When rating a film I ask myself these three questions: What is the director’s goal or purpose? How does the director try to achieve it? Is the director successful? Hence a big box office hit may get a “5” while a Eurosleaze sexploitation flick gets a “7”. My rating system in a nutshell:
10 = Brilliant!
9 = Exceptional
8 = Very Good
7 = Good
6 = Average
5 = Forgettable
4 = Bad
3 = Dismal
2 = Dog Barf
1 = Beyond Awful
~ ~ ~ ~
Melinda and Melinda (USA 2004) (5): Two playwrights with differing views on the human condition are having dinner with friends. Sy (Wallace Shawn) maintains that life is essentially a series of comedic events while Max (Larry Pine) maintains that our existence is underlined by tragedy. Then one of their friends poses a hypothetical scenario: “A troubled woman crashes a private dinner party…” Thus two parallel stories evolve focused on “Melinda” (Radha Mitchell doing double-time), one in which she is a tragic victim bent on sabotaging her life and the other in which she’s a kooky RomCom character finding love in the Big Apple. But which one rings truer to life? Playing out more like a creative writing assignment than a serious philosophical discourse, this is definitely not among writer/director Woody Allen’s best works. Still, his usual trappings are on full display with New York sophisticates exchanging forced bon mots over vintage wine and bitchy humour either leading to laughs or cringes depending on the storyline. Mitchell does an OK job playing opposite sides of the same coin but it’s co-star Will Ferrell, playing a frustrated husband, who garners the most chuckles as he channels Allen’s neurotic wit.
Hello, Hemingway (Cuba 1990) (7): High school senior, Larita, has her heart set on winning a scholarship to study in America. But the competition is fierce, her family is poor, and her reactionary boyfriend is attracting the wrong kind of attention. Losing herself in a battered copy of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, Larita draws inspiration from the elderly Santiago’s courage and perseverance in the face of insurmountable odds. But will it be enough to see her through or, like Santiago, will her dreams likewise go unfulfilled? Set in Cuba circa 1950s, director Fernando Pérez’s ultra low-budget indie takes the excesses of a telenovela—the turmoil, the overbearing music, the emotive acting—and fashions them into a highly watchable personal drama. Lead actress Laura De la Uz gives a wonderfully downplayed performance as a young woman who won’t let her secondhand shoes and patched dress keep her from achieving her goal even as fate and circumstance gather against her (as well as a drunken adoptive father and mother who gave up her own dreams long ago). And just to add a bit of irony to the story, Pérez places Larita’s humble home right smack in the shadow of Hemingway’s seaside mansion—his ethereal presence a source of both encouragement and bitterness. Avoiding Hollywood schmaltz in favour of realism, Pérez nevertheless closes his film with a perfectly composed static shot in which young schoolgirl and classic novel finally intersect. Charming.
Murder by Decree (UK/Canada 1979) (7): Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick Dr. Watson (Christopher Plummer, James Mason) are drawn into a dangerous game of politics and royal scandal when they join the hunt for Jack the Ripper. Pretty generic fare hovering as it does between the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce classics and the cartoonish nonsense of Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law’s second attempt. But Plummer and Mason work well together and they’re further buoyed by David Hemmings, John Gielgud, Anthony Quayle, Geneviève Bujold, and Donald Sutherland. The old London sets are appropriately dusty and musty, while the score by Paul Zaza and Carl Zittrer manages to keep pace.
Midnight in Paris (USA 2011) (9): Writer/director Woody Allen scores another hit with this fantasy nostalgia piece which begs the question, what exactly are the “good old days” and why is each generation so preoccupied with them? While visiting France with his stuck-up fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her snobbish parents, aspiring American novelist Gil (Owen Wilson) finds himself magically transported back to 1920s Paris every night at midnight where he falls in with the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Luis Buñuel, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Believing this to be the greatest era in history, Gil is beside himself—especially after Picasso’s ex-mistress (Marion Cotillard) takes a shine to him. But one person’s Golden Age is another’s boring Here and Now, a lesson Gil is about to learn in both the past and the present. Allen turns the City of Lights into a romantic playground of cobblestone alleyways and gas streetlights, where booze and intellectual banter go hand in hand and anything is possible. Opening with a succession of postcard moments and closing on a rain-shrouded bridge, his opus gushes with sentimentality and passion. And of course his signature dry humour is evident throughout. Beautifully framed and intelligently written. Co-stars include Adrian Brody as an over-the-top Salvador Dali; Kathy Bates as a no-nonsense Stein; Alison Pill giving a convincingly neurotic Zelda Fitzgerald to Tom Hiddleston’s stoic F. Scott; and Corey Stoll as a slightly unhinged Hemingway.
Scaramouche (USA 1952) (7): Set in pre-revolutionary France, MGM’s grand costume swashbuckler stars Stewart Granger as a dashing rogue obsessed with exacting revenge on the master swordsman who killed his best friend. To this end he goes undercover with a group of traveling performers where his life is further complicated when two women begin vying for his affections: a headstrong actress (Eleanor Parker) who sees him for exactly what he is; and a virginal debutante (Janet Leigh) who winds up being the biggest thorn in his side. Magnificent wardrobes—Nina Foch practically drips pearls and diamonds in her bit part as Marie Antoinette—and a stirring orchestral score compliment the widescreen action while a climactic sword fight in a crowded theatre sees two adversaries swinging on ropes and balancing on balcony railings as they literally slash the scenery to pieces. Great fun presented in scorching Technicolor!
Owners [Vlastníci] (Czech Republic 2019) (7): Nobody does political satire like eastern Europeans and writer/director Jirí Havelka certainly gives credence to that reputation. On a frosty winter’s night the Home Owners’ Association (HOA) of a rickety co-op development gather for their monthly meeting. But with personal agendas flying like daggers they can’t seem to move past the opening minutes. One woman wants much needed upgrades to be done while another accuses the building’s sole gay occupant of wasting water on his many “dates”. Then there’s the old man who can’t stop reminiscing about the good old days under Communist rule; the cougar accused of harbouring too many black foreigners (“They’re from Ghana and they’re studying medicine!” she shoots back); and the smooth-talking twins who inherited an apartment from their deceased father and now have questionable plans of their own. And presiding over the whole mess is the HOA’s anal-retentive secretary whose obsession with rules and regulations has everyone voting on whether or not to vote on a motion to hold a vote. In the meantime, throughout the building pipes are bursting and electrical outlets are shorting… A wickedly dry comedy of democracy gone mad in a house of cards populated by a round table of nitwits and incompetents, schemers and martyrs. It may be tailored toward a Czech audience but the punchlines are universal.
True Stories (USA 1986) (8): David Byrne’s weird and wonderful quasi-musical manages to be both a deadpan homage and a skewed send-up of small town Americana circa 1980s. As the little burg of Virgil, Texas gears up for that state’s 150th anniversary of independence, various residents are dealing with dramas of their own from the rich recluse (Swoosie Kurtz) who stays in bed all day watching the world go by on her TV set to the lovesick bachelor (John Goodman) who uses everything from voodoo rites to neon signs in order to find the woman of his dreams. And traveling back and forth along main street in his red convertible is a dapper narrator (Byrne) who regularly breaks the fourth wall in order to keep us in the loop. It’s kooky of course—apparently many of the “true stories” were gleaned from actual supermarket tabloids—but there’s a sense of fun at work and a host of songs-slash-music videos by Talking Heads get your toes tapping as they none too gently skewer consumerism one minute (“Love for Sale”), take aim at politics the next (“Puzzlin’ Evidence”) and finally get all misty-eyed when Goodman belts out an unexpectedly soulful rendition of “People Like Us”. An outré fashion show is enough to give a drag queen nightmares; a town parade features a precision lawnmower drill team; and a gala talent contest is cringeworthy in the best possible way. Jo Harvey Allen winds up with the best lines as a barfly with a drunken tall tale for every occasion and Spalding Gray makes a bizarre cameo as a civic leader with an interesting use for shellfish.
Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words (Sweden 2015) (8): Not your usual biography, director/co-writer Stig Björkman’s documentary on Sweden’s biggest movie star gathers its information from Bergman’s own extensive trove of home movies, letters, and personal diaries, as well as firsthand recollections provided by friends and family. From her unhappy childhood—she was rocked by multiple family deaths—to her success in Hollywood and beyond she was a study in contradiction. Shy yet outspoken, demure yet prone to scandal, in love with her children yet absent for long stretches at a time, hers was a restless spirit. She once confided in a friend, ”I was the shyest creature in the world but I had a lion inside me that wouldn’t keep quiet.” Yet this is no Mommie Dearest muckraker for no one, including her four grown children, have anything but good memories—if anything they regret not having more of her in their lives. And after watching Björkman’s wonderfully intimate portrait of Bergman as both wife, mother, and screen icon I must say I feel the same way.
Zero Day (USA 2002) (7): Pretty much ignored by their peers, high school loners Cal and Andre amuse themselves by making home videos showing themselves pulling pranks and listing grievances aimed at their parents, their school, and life in general. But when they proudly show off their growing arsenal of assault weapons and drop hints about “Zero Day” you realize that you are in fact watching a pair of teenaged sociopaths planning the biggest prank of all… Heavily influenced by the Columbine massacre which occurred less than three years previous, director Ben Coccio stitches together amateur video and B&W security camera footage to imagine what may have happened in the days leading up to a similar tragedy. Stars Cal Robertson and Andre Keuk certainly look the part as a pair of nondescript slackers whose outer indifference hides an inner rage: they joke with their clueless parents (played by the actors’ real life parents) yet in private talk dispassionately about ways to kill and record a manifesto which is both chilling and childishly naïve. These are not the deranged monsters we want to see but rather a pair of kids displaying what philosopher Hannah Arendt once described as “the banality of evil”—there’s nothing special about them and that fact makes their plans all the more horrifying. There is a sophomoric quality to this production which borders on experimental, and it definitely lacks the polished arthouse precision of Gus Van Sant’s Elephant released a year later—but it’s precisely this lack of sophistication which makes it all the more wrenching. Of course one can’t help but sense a certain amount of exploitation on Coccio’s part especially with Columbine still fresh in everyone’s mind, but considering the hundreds of school shootings which have occurred since then while politicians and the NRA continue to sit on their asses perhaps Zero Day should be required viewing.
Triangle (UK/Australia 2009) (8): Six people are enjoying a sailing trip off the Florida coast when a sudden bizarre storm wrecks their boat. Now marooned in the middle of the ocean they are relieved to see a giant steamship heading their way. Once aboard however they will face a whole series of strange and deadly mysteries after they find the ship completely deserted. But one of the castaways, Jess (Melissa George), begins to suspect what is really going on and the truth is more horrible than she can imagine… Carnival of Souls meets The Poseidon Adventure with a touch or two of The Shining in writer/director Christopher Smith’s refreshingly clever and unexpectedly dark descent into madness and perdition. To explain more would be to explain too much, suffice to say this is an eerie, atmospheric mindfuck of a film filled with portents and metaphors (keep your eyes open and brush up on your mythology!) played out in echoing corridors and dimly lit spaces. Trust no one, not even yourself…
The Palm Beach Story (USA 1942) (7): Despite the censors being unhappy with the film’s flippant attitude towards matrimony in general, Preston Sturges’ iconic screwball comedy still ranks as one of Hollywood’s most popular. In order to help her husband, a brilliant but financially strapped inventor (Joel McCrea), turn his idea of a high-tech airport into a reality his doting wife (Claudette Colbert) comes up with an outlandish plan: head to Florida for a quickie divorce then enter into a marriage of convenience with the first millionaire who crosses her path. But before she can annul her first marriage she meets up with a wealthy recluse (Rudy Vallee) and all hell breaks loose when her jealous husband has second thoughts and comes looking for her. Colbert hits comedy gold hovering between ditzy airhead and pragmatic schemer while McCrea provides the perfect foil as the taciturn spouse who can’t quite keep up. Meanwhile Vallee spoofs himself as the crooning tycoon and Mary Astor yuks it up with double-entendres as the man-eating sister who latches onto McCrea. From the opening credits’ puzzling montage (it eventually makes sense) to that ingenious closing shot (experts are still not sure how it was filmed) this is a whimsical little farce, directed with a light touch and featuring a cast that play off each other perfectly. And that prolonged scene featuring Colbert sharing a train car with a group of drunken, shotgun-toting businessmen borders on the surreal. Fun stuff!
The Best Years of Our Lives (USA 1946) (9): Winner of seven Oscars, including Best Picture, William Wyler’s 3-hour small town epic dared to go where many films at that time refused. At the end of WWII three soldiers return to an America that has changed almost beyond recognition. Al (Fredric March, Best Actor) reunites with a family that has grown independent in his absence—his adoring wife (Myrna Loy) can’t quite understand him and his grown children are practically strangers. Fred (Dana Andrews), moves in with a wife (Virginia Mayo) who now has a life of her own. And Homer (real life amputee Harold Russell, Best Supporting Actor) who lost his hands in a fire reacts to the pity he receives with increasing hostility. As the three men try to integrate back into a peacetime population which no longer treats them with deference—jobs are scarce, banks are reluctant to give loans, some question whether the war was even worth it—alcohol, PTSD, and despair will all take their toll. Pretty controversial for a movie that was released just one year after D-Day and Hiroshima, but Wyler and screenwriters Robert Sherwood and MacKinlay Kantor (who wrote the novel) bring their own wartime experiences to the forefront giving the whole production not only an air of authenticity but of utmost compassion as well. Lacking the pessimism that would mark later Viet Nam era films like Coming Home and Apocalypse Now, Wyler does offer some light at the end of his three tunnels, but the GI Joe bravado which influenced Hollywood during the war is here tempered by a dose of sobering reality. Highly watchable and occasionally brilliant. Celebrated songwriter Hoagy Carmichael co-stars as Homer’s barkeep uncle and Teresa Wright plays Al’s headstrong daughter.
The Letter (USA 1940) (8): An early precursor to Film Noir, William Wyler’s multiple Oscar nominated melodrama features Bette Davis as the gracious wife of a Malaysian rubber plantation owner who kills a man one night after she claims he tried to rape her. But an incriminating letter soon surfaces which casts serious doubts on her story… Davis’ over-the-top performance shifts between coyness and hysterics while a more grounded James Stephenson provides some dramatic ballast as the conscientious defense attorney who begins to question her innocence. But the real star is Tony Gaudio’s evocative B&W cinematography which revels in shadows and nighttime skies with the moon itself cast as heavenly judge and jury. Too bad the Hays Office felt the need to sanitize Somerset Maugham’s original story. Herbert Marshall gives a stiff upper lip as the doting husband, Gale Sondergaard is pure malice as the deceased’s wife, and Victor Sen Yung begins his film career by playing Stephenson’s oily paralegal.
Susannah of the Mounties (USA 1939) (6): Perpetual orphan Shirley Temple gives a sparkly performance as the lone survivor of an Indian attack who is taken in by dashing Mountie Randolph Scott in this egregiously inaccurate tale supposedly set in the wild west of 1860s Canada. Of course she wins the hearts of every white man and Indian she crosses, winds up quelling an uprising, and even manages to get stoned puffing on a peace pipe (how did that get past the censors?). Naturally the natives are portrayed as Hollywood stereotypes despite the fact the opening credits proudly proclaim they were all played by actors hired from the Montana Blackfeet reservation. All except for Maurice Moscovitch who was cast as their fearless leader, Chief Big Eagle, his heavy Yiddish accent destroying all credibility. Margaret Lockwood co-stars as Scott’s love interest, a chaste little deb all the way from TORONTO!
My Night at Maud’s (France 1969) (6): Okay, so I’m not a fan of Éric Rohmer and this “morality tale” didn’t do much to change my mind despite its two Oscar nominations. Backsliding Catholic Jean-Louis (Jean-Louis Trintignant) has set his hopes on meeting a nice Catholic girl, preferably blonde, with whom he can live happily ever after. But he discovers just how weak the flesh can be after he spends a chaste night with Maud (Françoise Fabian) a seductive libertine who challenges everything he believes in from religious piety (she’s an atheist) to love and morality. An awkward love triangle develops between Maud, Jean-Louis, and Françoise, a cute blonde he met at church (what are the odds?) leading to a lot of wordy navel-gazing as our lovestruck protagonist comes to realize nothing in life is quite as simple—or virtuous—as it first appears. Fate plays its hand and Pascal’s famous wager figures prominently as Jean-Louis decides which woman to place his bets on: the earthly pleasures of Maud or the virginal Françoise, two women he barely knows. Interesting premise marred by endless banter and existential hand-wringing à la Rohmer. The director’s intention may have been comedic but, for me at least, the result was tedium. Nice B&W cinematography however—Françoise is never far from a crucifix; an arduous climb up an icy hillside is cleverly balanced by a later descent down a sunny sand dune—and the three stars are easy on the eyes. And ears.
A Special Day (Italy 1977) (9): In the spring of 1938 Adolf Hitler received a hero’s welcome when he rode into Italy for a meeting with Mussolini. In what was declared a national holiday pretty much all of Rome donned their official party uniforms in order to cheer the two leaders on—all except for browbeaten housewife Antonietta (Sophia Loren). Left to tend to the housework while her overbearing husband and six children went to join the crowds celebrating the Führer’s historic visit, Antonietta finds a kindred spirit of sorts in Gabriele (Marcello Mastroianni) a quiet neighbour who has his own reasons for not taking part in the fascist rally. Over the course of one day superficial coffee chat will slowly build to something far more meaningful as both Antonietta and Gabriele come to realize that loneliness, like despair, can take on many guises. Shot in dull washed-out shades to reflect his protagonists’ colourless existence, co-writer/director Ettore Scola further underscores their sense of social and emotional isolation with a continuous background roar of distant cheers and jingoistic radio broadcasts. Loren is nothing short of magnificent. Striking despite the dowdy housedress, unkempt hair, and lack of make-up, she gives a star performance as a woman clinging to her dignity even as she rages over the fact that life will hold no surprises for her beyond duty to husband and family. In his Oscar-nominated role Mastroianni delivers an emotional kick playing a vulnerable yet angry man who carries his own dignity like a shield because, unlike Antonietta, he knows perfectly well what life has in store for him. With an empty apartment complex providing a suitable metaphor—an escaped pet bird makes a statement on the pursuit of freedom; a clothesline of drying sheets provides an apt backdrop for a game of psychological truth-or-dare—Scola’s nicely realized two-hander melds historical fact with intimate drama. His constant juxtaposition of Totalitarian propaganda with the plight of two unhappy souls in search of personal liberation may be fuzzy at times, but in the end the sheer star power of his leads manages to carry it through.
2 Days in Paris (France 2007) (7): Writer/director/editor/co-star Julie Delpy does a passable Gallic Annie Hall while Adam Goldberg gives an irritatingly accurate Woody Allen in this hit-and-miss riff on Richard Linklater’s superior Before trilogy. On their way home to New York from Italy, Marion and her American boyfriend Jack decide to spend a few day at her parents’ home in Paris. Over the course of those two days—with cultural and language barriers providing an ongoing background joke—the lovers will see their relationship come to a breaking point: Marion has not been completely honest about her past relationships (a fact which comes to haunt the couple through a series of chance encounters); while Jack’s raging insecurities, coupled with his hypochondria and generally sour outlook, will widen the rift that’s already developing between them. Will they make the return trip to Manhattan as a couple…or two singles? Copying Linklater’s style, the bulk of Delpy’s film is composed of Marion and Jack playing off one another in a series of interlocking monologues with Marion’s somewhat scattered bohemian parents (Delpy’s real life mom and dad) providing local colour along with a host of her avant-garde friends and exes. Wine flows (or in the case of Jack “whine”) confessions are dropped like bombs, and sexual politics are never far from everyone’s mind. But whereas Linklater’s scripts plumbed some discomfiting truths about love and fidelity, Delpy’s interactions are mainly neurotic banter—Jack obsesses over pathogens, a drunken Marion is convinced she’s dying, and the two argue over the longterm implications of a blow-job. In fact it’s not until the film’s final moments that the shallow jabs begin to hit home with the two conducting a painfully honest appraisal of both themselves and their future together. But for all that I found the pacing never lagged, the conversations were at least interesting if hardly riveting, and those humorous touches kept things from spinning into pathos. It’s all sparkle and fluff of course, but sometimes that’s all you need.
I Like Movies (Canada 2022) (7): It’s graduation time and obnoxious teenaged movie geek Lawrence dreams of leaving the cultural wasteland of Burlington, Ontario by applying to the prestigious film program at NYU where he hopes to become a great director. Only two things stand in his way however: lack of talent and lack of funds—both of which lead to a number of theatrical meltdowns. Set in the early ‘90s, this charming little indie dramedy from writer/director Chandler Levack features winning performances from Isaiah Lehtinen whose socially awkward narcissist both grates and endears; Krista Bridges as his long-suffering single Jewish mother; and Percy Hynes White as the BFF whose patience for Lawrence’s grandstanding is quickly reaching its limit. Kudos also to Romina D’Ugo in the role of Lawrence’s boss at the local video store, a woman whose own Hollywood dreams went up in smoke years earlier. Refreshingly devoid of the dramatic hyperbole and moral lecturing often found in English-Canadian productions, this is a quaint little coming-of-age tale which lends credence to the old Stones’ lyrics: “You can’t always get what you want…but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need.”
Akira (Japan 1988) (8): So this is the trippy little cartoon which introduced Western audiences to the art of anime…and what a trip it is! In a post-apocalyptic Tokyo where motorcycle gangs regularly butt heads with both police and each other while ineffectual politicians twiddle their thumbs, The military has resurrected a very dangerous research project aimed at heightening human abilities. What they’ve created instead is a homicidal superman with god-like psychic powers and it’s now up to the army, a trio of mutant children, and a ragtag group of teenagers riding souped-up hogs to defeat it. Although somewhat dated, the animation and sound effects remain superb—the tinkle of falling pebbles is rendered with the same meticulous care as all those gargantuan fireball explosions and the use of skewed camera angles was cutting edge for its time. It does run a bit long at just over two hours but writer/director Katsuhiro Ōtomo’s adaptation of his own manga contains enough blood and cyberpunk mayhem to keep tedium at bay. An absolute must for fans of the genre.
Fortune Favors Lady Nikuko (Japan 2021) (8): Much of the cultural references and in-jokes get lost in translation, but this cute coming-of-age anime from Studio 4°C still retains enough of its cheerful zeal to charm Western moviegoers. Kikuko lives with her lovably eccentric and somewhat portly mother on a houseboat in a sleepy little fishing village. While mom ekes out a living waiting tables, Kikuko navigates the joys and pains of adolescence from interpersonal dramas at school to her budding crush on a strange young classmate. And even though her boyish body has yet to “bloom”, she is content to simply enjoy life as it comes. But as the lazy days of summer give way to winter’s first snows, Kikuko will have to face a few unsettling truths about herself and the people around her… With beautiful pastel landscapes providing a maritime backdrop, director Ayumu Watanabe takes great delight in little everyday idiosyncrasies—mom’s emotional swings give rise to some funny theatrics; toilet paper (or lack thereof) proves to be an ongoing issue; and terse commentary is offered by the unlikeliest of characters. A sweet and gentle comedy-drama which emphasizes family bonds and the importance of choosing your own path.
