The Untouchables

More so than a movie, more so than a story, this flick is an entertainment. It can hardly be called flawless, but when you’re watching it you really couldn’t care less, because it is so engaging. Those flaws come largely—and somewhat ironically given the screenwriter’s reputation for a smartly crafted story—from David Mamet’s script, which indulges in a lot of bland exposition in its dialogue and plays fast and loose not only with the history, but also with just plain good storytelling. Despite his legendary arrogance about his craft, this work suggests Mamet doesn’t merit the rep. So if the storytelling is less than Grade A, why then does this movie work so well? Chalk it up to a host of likable characters, truly exceptional production design—everything looks fabulous, from the Armani clothes to the period cars to the detailed build of every inhabited space—and a plethora of fantastic scenes, including great, well-choreographed action sequences, impressive visuals (director Brian de Palma’s handiwork), and a whole catalog of memorable lines. Get enough of those goodies together and an audience will forgive a movie’s flaws. (One extra perspective added by re-watching this film in 2026: just how much Robert De Niro’s Al Capone stirs up echoes of a certain president.) I don’t know about untouchable, certainly not impeccable—but very, very watchable.

Let's Get Lost

Warning: watching the early moments of this movie is like having a whole art school shoved up your ass, or at least down your throat. Director Bruce Weber’s fondness for a roving camera over a photo montage does little to make Chet Baker’s story particularly more transparent or compelling—and that’s not a minor detail, because Baker, it turns out, was a really difficult character to get a handle on. The film does gradually but forcefully make the case that Baker was to the mid-twentieth century jazz scene something like what Brian Wilson was to the rock-n-roll revolution: a gifted, brilliant talent who was also remarkably complicated and destructive, both to himself and to others around him. If you are of a certain musical inclination—in terms of what sort of music you prefer—you may (like me) have not ever even heard much about Baker, but the various voices in the bio express such reverence for him—not to mention a range of other reactions, from mild irritation up to genuine venom—that one has to acknowledge that he was in fact one of the central cultural figures of the postwar era. Certainly, Baker represents both the gift of talent, as well as the curse of talent. So too does he stand as an example of the gift and curse of beauty; surely he would never have gotten away with using people to the extent that he apparently did if he had not been so charismatic and handsome. Baker’s life also strongly testifies to nature over nurture; anecdotes from the movie’s interviews report the effortlessness of his ability to make music that enthralled many who heard him. And then, as with Wilson, drugs took their toll (though apparently without the same level of abuse The Beach Boy suffered to set up his downfall). Bundle it all together and you arrive at a portrait of an artist who is very difficult to get a grip on. Ultimately, one supposes, it is the art itself that must have the final say and testify to the fullness of his work, so that the listener can come to a verdict. In service to that fact, the doc does contain a treasury of Baker’s music, both vocal work and trumpet instrumentals, so that the listener and viewer can render an informed decision. Getting lost may be a good thing once in a while, but preventing art from being lost is an even better thing, and this film, though somewhat flawed, does at least give posterity the chance to know Chet and his music. Now that’s hitting the right note.

Risky Business

You remember those Star Trek episodes where they wind up in an alternate universe? This movie is like watching the alternate universe version of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. From the Chicago suburbs setting to the madcap teenage adventures to the unrealistically tidy denouement, everything in this movie echoes not just the Ferris film but the entire John Hughes oeuvre—except here it’s all a bit more dangerous, a bit more adult (versus the self-consciously adolescent tone of the Hughes movies), and a bit more serious in disposition. And it all comes from a different auteur (Paul Brickman). Where the overlap is greatest lies in the '80s sensibility that pervades every atom of the world inhabited by the characters in this flick. If anyone tried to remake this movie today it would be impossible; no one active now had the same connection to that particular wavelength, and the story would end up wildly different, and probably not as good. (It would certainly be more violent; the action here practically demands more extreme behavior, and it says something about the relative innocence of those times that this plot plays out as tamely as it does.) Tom Cruise and Rebecca De Mornay work extremely well together here as rich high school boy Joel and Lana the hooker, respectively, Joe Pantoliano is a bit too lightweight as Guido "the killer pimp," while Curtis Armstrong nearly steals the show as Joel’s overly encouraging buddy. The soundtrack features a number of terrific—and contemporary representative—songs, and the Brickman's direction, in certain sequences, approaches something artful now and then (unlike Hughes’ generally more simplistic staging). So which universe is better? Perhaps it’s a reflection of my personal childishness, but it must mean something that I saw most of the Hughes films long ago, while I waited till I was an old man to watch this movie. I guess I prefer the adolescent hijinks over a slightly more downbeat version of coming of age. That’s not a pan—this qualifies as a good movie—but I do tend to choose pleasure over business, risky or otherwise.

An Inspector Calls

Subtlety matters. That’s the lesson here (or at least one lesson), where a story from a more credulous age meets a more modern plot. The presence of personal favorite (and birthday buddy!) Alastair Sim as the titular character, with his inimitable sensibility, really gives this tale a certain verve and dramatic momentum. The story drives towards a seemingly inevitable conclusion, and then there’s a twist that, frankly, I didn’t see coming, but that raises the level of this film from run-of-the-mill whodunnit to something much more clever and thought provoking. The rest of the cast is quite good, too, in presenting the very essence of how hierarchy and status generate the kind of frame of mind that propels certain people to bad actions, if not actual crimes. As a critique of capitalism and wealth and stratified society in general, this film works really well—which is good because as a mystery it is frankly a bit predictable. But when you get to that twist at the end… then you begin to see just how clever the storytelling here actually is.

The Odyssey

It’s not the oldest story—as of this writing the Epic of Gilgamesh still holds that title—but Christopher Nolan’s retelling of the famous Greek epic poem seems to argue that Homer’s work may be the most significant. What is this ancient story about? Not a man, not a war, not a family, not a journey; according to this telling, the story is about everything. Nolan and company present a tale that is civilizational in scope, one that argues that Homer’s masterpiece is a song about all of those things and more, all the way to the very collapse of the world those people were living in. This may be a radical reinterpretation of the text—students reading the book in literature classes, at least back in my day, rarely heard such a theory—and it requires a substantial amount of revision to the tale and the presentation of some of these characters, but it is an idea that makes this movie a provocative and, in some instances, a profoundly emotional experience. Anne Hathaway stands as perhaps the most traditional depiction of a character here, showing a Penelope who is both clever and courageous but also deeply vulnerable. Tom Holland is similarly traditional as Telemachus, though perhaps a touch wiser and more agentic than you usually see in stagings. Other characters show a range of redevelopment, from a brutish but wise Meneleus (Jon Bernthal) to a vaguely sympathetic Circe to an Athena (Zendaya) who comes across like a girl who wandered into the movie from the local hangout. (Come on, dude—Athena was, among other things, a war goddess, not some wispy, weak twentysomething.) And then there is Matt Damon’s titular protagonist: a king and a general and a hero, but also a man broken by his recognition of the consequences of what he has done. It is an affecting performance, and it ultimately confronts the viewer with an emotional depth that matches the pain endured by Penelope. Put the personal struggles together with the global characteristics of the story—war and violence and greed and hatred, courage and cowardice, loyalty and treachery, tyranny and tragedy and love and death—and you can see the outlines of a world descending and being remade in real time (with clear parallels to an all-too-familiar scenario playing out in the world around the viewer). All of that speaks of the tremendous ambition that went into the creation of this film; the judgment here is that that ambition achieved most of its goals most of the way, with just touches of false steps just here and there. Like its story, the movie is long and takes you to many places, but it ultimately arrives at the desired destination: the victory that is great art and great storytelling, combined with cinematic techniques of the highest order. I sing, O Muse, of a work that should not be missed; don’t take ten years to watch this one.

Jason and the Argonauts

A re-viewing of a classic from childhood. There is so much about this movie that is thoroughly impressive. The film’s most famous elements, the Ray Harryhausen effects, are worth the effort to watch it alone. The script is remarkably faithful to the original Greek myth, unlike so many other adaptations that play fast and loose with a well-known story. Even the acting is quite good here, which is unusual for many of your b class mid-century swords and sandals epics. Special props go to Honor Blackman as Hera (you remember her as Goldfinger's Pussy Galore); she gives the story a lot of its vibrancy, especially early on. Todd Armstrong is convincing as well as Jason; you believe him as a guy who combines both brawn and brains and can pull off a dazzling feat or two. Mostly, though, the stars of this show are those effects: the skeleton soldiers, Talos the living statue, the Harpies and the Hydra. It’s one hell of a show, the sort of flick that could make a young boy understand just how awesome movies can be. This is no serious study of suburban angst, and thank goodness! It’s more like what cinema was made for: a great story told with fabulous visuals and exciting action. If you too are on a quest for a great treasure, this is where you’ll find it.

Adore

Australian Adventures in MILF-sitting. The jokes about someone’s “Outback” almost write themselves. One cannot help but note that this film very much stacks its deck. The scenario couldn’t possibly play out if the women in question were not of the order of leads Naomi watts and Robin Wright. (Fun fact: Watts is only 11 days older than your correspondent.) As it is, this tale is heavily informed as a narrative about wealthy, unbothered, Pretty Perfect PeopleTM, and thus it follows that the story seems to lack a certain amount of universality—that thing that is a hallmark of all truly great stories (if not all art). Given that perspective, I struggle to come to a conclusion about the value of this movie. The actions of the characters come across as somewhat natural, even if also reprehensible. Yes, there are consequences of the actions, but it is debatable—and the film implies this—whether or not those (rather late-arriving) negative consequences are true deal-breakers. Apart from critical analysis of the narrative, one cannot help but at least report that the performances are very good, particularly the female leads. Watching this 2013 film some 13 years later adds to the sense that these middle-aged women are even further out of bounds for the younger actors than they actually were at the time of filming. And, of course, one must recognize that there's a certain amount of female wish fulfillment under-girding this story. Also, the Australian settings—particularly the beach scenes—provide at least as much visual appeal as the famously good-looking actresses. It’s a tough call; if you’re really into stories about complex interpersonal dynamics, you may find this film right up your alley. If not, at least you get a glimpse of the lives of the other (substantially less than) half.