Movies/TV I saw last month...
Ashes and Diamonds (1958)—I think I might have been a little lost coming in for the third movie in a trilogy without seeing the others, plus it's also the first picture I've seen by director and co-writer Andrzej Wajda Dense and complex, acutely observed, following various players in Poland on the day World War II ended and the next day, an interesting mix of the dread of Nazis and another kind of dread of the Russians.
Attack of the 50 Foot Cheerleader (2012)—Gallant cheerleader vs. Goofus cheerleader. Who will win? Because actually this movie has two 50-foot cheerleaders. In fairness, only Goofus cheerleader actually attacks anything.
Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958)— Comical. The hands—watch for the hands. What they had money for. IMDb description: "When an abused socialite grows to giant size because of an alien encounter and an aborted murder attempt, she goes after her cheating husband with revenge on her mind."
Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfolds (1995)—Just a little bit bigger and just a little bit sillier than Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (above).
Ballast (2008)—Nicely done indie with a sharply observed story about a fractured family attempting to make it through crisis in the Mississippi Delta area. Directed and written by Lance Hammer, who seems to otherwise have only to his name some special effects credits on Batman & Robin, Batman Forever, and Practical Magic. Have seen none of them, but Ballast is definitely recommended.
Children of Men (2006)—Can really hit its stride, usually in terms of the action. There's a great ambush scene early, for example. But I wasn't convinced the premise was thought through enough—the reach of this picture far exceeds its grasp. Then again, taking on the depiction of a world more than a decade down the road from the end of all human fertility tends to beggar imagination in the first place.
Showing posts with label seenery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seenery. Show all posts
Monday, March 03, 2014
Monday, February 03, 2014
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
The Act of Killing (2012)—As sickening as you could want, and thus on some level a kind of porn—I fear we are entering Faces of Death territory with this documentary, which carries the imprimatur of executive producer credits for Werner Herzog and Errol Morris, among others (and one of its three co-directors going by ANONYMOUS). It's brave and complex, yes, that's very true, inviting the hit men and murderers of the death squads operating in the service of the Indonesian government in the '60s and after to reenact their crimes for the film. It's amazing and appalling that they do—"documentary gold," as someone once said in another context. But the heart of what's most sickening about The Act of Killing is that it's too late now. These monsters are old men, and have lived long full lives. Also—and I know this will sound like complaining that the portions are too small at the restaurant where the food is not good—the subtitles on the DVD that Netflix is circulating are of the ridiculous variety I thought was extinct now, too small in the first place, and way too often allowed to get lost in the background. Maybe I'd like it better if I understood what people were saying, but I think I got the gist, so maybe I'd like it less.
The Amityville Horror (1979)
Another Year (2010)
Before Midnight (2013)—Worthy entry to what is now a very impressive trilogy. I still find the first movie to be the weakest, because necessarily the most callow, but in the broad scope I think all three now certainly rank together as one of the great epic romances in all movies. This one has some of the fearsome dynamics of Certified Copy, even as it continues to probe the realities and pressure points of a very convincing love story. Are they going to take it out again in 2022? Wow, can you imagine? An American 56 Up (below)!
The Class (2008)—I was pleasantly surprised by this 2008 Cannes winner directed and co-written by French director Laurent Cantet. It stars novelist and former teacher Francois Begaudeau playing himself, based on a book he wrote about his experiences teaching in a Parisian school. The students are of mixed ethnicities, classes, and income levels, and citizenship status among their parents is not always clear. Begaudeau teaches language arts classes for high school freshmen and sophomores. They can involve a lot of managing volatile classroom atmospheres, but more often it is about nagging shy adolescents to learn, trying to guide them into the skills of teaching themselves. The classroom scenes felt immediate and real and so did much of the film, which basically covers an academic year beginning to end, episodically, almost documentary style.
The Act of Killing (2012)—As sickening as you could want, and thus on some level a kind of porn—I fear we are entering Faces of Death territory with this documentary, which carries the imprimatur of executive producer credits for Werner Herzog and Errol Morris, among others (and one of its three co-directors going by ANONYMOUS). It's brave and complex, yes, that's very true, inviting the hit men and murderers of the death squads operating in the service of the Indonesian government in the '60s and after to reenact their crimes for the film. It's amazing and appalling that they do—"documentary gold," as someone once said in another context. But the heart of what's most sickening about The Act of Killing is that it's too late now. These monsters are old men, and have lived long full lives. Also—and I know this will sound like complaining that the portions are too small at the restaurant where the food is not good—the subtitles on the DVD that Netflix is circulating are of the ridiculous variety I thought was extinct now, too small in the first place, and way too often allowed to get lost in the background. Maybe I'd like it better if I understood what people were saying, but I think I got the gist, so maybe I'd like it less.
The Amityville Horror (1979)
Another Year (2010)
Before Midnight (2013)—Worthy entry to what is now a very impressive trilogy. I still find the first movie to be the weakest, because necessarily the most callow, but in the broad scope I think all three now certainly rank together as one of the great epic romances in all movies. This one has some of the fearsome dynamics of Certified Copy, even as it continues to probe the realities and pressure points of a very convincing love story. Are they going to take it out again in 2022? Wow, can you imagine? An American 56 Up (below)!
The Class (2008)—I was pleasantly surprised by this 2008 Cannes winner directed and co-written by French director Laurent Cantet. It stars novelist and former teacher Francois Begaudeau playing himself, based on a book he wrote about his experiences teaching in a Parisian school. The students are of mixed ethnicities, classes, and income levels, and citizenship status among their parents is not always clear. Begaudeau teaches language arts classes for high school freshmen and sophomores. They can involve a lot of managing volatile classroom atmospheres, but more often it is about nagging shy adolescents to learn, trying to guide them into the skills of teaching themselves. The classroom scenes felt immediate and real and so did much of the film, which basically covers an academic year beginning to end, episodically, almost documentary style.
Monday, January 06, 2014
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
American Hustle (2013)—I like Goodfellas and Boogie Nights too, so happy for the reverberations encountered here, plus the script has some nifty turns and twists. But I thought this one basically lived and died by its performances, which were uneven to say the least. Amy Adams is the best, just naturally working the role and the narrative. Christian Bale is doing one of those showy "stretch" roles but he's good. Bradley Cooper—was he still playing Silver Linings Playbook? Did he not know it was another movie? Jennifer Lawrence induced cringes constantly, though in fairness the role was conceived and written too poorly for anyone to salvage it probably. A disappointment though not without its pleasures. By definition, any movie with a disco scene and "I Feel Love" can't be all bad.
Blue Is the Warmest Color (2013)—I understand there are legitimate problems here as the director of this three-hour French film about adolescents and lesbians, Abdellatif Kechiche, is a man, and the woman who wrote the graphic novel on which it's based, Julie March, is complaining that he got it wrong. More: The title is not so much misleading as it is beside the point—the original, The Life of Adele - Chapters 1 & 2, is better and has the merit of being accurate and straightforward. I don't care about the production design (though it's very handsome and blue). It is also too long and the places to cut it are obvious (rhymes with "hex scenes"). But the performance by Adele Exarchopoulos as Adele is undeniable—she goes places here I did not know it was possible to go, and everybody else is pretty well keeping up. Flawed, but definitely worth seeing.
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)—The most amazing part of this movie may be that it never looks old or feels stale, or hasn't yet. And it always finds a way to be devastating. This time the last conversation between Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway), Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty), and Bonnie's mother (Mabel Cavitt) really hit me. Her mother's loathing is palpable. Plus Gene Wilder!
Captain Phillips (2013)—Largely empty and unsatisfying exercise that somehow manages to not have its cake and not eat it too. Tom Hanks is fine in the title role. It's a decent script. Director Paul Greengrass (United 93, the second and third Bourne movies) is efficient and plainly in his comfort zone. The problem is basically the usual mess around "based on true events" pictures, where the excesses are pinned on either "it's true!" or "it's fictionalized!," where everybody knows what's going to happen because they already know what did happen, kind of, and where the occasion is ripe for hagiography. Thus, by the numbers, our humanized captain of the boat, our not entirely humanized Middle Eastern terrorist pirates, and our brutally efficient military. It's not hard to pick out the cues for good guys and bad guys, but it's not always easy to understand them.
Charade (1963)—Maybe a little on the slight side but fun to see. Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn are pros as much as anything else, and they are ably supported by the likes of James Coburn, George Kennedy, and Walter Matthau, plus it's a pretty neat pseudo-Hitchcock story of intrigue and double-dealing with a Paris setting. Directed by Stanley Donen (Singin' in the Rain, The Pajama Game). Good date movie.
American Hustle (2013)—I like Goodfellas and Boogie Nights too, so happy for the reverberations encountered here, plus the script has some nifty turns and twists. But I thought this one basically lived and died by its performances, which were uneven to say the least. Amy Adams is the best, just naturally working the role and the narrative. Christian Bale is doing one of those showy "stretch" roles but he's good. Bradley Cooper—was he still playing Silver Linings Playbook? Did he not know it was another movie? Jennifer Lawrence induced cringes constantly, though in fairness the role was conceived and written too poorly for anyone to salvage it probably. A disappointment though not without its pleasures. By definition, any movie with a disco scene and "I Feel Love" can't be all bad.
Blue Is the Warmest Color (2013)—I understand there are legitimate problems here as the director of this three-hour French film about adolescents and lesbians, Abdellatif Kechiche, is a man, and the woman who wrote the graphic novel on which it's based, Julie March, is complaining that he got it wrong. More: The title is not so much misleading as it is beside the point—the original, The Life of Adele - Chapters 1 & 2, is better and has the merit of being accurate and straightforward. I don't care about the production design (though it's very handsome and blue). It is also too long and the places to cut it are obvious (rhymes with "hex scenes"). But the performance by Adele Exarchopoulos as Adele is undeniable—she goes places here I did not know it was possible to go, and everybody else is pretty well keeping up. Flawed, but definitely worth seeing.
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)—The most amazing part of this movie may be that it never looks old or feels stale, or hasn't yet. And it always finds a way to be devastating. This time the last conversation between Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway), Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty), and Bonnie's mother (Mabel Cavitt) really hit me. Her mother's loathing is palpable. Plus Gene Wilder!
Captain Phillips (2013)—Largely empty and unsatisfying exercise that somehow manages to not have its cake and not eat it too. Tom Hanks is fine in the title role. It's a decent script. Director Paul Greengrass (United 93, the second and third Bourne movies) is efficient and plainly in his comfort zone. The problem is basically the usual mess around "based on true events" pictures, where the excesses are pinned on either "it's true!" or "it's fictionalized!," where everybody knows what's going to happen because they already know what did happen, kind of, and where the occasion is ripe for hagiography. Thus, by the numbers, our humanized captain of the boat, our not entirely humanized Middle Eastern terrorist pirates, and our brutally efficient military. It's not hard to pick out the cues for good guys and bad guys, but it's not always easy to understand them.
Charade (1963)—Maybe a little on the slight side but fun to see. Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn are pros as much as anything else, and they are ably supported by the likes of James Coburn, George Kennedy, and Walter Matthau, plus it's a pretty neat pseudo-Hitchcock story of intrigue and double-dealing with a Paris setting. Directed by Stanley Donen (Singin' in the Rain, The Pajama Game). Good date movie.
Monday, December 02, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
A.K.A. Doc Pomus (2012)—An efficient and predictably wonderful documentary about the amazing Doc Pomus, author of Elvis Presley's "Little Sister" and approximately one million more great songs you already know and love ("A Teenager in Love," "This Magic Moment," "Save the Last Dance for Me"). Lots of interesting people show up—Lieber & Stoller, Shawn Colvin, Dion, Dr. John, B.B. King, Lou Reed, more. Must-see.
Alexandra (2007)—First picture I've seen by director and writer Aleksandr Sokurov (Russian Ark probably the right place to start, oh well). Some very nicely realized moments, but I never connected with the story of an old woman traveling to a Chechen training camp to visit her grandson. It seemed at once fanciful and elaborately grim, which in this case was not good.
The Bigamist (1953)—An interesting noir/woman's picture cross-breed directed by Ida Lupino. Making a mountain of a molehill on the matter referenced in the title, but basically right, almost documentarian, on a common way it happens, and plenty of nice, weird moments along the way. Definitely worth seeing.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)—The bitter-saccharine adventures of Butch, Sundance, and Etta Place have become something like a reliable old friend for me at this point. Often schmaltzy but with a wonderful heart.
A.K.A. Doc Pomus (2012)—An efficient and predictably wonderful documentary about the amazing Doc Pomus, author of Elvis Presley's "Little Sister" and approximately one million more great songs you already know and love ("A Teenager in Love," "This Magic Moment," "Save the Last Dance for Me"). Lots of interesting people show up—Lieber & Stoller, Shawn Colvin, Dion, Dr. John, B.B. King, Lou Reed, more. Must-see.
Alexandra (2007)—First picture I've seen by director and writer Aleksandr Sokurov (Russian Ark probably the right place to start, oh well). Some very nicely realized moments, but I never connected with the story of an old woman traveling to a Chechen training camp to visit her grandson. It seemed at once fanciful and elaborately grim, which in this case was not good.
The Bigamist (1953)—An interesting noir/woman's picture cross-breed directed by Ida Lupino. Making a mountain of a molehill on the matter referenced in the title, but basically right, almost documentarian, on a common way it happens, and plenty of nice, weird moments along the way. Definitely worth seeing.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)—The bitter-saccharine adventures of Butch, Sundance, and Etta Place have become something like a reliable old friend for me at this point. Often schmaltzy but with a wonderful heart.
Monday, November 04, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Baby Face (1933)—The Netflix disc had two versions, a "prerelease" cut as well as the original theatrical release. Either way, it's a remarkable (and, yes, remarkably frank) tale of a Depression-era young woman bartering sexual favors to make her way to the top. The differences between the two versions are mostly matters of degree but the movie is worth looking at two times in a row. I would have to call it mild by today's standards, but surprisingly raw when it has a mind. Barbara Stanwyck (at 26) is terrific, no surprise, and John Wayne has a small role as a city slicker. Must-see for any number of reasons.
The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans (2009)—Werner Herzog's gleeful take on Abel Ferrara's original from 1992 is pretty much up to the task, as tall an order as that is. I must say Harvey Keitel was better in the title role, and that Ferrara also had the better frame in the ongoing NLCS. But post-Katrina New Orleans will do, and though Nicolas Cage is not normally to my taste, he is nearly flawless here, inventing whole new twists on the foundations of the original. For example, when he attempts to be convivial and share a laugh with colleagues. It's intense, outrageous, nail-bite gripping, and perfectly wonderful, right down to the last scene. I love it.
Bitter Moon (1992)—This is much better in many small ways than I remembered. It revels so shamelessly in its own depravity it's like a geek show when all else fails. You never want to look away. But the misanthropy, no matter how perfectly and even exquisitely realized, is still pitched at toxic levels and too easily confused with narcissistic preening. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is narcissistic preening.
Black Swan (2010)—Bone-crunching aesthete Darren Aronofsky takes it to the ballet. The result is amazing, and gets better every time I see it.
The Body Snatcher (1945)—Lugosi is wasted in this Val Lewton production directed by Robert Wise, but Boris Karloff is remarkable as a thoroughly unlikable 19th-century Edinburgh lowlife. It's a solid creep show. Halliwell's calls this the best Val Lewton horror. I'm not sure about that but it was my Halloween selection this year (with one candidate for a better Lewton, I Walked With a Zombie, below).
Baby Face (1933)—The Netflix disc had two versions, a "prerelease" cut as well as the original theatrical release. Either way, it's a remarkable (and, yes, remarkably frank) tale of a Depression-era young woman bartering sexual favors to make her way to the top. The differences between the two versions are mostly matters of degree but the movie is worth looking at two times in a row. I would have to call it mild by today's standards, but surprisingly raw when it has a mind. Barbara Stanwyck (at 26) is terrific, no surprise, and John Wayne has a small role as a city slicker. Must-see for any number of reasons.
The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans (2009)—Werner Herzog's gleeful take on Abel Ferrara's original from 1992 is pretty much up to the task, as tall an order as that is. I must say Harvey Keitel was better in the title role, and that Ferrara also had the better frame in the ongoing NLCS. But post-Katrina New Orleans will do, and though Nicolas Cage is not normally to my taste, he is nearly flawless here, inventing whole new twists on the foundations of the original. For example, when he attempts to be convivial and share a laugh with colleagues. It's intense, outrageous, nail-bite gripping, and perfectly wonderful, right down to the last scene. I love it.
Bitter Moon (1992)—This is much better in many small ways than I remembered. It revels so shamelessly in its own depravity it's like a geek show when all else fails. You never want to look away. But the misanthropy, no matter how perfectly and even exquisitely realized, is still pitched at toxic levels and too easily confused with narcissistic preening. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is narcissistic preening.
Black Swan (2010)—Bone-crunching aesthete Darren Aronofsky takes it to the ballet. The result is amazing, and gets better every time I see it.
The Body Snatcher (1945)—Lugosi is wasted in this Val Lewton production directed by Robert Wise, but Boris Karloff is remarkable as a thoroughly unlikable 19th-century Edinburgh lowlife. It's a solid creep show. Halliwell's calls this the best Val Lewton horror. I'm not sure about that but it was my Halloween selection this year (with one candidate for a better Lewton, I Walked With a Zombie, below).
Monday, October 07, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Annie Hall (1977)
The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)—This seemed a very strange picture for director Sam Peckinpah, lighthearted and even resorting to fast-forward slapstick in places. It's loose and loopy and always engaging, but somewhat untethered. Jason Robards does everything he can to ground it in something you can hang onto, and almost succeeds. Worth seeing.
Bananas (1971)—Some really great bits I had all but forgotten. Laughing out loud, yes, it happened.
Le Boucher (1970)—Serial killer story by director and writer Claude Chabrol. I thought it had more of a handle on its late-'60s setting than "the criminal mindset," which anyway seemed as metaphorical as everything else here. Plenty of anomie to go around, but worth seeing.
Le Cercle Rouge (1970)—Most heist stories are pretty dull affairs for me, not so interested in these wheels within wheels battles of wits, let alone highly specific security/vault procedures (or jewels, or gold, or cash porn). But this shot at it by director and writer Jean-Pierre Melville looks great, almost antiseptically clean, deploying swaths of color with precision. The tone is deeply desolate. I have a feeling it wears well.
The Conformist (1970)—My first time seeing what is likely Bernardo Bertolucci's best-regarded picture. It's nicely put together, swirling and colorful and allusive, with a harrowing chase scene at the finish, and Jean-Louis Trintignant nearly perfect as a cipher. If it struck me as too plunged into the aesthetics and preoccupations of its time—paranoid and still brooding over the sins of fascism (not that there's anything wrong with that)—I have a feeling it's another one that improves.
Contempt (1963)
Annie Hall (1977)
The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)—This seemed a very strange picture for director Sam Peckinpah, lighthearted and even resorting to fast-forward slapstick in places. It's loose and loopy and always engaging, but somewhat untethered. Jason Robards does everything he can to ground it in something you can hang onto, and almost succeeds. Worth seeing.
Bananas (1971)—Some really great bits I had all but forgotten. Laughing out loud, yes, it happened.
Le Boucher (1970)—Serial killer story by director and writer Claude Chabrol. I thought it had more of a handle on its late-'60s setting than "the criminal mindset," which anyway seemed as metaphorical as everything else here. Plenty of anomie to go around, but worth seeing.
Le Cercle Rouge (1970)—Most heist stories are pretty dull affairs for me, not so interested in these wheels within wheels battles of wits, let alone highly specific security/vault procedures (or jewels, or gold, or cash porn). But this shot at it by director and writer Jean-Pierre Melville looks great, almost antiseptically clean, deploying swaths of color with precision. The tone is deeply desolate. I have a feeling it wears well.
The Conformist (1970)—My first time seeing what is likely Bernardo Bertolucci's best-regarded picture. It's nicely put together, swirling and colorful and allusive, with a harrowing chase scene at the finish, and Jean-Louis Trintignant nearly perfect as a cipher. If it struck me as too plunged into the aesthetics and preoccupations of its time—paranoid and still brooding over the sins of fascism (not that there's anything wrong with that)—I have a feeling it's another one that improves.
Contempt (1963)
Monday, September 02, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
American Horror Story (s1, 2011)—The potluck stew of horror tropes does too quickly become tedious soap opera, but that's TV and maybe it was still worth the try? I appreciated the way Dylan McDermott and Connie Britton were so summarily dismissed, it often hits nice scary notes, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the second season is even better (or even worse). Not sure how soon I will finding that out, however.
Au hasard Balthazar (1966)
Badlands (1973)—Oh, yeah, I remember, this is why I like Terrence Malick. Though, now that serial killers and mass murderers and true crime generally have become popular, iconic, and ultimately formulaic, the way in which I appreciate it is hardly less complicated than my response to his more recent stuff, which I'm holding my tongue not to call overrated. But this is beautiful and shocking and haunting, in perfect strokes.
The Bad News Bears (1976)—I've always considered this among the "very good" baseball movies. I love how the losers really are losers. It's bleak if you think about it too much—thus, to me, a perfect family entertainment, because it's also genuinely uplifting. I'd also like to say it's a pleasure to see a 14-year-old Jackie Earle Haley.
Ball of Fire (1941)—I am not as enamored of Howard Hawks as some but there's no denying him, Barbara Stanwyck is fine as always, and what's not to like about a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (with a few sly smacks at Capra as well)? Still, this never quite seems to spark the way one wishes it would.
Carlos the Jackal (2010)—The third part in no way salvaged the bloat of the first two, though to be sure it's attractive in many ways, not least the central performance by Edgar Ramirez. My recommendation: confine yourself to the second part, which is mostly the 1975 OPEC raid.
Carnival of Souls (1962)—Basically a kind of extended Twilight Zone episode complete with twist you see coming from miles, it's also creative, moody, and capable of unsettling imagery. Worth seeing.
Choke (2008)—I had some hopes for this Sam Rockwell vehicle, but it's awfully heavy-handed and obvious.
The Conjuring (2013)—Yeah, I thought this was a pretty fine haunted house picture, with some excellent shock cuts and images and just enough headlong momentum to ratchet the tension. I was never so scared I was sorry I went—the gold standard for horror—but I gasped a few times, and that's a few more times than I gasp at 95% of horror movies.
The Crow (1994)—Enjoyed a chance to look at this again though it is often a matter of surface over substance. Hard to judge what Brandon Lee might have been able to make of himself, and the editing tricksiness does not settle well. But he cuts a fine figure here and the Thrill Kill Kult cameo remains wonderful.
American Horror Story (s1, 2011)—The potluck stew of horror tropes does too quickly become tedious soap opera, but that's TV and maybe it was still worth the try? I appreciated the way Dylan McDermott and Connie Britton were so summarily dismissed, it often hits nice scary notes, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the second season is even better (or even worse). Not sure how soon I will finding that out, however.
Au hasard Balthazar (1966)
Badlands (1973)—Oh, yeah, I remember, this is why I like Terrence Malick. Though, now that serial killers and mass murderers and true crime generally have become popular, iconic, and ultimately formulaic, the way in which I appreciate it is hardly less complicated than my response to his more recent stuff, which I'm holding my tongue not to call overrated. But this is beautiful and shocking and haunting, in perfect strokes.
The Bad News Bears (1976)—I've always considered this among the "very good" baseball movies. I love how the losers really are losers. It's bleak if you think about it too much—thus, to me, a perfect family entertainment, because it's also genuinely uplifting. I'd also like to say it's a pleasure to see a 14-year-old Jackie Earle Haley.
Ball of Fire (1941)—I am not as enamored of Howard Hawks as some but there's no denying him, Barbara Stanwyck is fine as always, and what's not to like about a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (with a few sly smacks at Capra as well)? Still, this never quite seems to spark the way one wishes it would.
Carlos the Jackal (2010)—The third part in no way salvaged the bloat of the first two, though to be sure it's attractive in many ways, not least the central performance by Edgar Ramirez. My recommendation: confine yourself to the second part, which is mostly the 1975 OPEC raid.
Carnival of Souls (1962)—Basically a kind of extended Twilight Zone episode complete with twist you see coming from miles, it's also creative, moody, and capable of unsettling imagery. Worth seeing.
Choke (2008)—I had some hopes for this Sam Rockwell vehicle, but it's awfully heavy-handed and obvious.
The Conjuring (2013)—Yeah, I thought this was a pretty fine haunted house picture, with some excellent shock cuts and images and just enough headlong momentum to ratchet the tension. I was never so scared I was sorry I went—the gold standard for horror—but I gasped a few times, and that's a few more times than I gasp at 95% of horror movies.
The Crow (1994)—Enjoyed a chance to look at this again though it is often a matter of surface over substance. Hard to judge what Brandon Lee might have been able to make of himself, and the editing tricksiness does not settle well. But he cuts a fine figure here and the Thrill Kill Kult cameo remains wonderful.
Monday, August 05, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
American Horror Story (s1, 2011)—On the device front, I acquired a Kindle Fire (my first personal object truly dependent on infernal wi-fi) along with an Amazon Prime account, which is sort of switching up some viewing habits. Suddenly I can get through TV series a bit more efficiently (within the choices offered, of course, as the cost otherwise seems high to me). It's also a novelty so I'm looking at more things just to experience what it's like to look at things this way (weirdly, I find that looking at these screens from five inches is not bad at replicating a "big" experience—the HD may be helping that). At any rate, that's how I've happened to start on this ripe, rotting purple haunted house spiel set in Los Angeles with Dylan McDermott and Connie Britton. I remember it being hyped rather sky-high in some quarters. It reminds me of Natural Born Killers so far—many things thrown against many insane walls, and you get the sense they may not really know what they're doing. It's not very scary, that's one thing, and not always so funny either, though jury still out on that. It normalizes rather than goes all the way with a developmentally disabled character (a no-win situation on a TV show anyway, but the original impulse good horror instinct). It is sometimes unpleasant though not sure yet if that's in good or bad ways. Jessica Lange is clearly having a ball, ditto Denis O'Hare, but too it often seems to settle into pedestrian TV rhythms. I think my approach to TV series from now on will be more reporting in at the end of seasons as I reach them so I will probably have more to say about this next month.
The Bat (1959)—Not much to this killer-on-the-loose wheezer, including especially the inane twists and turns of the plot, but Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead are entertaining, and it has some effective points. I wouldn't call it ever scary, but occasionally diverting, and short.
Battlestar Galactica (s3, 2006-2007)— From the safety of my cloister, the way the last season ended I had expected something more along the lines of life on an occupied planet under Cylon rule, which sounded interesting. Instead, they got out of that with a virtual hop, skip, and jiggety-jig two-parter, and back to outer space and the emotional agonies. The usual long-term symptoms of TV dramatic series are now causing the usual problems—shallow allegorical characters distributed across an overarching concept who continually meet and re-meet (by coincidence!) and never die, except occasionally during sweeps months. Then they milk it till that cow goes dry (looking at you, Ellen Tigh thread). Much intermarriage and fraternizing and attendant anguish. As science fiction filmmaking I think it's a wash, with nice ideas and interestingly imposed limitations but also strange ways of shooting outer space (handheld, really? didn't you think about the, er, gravity? maybe there's something I don't know). And enough already with the high-speed for action. Sorry for the snark, it's just the seams for me are starting to show a little. The character studies are too often trite and convenient, doing little to move anything forward. I don't care who is or is not "really" a Cylon—I think that's beside the point. But the Cylons (both centurions and clones) remain such great and intriguing creations that it still keeps me predisposed to forgive. And I find the religious themes interesting, which surprises me too—one of the main things that keeps me going, in fact (albeit more and more on WTF-anyway levels). So few of these series find satisfying conclusions that I must remain skeptical. As I recall, the reviews were not particularly kind, but I'm in for the whole shebang.
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me (2012)—Solid documentary, seems to be talking to most of the right people, does a nice job of elevating Chris Bell to his rightful place, and otherwise gets out of the way. The stories are poignant and achingly sad, and the music is as beautiful as ever—more so.
Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)—Wow, director and co-screenwriter Sam Peckinpah achieves maximum velocity nihilism with one gruesome plot point (see title) and builds something utterly compelling out of it, with the critical help of Warren Oates as Bennie, a down-and-out lounge musician with a lot of sand. He reminded me a little of Robert Altman's Philip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye, a sad sack loser putting everything into one last insane mission. Peckinpah ratchets that a few times and proceeds to sustain it from beginning to end. Amazing, really.
Carlos the Jackal (2010)—The first part seemed to be little more than an empty litany of terrorist actions, glamorized, and I was worried about what I was in for if it was going to be five hours of that. True, there is one amazing scene of high tension, but felt surrounded by a lot of puffery. Maybe this is my resentment about five-hour movies speaking. But the second part boasts an absolutely riveting first hour as it focuses on a single extremely high-stakes mission. Still have the third part to go, but feeling pretty sure that this self-consciously "big" entry from Olivier Assayas doesn't have to be as long as it is. Not to be confused with Che, directed by Steven Soderbergh.
Children of the Corn (1984)—Stacie Ponder of Final Girl held an all-day movie blogathon last month, The Corn-ening by name, in which she watched and reported on every installment in this franchise (some seven or eight pictures, including a reboot). Don't miss it. Then, also, lately I've been reading Son of Danse Macabre by Bryce Wilson of Things That Don't Suck. It's a fine, gabby, opinionated read (and an explicit bow to Stephen King, whose Danse Macabre, published in 1981, is an essential survey of horror). I've been enjoying it enormously, even as it has accelerated and deepened a recent fascination with horror. So I decided to take a look at the original Children of the Corn. Set in rural Nebraska, the premise is utterly opaque, something about corn fields and murdering fundamentalist children (reminds me more than anything else of a certain Star Trek episode with children). But it has a reasonable share of unsavory ideas, shock images, ominous passages, and a few scares, though more of the subtly disturbing variety (credit to Stephen King for much of what works). In general it was kind of a blast. Stacie Ponder says a couple of the sequels are pretty good too.
City Lights (1931)—Favorite.
American Horror Story (s1, 2011)—On the device front, I acquired a Kindle Fire (my first personal object truly dependent on infernal wi-fi) along with an Amazon Prime account, which is sort of switching up some viewing habits. Suddenly I can get through TV series a bit more efficiently (within the choices offered, of course, as the cost otherwise seems high to me). It's also a novelty so I'm looking at more things just to experience what it's like to look at things this way (weirdly, I find that looking at these screens from five inches is not bad at replicating a "big" experience—the HD may be helping that). At any rate, that's how I've happened to start on this ripe, rotting purple haunted house spiel set in Los Angeles with Dylan McDermott and Connie Britton. I remember it being hyped rather sky-high in some quarters. It reminds me of Natural Born Killers so far—many things thrown against many insane walls, and you get the sense they may not really know what they're doing. It's not very scary, that's one thing, and not always so funny either, though jury still out on that. It normalizes rather than goes all the way with a developmentally disabled character (a no-win situation on a TV show anyway, but the original impulse good horror instinct). It is sometimes unpleasant though not sure yet if that's in good or bad ways. Jessica Lange is clearly having a ball, ditto Denis O'Hare, but too it often seems to settle into pedestrian TV rhythms. I think my approach to TV series from now on will be more reporting in at the end of seasons as I reach them so I will probably have more to say about this next month.
The Bat (1959)—Not much to this killer-on-the-loose wheezer, including especially the inane twists and turns of the plot, but Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead are entertaining, and it has some effective points. I wouldn't call it ever scary, but occasionally diverting, and short.
Battlestar Galactica (s3, 2006-2007)— From the safety of my cloister, the way the last season ended I had expected something more along the lines of life on an occupied planet under Cylon rule, which sounded interesting. Instead, they got out of that with a virtual hop, skip, and jiggety-jig two-parter, and back to outer space and the emotional agonies. The usual long-term symptoms of TV dramatic series are now causing the usual problems—shallow allegorical characters distributed across an overarching concept who continually meet and re-meet (by coincidence!) and never die, except occasionally during sweeps months. Then they milk it till that cow goes dry (looking at you, Ellen Tigh thread). Much intermarriage and fraternizing and attendant anguish. As science fiction filmmaking I think it's a wash, with nice ideas and interestingly imposed limitations but also strange ways of shooting outer space (handheld, really? didn't you think about the, er, gravity? maybe there's something I don't know). And enough already with the high-speed for action. Sorry for the snark, it's just the seams for me are starting to show a little. The character studies are too often trite and convenient, doing little to move anything forward. I don't care who is or is not "really" a Cylon—I think that's beside the point. But the Cylons (both centurions and clones) remain such great and intriguing creations that it still keeps me predisposed to forgive. And I find the religious themes interesting, which surprises me too—one of the main things that keeps me going, in fact (albeit more and more on WTF-anyway levels). So few of these series find satisfying conclusions that I must remain skeptical. As I recall, the reviews were not particularly kind, but I'm in for the whole shebang.
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me (2012)—Solid documentary, seems to be talking to most of the right people, does a nice job of elevating Chris Bell to his rightful place, and otherwise gets out of the way. The stories are poignant and achingly sad, and the music is as beautiful as ever—more so.
Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)—Wow, director and co-screenwriter Sam Peckinpah achieves maximum velocity nihilism with one gruesome plot point (see title) and builds something utterly compelling out of it, with the critical help of Warren Oates as Bennie, a down-and-out lounge musician with a lot of sand. He reminded me a little of Robert Altman's Philip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye, a sad sack loser putting everything into one last insane mission. Peckinpah ratchets that a few times and proceeds to sustain it from beginning to end. Amazing, really.
Carlos the Jackal (2010)—The first part seemed to be little more than an empty litany of terrorist actions, glamorized, and I was worried about what I was in for if it was going to be five hours of that. True, there is one amazing scene of high tension, but felt surrounded by a lot of puffery. Maybe this is my resentment about five-hour movies speaking. But the second part boasts an absolutely riveting first hour as it focuses on a single extremely high-stakes mission. Still have the third part to go, but feeling pretty sure that this self-consciously "big" entry from Olivier Assayas doesn't have to be as long as it is. Not to be confused with Che, directed by Steven Soderbergh.
Children of the Corn (1984)—Stacie Ponder of Final Girl held an all-day movie blogathon last month, The Corn-ening by name, in which she watched and reported on every installment in this franchise (some seven or eight pictures, including a reboot). Don't miss it. Then, also, lately I've been reading Son of Danse Macabre by Bryce Wilson of Things That Don't Suck. It's a fine, gabby, opinionated read (and an explicit bow to Stephen King, whose Danse Macabre, published in 1981, is an essential survey of horror). I've been enjoying it enormously, even as it has accelerated and deepened a recent fascination with horror. So I decided to take a look at the original Children of the Corn. Set in rural Nebraska, the premise is utterly opaque, something about corn fields and murdering fundamentalist children (reminds me more than anything else of a certain Star Trek episode with children). But it has a reasonable share of unsavory ideas, shock images, ominous passages, and a few scares, though more of the subtly disturbing variety (credit to Stephen King for much of what works). In general it was kind of a blast. Stacie Ponder says a couple of the sequels are pretty good too.
City Lights (1931)—Favorite.
Monday, July 01, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)—Seeing the first two Universal Frankensteins virtually back to back has convinced me once and for all that the sequel is much the better picture, brimming with strange and wonderful ideas: Mary Shelley herself telling the tale to her husband Percy and Lord Byron in the setup frame, a zany new mad scientist who grows miniatures that he keeps in glass jars, the monster learning to speak and wanting a wife, Elsa Lanchester's face as framing device. It is at once scarier (though perhaps less shocking) and more fun and way more funny than the first. Stone classic.
Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954)—Nice to see again after a long while, one of the first I stayed up to watch on late night TV. Some of the shock scenes and the especially the menacing soundtrack tended to bring me right back there. The Universal formula usually included a tortured Promethean aspect to its monsters, a cursed spawn of hell taint, and interior knowledge of their own hideousness and/or depravity, and here the highly intelligent fish-man, who appears to have breeding on his mind and his mind on breeding, eventually wiggles into the slotted tragic role more or less. Not altogether convincing and so something of a weak entry by and large, but a prize nostalgia item to revisit, at least this time.
The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)—Seeing the first two Universal Frankensteins virtually back to back has convinced me once and for all that the sequel is much the better picture, brimming with strange and wonderful ideas: Mary Shelley herself telling the tale to her husband Percy and Lord Byron in the setup frame, a zany new mad scientist who grows miniatures that he keeps in glass jars, the monster learning to speak and wanting a wife, Elsa Lanchester's face as framing device. It is at once scarier (though perhaps less shocking) and more fun and way more funny than the first. Stone classic.
Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954)—Nice to see again after a long while, one of the first I stayed up to watch on late night TV. Some of the shock scenes and the especially the menacing soundtrack tended to bring me right back there. The Universal formula usually included a tortured Promethean aspect to its monsters, a cursed spawn of hell taint, and interior knowledge of their own hideousness and/or depravity, and here the highly intelligent fish-man, who appears to have breeding on his mind and his mind on breeding, eventually wiggles into the slotted tragic role more or less. Not altogether convincing and so something of a weak entry by and large, but a prize nostalgia item to revisit, at least this time.
Monday, June 03, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Accident (1967)—Chilly Joseph Losey/Harold Pinter exercise that played a lot for me like a vaguely campy "stay calm and carry on" version of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? It's an extremely handsome production, tight and oddly toned, but overall I wasn't much affected by it.
Blow Out (1981)
Bound for Glory (1976)—This lengthy Woody Guthrie biopic from Hal Ashby never did interest me in the day. I have long thought Ashby is solid but a bit overrated, have a tentative relation to Guthrie's music (mostly I didn't know it for a long time), and wasn't enough of a David Carradine fan, so honestly I never even considered it. I appreciate it now, but mostly for incidentals, such as the obvious influence it had on Todd Haynes for I'm Not There., or for the interesting tension (did they notice when they were making it?) between Guthrie's stated values and his steady capitalistic successes, or for Carradine's performance, which reminds me I still want to get back to that Kung Fu series one of these days.
La Chienne (1931)—Jean Renoir got the first cinematic bite at the literary property that would also produce Fritz Lang's Scarlet Street (below), which I like better overall for a mix of sentimental and objective reasons. But this is Renoir, and it's an interesting treatment of the story, with many alternating emphases and inclusions and exclusions. The two of them together make a pretty good double feature.
Accident (1967)—Chilly Joseph Losey/Harold Pinter exercise that played a lot for me like a vaguely campy "stay calm and carry on" version of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? It's an extremely handsome production, tight and oddly toned, but overall I wasn't much affected by it.
Blow Out (1981)
Bound for Glory (1976)—This lengthy Woody Guthrie biopic from Hal Ashby never did interest me in the day. I have long thought Ashby is solid but a bit overrated, have a tentative relation to Guthrie's music (mostly I didn't know it for a long time), and wasn't enough of a David Carradine fan, so honestly I never even considered it. I appreciate it now, but mostly for incidentals, such as the obvious influence it had on Todd Haynes for I'm Not There., or for the interesting tension (did they notice when they were making it?) between Guthrie's stated values and his steady capitalistic successes, or for Carradine's performance, which reminds me I still want to get back to that Kung Fu series one of these days.
La Chienne (1931)—Jean Renoir got the first cinematic bite at the literary property that would also produce Fritz Lang's Scarlet Street (below), which I like better overall for a mix of sentimental and objective reasons. But this is Renoir, and it's an interesting treatment of the story, with many alternating emphases and inclusions and exclusions. The two of them together make a pretty good double feature.
Monday, May 06, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Another Woman (1988)—Woody Allen comfort classic I must visit periodically. I swear that it is underrated.
Autumn Sonata (1978)—Minor late Bergman. Liv Ullmann is amazing as per the usual. Ingrid Bergman effective enough, but I was often distracted attempting to recognize her.
Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956)—Elaborate Fritz Lang thought experiment that wears the garb of noir with flair, and typically drives to a dismal but satisfying end. Players and story not that impressive, but the doomy mood makes it.
The Big Sleep (1946)—It used to bug me the way the plot doesn't add up here. I resented the work it made me do for nothing, but I'm mostly past that now. It's vintage Howard Hawks, with a heavy, classic noir vibe thrumming all through, and if that's not enough, there's the chemistry between Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart, which is palpable. And if that's not enough, well, what are you, dead?
Black Sunday (1960)—First time seeing this classic Italian gothic, the first film Mario Bava directed and the vehicle (if "vehicle" is the right word) that launched Barbara Steele. I love the grainy black and white and it's packed with great moments and images, veering between creative, energetic, often chilling, and sometimes high camp.
The Crowd (1928)—King Vidor silent picture with a few very famous images, such as a crane shot into a skyscraper office with endless rows and columns of desks and workers, which Billy Wilder later borrowed for The Apartment. The Crowd is mostly preoccupied with a theme of its time, the transition and tension between urban and rural living. Many dead spots, but goes interesting places, and then there are those amazing shots.
Another Woman (1988)—Woody Allen comfort classic I must visit periodically. I swear that it is underrated.
Autumn Sonata (1978)—Minor late Bergman. Liv Ullmann is amazing as per the usual. Ingrid Bergman effective enough, but I was often distracted attempting to recognize her.
Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956)—Elaborate Fritz Lang thought experiment that wears the garb of noir with flair, and typically drives to a dismal but satisfying end. Players and story not that impressive, but the doomy mood makes it.
The Big Sleep (1946)—It used to bug me the way the plot doesn't add up here. I resented the work it made me do for nothing, but I'm mostly past that now. It's vintage Howard Hawks, with a heavy, classic noir vibe thrumming all through, and if that's not enough, there's the chemistry between Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart, which is palpable. And if that's not enough, well, what are you, dead?
Black Sunday (1960)—First time seeing this classic Italian gothic, the first film Mario Bava directed and the vehicle (if "vehicle" is the right word) that launched Barbara Steele. I love the grainy black and white and it's packed with great moments and images, veering between creative, energetic, often chilling, and sometimes high camp.
The Crowd (1928)—King Vidor silent picture with a few very famous images, such as a crane shot into a skyscraper office with endless rows and columns of desks and workers, which Billy Wilder later borrowed for The Apartment. The Crowd is mostly preoccupied with a theme of its time, the transition and tension between urban and rural living. Many dead spots, but goes interesting places, and then there are those amazing shots.
Monday, April 01, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Black Mirror (s1-2, 2011/2013)—Some great stuff across all six of the stand-alone episodes of this BBC series, really short films each in its own right, spanning two seasons already. Some (such as "The National Anthem," the first) work just because everyone seems so into it, however preposterous, the game face stays on. More often they pile on with ingenious near-future thought experiments about our burgeoning cyborg culture, with great writing and performances, and only one stinker in the bunch.
Bringing Up Baby (1938)—As Cary Grant/Katharine Hepburn vehicles from 1938 go, I prefer Holiday. But this is perfectly splendid as well, although true confession it did not take the first time I saw it, which I'm sorry to say was not that long ago. The principals are both hilarious, and the wild cat prowling around works too. Have a feeling this one just gets better.
Catfish (2010)—At the center of this documentary is a sad, disturbing, and very interesting woman. But these filmmakers don't know what to do except point at her. This could have been much better.
Charlie Wilson's War (2007)—A little too pleased with itself, but what do you expect from Mike Nichols, Aaron Sorkin, Tom Hanks, etc., etc. It's talent landmine, prestige production, and you-can-look-it-up historical. But is it as good as Argo? Almost!
Black Mirror (s1-2, 2011/2013)—Some great stuff across all six of the stand-alone episodes of this BBC series, really short films each in its own right, spanning two seasons already. Some (such as "The National Anthem," the first) work just because everyone seems so into it, however preposterous, the game face stays on. More often they pile on with ingenious near-future thought experiments about our burgeoning cyborg culture, with great writing and performances, and only one stinker in the bunch.
Bringing Up Baby (1938)—As Cary Grant/Katharine Hepburn vehicles from 1938 go, I prefer Holiday. But this is perfectly splendid as well, although true confession it did not take the first time I saw it, which I'm sorry to say was not that long ago. The principals are both hilarious, and the wild cat prowling around works too. Have a feeling this one just gets better.
Catfish (2010)—At the center of this documentary is a sad, disturbing, and very interesting woman. But these filmmakers don't know what to do except point at her. This could have been much better.
Charlie Wilson's War (2007)—A little too pleased with itself, but what do you expect from Mike Nichols, Aaron Sorkin, Tom Hanks, etc., etc. It's talent landmine, prestige production, and you-can-look-it-up historical. But is it as good as Argo? Almost!
Monday, March 04, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Amarcord (1973)—Give it up for Nino Rota. I struggle too often with Fellini's style of storytelling from La Dolce Vita on, but my third (!) attempt at this proved surprisingly rewarding, much of that because of Rota's music. Also noticed when I quit struggling I like the characters and scenes a lot more. But how do you quit struggling?
Amour (2012)—Yes, admire and respect this a good deal—"like" seems the wrong word. But I don't completely trust it because I don't completely trust Haneke. I think he always means his movies to hurt, even when he adopts a topic such as this, so elaborately grave and socially responsible on the surface—how brave are the aging! It's the shallowness of the veneer that's ultimately most discomfiting. Because this is no exception. It's a horror movie as much as it is anything else.
The Battle of Algiers (1966)—I saw this in the late '90s and thought the grainy newsreel black and white was too much of an affectation, but now it seems just right, and a fascinating and intricate examination of terrorism. Interesting how one's perceptions change according to circumstances.
Between the Lines (1977)—Underground Boston newspaper and staff foibles. Cute but slight. I always think I will like it more.
The Big Red One (1980)—This often works very well but goes off the rails too, as in the madhouse scene. Why is it always a madhouse in war movies, hm? Getting a little tired of that one.
Bush Family Fortunes (2004)—Some catching up on Bush era documentaries heretofore buried in my Netflix queue. Most, such as this featuring reporter Greg Palast, are notable at this point only for occasional onset of bad flashbacks.
Bush's Brain (2004)—About Karl Rove and woefully out of date, released at a time—we can see now—when Rove was at the height of his power. I think it's very different now, but then I'm always an optimist about this stuff.
Carrie (1976)—Beautiful and operatic and weird. Things about it work and don't work, but what's good is very good, and it's not always what you expect.
Compliance (2012)—Stanley Milgrom porn, literally.
Contraband (1940)—Wow, what a contrast this makes with The Thief of Baghdad, which also came from director Michael Powell in 1940. This is written with his long-time partner Emeric Pressburger, together known as the Archers, and it's straight out of Hitchcock's British spy movies of the '30s. Enjoyed this one a lot.
Amarcord (1973)—Give it up for Nino Rota. I struggle too often with Fellini's style of storytelling from La Dolce Vita on, but my third (!) attempt at this proved surprisingly rewarding, much of that because of Rota's music. Also noticed when I quit struggling I like the characters and scenes a lot more. But how do you quit struggling?
Amour (2012)—Yes, admire and respect this a good deal—"like" seems the wrong word. But I don't completely trust it because I don't completely trust Haneke. I think he always means his movies to hurt, even when he adopts a topic such as this, so elaborately grave and socially responsible on the surface—how brave are the aging! It's the shallowness of the veneer that's ultimately most discomfiting. Because this is no exception. It's a horror movie as much as it is anything else.
The Battle of Algiers (1966)—I saw this in the late '90s and thought the grainy newsreel black and white was too much of an affectation, but now it seems just right, and a fascinating and intricate examination of terrorism. Interesting how one's perceptions change according to circumstances.
Between the Lines (1977)—Underground Boston newspaper and staff foibles. Cute but slight. I always think I will like it more.
The Big Red One (1980)—This often works very well but goes off the rails too, as in the madhouse scene. Why is it always a madhouse in war movies, hm? Getting a little tired of that one.
Bush Family Fortunes (2004)—Some catching up on Bush era documentaries heretofore buried in my Netflix queue. Most, such as this featuring reporter Greg Palast, are notable at this point only for occasional onset of bad flashbacks.
Bush's Brain (2004)—About Karl Rove and woefully out of date, released at a time—we can see now—when Rove was at the height of his power. I think it's very different now, but then I'm always an optimist about this stuff.
Carrie (1976)—Beautiful and operatic and weird. Things about it work and don't work, but what's good is very good, and it's not always what you expect.
Compliance (2012)—Stanley Milgrom porn, literally.
Contraband (1940)—Wow, what a contrast this makes with The Thief of Baghdad, which also came from director Michael Powell in 1940. This is written with his long-time partner Emeric Pressburger, together known as the Archers, and it's straight out of Hitchcock's British spy movies of the '30s. Enjoyed this one a lot.
Monday, February 04, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
All That Jazz (1979)—I have always admired this but never particularly connected with it. And I definitely don't think it is Fosse's best—I put Cabaret and also Lenny ahead of it.
Atlantic City (1980)—Another one that had eluded me. I thought it was excellent. Both Susan Sarandon and Burt Lancaster are so great, and I loved all the ins and outs of the story. Also, it looked great, a European film overlay on top of Atlantic City in the middle of being demolished and rebuilt in the '70s.
The Bakery Girl of Monceau (1962)—This is the first of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, a thematic series of six movies, the first two of which are less than 60 minutes. All six involve a man, always a different man, choosing between two women, always different women. The Criterion box (typically an excellent product, if pricy) also has a bunch of other shorts scattered along the way, all with Rohmer's fingerprints: Veronique and Her Dunce (1958), Presentation, or Charlotte and Her Steak (1960, featuring Jean-Luc Godard), Nadja in Paris (1964), On Pascal (1965), A Modern Coed (1966), The Curve (1999). They are all variously elliptical and charming. Bakery Girl, which stars Barbet Schroeder, fits more closely with them, in many ways, because of its brevity at only 23 minutes.
Bernie (2011)—I think we already knew what a good singer Jack Black is and I was generally not as impressed with him here as it sounds like others are. But Linklater tends to be worth revisiting and it's possible this will get better.
The Big Country (1958)—I have to admit my heart sank a little when I saw this William Wyler Western was nearly three hours long, but wow, it's pure entertainment. Big story, big landscape (of course), big everything, and always engaging. I loved Gregory Peck too. This makes me pretty sure at least two more Wylers I haven't seen are probably due for bumping up.
Civilisation (1969)—Finishes strong even given his general inability to deal with 20th century art.
Claire's Knee (1970)—Another high point of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, the fifth in the series, though in our age (perhaps, or perhaps it's me) it seems a little too unnervingly fascinated by pubescent girls, viz., the title.
Cloud Atlas (2012)—Disappointing mess, I'm sorry to say.
La Collectionneuse (1967)—I think this is my favorite of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, which I'm willing to believe is because Haydee Politoff is such a perfectly enigmatic (and beautiful) young woman. Strangely, this picture feels bare bones low-budget and lushly rich at the same time—something about the way color is used.
Cosmopolis (2012)—Occupy David Cronenberg by way of a 2003 Don DeLillo novel. Not bad.
Coup de Torchon (1981)—Yeah, not sure transposing Jim Thompson to Africa is such a good idea, but nice try.
All That Jazz (1979)—I have always admired this but never particularly connected with it. And I definitely don't think it is Fosse's best—I put Cabaret and also Lenny ahead of it.
Atlantic City (1980)—Another one that had eluded me. I thought it was excellent. Both Susan Sarandon and Burt Lancaster are so great, and I loved all the ins and outs of the story. Also, it looked great, a European film overlay on top of Atlantic City in the middle of being demolished and rebuilt in the '70s.
The Bakery Girl of Monceau (1962)—This is the first of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, a thematic series of six movies, the first two of which are less than 60 minutes. All six involve a man, always a different man, choosing between two women, always different women. The Criterion box (typically an excellent product, if pricy) also has a bunch of other shorts scattered along the way, all with Rohmer's fingerprints: Veronique and Her Dunce (1958), Presentation, or Charlotte and Her Steak (1960, featuring Jean-Luc Godard), Nadja in Paris (1964), On Pascal (1965), A Modern Coed (1966), The Curve (1999). They are all variously elliptical and charming. Bakery Girl, which stars Barbet Schroeder, fits more closely with them, in many ways, because of its brevity at only 23 minutes.
Bernie (2011)—I think we already knew what a good singer Jack Black is and I was generally not as impressed with him here as it sounds like others are. But Linklater tends to be worth revisiting and it's possible this will get better.
The Big Country (1958)—I have to admit my heart sank a little when I saw this William Wyler Western was nearly three hours long, but wow, it's pure entertainment. Big story, big landscape (of course), big everything, and always engaging. I loved Gregory Peck too. This makes me pretty sure at least two more Wylers I haven't seen are probably due for bumping up.
Civilisation (1969)—Finishes strong even given his general inability to deal with 20th century art.
Claire's Knee (1970)—Another high point of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, the fifth in the series, though in our age (perhaps, or perhaps it's me) it seems a little too unnervingly fascinated by pubescent girls, viz., the title.
Cloud Atlas (2012)—Disappointing mess, I'm sorry to say.
La Collectionneuse (1967)—I think this is my favorite of Eric Rohmer's Moral Tales, which I'm willing to believe is because Haydee Politoff is such a perfectly enigmatic (and beautiful) young woman. Strangely, this picture feels bare bones low-budget and lushly rich at the same time—something about the way color is used.
Cosmopolis (2012)—Occupy David Cronenberg by way of a 2003 Don DeLillo novel. Not bad.
Coup de Torchon (1981)—Yeah, not sure transposing Jim Thompson to Africa is such a good idea, but nice try.
Monday, January 07, 2013
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Broadway Danny Rose (1984)—Much better than I remembered. The A story suffers from terminal slightness, as so much of the '80s Woody Allens did, but the old comics sitting around the diner telling the story somehow makes it all work (even as it could have been much better).
Capote (2005)
City Lights (1931)—Holiday favorite.
Civilisation (1969)—I am finding my first look at this BBC series to be an oddly thrilling experience. I keep wondering what this stuffed shirt Sir Kenneth Clark is doing to pull that off and I've decided that it is the way he forces us to look at the magnificence, and contemplate it with him, for all these many hours.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)—Holiday favorite.
Broadway Danny Rose (1984)—Much better than I remembered. The A story suffers from terminal slightness, as so much of the '80s Woody Allens did, but the old comics sitting around the diner telling the story somehow makes it all work (even as it could have been much better).
Capote (2005)
City Lights (1931)—Holiday favorite.
Civilisation (1969)—I am finding my first look at this BBC series to be an oddly thrilling experience. I keep wondering what this stuffed shirt Sir Kenneth Clark is doing to pull that off and I've decided that it is the way he forces us to look at the magnificence, and contemplate it with him, for all these many hours.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)—Holiday favorite.
Monday, December 03, 2012
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Argo (2012)—Great thriller, great story, great detail.
Billion Dollar Brain (1967)—Bloody sequel to the bloody Ipcress File directed by bloody Ken Russell. I mean "bloody" in the Brit sense, of course ("damned"). It's not gory, just perversely willful. And I couldn't follow it. Took me two tries and still not sure why I did.
Christo in Paris (1990)—With this fourth picture of five, the scope of the collaboration between the Maysles and environmental artists Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude comes into impressive focus. Christo's life story, a refugee from Bulgaria as a young adult who has made his way as an artist in the West, is fascinating. It doesn't hurt that the actual project documented is also one of his most interesting: wrapping in beige fabric the Pont Neuf, the oldest standing bridge in Paris, built from 1578 to 1607 and a staple of French visual art ever since.
Christo's Valley Curtain (1974)—Maysles short about a large-scale environmental art installation, their first collaboration with environmental artists Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude. Some nice images, notably the installation itself, a giant curtain of orange fabric drawn against a valley floor in Colorado. Nice use of the golf course within view of it.
Crimes of Passion (1984)—Very dull Ken Russell sextravaganza tarted up for the '80s.
Argo (2012)—Great thriller, great story, great detail.
Billion Dollar Brain (1967)—Bloody sequel to the bloody Ipcress File directed by bloody Ken Russell. I mean "bloody" in the Brit sense, of course ("damned"). It's not gory, just perversely willful. And I couldn't follow it. Took me two tries and still not sure why I did.
Christo in Paris (1990)—With this fourth picture of five, the scope of the collaboration between the Maysles and environmental artists Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude comes into impressive focus. Christo's life story, a refugee from Bulgaria as a young adult who has made his way as an artist in the West, is fascinating. It doesn't hurt that the actual project documented is also one of his most interesting: wrapping in beige fabric the Pont Neuf, the oldest standing bridge in Paris, built from 1578 to 1607 and a staple of French visual art ever since.
Christo's Valley Curtain (1974)—Maysles short about a large-scale environmental art installation, their first collaboration with environmental artists Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude. Some nice images, notably the installation itself, a giant curtain of orange fabric drawn against a valley floor in Colorado. Nice use of the golf course within view of it.
Crimes of Passion (1984)—Very dull Ken Russell sextravaganza tarted up for the '80s.
Monday, November 05, 2012
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
About Schmidt (2002)—How did this one get away from me? Nicholson fatigue, I guess—I was dreading it from the DVD package. Much, much better than I expected.
The Bad Seed (1956)—The strain shows sometimes but mostly this is a great big kick, especially the ending so secret that the disclaimer is still appended not to say anything about it to anyone who hasn't seen it. So mum is the fucking word, believe you me. Recommended for October horror fests.
About Schmidt (2002)—How did this one get away from me? Nicholson fatigue, I guess—I was dreading it from the DVD package. Much, much better than I expected.
The Bad Seed (1956)—The strain shows sometimes but mostly this is a great big kick, especially the ending so secret that the disclaimer is still appended not to say anything about it to anyone who hasn't seen it. So mum is the fucking word, believe you me. Recommended for October horror fests.
Monday, October 01, 2012
seenery
Movies/TV I saw last month...
Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)—Wow, a ton of good energy, lots of surprises, completely engaging beginning to end. I think I liked this a lot.
Beautiful Boy (2010)—A couple (Michael Sheen, Maria Bello) about to separate find out that their son and only child, a freshman in college, has killed 16 people at his college and then himself. It tries very hard, but still, dry eyes in the house.
A Better Tomorrow (1986)
Boy Meets Girl (1984)—Extremely annoying.
Brazil (1985)—Second time. Still do not like. Just checking.
Come and See (1985)—Really good WWII story about Nazi atrocities in Byelorussia. It sounds tediously familiar/obvious but it is anything but. One of my favorites this month.
Consuming Spirits (2012)—Years-in-the-making animated feature, complicated and weird, sometimes makes you work too hard, but a pretty good payoff.
Crime Story (s1, 1986-1987)—Got to the end of the first season of this interminable, weirdly baked early Michael Mann production finally, with Dennis Farina deplorably bad as a tough-guy Chicago cop bent on taking down a gangster. So much is bad about it but every episode also had something you just wouldn't expect—a shot, a scene, a set piece, a plot detail, a surprising face. Lots of familiar faces here—David Caruso, Deborah Harry, Pam Grier, Ving Rhames, Julia Roberts, Michael Rooker, Christian Slater, Lili Taylor, even Miles Davis. YMMV but I'm not rushing into the second season any time soon.
Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)—Wow, a ton of good energy, lots of surprises, completely engaging beginning to end. I think I liked this a lot.
Beautiful Boy (2010)—A couple (Michael Sheen, Maria Bello) about to separate find out that their son and only child, a freshman in college, has killed 16 people at his college and then himself. It tries very hard, but still, dry eyes in the house.
A Better Tomorrow (1986)
Boy Meets Girl (1984)—Extremely annoying.
Brazil (1985)—Second time. Still do not like. Just checking.
Come and See (1985)—Really good WWII story about Nazi atrocities in Byelorussia. It sounds tediously familiar/obvious but it is anything but. One of my favorites this month.
Consuming Spirits (2012)—Years-in-the-making animated feature, complicated and weird, sometimes makes you work too hard, but a pretty good payoff.
Crime Story (s1, 1986-1987)—Got to the end of the first season of this interminable, weirdly baked early Michael Mann production finally, with Dennis Farina deplorably bad as a tough-guy Chicago cop bent on taking down a gangster. So much is bad about it but every episode also had something you just wouldn't expect—a shot, a scene, a set piece, a plot detail, a surprising face. Lots of familiar faces here—David Caruso, Deborah Harry, Pam Grier, Ving Rhames, Julia Roberts, Michael Rooker, Christian Slater, Lili Taylor, even Miles Davis. YMMV but I'm not rushing into the second season any time soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)