June 2012 Recap

31 new viewings
16 revisits

Best new discoveries: Sparrow, Rat-Trap (honorable mention: Moonrise Kingdom, Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary)
Worst new discovery: American Psycho

Really good month.  A small handful of mediocrities, but only one true stinker.  Much of June was devoted to revisiting old favorites, but I think I’ve got a couple of new favorites as well.  My only gripe is that although I watched a substantial number of films, I really could have watched so many more.  With the wife out of town, I’ve had fewer demands on my time, plus I had a few days off from work.  I’ve just developed some bad time-wasting habits (mostly internet-related).  Not all that time needs to go into watching movies, but it should be put to some kind of productive use.  I’ve squandered far too many hours lately.

Forecast for July is several more rewatches as I prep my updated top 100.  Other than that, no specific viewing plans, I’ll just play it by ear.

Beyond the Forest (rewatch)

The wild saga of Rosa Moline (Bette Davis), trapped in the one-horse burg of Loyalton, Wisconsin, with her boring husband (Joseph Cotten), the town’s kindly and beloved doctor.  Rosa watches the trains come and go, longing to jump on one and head for the big city of Chicago.  She has desires and aspirations this sleepy town can’t provide, but she sees hope in one of its former residents, a millionaire executive (David Brian).  She’ll get out of there, or she’ll die trying.

I loved this movie even more the second time around.  Davis makes for the most deliriously delightful (or delightfully delirious) femme fatale, and fire and venom and vinegar, spitting out those wonderfully nasty lines with glee.  “You finally have the guts to hate me!” is just one of several gems in the script.  Screenwriter Lenore J. Coffee penned at least one other fantastic noir — Sudden Fear — and I’ve got a couple more on my watchlist.  Davis’s performance is gloriously hammy, campy, over the top.  Cotten does a fine job as her entirely too tolerant hubby, and Dona Drake is a hoot as their petulant maid, but it’s really Bette’s show through and through.  And boy, does she make the most of it.  As devious and wicked as she is, I really do feel for Rosa.  As a city dweller myself, I would hate to be stuck in some podunk town where the hottest thing going is a square dance.  And you can’t help feeling sorry for her after that disastrous trip to Chicago, when she starts to realize the true limitations of her world.  Moralizing preambles aside, surely Vidor meant for his audience to understand Rosa’s turmoil at least somewhat. 

But this isn’t a pity piece, and sooner or later her behavior is so extremely nasty we can’t feel sorry for her… though secretly (or not so secretly), we still root for her.  With an appropriately melodramatic score by Max Steiner and gorgeous noir stylings by cinematographer Robert Burks (who would go on to shoot 12 Hitchcock pictures, including many of his most iconic), the film madly careens towards its maniacal climax, with Davis doing the most delusional descent down a staircase this side of Sunset Boulevard.  A great ending to a great film.  Rating: Masterpiece

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Exiled

At the start of the film, a woman is disturbed by two hitmen looking for her husband, Wo.  She turns them away, then two more show up and she turns them away too.  It seems that one group is determined to kill Wo (for trying to off their triad boss or something) and the other is determined to protect him.  Wo comes home, and one guy from each group goes inside with him.  The three assemble into a polite Mexican standoff, ensuring that each has the same number of bullets before they begin.  After a beautifully choreographed (need I say “balletic”?) shootout, everyone sets about fixing up the apartment and cooking a lovely dinner.  You see, complicating matters is the fact that all five men are old friends.

After this opening bit of business, I was hopeful that this would be another genre-bending introspective flight of fancy from Johnnie To, along the lines of the recently-watched Sparrow.  But these special moments are fewer and further between.  There is some genre-bending going on, although I don’t know if it’s particularly original to do a gangster film in the spaghetti western idiom (at one point, the crew sits around a campfire while someone plays harmonica).  And there are some terrific bits, like opposing sides both showing up at the same shady doctor to be patched up, or the indifferent cop who only wants to survive until retirement day, or the giddy dash to the photo booth before the next round of bloodshed can begin.  But as much as To tries to focus on themes of building alliances for the right or wrong reasons, the bonds of friendship vs. the bonds of duty, a lot of it feels pretty cliché and familiar.  Sure, the firefights are exquisitely realized with clever maneuvers and expert establishment of characters in the geography, but it still boils down to the same kind of cool posturing we’ve seen plenty of from John Woo (or Sergio Leone, for that matter).

It’s the middle section that suffers most from this… the beginning and ending are more intriguing, but the center sags with few surprises.  The stylization throughout, however, is always compelling.  Even when the film is narratively and thematically dragging its heels, the lighting and compositions are consistently eye-catching.  And I have no complaints about the performances, all of the actors do a good job establishing character with not much to work with.  Oh, and the score is again excellent.  I’m just much more interested in something like Sparrow, something that feels less like a film I’ve seen before.  Rating: Good

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The Go-Between

Just prior to the first World War, Leo (Dominic Guard) is a young lad staying at the Norfolk estate of his wealthy school chum Marcus (Richard Gibson).  Among the inhabitants of the household is Marcus’s beautiful older sister Marian (Julie Christie).  Harboring a crush on Marian, Leo becomes her postman, delivering messages to the studly farmer Ted (Alan Bates), keeping their scandalous secrets while trying to sort out his own feelings.

Losey’s film is quite well done by most standard measures.  There is exquisite photography in exquisite locations, all manner of lush greenery and stuffy estate rooms.  None of the performances seem egregious, and Guard deserves special mention as a fine young actor.  LeGrand’s score is lovely, though a bit repetitive.  The Pinter script avoids any florid speeches or overly grand dramatic moments.  The themes of class division and repressed romance are handled deftly and with some interesting nuances.  No one explicitly looks down their nose at Ted and by outward appearances he is treated as an equal, but the difference in social status is subtly felt.  Most intriguing are the chronological leaps forward with Michael Redgrave as older Leo, up until the end shown only in very brief flashes, echoes into the future.

However, I have to say I wasn’t terribly interested in the subject matter in general.  Or rather, I was interested in the sense that I was somewhat invested in the characters and their fate, but not especially excited about any of it.  It didn’t have that something special to make it stand out.  I’ve seen a fair number of Losey films by now, including some of his noirs, and the only one to leave a strong impression has been The Servant with its surreal flourishes and subversive humor.  Although this film held my attention well enough and has some admirable qualities, it didn’t really ring my bells in any noteworthy way.  Rating: Good

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The Scarlet Empress (rewatch)

A recent episode of the “They Shot Pictures” podcast got me thinking about Sternberg.  In general I’ve liked and even loved Sternberg’s work in the past, but it’s only the past couple of years I’ve really come to appreciate his extravagant style.  I felt it was time to revisit a couple I haven’t seen for a while.

“Extravagant” is a good word for this film.  Ostentatious sets overflowing with ornate detail, towering and horrific religious icons, piles of valuables and one of the most absurd dinner tables you’ve ever seen.  It’s a sensory assault, aided by delirious visuals that make use of rich shadows and soft glows and diaphanous barriers, punctuated with wild tempests of motion… Dietrich got quite a workout in this film, having to do so much running in such heavy costumes.  There are scenes of sheer poetry, a particular favorite is the stable seduction, with Dietrich’s playful teasing of the straw in her mouth (which gets a nice callback later).

Although I’m much more taken with Sternberg’s glorious mise en scene than I was four years ago, I can’t entirely abandon my previous complaints.  Dietrich is wholly unbelievable as the shy naif she plays in the first half.  She can leave her mouth gaping in shock or wonder all she wants, she can’t hide the knowing mischief in her eyes.  Sometimes it’s ridiculous in a quite enjoyable way, but usually just ridiculous.  I’d also say the content of the story doesn’t often match the dizzying decadence of the presentation.  Granted, it’s old Hollywood and can’t get too outrageous, but it’s still a pre-Code film (as evidenced by the tortured naked bodies early on) and there are times where it felt like something was being held back.  I certainly would have liked to see more of the “new” Catherine.  But we see enough to get the point.  The movie’s aesthetic and cinematic achievements overshadow the slight narrative weaknesses.  Rating: Very Good

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And Everything Is Going Fine (rewatch)

It’s hard to think of anything new I can add to my previous review.  If you’re at all interested in Spalding Gray, you should definitely watch it.  I wish I’d had the opportunity to see him perform live (or maybe I did have the opportunity and didn’t realize it).  I should read more of his published works at least.  It was nice to revisit the documentary, although I shouldn’t have bought it.  Fortunately I’ve been making fewer hasty purchases these days, so one or two isn’t that bad.  Rating: Very Good

As with Gray’s Anatomy my main reason for buying it (it’s getting harder and harder to get your hands on new Criterion releases without purchasing them these days) was to see the bonus monologue, in this case his first one: Sex and Death to the Age 14.  The title pretty much makes it clear… Gray tells anecdotes related to sex (pornography, first kisses, discovering masturbation, et cetera) and death (mostly the demise of various pets) in his life up through the age of 14.  Although much of this monologue is excerpted in Soderbergh’s documentary, it’s worth hearing the whole thing.  It doesn’t have a great flow to it like his later works, but the stories are quite humorous and have a universality to them despite the abundance of specifics.  Rating: Good

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Gray’s Anatomy (rewatch)

I have a lot of medical anxiety, as I imagine most people do.  Going to doctors is a nerve-wracking experience, always expecting the worst, having to own up to all your bad habits and irresponsible behavior.  However, I’ve had two surgeries in the past few years and didn’t worry much about them.  I mean, they were unpleasant and involved slow recovery processes, but I was grateful to at least have solutions to my problems and never considered any alternative treatments once it was clear that surgery was a sound option.  Still, I can relate to Spalding Gray’s anxiety about an eye operation (to correct a macular pucker) and search for “magical thinking” alternatives, perhaps mostly because Gray’s neuroses are already familiar to me through two feature films (three if you count the hour-long Terrors of Pleasure) and his writings.  And because Gray is a master storyteller, who invites you inside his head and gives you a guided tour.  Gray’s Anatomy isn’t his best monologue — the book is better — but he’s rarely less than compelling, and his wit is sharp as ever.

Soderbergh’s directorial decisions are understandable, but problematic.  Broomfield’s Monster in a Box is essentially a straight recording.  Demme’s Swimming to Cambodia spices things up with a few flourishes and a terrific Laurie Anderson score, but manages to keep Gray front and center.  Soderbergh’s desire to do something different is admirable, and it’s hard to blame him for wanting to make a movie that’s cinematic.  But it’s too much.  Losing the live audience, fine.  I kind of like having them there, but it’s not essential.  The interviews in the prologue are okay (some of those eye stories are horrifying) but the ones that interrupt the monologue are perplexing.  Why, if you have respect for what Gray does, would you break up the flow of his performance?  And for such a nothing payoff?  And the visual stylizations are way over the top, distancing the viewer from the speaker (far too often Gray’s face is shrouded in blackness), losing the immediacy.  Maybe this is a film to introduce people to Spalding Gray, get them interested in his work.  But for those who are already fans, it seems like the director is trying to showcase his own cleverness rather than the eloquent and carefully composed monologue.  Ultimately, the film survives Soderbergh’s fiddlings, but is the weakest of the three features.  Rating: Good

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Also on the disc — and really the main reason I chose to purchase it — is A Personal History of the American Theater, another Gray monologue from 1982.  Gray has the names of 48 plays he performed in from 1960 to 1970 written on cards, the cards are shuffled and one by one he reveals them and talks about them.  The segments range from a few seconds (he reads the title and apparently having nothing to say, moves on) to a 14-minute story on “The Commune” (involving Charles Manson, LSD, and attempted conversions to Christianity).  The anecdotes are all either interesting or amusing or both, including experiences with a young Dustin Hoffmann or taking the virginity of a theater director’s daughter or the unpleasant side effects of an all-soybean diet.  The randomized nature of the piece precludes any development of an overarching theme, however, and the performance feels rather slight compared to his later ones as a result.  An enjoyable piece, though.  Rating: Good

I Want to Live!

In 1953, Barbara Graham and two of her associates were arrested for the murder of an elderly widow.  Graham — a reform school alumna and previously convicted of perjury – proclaimed her innocence the entire time but was sentenced to death.  This film tells her story.  You could divide it into four sections: background, trial, attempts to appeal, and death row.  While the other parts have their compelling moments, the last is most affecting and harrowing, and possibly an inspiration for Von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark.  Graham (Susan Hayward) waits for death, trying to keep her frazzled nerves in check with sardonic humor and tough bravado, but every time the phone rings with hope of a possible stay of execution, it cuts like a razor.

The film seems to pride itself on being a true story, with both opening and closing title cards attesting to it.  But — from what I’ve read, at least — much of it is highly dramatized, and the movie goes out of its way to establish Graham as an innocent patsy while the facts say quite the opposite.  If they hadn’t been so insistent on connecting the film’s plot to real-life events, I wouldn’t care.  But I take issue with a movie that professes to be true and is loaded with bullshit (unless, as in Fargo, the “true story” doesn’t actually exist at all).

Overlooking that, however, it’s not a bad movie and has some terrific noir-esque stylizations.  The jazz score, including Gerry Mulligan’s combo, is a blast and there are shots with rich and satisfying chiaroscuro.  The film largely hinges on Hayward’s performance, for which she received an Oscar.  For the most part it’s a compelling, brassy performance, although there are definitely moments where the hamminess becomes laughable.  The supporting roles are pretty much negligible, but Hayward manages to carry the film.  If you ignore the lack of verisimilitude, it’s worth watching for the masterful final act if nothing else.  It doesn’t reach the heights of Wise’s best noirs — The Set-Up and Odds Against Tomorrow — but it sits comfortably alongside his middling ones like The Captive City and Born to Kill.  Rating: Good

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Sparrow

I went into this with a skeptical attitude.  One, because I had certain problems with the only other Johnnie To film I’d seen, PTU.  Two, because based mostly on that experience, I had cynically pegged To as a mediocre director certain people put on a pedestal to show what ahead-of-the-curve cinephiles they are.  And three, because it was recommended to me and deep down, I want to be the one making the recommendations.  I don’t want to admit that someone had to introduce me to something, I want to get there first (which I suppose makes me exactly the kind of “hipster” douchebag I despise).  The first of those reasons is somewhat reasonable, the other two are fucking ridiculous.  Hey, I’m only human.

Fortunately, this film won me over in the first two minutes, as a sparrow flies into Simon Yam’s apartment.  He chucks it back out the window, but it returns and makes a home for itself.  We soon learn that Yam is part of a team of pickpockets (including Ka Tung Lam, Wing-cheong Law and Kenneth Chung) and they are about to cross the wrong woman: Chung Chun Lei (Kelly Lin), a sparrow flown over from mainland China, trapped in a relationship with the mob boss Mr. Fu (Hoi-Pang Lo).

If this sounds like a crime thriller, well I guess it is, but it has the tones of a classic musical.  With a light touch, To brings warmth and comedy and sweeping romantic eloquence to the tale, where every moment is a delicious surprise and every shot is some sort of cinematic magic.  Sensuality expressed with balloons and lipstick-stained cigarettes, a clever heist done in drag, a balletic climax where Yam faces a gauntlet of pickpockets and Lin’s fate hangs in the balance… including a twirling umbrella shot that makes you say “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”  The charm of the actors — especially Yam — helps lend the film its breezy air, and most of all the score is masterful.  Combining western influences and eastern motifs, the gorgeous music supports the wonderful musicality of the camerawork.  “Colors can be deceptive” (and the film indulges us with multiple fanciful deceptions) says Yam, but that doesn’t stop To from drenching the screen in vibrant colors.

Certainly glad I was able to abandon my silly preconceptions and give in to the beautiful alchemy of this film.  Looking forward to more To.  Rating: Great

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The 39 Steps (rewatch)

Hitch spits in the face of plausibility but delivers a story so entertaining and with so much forward momentum that the plot holes and unlikely situations are easily overlooked… or even add to the fun.  Cementing the “wrong man” mold that would recur throughout his career, the everyman (Robert Donat) miraculously slips through the fingers of the law, the villains, and even jealous Scots in his pursuit to clear his name and what the heck, save civilization while he’s at it.  Along the way he’ll pick up another Hitchcock staple, the strong-willed blonde (Madeline Carroll).  Traversing from one memorable scene to the next — a mysterious and alluring stranger invites herself to the spend the night, a farmer’s wife is a helpful ally, a man with a missing finger and the miracle of the prayer book, an improved speech at a political rally, a “flock of detectives”, a lesson in undressing while handcuffed, a music hall performer who answers questions he shouldn’t because answering questions is what he does — the film sweeps you along its implausible path with wit and tension and touch of a master.

Donat is instantly charming in his performance, with his suave little mustache and silky vocal delivery.  The situation is never too dire for him to make light of, and when he does crack a joke it comes organically.  Bouncing off him wonderfully is Carroll, and although I think her character is treated a little unfairly — put in Donat’s and the audience’s (temporary) contempt for not knowing as much as we do — her independence is nonetheless admirable.  Not a single supporting performance to complain about, either… Lucie Mannheim, Wylie Watson, John Laurie, Peggy Ashcroft, Godfrey Tearle… oh hell, why am I listing off the cast?  They’re all delightful.  And the film looks gorgeous with especially stunning lighting and those chases across the moors.  The Blu-Ray presentation is a treat.

Hannay employs a variety of false identities along his journey, often playing up to someone’s lurid sensibilities.  He tells the milkman he’s been humping someone else’s wife, he tells the innkeeper they’re a couple on the run.  When the truth is too complicated and farfetched, give them a deception they can sink their teeth into.  There’s also a slew of comical jabs at married life… and considerably darker ones, as we wonder about Peggy Ashcroft’s fate.  Donat and Carroll hold hands (with cuffs still noticeably dangling) at the end, but how long will it be before Richard Hannay is complaining about how she looks in a corset to a stranger?  No matter… for now, we can delight in a mystery solved, Britain safe from agents of unknown foreign origin, and an adventure worth retelling.  Rating: Great

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