Category: Film Page 47 of 101

Scorecard: February 2012

On March 21, 2012

[At the end of every month I post a rundown of the movies I saw that month, tallying them according to how much I did or didn’t like them. You can always see my recent watches here and my ongoing list of bests for the whole year here.]

Well, my moviewatching seems to be getting steadily worse as the 2012 progresses (I better pick up the pace the last week of March, that’s all I’m saying). Only seven movies total in February, but on the good side, I did knock off one of my Blind Spots. So that was good, even if it did delay this post a bunch while I got around to writing a long-ass review of The Virgin Spring. Hoping to get to a couple more of those Blind Spots before the end of March. I mostly blame Skyrim for the low movie count in February (as I will blame Mass Effect 3 in March) – not only was I playing it a ton in February, so was Jonathan, and I’m still working on balancing gaming time and movie time when two people are involved. :)

What I Loved

The Virgin Spring

I’m a reluctant Bergman fan at best, often finding his austerity a bit hard to relate to, but there was no problem here. The tale of a sunny, somewhat spoiled girl being raped and killed by three woodland wanderers is certainly ugly, and Bergman doesn’t sugarcoat anything – if anything, I was aghast at how explicit the film is for 1960. Yet depravity is balanced by the foibled humanity that Bergman infuses into nearly every frame – and the framing and cinematography is never ugly, even when what it’s capturing is. In fact, I haven’t seen a film as downright beautiful as this for a long time. It’s a juxtaposition that only adds to the film’s great power, ensuring it will stick with me for a very long time. Read my Blind Spots review.

1960 Sweden. Director: Ingmar Bergman. Starring: Max von Sydow, Birgitta Pettersson, Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindblom.
Seen February 23 on iPad via Hulu Plus.
Flickchart ranking: 187 out of 2879

What I Liked

Chronicle

What initially intrigued me about this film, in an era oversaturated with both superhero movies and found footage movies, was the intimation in the trailer that these guys were actually going to act like teens suddenly endowed with superpowers would really act – in other words, they wouldn’t go out and try to save the world (ala Kick-Ass, if Kick-Ass had superpowers), they’d likely spend their time playing practical jokes on people, trying to become popular at school, and maybe flying around in the stratosphere, but essentially, they’d still be self-centered teenage boys. And that’s pretty much exactly what happens, and that’s what Chronicle gets so right. When one of the boys starts to misuse his power, it’s largely believable, and turns the tables neatly on the stereotypes you’ve already formed of the boys. I even enjoyed the use of found footage, which tied in with the power of telekinesis, allows for some more unusual camera angles than the genre usually gets; plus I appreciated that when the story called for it, the filmmakers just brought in whatever cameras would’ve caught the events. Some have suggested that’s a cop-out, but I’d say it’s playing to the strengths of the genre without giving in to its weaknesses. Overall, a refreshing film to find in February, a promising debut for Josh Trank, and a reminder that with a good story and solid writing, you don’t need gazillions of dollars even to do a superhero movie. They make the budget they have count when it needs to.

2012 USA. Director: Josh Trank. Starring: Dane DeHaan, Alex Russell, Michael B. Jordan.
Seen February 6 at Fargo Century Cinema.
Flickchart ranking: 1054 out of 2879

Three Amigos

I gotta admit, I was not totally convinced at first when Jonathan said he wanted to put this on his list for me to watch. Let’s just say ’80s comedies and I don’t always mix that well. But then he told me it was about a trio of silent film stars who accidentally get caught up in a real conflict because a Mexican villager mistakes them for real cowboys. Does this guy know what I like or what? This is basically A Bug’s Life (I know, I know, this came first, whatever), with our trio of funnymen caught out of their league when a Mexican girl asks them for help against a bandit gang terrorizing her village. They think it’s a publicity thing that pays money, and get in over their heads in a heartbeat, but it somehow all turns out all right. There are a lot of great little bits (like the invisible swordsman, or Martin’s secret bird calls), but I expected a lot more gags throughout. I sort of appreciated that the film was willing to actually BE a western for a while and not feel the need to try to make you laugh every single second.

1986 USA. Director: John Landis. Starring: Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, Martin Short.
Seen February 7 on iPad.
Flickchart ranking: 1368 out of 2879

Crocodile Dundee

A fun romp through the wildernesses of the Australian Outback and of New York City. Fairly inconsequential, but cute and enjoyable. I did like some of the ways the film inverted my expectations – setting Dundee up first as a teller of tall tales who actually turns out to be supremely competent, and then leading me to expect him to be a buffoon in NYC, but having him turn out pretty well there, too. Made for less real conflict, but in a film like this, that’s okay.

1986 USA. Director: Peter Faiman. Starring: Paul Hogan, Linda Kozlowski, John Meillon.
Seen February 23 on DVD.
Flickchart ranking: 1811 out of 2879

What I Thought Was Okay

What Happened to Jones?

It’s probably not a great sign that I already don’t really remember what happened to Jones. Time to turn to the IMDb: “On the night before his wedding, a young man plays poker with friends. When the game is raided by the police, he escapes into a Turkish bath on ladies night, ending up disguised in drag and with difficult explanations to make.” OH YES, I remember now. This film definitely falls into the “curiosity” category of Silent Treatment offerings rather than the “really amazing film” category. Which is fine; their mission is to screen rare films that won’t be found anywhere else, and it’s not unusual for them to be mostly of academic interest. This one was fun to watch – the antics as Jones and his poker companion try to make their way out of the ladies’ spa without being caught definitely prefigure stuff like Some Like It Hot, but beyond that scene, it’s fairly unmemorable.

1926 USA. Director: William A. Seiter. Starring: Reginald Denny, Marian Nixon, Melbourne MacDowell.
Seen February 1 at Cinefamily.
Flickchart ranking: 2311 out of 2879

Rewatches – Loved

Once

Is it weird that I wanted to watch this for Valentine’s Day? I mean, (SPOILERS) it’s not exactly a happy-ending romantic movie. Still, the bittersweetness of this film’s romance touches me far more than traditional romances where everything works out. This is realistic, not only in the DIY aesthetic, but in the character interactions and dialogue. It takes a while to get going, and if you don’t like the music, you’ll be out of it from the start, but even for non-musical fans, the songs here are so integrated into the story and into these characters’ very existence that it’s unthinkable without them. I love this film to bits.

2007 Ireland. Director: John Carney. Starring: Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova.
Seen February 17 on DVD.
Flickchart ranking: 67 out of 2879

Rewatches – Liked

Mystery Men

This is a favorite film of Jonathan’s, and one I remembered liking more than most people did, as well. But I couldn’t remember most of it very well, and Jon kept making references and jokes from it, so I finally had him haul out his DVD and watch it with me. This is definitely a cult gem – I don’t like it quite as much as Jon does, but its send-up of the superhero genre is well before its time, with self-made heroes like The Shoveler (“God gave me a gift. I shovel well. I shovel very well.”) and Mr. Furious and Invisible Boy (who’s only metaphorically invisible, but gets to join the crew anyway) taking on Casanova Frankenstein. The actors in here are awesome, and they’re all having a great time. With everybody doing the fake superhero thing now (Kick-Ass, Super, etc.), Mystery Men oughta be ready for a comeback.

1999 USA. Director: Kinka Usher. Starring: Ben Stiller, Janeane Garofalo, William H. Macy, Hank Azaria, Kel Mitchell, Paul Reubens, Wes Studi, Greg Kinnear, Geoffrey Rush.
Seen February 24 on DVD.
Flickchart ranking: 965 out of 2879

Blind Spots 2012: The Virgin Spring

By Jandy

On March 19, 2012

In Film

[This post is part of a series to identify and catch up with various blind spots in my cinematic knowledge, choosing twelve films to watch in 2012. See the series intro for the rest of my picks]

A couple of years ago, I was watching The Virgin Spring at one of LA’s best repertory cinemas, the New Beverly, and left almost exactly halfway through. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I almost never walk out of films anyway, and it was INCREDIBLY hard to leave this one, especially since it was almost exactly at the climactic scene. I had come to see the first film of the double feature they were showing (Revanche), but knew I’d have to leave the program early in order to get to Cinefamily (the OTHER great LA repertory cinema) for their Czech New Wave series, showing films rarely screened on 35mm in the US. I stayed as long as I could watching , yet despite how drawn into it I was, I somehow never got around to sitting down with the rest of the film at home. So when I put together my list of films for the Blind Spot series, I knew The Virgin Spring had to be on it, even though there are a plethora of other Bergman films I could’ve picked as well.

I should never have waited so long, and yet, it is entirely worth the wait. The film enjoys a healthy reputation (hence it feeling like a major blind spot), and I was a bit afraid that between that and my own self-hyping of it based on my experience with the first half, I’d be disappointed by the film in the end. Such was vehemently not the case. Bergman films are often something of a tough sell with me – there are a few I love unequivocally (Persona, Smiles of a Summer Night), but the ones that seem more quintessentially “Bergman” to me, rather than the anomalous light comedy or experimental film, are much more of a struggle for me. With its story of rape and revenge, I expected The Virgin Spring to be in the same vein – somber and bleak, with an edge of existential angst. What I got was something far more terrible and sublime than I expected.

Though The Virgin Spring is not a part of Bergman’s unofficial “faith” trilogy (kicked off the following year with Through a Glass Darkly), it is still very concerned with faith – a concern laid out from the very beginning as the film sets up a contrast between wild-eyed, unkempt servant girl Ingeri who is praying to Odin and the lord of the manor who, along with his wife, kneel before a crucifix. Ingeri is pregnant and unwed, and she is quickly contrasted with the lord’s daughter Karin, a sunny and virginal blonde who’s preparing to trek through the woods taking candles to the church. I don’t really get the whole purpose of this, being unfamiliar with Swedish medieval tradition, but it doesn’t really matter – it’s basically a Macguffin. When Ingeri temporarily leaves her along on the way, Karin falls in with some seemingly nice shepherds who, well, turn out to have ulterior motives.

It’s not much of a spoiler at this point to reveal that they rape Karin – that’s basically the logline of the film, and it happens only about half-way through. Still, even when you know it’s coming, it’s kind of a shock to the system, simply because Bergman is so forthright and frank about it. He doesn’t shy away from the rape, instead holding his camera unwaveringly, not letting us look away. It’s still 1960, so it’s not what I’d call physically explicit, but there’s absolutely no question about what’s happening, and the beauty and, dare I say it, tastefulness of the shot almost makes the content of the shot even more of a punch to the gut. This is actually the point where I had to leave the New Beverly screening of the film. I did rewatch the whole thing before writing this, though, and the scene was just as horrific and just as gut-wrenching as before.

There’s a lot more in store, though, and the next little section almost plays like a suspense thriller as the three shepherds (the youngest is just a boy and didn’t participate in the rape) wind up at Karin’s manor, apparently not realizing where they are. Despite being worried about Karin’s long absence, the lord and his lady offer the three food and shelter, like any magnanimous landowner should – but we know who they are and what they’ve done, so the intensity doesn’t let up for us. There’s a simply chilling scene when one of the men offers Karin’s cloak to her mother as a gift. But what the film comes down to is whether vengeance is worth it, or if forgiveness is possible – either of rapists or those who take revenge on them. Perhaps the reason The Virgin Spring isn’t part of the Faith Trilogy (aside from its more poetic, less chamber-drama style) is that it shows hope at the end, hope of forgiveness and community, while the Faith Trilogy is about crises of faith in the face of divine silence.

There is way too much in this film in terms of symbolism, character comparisons and contrasts, and religious themes to unpack in one blog post, or even after one viewing of the film. This is definitely one I’ll be coming back to again and again. There are obvious contrasts, like the ones I mentioned between Odin and Christ, or between Ingeri and Karin, or between crime and revenge, etc. But they’re not black and white, despite the dark/light distinction suggested by Ingeri and Karin’s respective hair colors. Karin is the innocent here, but she’s far from perfect – she’s kind of a spoiled brat, whining to her mother to let her sleep later and wear fancy clothes. She’s a flirt, leading on the same man (probably) who got Ingeri pregnant. She manipulates her father into letting her do whatever she wants, basically, and blames everyone else for her own faults rather than take responsibility. But through it all, her very innocence and sheltered existence in her perhaps overly-loving family is what gets her in trouble. Meanwhile, Ingeri is world-wise and wary, but superstitious – she prays to the Norse gods and stops off at a witchdoctor type guy, which also contributes to Karin’s predicament due to Ingeri’s absence.

The question of blame comes up again and again. Though it’s easy to blame the two men who actually commit the rape, and certainly they’re not exempt from the father’s wrath, seemingly everybody blames themselves for what happened. The mother blames herself for sheltering Karin too much, the father blames God for letting it happen but then takes responsibility for his own retaliatory actions, Ingeri blames herself for praying to Odin for Karin’s downfall. In fact, it’s quite the contrast to Karin’s own blithe attempts to blame everyone ELSE for everything. But Bergman ends with a cleansing spring, a mark of forgiveness and new birth coming out of this horror.

Ugly things happen in Bergman films, and this is one of the ugliest, but he is never an ugly filmmaker. As I hinted above, even the rape scene is shot with tremendously beautiful framing and cinematography, and that’s true throughout the film. Every shot is composed carefully, with every element in the frame there for a specific visual or symbolic purpose. A friend writing about this film pointed out that Max von Sydow “looks absolutely monumental, like he was hollowed out and carved from wood, a living breathing relic of medieval art,” and that’s such a perfect description that I had to steal it. Bergman is known for the sometimes slow pacing of his films, and here his willingness to simply let Sydow and others BE in the frame, their power coming simply from their imaged existence, is wonderous and utterly moving. Often I find Bergman austere, and there’s definitely that here, but this may be the first time that I understand Bergman’s essential humanity. He may be unflinching in what he shows, and he may use music and other manipulative techniques sparingly, but he cares deeply, achingly for these people. And he made me feel the same way, despite their flaws…or perhaps because of them.

Rep Cinemagoing: Modern Times

By Jandy

On March 16, 2012

In Film

The thing that makes me happiest in the world is seeing audiences respond to classic films with joy and wonder, and that’s exactly what I saw Wednesday night when Cinefamily screened Modern Times to a nearly full audience. First off, it’s awesome that 150 people will choose a Chaplin silent film over the hoards of other entertainment options in this city, but it’s proven to me again and again that Chaplin (or Keaton) will still pack them in at Cinefamily, as they run these films every year or so to new and delighted audiences. Last time they ran Modern Times, though, I think I wasn’t able to go. This time it coincided with my volunteering night, so once I finished taking tickets, seating people, and clearing up a minor popcorn vs gravity issue, I settled in just as the credits finished to watch my favorite Chaplin film with a wonderfully receptive audience.

I’ve seen Modern Times probably five or six times, but never before with an audience, and it added an awful lot to the experience. The film itself is incredible, and falls squarely within my top twenty of all time. Chaplin’s tramp starts off as a cog in the machine (literally, at one point) of a steel factory, spending his days tightening bolts on an endless stream of conveyor-belt carried steel plates. Slowing down piles him into the workers further down the assembly line, and stopping (for lunch) puts him into spasms as his muscles try to continue the tightening motions. After being put into an automatic lunch machine to test it – with hilarious results – he ends up having a nervous breakdown, losing his job, getting arrested by accident, meeting up with an orphan waif from the docks, trying to find a job to support her and protect her from the child services authorities, etc.

Every time I watch this film, I’m amazed again at just how much goes on in it – I forget that the roller-skating scene in the department store is here, for example, or the Tramp stopping the jailbreak. Part of that is because to some degree, a lot of the gags could be interchanged with any gags in his shorts; part of it is that there are so many moments indelibly associated with Modern Times and etched forever in my brain that it’s understandable that I would miss a few. But for a good chunk of the audience, this was their first experience with any of it. There’s no doubt some of the people had seen it before – you don’t get 150 people at Cinefamily to watch a silent film and them all be first-time viewers. But others were going with their guts, laughing as they realized the gag that was being set up (like the woman walking down the street with bolt-like buttons on the bust of her dress), crying out “no way!” when the Tramp maneuvered his way through hundreds of would-be factory works to get the last job, gasping when Chaplin pulled off a particularly flashy stunt, like rollerskating blindfolded three inches from a precipitous drop.

All these story elements still work, and some of them work even better now, because we know that if someone did the roller-skating scene today, they’d be in no danger. The drop would be green-screened in, or Chaplin would be on wires that would later be digitally removed, or there would be a trained stuntman taking his place. But we know instinctively watching this scene that Chaplin really did this stunt, that he really was skating that close to the edge, and that he really could’ve fallen. There’s a wonder to that knowledge that lasts throughout the ages.

But Modern Times is far more than treacherous stunts – in fact, it depends on them far less than some of Chaplin’s earlier films, or Keaton’s films, or the virtuoso third act of Lloyd’s Safety Last. All the other gags continue to work as well, even the ones that have lost some amount of context over the years. We may not know about the labor disputes of the 1930s or the communist rallies, but it’s pretty clear what’s going on in all those parts, and Chaplin’s unwitting involvement in them is imminently understandable. Even the kids scattered throughout the audience were totally on board – one near me was jabbering nonstop about the nonsense song as his family left the theatre after the show. He was fascinated and trying to figure out what language it was in.

Speaking of the nonsense song, I’m so used to thinking of Modern Times as “the last silent movie” (at least, that last one that actually has some valid claim on the term outside of homage or imitation) that I forget how much synchronized sound it really has. Besides the song – which is the first time Chaplin was ever heard on screen – there are sound effects scattered throughout, especially in the factory sequences, and the factory boss speaks audibly through his intercom several times to tell the foreman to speed up production. Of course, Chaplin’s making a statement with this: as he clings to silence seven years longer than everyone else, he associates sound within his film with the mechanized “progress” of technology. Factory owners use sound; the Tramp and the waif and other ordinary, working-class people do not. When the Tramp does express himself audibly, he sings nonsense – words that make no sense in any language (to answer the kid’s question, it’s mostly based on French, but seems to have some Italian-sounding stuff in there, too). It’s hilarious, and a success for the Tramp’s hopeful singing waiter-wannabe, but the subtext is clear: audible language is either mechanized and oppressive, or gibberish. Neither holds a candle to what Chaplin does with silence. (Of course, with The Great Dictator four years later, he proved he could speechify with the best of them.)

Though it should be noted that like any other silent film, Modern Times is never silent, even when it is, because it has a nearly omnipresent and absolutely perfect score, written by Chaplin himself. Chaplin often wrote his own scores for his films, or at least themes meant to be provided to the theatre’s musician, going way back into the 1920s. He was actually in the vanguard of providing specific music to be used along with his films, though the practice was fairly common by the late 1920s. In fact, Modern Times uses music much more fully and expressively than most sound films did in 1936, using the love theme judiciously to build pathos at just the right places. The words to the theme are never used in the film, but it became a popular song of the time:

Smile
Tho’ your heart is aching
Smile
Even tho’ it’s breaking

When there are clouds in the sky
You’ll get by
If you
Smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You’ll see the sun come shining thru for you.

Light up your face with gladness
Hide ev’ry trace of sadness
Altho’ a tear maybe ever so near
That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile
What’s the use of crying
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile
If you’ll just smile.

These days, Chaplin is often scoffed at for his sentimentality, and it’s easy to see why modern audiences often gravitate towards the stoic Buster Keaton instead. Even I do most of the time. But here, Chaplin’s pathos is so perfectly pitched, and balanced so well with the humor and with the Metropolis-lite satire on a mechanistic society, that it works splendidly. I can’t watch Chaplin and Paulette Goddard walk off into the sunset without getting a well-earned tear in my eye. Speaking of Goddard just briefly, with all the praise of the actors in The Artist for imitating silent acting styles so well (and I think they do), it’s even more refreshing to watch Goddard, who started in movies right at the turn from silent to sound, simply inhabit her anachronistic character, darting furtive glances around with her whole being, acting with every part of her body to get that dynamic movement that sound films lost almost immediately.

Everyone in the theatre had smiles radiating from their faces as they walked out of the theatre, everyone from the people who come to Cinefamily’s silent film presentations every week to the families with children who might’ve been seeing their first silent film, to college-age students and jaded film bloggers like me. I almost didn’t stay to watch the film. After all, I thought, I’ve seen this half a dozen times. Mightn’t my time waiting until it’s time to take tickets for the next screening be better spent studying up on golden era exhibition for a post I’m planning, or working on my Blind Spot review of The Virgin Spring, or catching up on everyone’s blogs? But no. I made the right decision, because sharing a movie you love with a large group of appreciative viewers in a big-screen setting is always the right thing to do.

A few more clips to leave you with (click the link to open in a lightbox):

Working at the factory assembly line
Being mauled by the eating machine
The gorgeous finale

On Row Three: Oscars Rank ‘Em

By Jandy

On March 8, 2012

In Film

Much of my free time over the past week has been taken up with a mondo Rank ‘Em post on Row Three, ranking all the Academy Award Best Picture winners according to my personal preferences (of the ones I’ve seen – 72 out of 84). It was definitely a fun process, but also a rather exasperating one, since it’s a really hard group of films to rank. Flickchart helped me a lot, but I didn’t quite stick to it totally, because in some cases, frankly, it’s wrong. Gotta work on that at some point. Anyway. The whole post, with all 72 Best Picture winners I’ve seen, is here on Row Three. Here’s just a sampling of films culled from throughout the list.

#72: Crash (2005)

If you know me at all, you’ll know the abiding hatred I have for Crash. In fact, a lengthy thread about this movie is even to blame for my presence at Row Three. What was initially just disappointment and dislike moved to hatred after the film gathered critical acclaim and eventually an Oscar win – in my opinion, the most egregiously misplaced Oscar win in the history of the Oscars, and not even because I was passionate about another film in the race. I’m not a particular Brokeback Mountain fan, either, as were most people who thought Crash should’ve lost. No, I just dislike this film that much. It’s well-made enough, I guess, but it’s so manipulative and heavy-handed in getting across a message that we all know, whether or not we necessarily put it into practice. Racism is still a problem, I realize this. Telling me racism is still a problem in the didactic and condescending way that this movie adopts is not effective. There, now that this one is out of the way, pretty much all the rest of the low-ranking films aren’t films I dislike, just ones that are unmemorable or unremarkable.

Did it deserve to win? No
Other nominees: Brokeback Mountain, Capote, Good Night and Good Luck, Munich
My favorite film that year: Brick

#60: The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)

This film is often cited when people talk about the least deserving Academy Award winners ever, and yeah, it’s a weaker entry in the collection – especially when you note some of the films it was up against. It’s not even the best of Cecil B. DeMille’s spectacles, focusing on the trials, tribulations and love lives of a bunch of a circus troupe rather than, say, the parting of the Red Sea. Still, I can’t quite hate on this movie, because taken apart from its status as “Academy Award Best Picture Winner,” it’s a pretty fun film, with some great supporting turns from Gloria Grahame and Dorothy Lamour, an unrecognizable but moving James Stewart as the clown with a past, and a really impressive climactic train crash. Eat your heart out, Super 8. If I were judging this strictly on whether they deserved to win Best Picture, this might be lower, but just based on how much I enjoy the films, this one’s not too bad.

Did it deserve to win? No
Other nominees: High Noon, Ivanhoe, Moulin Rouge, The Quiet Man
My favorite film that year: Singin’ in the Rain

#56: The King’s Speech (2010)

This film is pretty much the epitome of Oscar bait, and it did its job perfectly – it’s impeccably-made, well-acted, looks good, ticks all the “Oscar favorite” checkboxes. But it’s so unbearably safe and predictable that it just kind of sits there like a bump on a log. I actually watched this the day of the Oscar ceremony last year, just because I knew it was going to win, and it was exactly what I expected it to be. Films like this are why the Oscars are becoming exasperating to some degree – it’s not that they’re picking terrible films. They’re picking well-done, highly calculated films that have no stakes, take no risks, and thus have no ability to surprise and overwhelm the way great films always should. And there were at least three or four other films nominated in 2010 that did just that.

Did it deserve to win? Not really
Other nominees: Black Swan, The Fighter, Inception, The Kids are All Right, 127 Hours, The Social Network, Toy Story 3, True Grit, Winter’s Bone
My favorite film that year: The Social Network

#53: Wings (1927-1928)

This picture and the most recent winner have something very major in common – they’re both silent, the only two silent films to ever win Best Picture. This may be the only year that’s true. Coming right at the cusp of the sound era, Wings may not stand as one of the greatest silent films ever made, and indeed, is largely forgotten except by Academy Award completists and Clara Bow aficionados, but in 1927 it was the pinnacle of big budget silent cinema. The love triangle is a bit hokey now, but the WWI battle scenes remain impressive, as does the touching if somewhat overwrought friendship between the two boys who go off to war.

Did it deserve to win? Maybe
Other nominees: The Racket, Seventh Heaven
My favorite film that year: Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans

#41: My Fair Lady (1964)

I sometimes give My Fair Lady a hard time because it’s an example of the overblown, over-produced musicals that studios made a TON of in the 1960s (and that I don’t tend to like as much as musicals from earlier eras), but I should lay off. Aside from the fact that they should’ve let Julie Andrews reprise her role in the Broadway play (not that Audrey Hepburn is bad or anything; just saying), this is a pretty solid film. A little overlong, perhaps, but Rex Harrison is great in his signature role as caustic language professor Henry Higgins, and the Lerner & Loewe songs are classics.

Did it deserve to win? Maybe
Other nominees: Becket, Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, Mary Poppins, Zorba the Greek
My favorite film that year: Band of Outsiders

#37: You Can’t Take It With You (1938)

Frank Capra’s second Best Picture win was for this film, sandwiched in between Mr. Deeds Goes to Town and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and not quite as good as either of those films, if you ask me. Still, it’s a solid family comedy, with lovers James Stewart and Jean Arthur dealing with the inevitable culture clash between his straight-laced family of businessmen and bankers and her free-spirited, nearly bohemian clan. It’s a piece of socioeconomic fluff that fit perfectly with the just-out-of-the-depression time period, but does seem a little on the corny side now, despite my resistance to devaluing Capra’s very fine work as Capracorn. Still, any chance to watch this set of actors (not only Stewart and Arthur, but also Lionel Barrymore, Edward Arnold, Spring Byington, Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, and a very young Ann Miller) do their thing is all right with me.

Did it deserve to win? Maybe
Other nominees: The Adventures of Robin Hood, Alexander’s Ragtime Band, Boys Town, The Citadel, Four Daughters, Grand Illusion, Jezebel, Pygmalion, Test Pilot
My favorite film that year: The Adventures of Robin Hood

#30: Amadeus (1984)

The film may be called “Amadeus,” but it’s really the story of Antonio Salieri, the court musician to the Hapsburgs in Vienna when the upstart Mozart sprang on the scene and took the world by storm, despite his youth and vulgarity. Salieri’s jealousy grows as Mozart’s popularity threatens his position, but he also recognizes Mozart’s brilliance – this combination of jealousy, respect, and frustration at such a gift being given to such an (apparently) undeserving youth makes Salieri’s character a fascinating one (and a role that won an Oscar for F. Murray Abraham as well). The film is highly fictionalized, but to excellent dramatic effect, and had the side bonus of resurrecting the actual Salieri’s music, which had largely been forgotten.

Did it deserve to win? Sure
Other nominees: The Killing Fields, A Passage to India, Places in the Heart, A Soldier’s Story
My favorite film that year: This is Spinal Tap

#25: Rebecca (1940)

I’ve been known to rag on this film for two reasons – one, it’s quite far down my list of favorite Hitchcock films, simply because most of his films are so incredibly amazing, and two, it changes the ending from the book in a way that I think is something of a cop out. But I’ve got to give the film its due – taken on its own and disregarding both Hitchcock’s other output (most of which hadn’t happened yet when this film was made) and the source novel, this is one solid, creepy, and well-done little Gothic drama. Joan Fontaine is suitably mousy as the unnamed narrator, unable to come to terms with the reminders of her husband’s former wife everywhere she looks, and Judith Anderson is downright menacing as the housekeeper who will never let her believe she’s as good as Rebecca was. Not quite a ghost story, but Rebecca’s absence is almost as palpable as if she were haunting the place.

Did it deserve to win? Maybe
Other nominees: All This and Heaven Too, Foreign Correspondent, The Grapes of Wrath, The Great Dictator, Kitty Foyle, The Letter, The Long Voyage Home, Our Town, The Philadelphia Story
My favorite film that year: His Girl Friday

#15: Shakespeare in Love (1998)

I’m sure to take flack for having this film so high, but I don’t care. I saw it three times in the theatres, and have watched it many more on DVD, and I love it every time. Tom Stoppard’s sly script is impeccable, and the tongue-in-cheek view of Elizabeth Theatre put a new spin on Shakespeare for me – I already liked Shakespeare in general, but I’m pretty sure my love for his work actually solidified with this film. I’m not even going to waffle and say that it probably didn’t deserve to win Best Picture, because to me, it did, Saving Private Ryan notwithstanding. That’s an unpopular opinion, but I will stand by it.

Did it deserve to win? Yes
Other nominees: Elizabeth, Life is Beautiful, Saving Private Ryan, The Thin Red Line
My favorite film that year: Shakespeare in Love

#11: The Godfather Part II (1974)

I may not like either of the Oscar-winning Godfather movies as much as I’m supposed to (I haven’t seen The Godfather III yet, and I’m not anxious to), but I do like Part II significantly more than Part I. That being said, most of what I like more about Part II are the flashbacks to Vito’s childhood and how he became a mob boss. I liked the parallels being made to the modern-day story involving Michael and his attempts to retain control while losing even more of his humanity, but I often found myself bored with Michael’s story (except the incredibly powerful scene where Diane Keaton gives him what for), so I still don’t count myself a complete fan of this film either.

Did it deserve to win? Sure
Other nominees: Chinatown, The Conversation, Lenny, The Towering Inferno
My favorite film that year: Chinatown

Read the whole post (including my top ten) at Row Three

Scorecard: January 2012

By Jandy

On February 9, 2012

In Film, Scorecard

This was a pretty dismal month in terms of movie-watching, but since I was filling my time with things like getting married and going on honeymoons, I guess I can forgive myself for slacking off in the movie department. Got through six new-to-me films this month, including a few new releases that eluded me toward the end of December, and a relatively decent number of rewatches. Now, we’ll have to see in February if the wedding excuse is accurate, or if I just need to buckle down a bit more and watch moar movies.

What I Loved

Haywire

For me, this is exactly what a popcorn action movie should be. It’s not cerebral, it’s not complicated, it’s not flashy, and it doesn’t rewrite any rules of the action thriller genre. But it is solid, well-shot, well-acted, well-directed, as clever as it needs to be, and has some of the best fight scenes I’ve seen ever. The story is pretty much what’s laid out in the trailer – Gina Carano is a private security operative, she’s betrayed by her employers, and then she beats the crap out of them. In real life, Carano is an MMA fighter, and it shows. Every hit looks (and sounds) sickeningly real, and the way she moves, the way she fights, even the way she runs are all totally believable. Soderbergh knows just how to support her, too, holding long shots instead of cutting away, as if to say, yeah, she can really do this. But it’s not just a showcase for a fighter – the story is simple, but it’s effective, and Carano is nearly as convincing an actress as she is a fighter, and the supporting cast is all superb, fitting in perfectly with the ’70s aesthetic Soderbergh pulls out here. I’d trade most any big-budget blockbuster if we could get two mid-budget action films like this in their place.

2012 USA. Director: Steven Soderbergh. Starring: Gina Carano, Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Channing Tatum, Bill Paxton.
Seen January 21 at Reading Cinemas Gaslamp.
Flickchart ranking: 475 out of 2880

What I Really Liked

Hugo

I was so afraid Scorsese’s early cinema homage masquerading as a children’s film would leave theatres before I got a chance to see it (yes, in 3D; I was hopelessly curious), but either thanks to the sheer number of screens in LA or the multitude of Oscar nominations the film got last week, we made it with time to spare. I’m not sure I can totally say I loved it, though, quite as much as I wanted to. I did really like it, and the last twenty or thirty minutes are like crack if you’re interested in film history or early cinema (which I am), but a lot of the earlier parts of the film are uneven, the comedy with Sascha Baron Cohen doesn’t always totally work, and it’s overlong as a whole. Even so, by the end, I found myself really enjoying even all the day-to-day station vignettes that had kind of annoyed me earlier – whether they really worked better or I was feeling magnanimous because the Méliès stuff was bringing me to tears, I’m not sure. In any case, I walked out happy, even if the confection wasn’t quite cooked all through.

2011 USA. Director: Martin Scorsese. Starring: Asa Butterfield, ChloÃ« Grace Moretz, Ben Kingsley, Sascha Baron Cohen, Emily Mortimer, Christopher Lee.
Seen January 23 at Arclight Sherman Oaks, in 3D.
Flickchart ranking: 510 out of 2880

Carnage

This turned out to be quite difficult to find only a few weeks after its release – we had to hit up the independent theatre chain at 11:00am on a Saturday to see it. I wonder what’s gone wrong with the marketing for this that there’s so little buzz around it? Are people just hating on Polanski that much? Because this is a solid and often hilarious film, with one of the best scripts of the year (unless you’re an Academy member, apparently), performed with vicious glee by four tremendous actors. It all takes place essentially in one room, as two sets of parents meet to discuss what’s to be done after one of their sons brains the other pair’s son with a stick. The situation quickly devolves from forced politesse to frank screaming, and everything in between. Informal alliances between characters shift rapidly, as it becomes clear that these couples’ marriages aren’t all they should be, and months and years of repressed frustration come out. But yes, despite all this, this is a laugh-out-loud comedy, with all four actors clearly enjoying the hell out of it – none more than Christophe Waltz, who proves Inglourious Basterds was no fluke. Pretty lightweight when you get down to it, but a whole lot of fun.

2011 France/Germany/Poland/Spain. Director: Roman Polanski. Starring: Kate Winslet, Jodie Foster, Christoph Waltz, John C. Reilly.
Seen January 28 at Laemmle NoHo.
Flickchart ranking: 525 out of 2880

Drop Dead Gorgeous

I gotta say, I was a little surprised when Jonathan picked this out as one of the films he wanted me to watch. I mean, a movie about a bunch of girls vying for a beauty pageant crown? But it wasn’t very far into the film that I understood. Miss Congeniality this ain’t. It’s a mockumentary in the style of Christopher Guest, with a bunch of soon-to-be-famous starlets as the Minnesota girls (seriously, we were all like, hold up, is that Amy Adams? AND IT WAS) trying to win their podunk town’s pageant, from feted favorite Denise Richards (and her stage mom Kirstie Alley) to trailer park resident Kirsten Dunst, and everything in between. I’m pretty sure a good chunk of the reason Jonathan likes it can be traced to the satire on Minnesota itself, but everything else is pretty spot-on as well. This film should’ve gotten way more attention than it did – I remember it coming out, but only as a little blip on my late ’90s pop-culture consciousness. And I was watching everything in 1999. Almost not exaggerating there.

1999 USA. Director: Michael Patrick Jann. Starring: Kirsten Dunst, Ellen Barkin, Kirstie Alley, Denise Richards, Amy Adams, Brittany Murphy.
Seen January 27 on DVD.
Flickchart ranking: 717 out of 2880

What I Liked

Down Terrace

I missed watching this when other film blogs were talking about it a year or two ago, but after loving Kill List, I had to go back and check out Ben Wheatley’s earlier film, said to be in the same vein in terms of out-of-the-box genre filmmaking, but applied to gangster films instead of hit-men and horror. There are definitely resemblances, though Kill List is a step up in confidence, I think. Down Terrace starts off really slow and casual, to the point that it’s really difficult to figure out what even is going on or who these guys are as they sit around and chat. But that’s all very deliberate, and when shit starts going down, SHIT GOES DOWN. I’m still not totally sure what the ground zero event was that set everything in motion, but it doesn’t really matter – what matters is how it plays out, with suspicion leading to accusation leading to murder leading to cover-ups, etc. Plus there are a lot of surprisingly funny scenes, like when a cleaner comes to take care of a potential loose end but brought his kid along and thus can’t get with the violence the way he needs to in order to finish the job. The beginning is a bit of a slog, but it’s definitely worth it for the second half.

2010 UK. Director: Ben Wheatley. Starring: Robin Hill, Robert Hill, Julia Deakin, Michael Smiley.
Seen January 29 via Instant Watch.
Flickchart ranking: 1064 out of 2880

Casanova

It’s pretty unusual for the Silent Treatment folks to show a non-American film; generally it’s rare and forgotten Hollywood films that they pull out of their vaults, but this time around they snagged a French film with a Russian director and cross-European cast, telling the oft-told story of Italy’s most famous lover. Of course, with silent film this doesn’t matter very much (and didn’t then, as intertitles don’t present as much of a language barrier problem as subtitling). The film itself is a pretty good romp, following Casanova through various love affairs and skirmishes with angry husbands and the law, including a bit of a tussle with Catherine the Great herself. The tone of the film is difficult to pin down, alternately comic and melodramatic, with a bit of rather fun if totally unbelievable special effects as Casanova convinces one town official he’s a magician. It’s a bit overlong, too, and suffers a lot from the fact that in the 18th century, everybody wore white wigs that made them all look identical. Especially the women – I know based on how Casanova acted that a few of them were repeat lovers, but I couldn’t tell you who or how they all fit into the narrative. Still, lead actor Ivan Mozzhukhin is pretty charming – thanks to his stellar career in Europe, he was hand-picked by Carl Laemmle to be the next Valentino, but conflicts with the studio and the coming of sound forestalled his American career after only one film.

1927 France. Director: Alexandre Volkoff. Starring: Ivan Mozzhukhin, Suzanne Bianchetti, Diana Karenne.
Seen January 4 at Cinefamily.
Flickchart ranking: 1620 out of 2880

Rewatches – Loved

Pierrot le fou

I missed a good bit of Cinefamily’s Godard retrospective due to being out of town, but of all of them, this is probably the one I wanted to share with Jonathan the most (outside of Band of Outsiders, which I made sure to show him very early in our relationship, heh), so I’m glad the scheduling worked out. For me, Pierrot le fou is the culmination of Godard’s pre-1968 style – not his most extreme (Week End) or most elusive (2 or 3 Things I Know About Her) or most pop cultury (Made in USA), but the most coherently synthesized example of his style and themes, starring his two most enduring and iconic actors. Plus, it’s a whole lot of fun. This is probably the fifth time I’m seen it, so I don’t really have anything new to say from this viewing, except that I loved it once again, and was very glad to see it in a theatre full of people who actually understood it’s a comedy. The first time I saw it was in a museum screening, and my gosh those people didn’t even crack a smile ONCE. It’s okay to laugh when things are funny. Just saying.

1965 France. Director: Jean-Luc Godard. Starring: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Anna Karina.
Seen January 25th at Cinefamily.
Flickchart ranking: 44 out of 2880

L.A. Confidential

It’s been several years since I last saw L.A. Confidential, and I honestly wasn’t sure it would hold up. AFter all, last time I saw it, I was a greenhorn at the whole movie game, just barely starting to get into film noir at all – now that I knew more about what L.A. Confidential was homaging, would the homage seem as good? But I think the film actually improved for me this time around. There’s not a wasted moment here, and that’s a wonderful thing in a movie longer than two hours (it feels much, much shorter). The balance between the mystery and the character arcs is held perfectly, and while there’s not a lot of humor, a sardonic wryness sneaks through anyway (and a broader irony overlays thanks to Danny DeVito’s tabloid voiceover). The cast is magnificent, introducing Guy Pearce and Russell Crowe to American audiences with a bang that I’m not sure either of them have totally matched since, and the narrative unfolds its twisty-turny path with remarkable clarity, yet without ever hand-holding or condescending. It’s a fantastic film, and putting fifteen years on its clock hasn’t changed that a bit. (Relatedly, HOLY CRAP, L.A. Confidential is fifteen years old.)

1997 USA. Director: Curtis Hanson. Starring: Guy Pearce, Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey, Kim Basinger, Danny DeVito, James Cromwell.
Seen January 19 on DVD.
Flickchart ranking: 88 out of 2880

Rewatches – Liked

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

I watched this along with L.A. Confidential for a podcast, and like L.A. Confidential, it had been a while since I first saw it. Unlike L.A. Confidential, however, I hadn’t loved Kiss Kiss Bang Bang the first time I saw it. Thinking back, I couldn’t really pinpoint why nor remember the movie that well (though my capsule review that I unearthed after rewatching it is pretty spot-on), so I’d been meaning to rewatch anyway. Especially since I know a lot of people who practically worship this movie. And….it’s still fun, and I still don’t love it. It’s a bit too clever and stuck on making everything funny to actually make its story work. That isn’t always a problem for me, but in this case, writer-director Shane Black tried to have his cake and eat it too, and didn’t quite make it, though he came close. See also my Rewatched and Reconsidered post on Row Three.

2005 USA. Director: Shane Black. Starring: Robert Downey, Jr., Val Kilmer, Michelle Monaghan.
Seen January 16 via Zune Marketplace.
Flickchart ranking: 945 out of 2880

Week End

I happened to be volunteering for Cinefamily one of the nights this played, or I probably wouldn’t have rushed back to see it. Or maybe I would have, because my experience with Godard tends to be that I don’t totally get his films the first time I watch them, but the second or third time they click and become, like, my favorite film of all time. Slight exaggeration, but not by much. Maybe the same thing would happen with Week End? Only kinda sorta. There are a lot of things about Week End that I like very much, even love. Actually, I’d say I love the whole first 2/3 or so, with the petit bourgeous couple wandering through the French countryside aimlessly. It’s savagely funny, and bits here and there are awesome (like when they hit another woman’s car and start driving off, and the other woman tries to get them by serving tennis balls at them; or when they interrupt Jean-Pierre Leaud having a sung conversation in a phone booth; or yes, like the traffic jam). But the film flies completely off the rails for me toward the end, just before they run into the cannibals. Up until this point, the narrative at least follows some internal sense of flow, but it breaks just there, and never recovers. I get that Godard is being purposefully confrontational and to some extent “destroying” cinema, and I don’t mind that, but after that point, the film just doesn’t work for me.

1967 France. Director: Jean-Luc Godard. Starring: Jean Yanne, Mireille Darc.
Seen January 11 at Cinefamily.
Flickchart ranking: 1617 out of 2880