The Cocoanuts

Vaudeville is dead. At least in cinema it is. Some of today’s concert dog and pony shows can trace their roots to that antediluvian entertainment format, more so than most people today can imagine. But in movies it’s as dead as the proverbial doornail. And this movie shows why it had to go. That’s really what this movie is: filmed vaudeville. It presents a series of staged set pieces, some of them musical numbers of forgettable character, others comedic bits that are hit-and-miss as far as the funny goes. That’s rather surprising, given all that the Marx Brothers would eventually accomplish in later films, but here only some of the comedy hits the mark. It is also fair to say that the movie’s pacing is too slow, and the story does not generate enough interest to hold the viewer’s attention. Frankly, I got bored with this film before it reached its climax. All of those flaws probably didn’t matter much to audiences in 1929, who were simply astonished that actors in films could actually talk—but for those of us left here today, it all adds up to less than what we would hope to see. This film stands largely as an historical document, a work that shows how a classic group’s career arc started, but hardly the team’s best effort. Speaking of history, one item worth noting is how much of the plot—such as it is—revolves around grifters and shady business dealings, i.e., selling swamp land in Florida. It may be comforting, perhaps, in these days of the reign of The Great Bezzle, that it has ever been thus—and thus perhaps better times could come again. One can wish. As for the Marxes, one mostly wishes for viewers that they focus on later, better efforts than this one. 

Terminator: Dark Fate

An early scene features a whole chase sequence through Mexico City destroying cars left and right...and not one vehicle’s horn was playing “La Cucaracha.” That’s just bad production values. So much for what this flick lacks. What it does bring to the screen includes most of this franchise’s typical palette: a familiar scenario, featuring familiar characters from past outings, the standard warnings about technology going mad and traitorous—it’s not like they’re wrong about that—and, of course, a planet-sized helping of violence and mayhem. It’s remarkable that the formula works as well as it does after all these years and episodes, especially considering some earlier missteps in the series. This is still perfectly decent sci-fi, competently executed and entertaining, if not exactly groundbreaking stuff. If it winds up being your fate to have a couple of empty hours to burn, it won’t be any kind of apocalyptic disaster if you spend them watching this movie. 

The Company of Wolves

A tale, maybe not as old as time, but certainly from a while back, both this movie and the original story upon which it is based. At first glance this stylish production of the Red Riding Hood fable bears some similarities to the near contemporary film Labyrinth, but this work hews more closely to its well-known antecedents rather than presenting a story that is more of its own thing. That translates here to many of the old tale’s familiar, standard tropes coming through intact, and, as with many fairy tales, the piece is chock full of subtexts. Interpreting those is best left as an exercise for the viewer, but it suffices to say the filmmakers—including writer/director Neil Jordan, who later found big success with The Crying Game—put enough spin on the narrative to take it in some interesting, perhaps even provocative directions. This version of the story places substantially more emphasis on the fable’s werewolf angle, which is mostly only hinted at in the traditional versions, and it also suggests that maybe, just maybe, the wolf isn’t the bad guy after all. The look of the movie is great throughout, while the performances are mostly fine, including the young actress (Sarah Patterson) who features as Rosaleen, who starts off a bit off-putting but grows into the role by the end. (It helps that she’s quite pretty.) The flaws are few and minor: the film runs a bit too long, even at a relatively abbreviated hour and thirty five minutes, and one large casting misstep (the annoying boy) removes some of the story’s potential for interesting possibilities. Overall, though, this dog hunts. No need to stray from the path if you happen upon this piece. 

Song Sung Blue

There’s a reason why jukebox musicals are so popular on Broadway lately. You take a roster of songs that are proven popular and build a narrative around them and you have a show that will please a crowd. The value of such a production, beyond the nuts and bolts of the music’s appeal, thus boils down to what the story has to say. In this case, the message here that comes through loud and clear is that, while there may be an overclass of famous people who receive the lion’s share of the attention and affection in this world, there are all sorts of other people—obscure and unknown and often overlooked—for whom we should be rooting just as hard. Maybe even more so. The characters of Mike and Claire are so authentic and worthy of compassion that it’s hard to imagine anyone not feeling a desperate desire to see them succeed. That’s why the story’s ups and downs have such a profound impact, almost to the point that they nearly overwhelm the viewer’s power to endure them (even if the events depicted run right up to the brink of believability). Ultimately, though, the tale achieves a balance that is more redemptive than discouraging. And, if nothing else, you get to hear some amazing music. I’m a believer, at least enough to recommend this one. 

The Housemaid

How realistic is it that someone would accept total irrationality over a relatively stable—if sucky—situation? That’s another way of saying the truly preposterous character in this flick is not Amanda Seyfried’s lunatic wife and mother but Sydney Sweeney’s putative down-on-her-luck heroine. There are roughly 35,000 points at which a rational person would ask a pertinent question and figure out that the situation was one that recommended extraction ASAP. Instead we get a woman—check that, we get multiple women—who get themselves way too deep into an absurdity, and then all that follows follows. So be it. Given certain story parameters, this is obviously meant to be a female revenge fantasy, and from that perspective the film achieves its goal, and does so with an adequate amount of being entertaining (and amusing, if you really dig violent comeuppance). Plus you get ample opportunity to ogle Sweeney and her rather famous talents (the movie isn’t shy about the show-off factor), not to mention the still-quite-fetching Seyfried. So overall, it’s hardly a waste of your time, even if it isn’t a masterpiece. If nothing else, you will learn a valuable lesson: sometimes the help needs help.

Hud

See there, jerks can be entertaining—so long as you’re not living with them. That’s the big takeaway here, as Paul Newman’s title character spends two hours making an ass of himself and tries the patience of Melvyn Douglas, Patricia Neal and Brandon De Wilde as Hud's father, housekeeper and nephew, respectively. Newman is exceptional in the role, maintaining a level of charm that belies the bastard underneath and never letting the viewer get disgusted enough to look away. The script is based on a Larry McMurtry story, and that writer’s skill at weaving a tale comes strongly through in this narrative. The movie also gets a big helping hand from the black and white cinematography, which looks gorgeous throughout and comes across as most appropriate for a story with so many shades of gray. Lastly, one can’t help but admire, of all things, the costumes—mostly, standard issue head-to-toe Levi’s—which are as common as what you’d expect in a tale of West Texas ranchers but which these days hit the eyes as absolute classic Americana. Yeah, some guys are jerks for little particular reason—and that makes it all the more remarkable when you’re riveted by their actions. Where's the beef? It’s right here—and it’s definitely worth a watch.

Shane

Kudos to the set designer. It’s been 44 years since I visited the Tetons, yet the range that serves as the backdrop for this story is immediately and unmistakably recognizable. The grand scale of the Jackson Hole valley gives epic dimensions to a story that is about the intersection of the many different forces that shaped the west, yet it is also a tale of the personal and intimate. There is a slow build to the plot throughout as Alan Ladd's title character forges his relationships with each member of his host family, while at the same time the overarching theme—homesteaders versus ranchers—works its inevitable way towards the grave consequences that only Shane himself can resolve. The elements of friendship, subtle forbidden romance, and hero worship blend into a strong mix that makes the movie’s climax into a high stakes and evocative affair (not to mention coming to a close that prefigures Unforgiven by four decades). The leads —Ladd, Jean Arthur and Van Heflin—all give terrific performances (though Brandon De Wilde as the kid is, frankly, a little weird), and a young Jack Palance does a memorable turn in a small but important supporting role. The mix all comes together to deliver a viewing experience that runs from inviting to engaging to downright gripping in the end. Now that’s some straight shootin’.