Note: The diary entries start the day I adopted the 100-point scale. I have writing from before this, but I decided that was the starting point—less work for me and more cohesive under the singular rating structure.
R indicates I have watched the film more than once.
September 17th, 2024
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982, Steven Spielberg)
{88}
I'm counting this as a first watch—my memories of this film are equivocal. This is pure unadulterated sentiment done about as well as you can possibly do it. It packs so much pathos, especially that last act. Those final fifteen minutes are just pure bliss, accompanied by an astonishing score by John Williams. Seriously, the music here is a paid actor. I love that the kids are the heart and soul of this film, and that they're the ones that understand you have to let go even if it hurts.
September 15th, 2024
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977, Steven Spielberg)
{60}
First watch. Director's Cut. Decent. Was never truly floored by any element, even some of the excellent imagery—striking shots suffuse the whole film. The mothership coming over Devils Tower just about got me there. The choice of protagonist is puzzling, as much as I now love Richard Dreyfuss—and I do. So much of the background to this tale happens off screen in our other storyline, and I can't help but find that stuff far more interesting than Neary's vague obsession. Gotta love quaint aliens.
September 15th, 2024
The Breakfast Club (1985, John Hughes)
{81}
Fucking classic. Managed to miss it this whole time, but finally glad to know what's up. This cast of characters brings the heat, each mining their respective walk of life for maximum pathos—and the performances match (Estevez may be a bit wobbly at times). Themes of community and tribalism surprisingly well explored. A killer soundtrack and quotes out the ass. It's perhaps too neat in its conclusion, but it interrogates the questions enough beforehand, so I'm not really bothered.
September 14th, 2024
Signs (2002, M. Night Shyamalan)
{30}
Pretty much everything I disliked about Unbreakable—plodding, wooden, stolid—but with a worse ending, which is saying something. Plotting is deeply questionable, aliens pose as impotent villains, and themes are thrown around carelessly. Supremely trite. Consummately trite. Still, some decent photography and a good performance from Mel Gibson (although it's in service to a character that doesn't work). The final dinner scene is also great, but it's one of the few scenes that worked.
September 13th, 2024
Wimbledon (2004, Richard Loncraine)
{61} R
One of my comfort movies. I make no excuses for its deficiencies, I just don't really care about them.
September 11th, 2024
Madagascar (2005, Eric Darnell, Tom McGrath)
{32} R
Not the underappreciated charmer I once thought. Mostly quite stupid across the board. Lots of jokes that get an eye-roll (Sugar Honey Iced Tea and the like). I'm not one to demand realism from fare like this, but the zoo at the beginning makes ZERO sense. Three foot high fences? With predators directly next to prey? Probably a dumb complaint, but I couldn't not notice this time. Other than the penguins, the cast and characters are forgettable. And the animation has aged like milk.
September 8th, 2024
Troy (2004, Wolfgang Petersen)
{54} R
Popcorn shlock. Stilted, prosaic dialogue and mostly corny characterization. I haven't read The Iliad—I plan to in short order—but from what I know of it this movie does almost nothing with the rich vein of theme the story possesses. Really, this is just an excuse for a couple cool battles, a Trojan Horse set piece, and for audiences to get a peak at Pitt's olive-toned ass.
August 3rd, 2024
Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993, Bruce Timm, Eric Radomski)
{57}
Hmmm this is not the hidden gem classic I was led to believe. The thematics aren't adequately explored, so any "maturity" this flick goes for is underdeveloped—and if this is the bar for "elegant dialogue" (as described in another review), then I fear we've lost our way a bit. The structure is wonky too, with no clear focus throughout. The Joker is introduced too late, the mob feels like a distraction, and the Phantasm-revealed-as-Andrea has no time to settle—while also being the least surprising plot beat I've experienced in a while. For a movie that does a decent job at headlining Bruce Wayne (something at which many Batman films fail miserably), not getting to see the fallout after he learns that the love of his life is a masked vigilante is a big miss. Still, there are plenty of lovely frames here. The skyboxes consistently impressed and the animators were definitely in their bag. And there are some great lines, delivered well: "I didn't expect to be happy." But the aesthetics, and a few quotables, can't make up for the lopsided, unfocused narrative.
July 20th, 2024
The Bourne Identity (2002, Doug Liman)
{66} R
Probably my umpteenth viewing (this trilogy was on regularly during my middle school days), but maybe my third or fourth viewing as a conscientious observer. Some excellent action set pieces, but slightly sullied by a needless romance. Having Marie in the story is fine enough, but their development as a romantic couple is simply too fast and unconvincing (partially because Jason is supposedly programmed as a cold blooded killer and it's hard to fathom him even having the faculties to truly love someone, amnesia or not). She's there as a humanizing force—someone to show Jason the life he left behind as he relearns the life he'd been leading prior to his amnesia—but her friendship would have been enough.
Still, this movie is paced very well via action sequences spread liberally throughout. We go from the embassy, to the pen fight, to the car chase, to the duel at the farmhouse and the field, to the gunfight on the staircase (as awesome as it is absolutely ridiculous). It's all good stuff. And it's brought to life quite well by Matt Damon and Co. Chris Cooper turns in a great performance—something I'm led to believe is not a rarity. Onto Supremacy.
July 11th, 2024
Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008, Nicholas Stoller)
{69} R
Probably third or fourth viewing. Feels like the pinnacle of the 2000s raunchy comedy, romantic or otherwise. I've not watched every entry in that particular canon, but I feel fairly confident in my assessment. The performances are what elevate this one, especially from our side characters. Jonah Hill and Russell Brand, in particular, especially in scenes together, both bring the comedy. Those two, alongside Jason Segal, Bill Hader, Paul Rudd, and most of the other random hotel side characters, ensure that I'm laughing heartily throughout. Rudd has some legendary one liners: "You sound like you're from London!" and "The weather outside is weather!" are two standouts. This movie is ridiculous, but it's not completely ridiculous, which is the key. Time enough is found to ground many of these character moments and give the movie that little bit of heart. Concluding with the Dracula rock opera encapsulates this perfectly.
July 10th, 2024
Twister (1996, Jan de Bont)
{47}
A very mediocre summer blockbuster. It seems this movie has remained fairly popular all these years (the remake/sequel is coming out as we speak). I imagine it was visually impressive in 1996. Now, most of the digital work is pretty rough. There is a shot as Bill and Jo drive into the final tornado that still looks genuinely convincing, otherwise this is one to forget in that regard.
Bill Paxton turns in a pretty poor performance further muddied by the poorer writing. Dialogue here is mostly bad, and interesting characterization isn't in much greater supply. This movie makes the mistake of thinking tornadoes aren't interesting on their own. So, we get a banal love story, with new-wife stakes, and a hamfisted evil meteorologist as our even more needless antagonist, played forgettably by Cary Elwes. The weather is the only antagonist this movie needs.
The movie does keep at a good clip. Pacing is its one real strength, which is not nothing. And Helen Hunt brings a decent performance to the project. It's a shame no one else really turned up. Philip Seymour Hoffman tried, but he has nothing to work with here. Stoner man go brrrrr.
July 4th, 2024
Hard-Boiled (1992, John Woo)
{69}
Action heaven. Narrative hell, or at least purgatory.
"Your pee-pee saved the day."
July 2nd, 2024
Jaws (1975, Steven Spielberg)
{96}
A blockbuster that finds time to be both grounded and heightened. Touching pathos provided by Brody and his family. Brody's young son mimicking him at the dinner table (ending with Brody's "Give us a kiss" / "Why?" / "Cause I need it") engenders so much humanity into this story, rendering the stakes more potent and the human cost tangible. Hooper, who made an immediate impression (and is perhaps my favorite of the trio), lends credibility to the dangers a Great White poses. And that's the magic formula that enables the more fantastic, terrifying elements to hit their mark. The script convinces us that a Great White this territorial, intelligent, and aggressive, is plausible. And all this builds perfectly towards the second half of the film, as the pair finally team up with Quint to slay the beast. He's the truly special sauce, bringing the chaotic energy that this watery yarn requires. All three of these actors absolutely nail their roles, no more apparent than in the night at sea, swapping shanties and scars, capped off by Quint's glorious wartime monologue. And just when the seas have calmed, the climax crashes with a wave and the technical brilliance of this film comes to bear. The practical effects work here is second-to-none (at least considering the time it was made). The editing (that bloody dissolve cut a clear standout), cinematography (some truly stunning shots spread throughout), and music (Williams in his bag), are icing on this toothy cake.
July 1st, 2024
Buffalo ‘66 (1998, Vincent Gallo)
{83}
Formally scattershot, but in a way that I consistently found compelling. Layla's spotlighted tap routine in the middle of the bowling alley shouldn't come off, but here I am accepting it at face value. At times, it feels like Gallo is throwing shots and effects in here for the hell of it, yet their cumulative effect is undeniable. The square memory-shots bring the themes to bear as Billy comes home to a mom and dad that don't give a shit about him. We see an incredulous Billy, his mom having forgotten his chocolate allergy, as Billy the toddler, with a chocolate-covered, swollen face superimposes. We see Billy making that fateful bet on the Bills, as his mother bemoans his birth as the cause of her only game day absence. As these scenes unfold, we start to understand Billy's nauseated apprehension walking up to his parents' door.
What a damaged soul. Billy cannot accept someone's love because he simply doesn't know what it is—no one has ever shown him. He's been made to believe that loving someone is merely "spanning time," his humorless expression in the photo booth a symbol of his perception of himself and those around him. An unperturbed Layla (shout out to Ricci's performance) is constantly showing him the affection he has long desired, but he can't seem to let himself see it, or, more importantly, feel it. It's not until he's staring his death in the face that he's able to realize the wrongheadedness of his course. What is revenge now that he's finally had someone tell him they love him?
June 27th, 2024
Blue Collar (1978, Paul Schrader)
{80}
A searing portrait of class and the multilateral oppression suffered by blue collar workers. Each of these three leads brings their A-game, but Pryor takes the cake; I'm so impressed with his performance—at once deeply humorous and wounded. This movie is a tonal clinic, maintaining its tenuous balance between comedy and tragedy expertly. From Zeke wrangling his extra kids for the tax man to witnessing Smokey murdered in the paint room (such a viscerally upsetting scene). My only complaint is a couple periods where I felt the pacing flag a touch, which I seem to be rather sensitive to. I'm still learning what makes for good pacing and what doesn't, so I may be well off-base here. I also could have done without the reprisal of Smokey uttering the theme of the film, right there during the last freeze frame. Still, the implosion of Zeke and Jerry's friendship makes for a powerful conclusion.
June 26th, 2024
The Blair Witch Project (1999, Daniel Myrick, Eduardo Sánchez)
{90}
I was not prepared for how good this ended up being. I've grown up with cultural references to Blair Witch here and there, but those references always seemed ironic and vaguely derisive, so I thought this was total meme fare. Not so. So much to appreciate.
There's a truer sense of dread wrought here than in pretty much any horror film I've seen—which, admittedly, is not the most extensive list. Once we get to the woods, each frame is pregnant with potential haunts. My eyes were glued to the screen as I tried to make out details in the background of the frame. Never was this more palpable than in the film's most recognizable shot. As Heather was giving her tear-soaked apology to the camera, all I could look at was the amorphous darkness behind her. This shot is expertly framed so that her face is off-center, giving almost as much purchase to the vacuous blackness. That this whole film is shot on low-grade tech just enhances it, as every fragment of visual noise plays with your mind. Once this starts, it never lets up. And it meets its glorious crescendo in that abandoned house—what a sequence! That final callback to the man making the children stand in the corner while he slaughtered their peers. This scene, and this whole film, makes perfect use of sound. And it makes sense within the story, as one camera has audio recording ability and one doesn't. I was riveted as Heather makes her way down the stairs, us hearing her voice far off as it's Michael's camera, lying on the ground, that is picking her up, her voice finally catching up with the image from the camera she's holding as she discovers Michael standing in the corner. Brilliant.
And then there are the performances. I was consistently impressed with the measured angst each of these three were able to meter out, allowing it to swell with the mounting tension of their circumstances. If you told me that these three were actually progressively losing their minds, I would believe you. And that's the real horror here. Sure, the Blair Witch and whatever forces the forest hides are horrifying, but simply being lost in the woods is scary enough. What might that do to your psyche as you labor day after day, never making your way out of this wooden labyrinth?
June 25th, 2024
A Knight's Tale (2001, Brian Helgeland)
{61} R
Umpteenth viewing. An old favorite. Grew up with this one. This is my first time "properly" reviewing it, although this will be far from exhaustive. It's a really fun mix of asynchronous elements. The music, dialogue, and blocking are at times modern and at times attempting to model the period. Queen not only plays in the background, but even seems to play diegetically. The banquet goes from Middle Age dance to a modern dance party. Things like this. This could be disastrous, but instead proves stylish and enjoyable. What doesn't prove stylish and enjoyable is the sentimentality that this narrative attempts to smuggle in amidst the comedy and eclectic period-hopping. The moments when this movie attempts to inject heart are its weakest and most distracting. I wish this movie would just embrace its absurdity completely and play like a farce; That would be a hell of a time. As it is, it's a film that has a special place in my heart, but not one that's truly great in anyway.
June 24th, 2024
Halloween (1978, John Carpenter)
{51}
It will be an interesting process finding what does and doesn't work for me in the horror sphere. I imagine that much of what people enjoy about most horror flicks doesn't tend to be what I value in films. That said, I'm hopeful there are some spooky movies out there for me to love, Halloween just isn't one of them.
This movie is most effective at establishing setting, which is the one thing sparing it from my unbridled ambivalence. I took quick notice that Carpenter decides to start the movie—aside from the prologue—during the day. We wait roughly thirty minutes before the first shot set at night, meaning we see suburban Haddonfield in all its resplendent normalcy, making the shift to darkness more stark via contrast. We've seen these places in the light, but what might they harbor when the lights go out? The score ensures that the darkness has a character of its own. Really good stuff.
Other than that, my ambivalence reigns. Ultimately, I just found this a bit... dull. The tension is supposed to ratchet up as we're constantly fed shots of Michael Myers stalking his prey, but by the umpteenth instance those occurrences had lost most of their potency. And when MM does decide to go for the kill, the deaths lack a certain kineticism. I was hoping for more slashing from the slasher. The movie seemed poised to end on a fairly high note right after Laurie is revealed to the horrors in the bedroom-turned-graveyard (great scene), only for there to be not one, but two fake-outs. Finally, Loomis (a character who mostly proved to be a source of exposition regarding MM's time in the sanitarium—which was not something that needed explanation) makes himself relevant, popping the final caps into MM, only for us to learn that, for all purposes, he's effectively immortal. Okay?
June 22nd, 2024
No Country for Old Men (2007, Joel Coen, Ethan Coen)
{92} R
At least third viewing (but possibly fourth), last seen around two years ago (if the third viewing is indeed the last). As I recently noted in my review of Blood Simple, I'm far from knowledgeable when it comes to the Coen Bros. and their filmography. Having only seen this and their debut, I'm lacking a lot of context. Their filmography being quite deep by 2007—and by its seemingly having no shortage of finely crafted work—makes this caveat more necessary, I feel.
That said, turns out this movie still kicks ass. I imagine those who don't enjoy it as much—and I'm speaking of those with a greater cinematic affinity and understanding than the average Joe (and I may well be such a Joe)—find some of the more overt bits of thematic work in the second half bothersome. Once this movie reaches its third act, Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) soaks up more screen time, finding time for a monologue or two as he visits a couple friends and retires from the force. I can imagine these moments registering less deftly than the film had managed up to this point. I, however, find these moments to be a glorious coda to the film. I eat it up. I'm an actor at heart, so when I have some juicy lines to bask in, I'm a happy camper.
This film is an exploration of the corrosive power of money and wanton violence that lusting after it inspires. It's about the senselessness of these acts and the cold, unfeeling, random world in which they exist. Nothing pays. Even those who are "good" don't escape. Chigurh is what man can become when left to its own devices. People who are able to justify any act on the basis of their own individual codes of conduct (or lack thereof), who believe that there are no good means, but neither are there good ends. It's brutal. And it's just so potently put to screen here.
There was one smaller observation I made this time: the juxtaposition between the three men on the bridge with Llewelyn, who take advantage of Llewelyn by making it a cash deal for the coat and beer, and the two boys with Chigurh after the crash, who are quick to give whatever they can—namely the one kid's shirt to act as a sling for Anton's shattered arm—at no cost (Chigurh proceeds to give them money anyway). Seeing this contrast in benevolence really struck me. Seeing people's suffering as potential for personal gain rather than entering into that suffering and their well-being being the primary concern. If we can no longer see which one of those is right then we've truly lost the war.
June 21st, 2024
Ride Lonesome (1959, Boetticher)
{71}
I'm learning that I can suss out the films that work for me if I just give them the slightest room to breathe. If I take a beat and run my mind back over the story and scenes with the benefit of having now seen the whole film, something seems to crystallize—good or bad. It's movies like Ride Lonesome that benefit the most from this, I think. The sorts of movies that are very simple in their composition. You can let this film slide right past you without making much of an impact, but you'd be missing out.
This movie is just so damn short. 73 minutes. As svelte as they come. The movie wastes no time faffing about. Yet, ironically, it manages to take its time. This is a roughly slow build. About as slow of a build as 73 minutes allow. I was never really certain where we were headed, other than Santa Cruz. But it all comes together in its resolution, and through that resolution injects more purpose into the preceding runtime. An appropriately titled film, as it turns out. A bounty hunter adrift as a result of tragedy in his past, with a singular goal in mind. Brigade is a man who we can tell has lost his connection to others, evidenced in his interactions. And its those interactions—Brigade's as well as the others—that contain the substance necessary to fill these simple frames: talks of getting out from under the law and starting a respectable business, a newly minted widow lamenting the death of her husband, a captured murderer trying to weasel his way to freedom, and a taciturn Brigade at the center of it all. And it all comes together in that final scene, the burning hanging tree a symbol of settled vengeance and new beginnings.
June 21st, 2024
The Godfather (1972, Coppola)
{86}
Another behemoth checked off the list. There aren't many movies that nullify your street cred if you haven't watched them as much as The Godfather. I'm also happy to report that I very much enjoyed this. It's a more reserved enthusiasm, a deep respect and admiration—only slightly less potent than the sorts of responses I seem to have to my absolute favorite movies. The first half is aces. Everything that leads up to the McCluskey and Sollozo hit is deftly composed, and the culmination in that diner scene and the deed itself is commensurate. I was enthralled as the rushing sounds overcome Michael and he delays the shooting only to pull the gun a few moments after sitting back down. Killer (literally). The foundation to Michael's descent has already been laid, but here's the first big step into the abyss. The rest of the movie is no slouch, but isn't quite as enamoring (while still being excellent), and I do think some of the time jumps are a bit jarring—specifically the proposal to Kay. That said, those final thirty minutes are how you want to end a film. Scene to scene, I was locked in. Michael well and truly on his way to being the Don that he's always been. The hits of the Five Families in montage juxtaposed against Michael at the baptism, becoming The Godfather (further developed in the final shot of the film). Brilliant. That's a quick three hours right there.
June 20th, 2024
History is Made at Night (1937, Borzage)
{43}
A film predominantly mangled by its jarring tonal shift in the third act. We transition from a rather whimsical romance (in which two total strangers to Manhattan manage to get hired on at a fine dining establishment in a single evening) to a disaster film fueled by the heedless actions of the boat's captain at the behest of its owner. A lot of time is spent with the ruminating captain as he counts the cost and tells off his crew members; Every moment this is portrayed is a moment I'm wondering why we're not spending more time with the couple in question. Still, this wasn't exactly a classic before that shift. For starters, I don't buy the possessive ex-husband, I imagine mostly because I don't buy the actor portraying him. His performance is not the only one that lacks conviction, but it is the one that most harms the story. The real problem is that this movie spends so little time with Charles Boyer and Jean Arthur on-screen together, and they're what makes this movie work. All of my favorite moments involve them and their interactions (as it should be), so that we spend so much time with Paul and "The Great Cesare”' is of no interest to me, nor much of the time spent focusing on the husband and his machinations. There are some lovely moments here—moments that make great use of callbacks in multiple instances (like Coco's reprisal)—but they don't do enough to combat the forces that claw this one back.
June 18th, 2024
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Kubrick)
{52}
Deeply confounding. I’m really not sure what I expected—it wasn’t this. I want to approach this film humbly and with great reverence. By virtually every account, 2001 is a cinematic masterpiece and an indelible symbol stamped on the face of film. I’d also like to say that I think of myself as an individual who is growing to appreciate various approaches to movie-making; I want to be able to appreciate things even when they don’t immediately agree with my sensibilities—sensibilities that I am still finding in real-time as the movie-hungry dilettante that I am. Writing out my thoughts regarding the films that I watch (or anything I experience) has been a great exercise, but also an exercise that constantly reminds me that I’m quite inept in matters of articulation, and especially film literacy. It’s a maddening task taking abstract experiences and attempting to render them concrete. Still, we venture forth.
With that preamble out of the way, I think I’ve now worked up the gumption to tell you that I didn’t enjoy this movie all that much, at least not to a degree commensurate with my expectations. I found it deeply ponderous to the point of exhaustion—shots that linger and linger and linger (I cannot imagine watching the original 160-minute cut). Stolid performances and inert dialogue from every character (I’ll make exceptions for those couple interactions with HAL and for the final deranged face that Bowman dons after making it “beyond the infinite”[if that’s even the appropriate terminology to use]) ensure that the proceedings do little to move me in any direction. And here’s where my woeful articulation sings full-throated, because I recognize that these are, in the eyes of most, strengths of Kubrick’s film-making. I imagine there is supposed to be a sense of detachment, that the protracted shots are there to give viewers the sense of the yawning, ever-expanding nothingness that constitutes the vast majority of space, as well as the difficulty of performing tasks in that space. Those who would man such a mission as this probably would be level-headed, composed, stolid individuals. It all makes sense. I see the logic and the direction. And yet I spent almost the entire runtime of this film worryingly unaffected. And that goes for the imagery too. This is a technically brilliant movie. I cannot believe Kubrick and his team managed to create something that looks this good in 1968. The use of lighting is absolutely stunning. There are segments in this film where the spacecrafts in motion look better than some modern CGI. But for some reason—and this is the bit of my tepid reaction that irks me the most because it makes (or at least appears to make) no sense—I don’t think any moment in this film was as visually interesting to me as something like Alien and its exploration of the Nostromo or Blade Runner and its layered sets. This isn’t to say 2001 isn’t visually interesting, just that, once again, I didn’t find my response to the imagery in keeping with the apparent quality it possessed. Like I said, deeply confounding. And all of this is without mentioning the narrative through line of the whole thing, which—in my reading of other’s thoughts in light of being troubled with my own—seems to be rather intentionally obscure and oblique. For most, this is a positive. For me… well the jury is still out. And I’m not even sure it matters where I come to land, because I find the experience of watching the film so frustrating that I don’t imagine I’ll have enough bandwidth to care.
I could go on with a few other notes, but I’m already rambling and I think I’ve hit the major points. For now, I’ll leave this with two notes: 1) This does strike me as a film that may take some time to work its magic on me. I would love to love this movie, believe me, so I don’t envision this as the one and only time I give it a watch. There may be hope yet. That said, I have no interest in trying to contort myself into enjoying something, so I’ll be going into those viewings with as clean of a slate as possible (in either direction). 2) My rating is truly only reflective of my personal enjoyment of (or enthusiasm for, to put it another way) a film. “Enjoyment” is nebulous. There are many things that go into me enjoying something and I’m not about to act like I have a handle on every facet involved. Certainly, there are objective qualities of a film that factor into my response, but to pretend this is all that exists is just silly.
June 16th, 2024
Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Mackendrick)
{97}
Well, I’ll be damned. This one floored me from minute one. Is this the sharpest screenplay I’ve come across? Just maybe. I wanted to copy down damn near every line that left these character’s mouths—there are too many lines to recount, lines like: “What has this boy got that Susie likes?” / “Integrity. Acute. Like indigestion.” The script soaks up the noir verve and bastes every square inch of dialogue—it’s almost parodic. Almost. The pacing doesn’t let up either. We’re zipped along from club to club as Falco makes his rounds, scheming, greasing palms and weaseling his way into various dealings. The 90 minutes flew by. Curtis and Lancaster steal the show, giving two stellar performances—their tenuous alliance setting the tone, bringing the kinetic script to bear. The energy is palpable, an energy that is supported by the camerawork. For the most part, the camera is content to play a supporting role, but announces its presence in key moments: pulling up over Hunsecker’s shoulder as he strolls out onto the balcony and surveys the bustling night streets of New York below him, or pulls in tight to Dallas as he’s accosted by the cops (shout out to the editing here too—the decision to cut to the Jazz drummer as he lands on the crash cymbal ties the whole scene together). And the movie finds space in its tight runtime to weave in plenty of pathos, primarily proffered by Susan and Dallas. They’re the ones almost ruined by the seedy dealings of these publicist sleazeballs. It’s easy to get caught up in the dialogue and almost forget that our protagonists are dirtbags convinced that they’re doing what they must to make it in the business. At what cost?
"In brief: From now on, the best of everything is good enough for me."
June 15th, 2024
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981, Spielberg)
{61}
I was prepared to adore this. I’d somehow managed to avoid Indiana Jones this entire time, but with Indy being such a cultural icon, I certainly wasn’t totally in the dark. Got to say though, I was unimpressed on a couple fronts. The greatest sin I feel this movie commits is not convincing me of its villains. Ole Frenchy left almost no impression; Belloq seems to be a passive observer for most of this movie, watching from tents, ridges, and speeding cars. When he does assert himself, he doesn’t provide the conniving spirit I would expect (and desire). The Germans also do little to give me a sense of the stakes, mostly because Toht is goofy as hell (something I can imagine enjoying, but only ironically) and the Germans who do face up to Indy suffer from some fairly slow and stilted fight choreography. This is before getting to the likes of Marion, who—while gorgeous—proves to be a huffy nag for most of the film; I couldn't care less about her and Indy’s romance. Still, this movie delivers the goods in those final thirty-ish minutes as we get the rotating plane, Indy on horseback, truck brawl (the best part of the movie), and Ark opening all in quick succession—ensuring the film ends on its strongest notes. Good. I just wish I got off this ride feeling more exhilarated than I did.
June 14th, 2024
GoodFellas (1990, Scorsese)
{80} R
Third or fourth viewing, last seen I’m not sure when. It seems this one has met its ceiling. If this were destined to become one of my true favorites, it certainly would have done so by now. There’s some key ingredient missing here for it to launch itself to those heights, all the while being a technically dazzling movie—a movie I fully understand anyone putting in their top ten. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s because, even though I understand its importance to the narrative and recognize its strengths (of which there are no shortage), the third act starts to lose me a bit. As things begin to disintegrate for Henry, so too does a portion of my attention. Then again, maybe that’s simply a result of overall pacing, as I find myself glancing at the time remaining once we’re past the 90 minute mark—which itself may be a result of my general interest in the mob dealings starting to wane. Ultimately, this is a straightforward mobster slice-of-life sort of joint. But of course that’s also the strength of this whole thing: Liotta’s Henry Hill narrating the everyday goings on of the mafiosos we begrudgingly come to love; That’s the magic of it. We watch the story as told from the crooks, we see their way of life, we see why they love the life, why they choose it and keep choosing it. We see the camaraderie illustrated through that glorious oner at the Copa, or the equally glorious cut from the Jewish wedding ceremony to its Italian counterpart. And we aren’t spared the gritty business either. There’s a code amongst gangsters, and yet they also play by their own rules when it suits them. Pesci’s Tommy ensures we have no illusions about the types of behaviors these mobsters do and don’t tolerate. So don’t let me spill too much ink over the nebulous reasons I don’t love this movie quite as much as I’d like, lest I get capped. It’s great and I admire the hell out of it.
June 13th, 2024
Dawn of the Dead (1978, Romero)
{74} R
Second viewing, last seen July of 2022. I remember it being a relatively middle-of-the-road experience, but I hung most of that on being quite tired; I was fighting sleep pretty much the entire runtime. Now, I see my somnolent self was missing out. What we have here is a mostly really smartly written zombie joint with good performances from no-name actors, with charming—and at times truly grisly—low-budget practical effects, and a killer score from Goblin (one of the few things that didn’t escape me on that first viewing—the music from this has surfaced in my mind at least once a month since that initial experience). This is a quartet that I have no difficulty getting behind and rooting for from moment one. They each mostly act in ways I find believable and compelling within these dire circumstances. The script achieves that balance of terror, cynicism (both subtle and not-so-subtle), monotony, and irrationality. Setting the film in a shopping mall puts the thematics front and center as mall walkers become the walking dead and the decadence of consumerism is consummated with the total erosion of society via apocalypse. That these characters find droll amusement in looting the place shows how deep the roots go—a reality most notably reinforced by Peter asserting that the zombies keep ambling up to the mall because “they’re after the place. They don’t know why. They just remember—remember that they want to be in here.” It’s honestly really effective, albeit certainly not subtle. The third act suffers a tad, brought in by the hokiest bit of the film—the arrival of the roving warband of motorcycle-riding marauders. It certainly provides some action, but at a cost. This reaches its pinnacle with the one bandit deciding to take his blood pressure in the midst of the onslaught, which is just too silly. Apart from this, the movie generally loses a bit of its atmosphere, which up to the third act had been excellent. That said, Peter’s decision not to end his life and join Fran in the helicopter proves affecting, ensuring the film ends on a fairly striking note as the chopper heads for the horizon, unsure of what it will find.
"Ain't it a crime?"
"What?"
"The only person who could ever miss with this gun would be the sucker with the bread to buy it."
June 12th, 2024
Blood Simple (1984, Coen)
{75}
Having only watched No Country for Old Men before coming to this debut for the Coen brothers, I’m still learning their filmic lexicon. That said, I could feel much of what they brought to No Country was already present two decades prior (even the opening shots coupled with narration would make a strikingly similar return in No Country): Primarily, their ability to generate suspense through long takes, silence, and ample shots from the perspective of both cat and mouse. As the camera swapped between Visser and Abby in those final moments, in my head I was also playing scenes of Chigurh and Llewelyn in the hotel. The general wrong-place-wrong-time that pervades this film also reminded me of No Country—and my goodness is Blood Simple steeped in misfortune, the compelling kind of course. What starts as a simple case of lover’s revenge descends into absolute chaos, and yet the assurance behind the camera makes the whole thing play out in languid sweeps—and I mean that positively. This movie takes its time and hurries up. It seems to straddle so many genre lines along the way. It’s a neo-noir-turned-thriller-turned-slasher. Abby is our final girl. And the whole thing has that Coen grit, giving texture to every shot and scene.
"If it pays right and it's legal, I'll do it."
"It's not strictly legal."
"Well... Pay's right, I'll do it."
June 11th, 2024
Saving Private Ryan (1998, Spielberg)
{62} R
Not sure what viewing this is; I’ve probably seen the movie two or three times before. As it happens, I’ve enjoyed each viewing less. I think this is ultimately just too sentimental for me anymore, especially when it comes to a war film. The closing minutes I find especially grating as we watch Matt Damon morph into an old man and stumble up to Captain Miller’s headstone. It doesn’t get much out of me, I hate to say. It doesn’t help that regal, triumphant music is playing behind it as the American flag settles in for the final shot. Meh. Still, there’s much of this movie that is great. The opening on Omaha Beach is, of course, a standout. There ain’t nothin sentimental there. Witnessing the onscreen carnage is sobering—imagining these men as the sitting ducks they were. Great too is the sniper section in the first French village. These moments and battles mostly suffuse the film and are what I’m still able to hang my hat on even if the concluding tone of the film is a touch maudlin for my blood.
And shout out to Giovanni Ribisi’s “I don’t know why I did that scene” in the church—my favorite scene in the film and an excellent piece of acting.
June 8th, 2024
Finding Nemo (2003, Stanton)
{91} R
It would seem this is my favorite animated feature. Toy Story, Ratatouille, and Monsters, Inc. certainly have a place in that conversation, but I think that would be an exercise in formality. This is the one. This is the one that gives me the greatest sense of adventure—stuffing the story with a smorgasbord of eclectic characters and plot beats: the sharks, the jellyfish sequence, Crash and the turtles, Marlin and Dory swallowed by the whale, the seagull chase sequence, to name a few. It also gives me the most consistent release of emotion—from Marlin first caressing Nemo’s unhatched egg, to the montage of Marlin’s story spreading across the ocean, culminating in Nigel recounting Marlin’s exploits to an initially-incredulous-turned-captivated Nemo (his eyes widening in amazement is maybe my favorite moment in the film), to Marlin finally being able to let go and trust his son. I’m deeply moved by Marlin. His fears and anxieties calcified by immense loss, making him afraid to let go lest he lose all he has left. He’s been stunted by that moment—frozen in time and place. Marlin and Nemo had to lose one another to find each other. It’s beautiful. And this is all without mentioning the soundtrack. Gorgeous. The opening strings just melt me.
June 7th, 2024
The Italian Job (2003, Gray)
{56} R
Not sure what viewing this is—probably at least the tenth. During my time in late elementary and middle school, this was one of the prestigious movies which found itself in my mother’s small DVD collection and we saw to it that the disc got regular use. As such, The Italian Job is firmly lodged in that developmental portion of my psyche. That said, I wanted to give this one a watch as fresh as I could so as to place it on this newly-adopted, temperamental 100-point scale. As it turns out, the movie really is just an okay heist flick. I had almost managed to convince myself that it was a bit of a hidden gem.
It’s a smooth ride, perfectly inoffensive and crowd-pleasing. We’re served a fun-enough cast of characters with the likes of Handsome Rob, Left-Ear, and Lyle. The set up is decent: a successful initial heist (which is quite fun) comes to ruin after one of the players decides to take the gold for himself and leave the others to die in a frozen lake (after firing a few machine gun clips from the bridge above). After the first thirty minutes, the movie becomes a revenge heist flick; The betrayed party deciding to band together and steal the gold back and avenge their fallen friend. All works well conceptually. The final heist also proves entertaining. The three Mini Coopers paint a memorable image. Still, the movie is dragged down by fairly uninventive dialogue and minimal characterization. Everything feels quite generic—just sort of sterile. Solid, with a decent soundtrack, but certainly not the four-star film I had convinced myself it was.
June 5th, 2024
Blood Beat (1983, Zaphiratos)
{15}
Woof. Where to begin. I concur with others that this is weird as shit, but not in a good way. Low-budget, but also low-talent. Jagged escalation and pacing. Nothing remotely interesting happens for about the first thirty minutes. After that, it's still a shit show whose cardinal sin—amidst a few moments of entertainment—is being boring as hell.
I expected this to be much more droll and blithe. Instead, it's incredibly self-serious—to its detriment—making the experience all the more jarring. Slapshot shot sequencing and editing—flipping back and forth from face to face and shot to shot in some attempt to establish mood. The dialogue and general sluggishness of every "intense" scene makes me feel like I'm watching the rehearsals. Don't even ask me what this is even supposed to be about. Wowowow.
June 3rd, 2024
Alien (1979, Scott)
{89} R
Second viewing after watching this movie for the first time earlier this year. Enjoyed it even more. Once again, I was struck by how effectively this movie establishes setting and environment. The Nostromo is so vividly realized. The movie opens on that slow crawl through the tight hallways; We reach the console and hear the system boot up and the clicks and pips sound off. Already, I'm engaged. As with Blade Runner, this movie is just a joy to look at. The sets are layered and visually interesting. The first thirty minutes of this movie feature little in the way of plot, but I don't care because I'm just happy to be here in the environment that the movie is exploring. And of course the rest of the movie takes us on a tense, thrilling tour of this hulking labyrinth. We sit with Mother in the chamber resplendent with lights. We feel the rain droplets on our face as Brett meets his end. We crawl after Dallas into the air shafts and listen as the aperture closes. We steel ourselves with Ripley in the shuttle as the Alien nestles in the walls. Atmosphere so thick you can touch it.
Really my only gripe is with Lambert. Veronica Cartwright lays it on just a bit too thick in some of her more emotional scenes, made worse by the composure shown by her crew mates pretty much across the board. Just comes off melodramatic and not pitiable or urgent as I'm sure was the goal.
June 1st, 2024
Blade Runner (1982, Scott)
{85} R
Wow. What a jump from my initial experience with this film. Last seen Christmastime around three years ago. It seems I'm a different person than I was then, because at the time this movie did not leave me as it has now. Then, I was incapable of getting around the rather bare-bones narrative and unconventional performances of the replicants. Now, both of those items are not only non-issues, but boons. And while I then certainly appreciated the set design, costuming, and soundtrack to a certain degree; Now, I find myself completely enamored with each element.
Vangelis's soundtrack is incredible. From that opening crawl overlooking the grungy dystopian metropolis to the closing moments atop the Bradbury Building, the score thrums and drones with just the right notes and chords. Electronic synth bliss. The sets are no different. I found myself intently exploring the backgrounds and periphery of each shot this time, cataloging the various ornate mechanisms and contraptions. Add to this the use of costuming, color, and architecture and you have shots that are just so layered in their composition. It seems Ridley Scott knows how to stage a set because I feel the same about Alien and the Nostromo.
As for the bare-bones narrative, this time I found the story so much more coherent than before. I'm not sure what to chalk this up to, because the story didn't change; It has always been this simple. Finally latching onto this narrative, however simple, meant contextualizing these characters much more successfully. As a result, I found the performances of each of the replicants compelling in their uncanny strangeness. Priss's nostril-grab-turned-pussy-choke on Deckard is still weird, but now in an intriguing—not off-putting—way (same goes for Sebastian's "toy shop").
June 1st, 2024
La La Land (2016, Chazelle)
{70}
Long overdue first viewing of this immensely popular romantic musical. I gotta say, I agree with some other reviewers who are hit or miss when it comes to the musical numbers. That first number really is just pretty bad—both in its choreography and cinematography—and the second number isn't much better. There is a pervasive amateurish feeling to it all that doesn't charm. That the musical numbers seem to grow more sparse as the movie progresses works in its favor. This, in combination with the numbers that are present being stronger (especially tunes like "City of Stars" and "Mia & Sebastian's Theme"), makes for a greater second half. This strength endures to the final moments which are undoubtedly the best. That last glance packs enough emotion to cover quite a few sins. Ryan and Emma together is a winning combo.