (published in 1997 but only translated in English in 2009). The idea for making the film came by the company Omega Project, who had previously made money with Ring (1998). This film was shot in three weeks. Evidently, the film received attention for something about feminism or its climax when it comes to, well, being one to not miss. A festival screening apparently saw one person say, "You are sick!" during the Q&A session afterwards while another screening saw someone pass out. It is a slow burn of a film for 113 minutes that plays with the audience in its operation of manners that in a different light could have been mistaken for a Hitchcock inspiration that got veered into the realm of Cronenberg. Going into the film with as little surprise as possible is the best way to watch it, because it rules to not be prepared for what goes on for a film that builds the dynamic between Shiina and Ishibashi to interesting degrees of expectations meeting reality. The promotions for the film (such as that film poster) didn't exactly make it a complete surprise what you would see with it (which, again, was based on a book people had to have known), but Miike obviously has a passion for Murakami's writing. In fact, he apparently wanted to do a film based on Murakami's 1980 book Coin Locker Babies but couldn't find the funding. The film is all about the nature of where truth meets lies, because it all starts with a son that truthfully thinks his father looks tired and needs a wife. Ishibashi makes this pursuit as captivating as possible, one who makes the idea count that one really can get swept away by a woman with little more than a few phrases and seeing them "audition". The idea is amusing and perhaps a bit pathetic when you look at it under the surface to vie for the affection of a woman under the guise of a lie, and yet there is something that makes you at least see why he would go forward with the ruse as played with Kunimura, who takes it as seriously as part-casting, part-wife scouting. Of course, Shiina (fashion model-turned-actress) is the other key force, selling the dynamic with that righteous sense of timing who is unnervingly graceful. The sequences involving the audition in general make the film where it is for foundation of assumptions in society. No one is who they seem (whether in how they are as shaped by their experiences, trauma or not), which make the ultimate outcome all the more harrowing to see play out. The climax is excellent in taking those assumptions and leveling them into the ground, right down to its final shot in terms of shattered illusions. In conclusion, I really appreciated this film. It builds the degrees of elegance and tension in a manner that can't be appreciated in full unless one sees it all the way through for itself. If watching new directors to start a year for the last few years has taught me anything, one finds some of those directors are really worth looking into on a more regular basis, and Miike may just be one of those examples more than anything. It's a damn good horror film you just have to enter with as little illusions built as possible, and you can take my word for it on that being true.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Craig R. Baxley's Stone Cold (1991).

The Iron Claw.

Review #2166: The Iron Claw.

Cast: 

Zac Efron (Kevin Von Erich), Jeremy Allen White (Kerry Von Erich), Harris Dickinson (David Von Erich), Maura Tierney (Doris Von Erich), Stanley Simons (Mike Von Erich), Holt McCallany (Fritz Von Erich), Lily James (Pam Adkisson), and Michael J. Harney (Bill Mercer) Written and Directed by Sean Durkin.

Review: 

“These big wrestlers are in the ring performing acts of extreme emotion—pain, glory, injustice. But then they go back behind the curtain and have to follow these old-school ideas of male toughness—keeping their emotions inside, not talking about mental health, and not dealing with how depressing it is to spend 300 nights a year on the road. That was the real curse. I think the reason Kevin survived and was able to start again was because of his access to his emotions. He speaks so beautifully about his pain and is so unafraid to talk about it." - Sean Durkin, 2023

"I wouldn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. What am I doing today? I watch Ross play football; my kids call and tell me they love me; my investments do well. I have a good life, and I’m planning on having a lot more. When people say, ‘How do you do it?’ the answer is pretty simple, really. If you don’t have any choice, then it’s easy to deal with. What else are you going to do? Just drop dead and sink into the ground like rain?” - Kevin Von Erich, 2005

Admittedly, film and life can be pretty interesting in those things (big or not as big) that can't quite make it in the telling. For one thing, Fritz Von Erich had the name he played in the ring come two ways: Stu Hart (famed promoter in the business) came up with it to play with the heel gimmick of a Nazi (Fritz, really named Jack Adkisson, had a mother with a maiden name of Erich), which he utilized for a good chunk of the 1950s (before eventually going lighter). This gimmick saw him paired with Walter Sieber, who went by "Waldo Von Erich" and would fight for a variety of years, most notably with the Worldwide Wrestling Federation. Fritz had six sons: Jack Jr, Kevin, David, Kerry, Mike, and Chris, for which three died by suicide and two died suddenly (one from drowning after electrocution and the other by dubious circumstances). Fritz himself died of brain cancer at the age of 68 in 1997, five years after he went through divorce (apparently, before his death, he even put a gun up to his son Kevin). Von Erich and Durkin had an open dialogue about the project, although that did not extend to the script written by Durkin, which excised Chris (who had suffered from asthma as a child that left him at 5'4 and had tried to make it as a wrestler for years before his suicide). I would like to mention that not only did Kerry win the world heavyweight championship in the first held "Von Erich Memorial Parade of Champions", the promotion of having a memorial parade named after the Von Erichs went for five straight years. And yes, Kerry did in fact wrestle after he lost his right foot (while telling little about the prosthetic he wore under a boot in the ring); the details of his trouble with the law, particularly the chance of being sent to jail for violation of probation right before his death, is not addressed in the film nor are his children. While Durkin was nervous about showing the final film to him and telling him about what it would and wouldn't show, Von Erich was fine with it, calling it a vision where "you don't want the film to be about grief". Almost lost in this is Durkin, who spent several years in developing the film, which is his third feature effort. The Canadian lived in both England and America as a youth before studying film at New York University.

Wrestling isn't exactly something I watch or think about on a daily basis, but I do have the occasional memory in childhood of viewing it...because my parents were pretty interested in viewing WWE stuff from time to time (one particular theme sticks out). Of course, before WWE became the big thing among things in wrestling beyond regions, promotions such as World Class Championship Wrestling made their mark, and it surprised me that I did not know about this North Texas mainstay before. That blend of theatricality rolling with physicality has driven crowds for over a century (in fact, there are newspaper articles in multiple decades that show perceptions of people who view it knowing what professional wrestling "really is": they don't care). Technically speaking, watching a film involving professional wrestling is watching actors act as wrestlers who are acting out moves for an audience (where the champs are usually ones that have played themselves to the crowd well enough, such as on the mic that is demonstrated in the film). The result is a fascinating film that far from being about curses is really the tragedy of a family ripped apart from the inside. The irony is in the fact that the sons are so dedicated to the belief by their dad in that if they are the "toughest, strongest, and most successful" that nothing can hurt them, that they end up being the one to end themselves. Wrestling is a tough venture for any one person, but the toil of trying to live up to the image that is presented to the public, particularly in an infused era of mania of the old days (drugs or otherwise) is just as tough. One could argue just how much tragedy one should and could see in a film (one that is a film as opposed to say, Vice's documentary series Dark Side of the Ring). Or wonder about the portrayal of say, Ric Flair, but that is its own can of worms. Efron is the heart of the film because beyond the physicality that is shown from time to time is a sense of a man who really has to learn to grow beyond the predisposed ideas that made him who he was in growing up. Yes, the real Von Erich would wrestle on and off until his final match in 2017, but one detects both the screen and real Von Erich had the courage to go on tĥeir path without being swept in denial. Efron finds the footing best in showing that beneath the pain of theatrics in the ring and the pain outside of it is a man in dignity. It is composed pain that does not ring false in the chemistry required with James (the only main presence beside the Von Erichs, whose best scene may be their date that has her communicate her interest in him to seemingly his surprise) to show that in the end it is not merely enough to just be physically tough because one doesn't have to do it alone. The on-screen chemistry (in the facets that come in wrestling, drug use, etc.) of the siblings in Efron-White-Dickinson is worthwhile in the devotion that is seen between them that makes for such tremendous tragedy when the roots start to wither. Undoubtedly, McCallany and Tierney play the support of a family with the illusion of strong faith with useful tenor of hard-driving hubris (particularly from McCallany). I feel that the film really could have made for an even better miniseries than a film, because the muddling in the timeline (i.e. what happens in biopic a chunk of the time) does make the execution for the end a bit strange; the two sequences to counter each other in brothers being together is certainly a choice to see play out. As a whole, it is a pretty good effort in the ways that matter most, headlined by Efron in particular, that make for a worthwhile modern tragedy of illusions and reality coming to hit one another like wrestlers in the ring.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Takashi Miike's Audition.

Metropolis (2001).

Review #2165: Metropolis (2001).

Cast: 

Yuka Imoto (Tima), Kei Kobayashi (Kenichi), Kôki Okada (Rock), Tarô Ishida (Duke Red), Kôsei Tomita (Hige-Oyaji), Norio Wakamoto (Pero), Junpei Takiguchi (Dr. Laughton), Takeshi Aono (Ponkotz), Masaru Ikeda (President Boon), Shun Yashiro (Notarlin), Toshio Furukawa (Skunk), and Shigeru Chiba (Lamp) Directed by Rintaro.

Review: 

"When I created the images for the futuristic city in Metropolis, in my mind I imagined Manhattan. So hopefully American audiences will feel a little bit closer to, or at least familiar with, the imagery, and through that they can grasp the underlying theme of the film, which is basically how humanity can be improved and how we can advance by living with different sorts of creatures. In this film, it's basically living together with robots and human beings. There will be a time that will come when those two different entities have to live together. If the audience can feel that, then I've done my job."

In 1949, the manga Metropolis (referred to as メトロポリス or Metoroporisu) was released, the second of an epic trilogy of sci-fi manga. Written by Osamu Tezuka, he apparently got the inspiration from seeing a still image from the 1927 film of the same name, as directed by Fritz Lang. Tezuka later became known as "the God of Manga" because of his innovative techniques in manga, with notable examples such as Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion, before his death in 1989 at the age of 60. During his lifetime, he apparently did not wish for Metropolis to become an anime (as stated by Rintaro during an interview in 2001). At any rate, who better to be involved with an adaptation of a Tezuka work than Rintaro? Born Shigeyuki Hayashi in Tokyo, his interests were pretty clear as a kid: films (ones in his country or ones internationally shown such as The Stone Flower) and manga, with Tezuka being the clear one. He learned the basics of animation in an ad conpany that went bankrupt in short manner, but he heard about Toei looking for help on a film they were doing, and he wrote an enthusiastic letter to them. At any rate, his first job came as a teenager as in-between animator on Toei's debut feature in The White Snake Enchantress (released in 1958 that later became one of the first anime films to get an American release). He wanted to be a director from the start, because not only must one "understand the entirety of animation jobs", he felt the animators were the real stars of that medium. His first directing job came with the Astro Boy anime (as originally aired from 1963-1966). In 1979, he directed his first theatrical film with Galaxy Express 999. At 82, he just released an anikated short last year. The manga and film are distinct from each other, perhaps not surprisingly. Far be it from me to illustrate the differences of a manga that I've never read and this film when better sources can detail it accurately. The film is more of a synthesis of parts from the manga and the aforementioned Lang film, which Rintaro stated was one of his favorites. The manga's key robot that one that could fly, change their sex, and didn't have a belly button, and, well the Lang film had an ulterior motive in its "Maschinenmensch". The story of "The Tower of Babel" is mentioned in both Metropolis films. Most notably, the screenplay for the 2001 film was written by Katsuhiro Otomo, who you may remember had made Akira (1988), the anime film adaptation of his then-running manga. He had been involved in character design for Rintaro's Harmagedon: Genma Wars (1982), which had helped convince him that he really could do this by himself (i.e. not just having the interest/ambitions on maybe being involved in films), and it was Rintaro who had approached him about the project specifically because he wanted to try new things with that film.

The intent by Rintaro was to "communicate Tezuka's spirit" with a film that apparently took five years to make. Hand-drawn animation is used alongside those moments of computer animation. Those moments with CG were then subjected to what Rintaro called "detachment" in which the animators then hand-drew over. The result is a curious cohesion of various moods that make for a strange experience to wander into. It is one thing above all: a beautiful film to look and listen to. One does get that feeling of a sprawling spectacle of city with its own levels of living beyond just pretty buildings and wide-eyed folks. Beyond the imagery of humans and robots is the idea of pushing coexistence above all else, where it isn't just enough to have cutting-edge technology if you've still got people mired under the boot of people with nothing better to do than exploit them like puppets, where in turn you see robots getting beaten to pulp if they happen to be in the wrong designated places (the most striking one is undoubtedly the first one to view, right there in the first few minutes agyer showing what the city looks like). Technology can be convenient and helpful to us, but it could also make for a potentially destructive force in the wrong hands, which all sounds like a familiar fable, but the journey to get there is worthwhile moreso than the acting to get there. Oh sure, the voices are serviceable to the journey, but it is the general mood and vision that comes with an imagined idea of super-sprawl in old times that dominate more than anything. Destruction in terms of hubris and misplaced sense of savior status is right there for the taking here. Okada and Ishida do make dependable adversaries, each trying to grapple with what really seems to matter in enforcing vision that leads to probably the most interesting use of song to cap a scene in quite a while. Imoto and Kobayashi make a useful bond in that general sense of identity and the inevitable, but one does get a sense that 113 minutes is just about the point where it makes sense to see the film wrap up. The curiosity over its effects and some of its ideas as a robo-fable work better the less you try to guess where it goes. It's a pretty good film, maybe not being the one you go right to first for anime recommendations but one to go when trying to branch out in vision. It makes for a useful tribute to the work of Tezuka in that sense of amazement for a solid experience.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

We're back. For the third year in a row, January starts with a collection of reviews of directors not previously featured on Movie Night. Last January had eighteen additions to the list of over 900 directors featured. This is the first of the fourteen seasons to start with an animated film, because why not? Next up, Sean Durkin's The Iron Claw.

Signs.

Review #2164: Signs.

Cast: 

Mel Gibson (Father Graham Hess), Joaquin Phoenix (Merrill Hess), Rory Culkin (Morgan Hess), Abigail Breslin (Bo Hess), Cherry Jones (Caroline Paski), M. Night Shyamalan (Ray Reddy), Patricia Kalember (Colleen Hess), Ted Sutton (SFC Cunningham), Merritt Wever (Tracey Abernathy), Lanny Flaherty (Carl Nathan), Marion McCorry (Mrs. Nathan), and Michael Showalter (Lionel Prichard) Written and Directed by M. Night Shyamalan (#039 - The Sixth Sense, #902 - Split, #1183 - Unbreakable, #1184 - Glass)

Review: 

 “I want to make a movie that is just joyous, and doesn’t have that lens of burden on it.” It can have a lot of conflict in it, but the voice, the angle, I wanted it to be inspired and childlike, almost. And so Signs was born that way."

It is interesting to see what one does as a director when their breakthrough film comes right as they are about to turn 30. The Sixth Sense (1999) was that particular moment for M. Night Shyamalan, who had made dozens of home movies before studying at New York University Tisch School of the Arts, with his first feature being a festival circuit favorite in Praying with Anger (1992). His second effort (director and writer) in Wide Awake (1998) didn't even get a big theatrical release. And yet, Sense became that kind of "oh" film, and Shyamalan had written the spec script for what became Unbreakable (2000) during post production. The film (an origin story for a hero that got marketed as a thriller) was another hit with audiences, and it may actually be more appreciated in the years that have followed since its release. It was in the aftermath of that film and its release (which he called a "very burdened movie") that he apparently got the idea to make a film distinct from what he had just made, which ended up combining two ideas he had: a crop circle found in the backyard and an end-of-the-world premised from the perspective of the house (like a certain Living Dead). The film was a general hit with audiences in that cycle of Shyamalan features with audience interest that was followed by The Village (2004).

Well, for a film called "signs", it probably should have dawned on me how the film was going to go as a whole. Honestly, it seems more of a film relying on the idea of faith and sentimentality rather than being lumped into the genres of sci-fi or horror, as if one was watching a more subdued version of The Birds (1963). In short, it is that scene in a sofa discussing the nature of miracles and what may or may not be watching us that makes the film what it is moreso than the curiosity of what lies beneath a bunch of crop circles. One is there paying attention to sounds that may or may not be there to go with the more evident family drama that comes in wavering faith. The film is best seen with as little to know about it as one can, particularly because its climax is more realization than anything, which ultimately does call to the idea of purpose even in turmoil. The kinship mostly comes through for 106 minutes in the way you might see from a end-result cheery film, or at least one that likes to dwell in close shots of people in faces. Gibson reflects that with a weary outlook of one who wants to believe but has found only people still seeing him in a different light (amusingly, Gibson was third in mind after Clint Eastwood couldn't do it and Paul Newman declined before the role was aged down). The perceptions one might have on the character might reflect on the perceptions of Gibson the actor (of the time), oddly enough. Where else do you get a film where he plays a scene of being told to swear and sound crazy for intruders outside in the most...uh...ex-reverend way possible? It must be my imagination, but Phoenix (cast due to Mark Ruffalo dropping out for surgery) being the on-screen brother of Gibson seems more surprising than anything in the film, and he does well in the growing imagination of being seeped into the buzz about circles and creatures. That one scene in particular where he is in the closet looking intently for what may be lurking in the sight of the media is probably the one standout scene. Breslin and Culkin make for fine segments to the international of the things around them (real or imagined) one sees as a kid. Ones might see terrible creatures of fear (at least, some do, if you go with tinfoil), or maybe they see explorers, or whatever. It was 2002, so think of it with a few less phones around to record beside the ones used for tapes (as per that very brief discussion of what to tape over when it comes to taping discussion of history). When it comes to the climax, I'm alright with it, in the sense that the structure to get there is better off than the one sticking effect in it. It might have served with either more vague notions of what might be out there or just a better executed look, but it works out more for the revelation of signs mattering rather than a big payoff. Facing the doubts and tribulations matter more when you have that idea spark in your head whether by sign or not. It doesn't beat you too over the head in sentiment, merely coating things over. As a whole, the movie is fine, one that is generally effective in a majority of the down-to-earth surroundings for a useful thriller with an edge towards hope among circumstance and signs that work for a solid feature of its time.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Ah yes, the end of 2023. A good deal of productive reviews (original and reduxes) were done in this year, the 13th for Movie Night. We had a variety of new faces to see in directors that will surely be repeated in 2024, because New Directors Month looms in January. October had seen a record amount of productive reviews to go with a historic streak in July that made this year one the most productive in the last ten years. We'll see what happens with the months ahead in terms of looking for films to write home about. See you in 2024.

The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.

Review #2163: The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.

Cast: 

Andrew Dice Clay (Ford Fairlane), Wayne Newton (Julian Grendel), Priscilla Presley (Colleen Sutton), Lauren Holly (Jazz), Brandon Call (The Kid), Maddie Corman (Zuzu Petals), David Patrick Kelly (Sam the Sleaze Bag), Morris Day (Don Cleveland), Robert Englund (Smiley), Ed O'Neill (Lt. Amos), Gilbert Gottfried (Johnny Crunch), and Vince Neil (Bobby Black) Directed by Renny Harlin (#016 - Die Hard 2, #670 - Cliffhanger, #745 - A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master)

Review: 

"I just really commit to what I do as a performer. It's not about being misunderstood, I think my career took off at a time when the world was changing a lot. Women were really fighting for their rights, gays were coming out of the closet, so I was like a lightning rod for every group looking for publicity. And that's what really caused a lot of craziness in my life." - Andrew Dice Clay

Oh hell, I knew this was coming. When it comes to hearing about films with dubious reputations, one of the films that popped up every so often was this one, and perhaps for good reason. This was the first and perhaps only starring role for the one and only Andrew Dice Clay. Clay (who used his middle name for his stage name as opposed to "Silverstein") was born in Brooklyn and found a talent in entertaining from a young age.  He was actually a drummer when it came to entertaining as a teen before deciding to become a comedian, which saw him cite people such as Elvis Presley and Sylvester Stallone as influences. He went from impressions to a moniker known as, well, the "Diceman". This persona was known for his brash and raunchy sense of self (such as say, a performance at Rodney Dangerfield's club) that garnered attention and controversy. Raunchy nursery rhymes got him banned from MTV, for example. He did a handful of films and television during this time, most notably with supporting roles in Casual Sex? (1988) and Crime Story. Eventually he got his own HBO special, and it led to his own film here, which came in the wake of selling out Madison Square Garden in back-to-back nights. The film was based on characters as created by Rex Weiner, who had written a handful of stories published in serial form for New York Rocker and the LA Weekly. David Arnott, James Cappe, and Daniel Waters (remember Heathers? Or Hudson Hawk, which I should get back to someday...?) helped to write the film (evidently an early script exists here). Amidst all the fanfare and whatever you want to call controversy, the film was not a major hit with audiences. One year later, the concert film Dice Lives was released to little fanfare that comes from a NC-17 rating and a decision by Fox to not distribute the film because of their attempts to try and position Clay away from that aforementioned Diceman persona. He may never have become a big film presence, but Clay still plugs away at the comedy routine (older stuff had, well, nursery rhymes) with occasional appearances in film (A Star is Born (2018), for example). This film was directed by Renny Harlin, who was pretty busy as a director, because this film came out exactly one week after the release of his other effort for Fox in Die Hard 2, which apparently happened because Fox pushed the release date back (according to Waters, it was supposed to come out in May of 1990, as opposed to July, "to build Dice awareness…big mistake!" There probably is even more for one to discover about the film as a curiosity in the audio sense).

Do you yearn to know what lies beneath a film that name drops Art Mooney for a plot point to go with Clay narrating every now and then straight out of a silly noir and a koala puppet for some reason?  There is something there in this strange hodgepodge of a performance from Clay. Sure, the chunk of that is filled with obscenities, but I think it actually works out in his favor with such a loopy film that favors every tawdry cliche in the book. It is kind of amusing to watch this goof play around with clubs and chicks like they were clothes off the rack with a "playing hard to want" confidence. Outdated? Maybe, but it is that kind of outdatedness that seems strangely in-date when it comes to loud blowhards and even louder sense of self that reminds one of Elvis in the weirdest of ways (is it a coincidence that there is a Presley cast in the film?). His crudeness and reaction to some of his own one-liners amuse me in that weird way, what can I say? If anything, it should be even more over-the-top just to bash it over your head. Listening to a selection of material of Clay makes me realize that, well, some people really do just not know what "schtick" is (sure, there are things offensive to not let stick in conversation or in society, so good luck enforcing that beyond "mean words"). Shocking folks can't stay fresh forever, but good ol' ridiculous ideas in trying to make certain folks work as stars can never die out, you might say. Holly plays the "under-looked assistant presence" that you've seen in a few detective-schlock, but she is game for the whole thing in patience (to a point), so that works out. Same with Corman in goofball antics. You know, I'm actually not surprised to see Newton as the main threat, because he was actually pretty conniving in License to Kill (1989). There is some sort of hokum with the ranging plot about "the industry", but it is serviceable as a counter to Clay in the idea of silly dumb noirs, particularly since he basically stumbles and fumbles around more than anything. Gottfried is actually under-utilized here, which is amusing in context because Howard Stern was considered for this small role, and I can say that Gottfried's ribbing of Clay is desperately needed more in the film, particularly since his final scene is him acting out getting electrocuted. I think any film that gives O'Neill and Englund time to be silly (one gets to sing terribly and the other gets to be goofily creepy) is at least worth spending a few brain cells with - I play favorites, what can I say? As a whole, the movie isn't exactly the kind of thing you can hang as the great underrated classic or something that needed a boatload of sequels, but I would at least say the quality was better than one would have you to believe, particularly for those with the patience to sit through a grab-bag of corny lines and cliches. It is a vanity project that is a lightning rod for people who didn't like who Clay was as a comedian or found something odd in the idea of trying to make him a presence in films. Three decades later, in a climate filled with even more attempts at vanity projects and varying levels of schtick from comedians (real or imagined), I would say this is at the very least a decent one to check out. Maybe not "cult classic", but "fine" works out just the same.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Dead Pool.

Review #2162: The Dead Pool.

Cast: 

Clint Eastwood (Inspector Harry Callahan), Patricia Clarkson (Samantha Walker), Liam Neeson (Peter Swan), Evan C. Kim (Inspector Al Quan), David Hunt (Harlan Rook), Michael Currie (Captain Donnelly), Michael Goodwin (Lieutenant Ackerman), Jim Carrey (Johnny Squares), Anthony Charnota (Lou Janero), and Ronnie Claire Edwards (Molly Fisher) Directed by Buddy Van Horn.

Review: 

Sure, there might be something to say about how the Dirty Harry series managed to end at probably the right time. This was the fifth and final film with Eastwood in the series as originally devised in the previous decade of the 1970s by Harry Julian Fink and R.M. Fink. Say what you will about how the film is in some sort of manner of "politics", the film was a popular one of its time and of now because, well, people do go to watch handily crafted films of action and suspense done right. Magnum Force (1973), The Enforcer (1976) and Sudden Impact (1983) were all adequate sequels to the original, even if they had their varying qualities of definition that ranged to a middling climatic punch to headline-drawing confrontations with smart remarks or heightened contrasts in the pursuit of "justice". I'm just more surprised I didn't turn cynical with any of the sequels, but it probably has something to do with the slap-bang touch that comes with that passiveness of Eastwood as the one constant, because even the directors aren't the same through and through. This was the second of three films directed by Buddy Van Horn, who had served as a second unit director on Magnum Force (1973) and had directed Eastwood in Any Which Way You Can (1980) among other various things; Van Horn's third and final effort was with Eastwood in Pink Cadillac (1989), the action-comedy flop. The screenplay (written entirely by people who never wrote a film again) was done by Steve Sharon while the story was done by Sharon, Durk Pearson and Sandy Shaw. The latter two had served as scientific advisors on Eastwood's Firefox (1982) and consultants on Brainstorm (1983) but are perhaps best known for their book on life extension and smart drug movements in Life Extension: A Practical Scientific Approach.

It probably is a bit tough to seek out a ranking of where the sequel films lie when compared to each other, but one can at least say this one was decent enough for Eastwood to not think about going for another one. You have time to dwell on Guns N' Roses appearing in music and literal form to go with toy car bombs, a young Neeson and Carrey (one going around saying "luv" for dialogue at time and it isn't the comedian saying it) and you get the idea. Getting to 58 and still seeming at home with quips and general dry ways of handling the material is not a bad place to be if you are Clint Eastwood. It wouldn't be his last one of the action genre or the buddy stuff, because he would do variations on it with films such as The Rookie two years later. And yet, well, he is still the professional you usually see in his films (directed or what have you), which is that particular type of dryness that cares about the facts over fluff of the moment. Clarkson does fine in the rapport of media with cops that at least isn't too much of patronizing schtick. Not to spoil anything, but one really might be disappointed in just who the villain is when it comes to presence, but this isn't that new when talking about Dirty Harry sequels, but at least the climax gives some useful cat-and-mouse trickery. I sure could have had more Neeson when it comes to trying to deal in spectacle and obsession in scuzzyness. I suppose seeing nuts that want to be on television or take down folks in delusion sounds about right. The chase sequence involving little dialogue and one particular idea of dealing with explosives does the job without becoming silly. Granted, the film doesn't exactly have the best way of handling its threat to our hero, particularly with a runtime of just 91 minutes, but it all still comes together. The people that dig films like this when it comes to fun slam-bang films (with some sort of message this time around involving the media doing things like you'd see coming from the media) will be fine here while the ones who probably weren't too big on Eastwood as a whole know exactly what they have to pick at here with an inferior sequel that might make them think they are watching A View to a Kill (okay, Eastwood and Moore were each near 60 and each film is set in the Bay Area...). In a sea of decent Dirty Harry sequels, you can't go wrong with any of them as acceptable films for a look around procedure and what can be bent in the idea of justice when it comes to the cloying hands of bureaucracy and eyes all around. As such, The Dead Pool is totally fine for entertainment.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Redux: A Christmas Story.

Redux #020: A Christmas Story.

Cast: 

Peter Billingsley (Ralphie Parker), Jean Shepherd (Narrator), Ian Petrella (Randy Parker), Melinda Dillon (Mrs. Parker), Darren McGavin (Mr. Parker - The Old Man), Scott Schwartz (Flick), R. D. Robb (Schwartz), Zack Ward (Scut Farkus), Yano Anaya (Grover Dill), and Tedde Moore (Miss Shields) Directed by Bob Clark.

Review: 

From my review on December 25, 2010: 

This film, is a classic. it's a film that has decent acting (albeit with some overacting at points), a story that has many themes to go with it that connect into one (with some...fantasies by Ralphie) It's funny, but it can also be serious. It's a timeless classic that was once overlooked back in 1983, but it is now considered to be a classic in the Christmas spirit. Merry Christmas, and I hope you watch this film at least once this year, if not twice (as it's on a marathon right now...).

If you have not encountered this film on cable television or on the video shelves, it would be quite a curious achievement for a film that has grown in stature since its release in November of 1983, which is now forty years old. The making of the film was a long and lengthy process that really should start with Jean Shepherd and his unique place among the art of telling a narrative to others. Born in Chicago but raised in Hammond, Indiana, Shepherd had served in the U.S. Army Signal Corps during the second World War before getting into radio that saw him move around various places such as Indiana and Ohio (there was also an attempt at late night television) before his most noted run came at WOR in the New York area, where he broadcasted for over two decades beginning in 1956. Somehow, with a timeslot of 1:00-5:30am, it all came together for those monologues (as opposed to playing music records). Probably his most notable stunt came with I, Libertine, a practical joke novel born in 1956 out of making fun of how bestseller lists were done (where people would just go to libraries and ask for it, complete with listing a publisher and a fake author name), which became such a noted phenomenon that an actual book was created (written by Theodore Sturgeon based on an outline by Shepherd). Shepherd kept busy even when not on radio all the time, whether that involved segment work, commentaries on other radio outlets / in magazine form / the college circuit, or, well, script work in television and this film. In 1966, Shepherd's novel In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash was published, which came about after Shel Silverstein had encouraged him to put his musings from tape into book form, which saw him help Shepherd with editing and developing. His musings were loosely inspired by experiences that aren't exactly autobiographical but are, well, ones that might seem real to you or me in the ways that matter - it was a hit book. A couple of Shepherd works had reached television (with him as narrator) before and after the release of this film, such as The Great American Fourth of July and Other Disasters (1982) for TV. Shepherd apparently envisioned the film as "Dickens’s Christmas Carol as retold by Scrooge.” Shepherd, along with his wife Leigh Brown, wrote the film with Clark. The Louisiana native grew up in Alabama and Florida and had dabbled in philosophy and football before entering film in horror, such as with Black Christmas (1974). He had an interest in making a film of Shepherd's stories, but he couldn't get funding from MGM until the success of Porky's (1981). The film was done in Toronto for interiors and Cleveland for exteriors, but in that manner of low-budget films having to improvise, a lack of snow meant a variety of tricks used for snow, such as foam. You could watch the film in any one scene and feel right at home, whether that involves the reveal of that primal instinct coming out in going from tears to drawing blood in a fight or those imagined sequences of being a gunfighter or being blind from soap that isn't too different from the delusions one can find as an adult when it comes to assurances. 

The mundane things that make us who we are really do come into account for this film, one that runs for an efficient 94 minutes. Sure, it has the softening of nostalgia (as per Clark to the chagrin of Shepherd), but at the end of the day, we are weird little people every day of the year with our own little things to get hung up on, and such weirdness can be really funny to look at again and again. It was a modest success with audiences of the time, don't forget that part. But why do people like me come back to this film every now and then?  Shepherd once put it best: “Ah, life is like that. Sometimes at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us.” One can be playing with their present and boom, something comes up to remind us that things will come and go the way you cannot control, holiday or not. Billingsley proves more than just a vessel for Shepherd to narrate the observations of memories past with his worthwhile timing that make for useful delight. It is a film for the kids and adults because it doesn't dawdle on BS'ing you about where things stand. There are no weak elements to the kid actors because they seep right into the story with no pretensions of being anything other than who they are: vessels to show us the weirdness of growing up in the pains and very few pleasures. Dillon and McGavin hold the film as the paragon of lovingly human people that hold it all together in that great connection of showing family in the clearest sense of making it work in spite of itself. Probably the best way to show that is in that fateful reveal of the last Christmas present where you see the faces of the two as Billingsley opens it (notice that through the previous parts of the film, McGavin's character never talks to Billingsley about a "Red Ryder BB Gun"). The film may seem like one all about the pursuit of an object, but really it is about who we are when it comes to the basic elements deep inside us, whether the calendar says December 25 or not. We lash out in those certain moments, we imagine others as witches or people to liberate with our perspective (hey, saving people with a "BB gun" or writing a theme isn't that too different), we try to do our job until we can start getting the shoes ready to head out, you get the picture. The film may be set in that time of the 1940s, but those desires and impulses are timeless and Clark knows what he can show in a film that doesn't stoop awkwardly in its perspectives. There are no dull moments shown here, and it is that tinge of bittersweet nostalgia that makes it all count in spite of whatever Shepherd may have thought of the whole thing. We connect with the material because there is a chunk of it in us more than we think it is. The films of the old in Christmas-flavoring like Miracle on 34th Street (1947) did their thing in holiday magic of belief, but this is a representation of holiday homespun honesty in the ideal way.

It was at the turn of the 1980s that Shepherd thought to drive an idea for a follow-up to this film. Perhaps it only made sense that he called it purely an exercise to try and make money, since he saw the following that was growing with rerun showings (i.e., royalties), which apparently saw a bunch of showings around the Thanksgiving season rather than just on Christmas Eve (1997 was when the whole tradition of Turner Broadcasting running it for 24 hours straight started, incidentally). My Summer Story (formerly referred to as It Runs in the Family) (1994) retained Clark as director and Shepherd as narrator, which is amusing considering that the two hadn't got along in the first film because of the incessant suggestions that Shepherd tried to give on set that led to Clark not allowing him to be there at all. The second Story film came and promptly died in little-run theaters. A Christmas Story Christmas, a film with a handful of returning cast members, was released in 2022 to a streaming service (gag). At any rate, the enduring element of the film that became more than just a low-budget sleeper is the everyday aspect that makes us chuckle in the holiday sense of the word. The item that one desires and the ways we toil in that wish (child or adult) is amusing when you really look at things, and it only makes sense that it has endured for generations as one to blare from the rooftops again and again. The inflections of mundane life and the odd nature of trying to look back at such things in life make for a great contradiction in the grand scheme of things that make an enduring winner that could only come from Clark and Shepherd in the best of ways.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.