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.

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.

Summer with Monika

Being young sucks. You’re at the bottom of the totem pole, you’ve got nothing of your own except dreams, and everything seems to be—or actually is—an obstacle. Then again, you do have something going for you: you’re young, and that’s a far better way to be than any way else. Does the latter fully compensate for the former? That seems to be the question Ingmar Bergman is asking in this meditative and moody movie. The narrative, such as it is, gives the impression that the answer is maybe not—or perhaps maybe yes, but only within limits. So testifies the story as it meanders its way through a naive adventure and ultimately to an inevitable conclusion. In terms of presentation, this film often made me think of those B movies I watched in MST3K episodes, where the riffers would rag on all the sequences that amounted to little more than padding. This movie has many similar stretches that do little to advance a plot but take up screen time with atmosphere and vision—the sort of thing that labels a flick a bad movie when it’s a run of the mill actioner but that is lauded as creative and contemplative in a film as consciously artsy as this one. That’s not to say that Bergman’s shots of Stockholm or the ocean and sky are intolerable, just that they only serve as a calling card of seriousness. So your reaction to this work will depend a lot on your tolerance for that sort of thing. It’s exactly the kind of movie that people envision when they think of a foreign film, and particularly so given its early ‘50s postwar timeframe, the general bleakness of those days (in Europe at least), and the black and white cinematography that conveys a feeling of dull, dull gray and despair. It’s all a rich stew, one that is not particularly to everyone’s taste, but could go down well for those with an adventurous cinematic palate. At the very least, you can watch this movie and remember something of what it was like when you were still young.

Hard Boiled

It had been forever since I first watched this movie, so most of it had long since been forgotten—and thus most of the film came across as fresh and surprising. Well, not the hospital sequence—that is simply unforgettable. What truly came as a surprise to me, upon re-viewing, was this movie’s inspirations and antecedents. I didn’t recognize it upon first viewing, but this flick actually comes across as an extended, Hong Kong flavored Miami Vice episode. It’s all there, pretty much from the first scene: the ‘80s music video styling, with plenty of quick cuts and rapid fire beats; the saxophone laden soundtrack; the mismatched partners, with Chow Yun-Fat and Tony Leung Chiu-wai as the Chinese Crockett and Tubbs: one plain and veteran and tough, the other fashionable and somewhat mysterious; and all the cop story cliches, including the rogue inspector, the angry, yelling supervisor, the thin line between the cops and crooks, and even the glamorous port city setting. It becomes clear watching this story how much John Woo, far from being an innovator, owes a great deal as a director to Michael Mann and countless MTV video directors. None of which is to say that this movie gets downgraded in any way—it remains a smashing good time as a viewing experience, with all the action one could want (or even stand), terrific performances by the leads bolstered by strong supporting work, and just enough pathos to make all that violence seem to have real importance. It’s still one of my favorite foreign language films—nothing hard about making that call.

  

Hero

China has always been a big country with a lot of people and resources. Why then has it not, until recently, been more dominant among the world’s nations? Well, if this movie is any indicator, it’s because every action there has to be so formal, so subject to rules and norms, so profoundly hierarchical, that to get anything done there has always required enormous effort and time and consideration. Watching this movie makes you feel that way, too. It takes a lot of effort to tease out the full arc of this story, which starts out straightforward and direct and shows signs of being entertaining and even clever…but that then descends into recursiveness, repetition and odd motivations. Some of the characters are assassins, then they don’t want to be. Some of them love each other, then they’re fighting each other. Some die, then they’re not dead. It also helps not that, due to frequent scenes where everyone is wearing the same outfit and has the same hairstyle, it can sometimes get difficult to tell characters apart. One character in particular, Broken Sword, flips his position back and forth so many times it’s hard to be sympathetic for him by the end. (He also seems to die in sword fights numerous times; better name for the character: Pin Cushion.) Beyond narrative unsteadiness, we also are subjected to numerous examples of the famous flying fighting that permeates these martial arts epics—which look just as silly here as they do in other entries in the genre. The style is reminiscent of fights in anime, which are also silly; one can accurately think of a film like this as live action anime. Perhaps the trope is no sillier than the magic depicted in western fantasy movies, but that does not necessarily recommend it, either. (Recall too the metaphysical expectations of the insurgents in the 1900 Boxer Rebellion for an example of how this form of fantasy meets with hard reality off the screen.) The movie does deserve props for its visual flair; many of the shots display an impressive artistic eye and interesting composition. Ultimately, though, the confusing nature of the story—muddled and tangled in motivations—drops the assessment of this flick down from solid action story to only modestly satisfying work. Also, one cannot pass this movie by without noting that the story’s clearest aspects show a deep sympathy with the idea of the unification of China by the first emperor over the liberty of the predecessor kingdoms—a theme that surely found approval with the leadership in Beijing. So, propaganda, even if a muddled sort of propaganda. I know fans of the genre love this kind of film, but for me, storming this castle just wasn’t that much fun. 

Aguirre, the Wrath of God

Do yourself a favor: watch this film in the subtitled original German, not the dubbed version. The crazy comes through much more forcefully in the German. Once again Werner Herzog offers the audience a study in hubris, and ultimately madness, in the setting of the Amazon jungle. There’s less a story here than a continuous thread of narrative travelogue as a group of would-be conquistadors and their various associates journey in search of El Dorado and presumed fortune and fame. Klaus Kinski shows us again how to make madness and villainy a featured element of a movie that rarely rises above a slow-moving pace yet never loses the viewer's attention either. (The most exciting scene comes right at the beginning, when we see the group descending an Andean path the looks like an unreal staircase—a visual that sets the tone for the entire rest of the movie's tableau of existing in the world of the unreal.) Again, as with Fitzcarraldo—the two films are almost a 1 and 1A exacta entry of South American man vs. nature studies—you get a movie that many people simply won’t get, but that those with adventurous viewing habits will appreciate for its unique vision and contemplative frame of mind. And if nothing else you’ll learn a valuable lesson: don’t trust crazy conquistadors. 

Flow

Enigmatic hardly covers it. This movie is one of those pieces of work that people who are really into New Age stuff will decide is Super Profound and Meaningful. Me, I’m not so sure. Everything in the production screams award-bait intentions, from the consciously lilting score to the unfinished looking rendering of the animal characters—despite the rest of the visuals being presented in lush, hyperrealistic detail—to the almost-referencing of various cultural (Noah’s Ark) and political (climate change) touchstones in the story elements, to the fact that the film is made by a swarm of foreign studios and agencies (the logo drops at the beginning take up about a reel's time on their own) but the lack of dialogue means English speaking audiences can easily digest it...everything strikes as specifically fashioned to gain highbrow attention. I’m not sure, however, that that actually translates into an important movie. The animal cast, through the course of the story, ultimately show no less amounts of anthropomorphism than your average Disney flick characters—they just do it more subtly, without the singing and wisecracks. And you can’t help but have scientific considerations butt into your assessment of the happenings (example: shouldn’t these creatures be starving to death by now?). Still, there’s enough visual, emotional and action depth to hold the viewers interest throughout, even if the journey winds up being a somewhat circular ride. Gush if you must, but I expect my breathtaking works of staggering genius to wow me a little more than this. Even with a cat protagonist, I can only muster a MEOW here; I’ll save the PURR for something that doesn’t insist upon itself so much.

Godzilla Minus One

The most powerful force in this story is context. By portraying the events of the big guy’s incursion into the lives of the Japanese in the immediate postwar era, and making everything exceptionally real throughout, both on the human and kaiju scales, this reboot outing of the venerable franchise delivers a tremendous amount of impact. Seeing these colossal events within the frame of both individuals and a society trying to reestablish some sense of normal being makes the emotional impact more real than any previous movie of this sort has ever delivered. Notable too are the script’s observations on the Japanese nation and government, with some rather sharp remarks indicating that the locals are not exactly thrilled with the way things are going, or have been going, for quite some time. What may stand out most, though, are the action sequences when Godzilla is on the screen; these scenes are absolutely electric, dropping grip-the-arms-of-your-seat thrills like we haven’t seen since, perhaps, the original Jurassic Park. The vision and effects are a true step up in the creation of dazzling mayhem. And yet, you appreciate the journey of the human characters, too. A remarkable accomplishment, one that can be enjoyed by both 11-year-old boys and everyone else, too.

Shin Godzilla

The real monster all along was … bureaucracy? This movie may be a modern, native reboot of the classic Kaiju story, but it has the political landscape on its mind as much as it does giant lizards. A great deal of the running time contains ruminations about the state of Japans state—the filmmakers are not exactly thrilled with it—as well as that country’s relationship with its American patrons. There’s so much in here about the political situation that the star of the show, Gojira/Godzilla, spends a lot of the time either inactive or not even on the screen. That’s a complaint, but it must also be said that, when the moment comes for the damage to be done, the sequence contains some eye popping visuals—the rampages are very well done, and some of the shots of the big guy within the Tokyo skyline are almost downright artful. The movie is all in Japanese, so it’s difficult to judge if the key players are good actors or if they’re making their own disaster scenes. No matter—the presentation here, though a bit too talky and not quite stompy enough,  still delivers an adequate amount of entertainment for monster movie fans. It may not be an eleven year old boy’s dream film, but it will do.

A Cat in Paris

(English dubbed version) Normally, if you title your movie “A Cat in Paris,” or a cat in anything, I expect a film that’s much more feline-oriented and less about the human animals. As it is, the purring protagonist here, Dino, is almost a supporting character in this animated cinematic crime caper. The other half of the title, a nicely rendered City of Light, plays its part in the production, though not to the extent and with such impact as in, say, Amelie. Mostly, Paris is a presence as a set of rooftops for much on the action to take place on. The human characters are okay, nothing special; little girl Zoe and her mother, a police superintendent, are the core characters, while a friendly neighborhood cat burglar, Nico, provides some balance and intrigue against the family drama. Less successful as screen presences are the gangster Costa and his henchmen, who come across as thorough cliches of English criminal types. (Yes, one of them is German, but who’s counting?) Perhaps watching this movie in an English translation is the reason it left something to be desired, at least as concerns the dramatis personae. As for the universal language, the animated visuals, the presentation is interesting but hardly groundbreaking. Much of the imagery is rendered as flat and geometric, with the humans especially looking a lot like Picasso painted persons (except their eyes are in the right places). All in all, this is an interesting if not absorbing movie, effective in its storytelling if a bit cliched and predictable (as befits an animated feature; this was clearly made for children, so complexity is not on the menu). And there’s just enough felinity in the proceedings to push the overall impression into positive territory. Vive le chat, if not the rest of it.

Godzilla: Tokyo S.O.S.

What a load of bull Shinto. I'm guessing a lot got lost in translation here. How, for instance, can there be such concern about the bones of the dead if the critter in question—the chap whose birth name is Gojira—is, by the looks of things, very much alive? The conundrum may be the product of cloning, hinted at in a post credits scene, but that doesn’t really satisfy. This is apparently a sequel to another Godzilla movie, one not viewed by me, so perhaps that’s where the confusion comes in. Not that it really matters; these movies are hardly about plot or human actions or motivations so much as they’re about staging free-for-all fights between oversized creatures. This flick does supply the requisite monster mashing, which is good since there’s little else to recommend it. The human characters are dull as dishwater—though this outing is mercifully short on child antics, so a plus there—and the great philosophical theme cited by the movie’s wise old man character seems to have little to do with anything demonstrated in the film. As usual, nine-year-old boys will dig it, but this is hardly a movie that has breakout, crossover potential. Good thing these colossal characters never really die; they always have a chance to come back and do it better next time.

Amélie

I re-watched this classic—no. 3 on my personal list—for the first time in a long time with what I hoped would be a critical eye. I wanted to find the flaws, to discover real reasons to do something other than gush about how great this film is. ... And I failed, because there are no flaws here. This truly is one of the greatest movies ever made: clever, fun, artsy, quirky, wise and foolish, compassionate, loving, and joyful. Audrey Tautou is a vision of loveliness throughout, so much so that you wonder how a girl that beautiful could also be that weird and insecure, yet never for a moment does the viewer doubt the sincerity of Mme. Poulain's painful relationship with the rest of the world. Her pas de deux with Mathieu Kassovitz’s Nico is utterly charming, even when it edges towards being exasperating over the characters’ inability to seal the deal. Finally, the very French-ness of everything gives the proceedings just the right touch of being far away, in some ways like a fairy tale, while still maintaining a universality that can touch deep inside every viewer. Perhaps this movie’s greatest trait is its compassion and understanding for those for whom life just isn't easy (as we see with both Amélie herself and the regulars at the Cafe Deux Moulins—a collection of funny, strange, and most human people.) At such a great remove of time, it’s difficult to remember what a supernova this film was when it was first released; regular re-viewing is imperative to appreciate this one in all its glory. Best of All, now and forever. Vive Amélie!

Everything Everywhere All at Once

Irresistible fun. The bedrock of this film is a tremendous sense of humor, a vibe that runs through every aspect of the story’s multidimensional view and injects laugh-out-loud moments into its exploration of how every universe is, ultimately, centered around the one person who is experiencing it. In particular, the filmmakers deliver some spot-on send ups of just about every Kung fu movie trope ever shown on screen, often with uproarious results. In contrast, the sentimental parts of the tale almost seem like a bit of a letdown when they arrive, but they are hardly unwelcome. Indeed, one wonders if all of the movie’s absurdity would even matter if there were not some emotional grounding in the end. The cast members individually and together are remarkable, handling a script that goes far out on a multitude of limbs with impressive aplomb—and doing so in two languages to boot. It’s hard to argue with the acclaim this movie received upon release. A winner in just about any universe you like.

Rashomon

Kurasowa's masterpiece of … anticipation. Virtually everything in the direction and storytelling in this work is built to generate a sense of unbridled anticipation in the viewer; you’re always looking to see what’s going to happen next. That may sound like a moviemaking universal, but as an operative concept it rarely springs to life to this extent. The story and its presentation are top notch, to be sure, and the narrative—or narratives, if you will—firmly hold the audience’s attention throughout. So there’s certainly success. Then again, this style of storytelling shares--indeed, by reputation, you could say it created--the problem other variable perspective tales (such as the recent The Last Duel) offer the viewer, even if, in this film's case, it introduces the variable deliberately; to wit: why believe one narrative is more truthful than the others? It may not be a problem here--Kurasowa seems to understand that there is no real "truth"--but this model sure has spawned a lot of problematic cinema in subsequent decades. More specifically problematic here, unless you’re Japanese or intimately familiar with the culture—and let’s face it, most of us aren’t—a lot of key aspects of motivation in this multichannel story are subtly lost, and that can make for some distraction and confusion. The complaint may be a quibble—this is undeniably a good and memorable film--but it nevertheless is there and it's real, and it has an impact on the viewer. So then, is this one of the greatest movies ever? That’s a stretch too far for this viewer. The truth--subjective, as always--is that this is a very good film, and worth watching.

Hanzo the Razor: Who's Got the Gold?

Oh, Hanzo. You're incorrigible. Which is to say, this outing is pretty much exactly the same as the first two, maybe leaning more toward the original than the (better) second installment of the series. Our incorruptible (in certain senses, at least) Edo officer of the law is still having his way with women, still pissing off his superiors, still speaking truth to power, and mostly getting away with it. Come to think of it, these flicks were not just fodder for Tarantino's oeuvre, but may have served as models for any number of western (in the geopolitical sense) police movies, with the loose cannon cop and his yelling lieutenant and some sort of corrupt cabal in the higher ranks of government. Who influenced whom? At this remove, it's hard to say. They are certainly relics of another time, and best left to those who have an interest in pursuing such things as a matter of hobby or specific interest. I doubt very many others would look kindly on these doings.

Hanzo the Razor: The Snare

Back for more exploitation punishment. But, surprise, this installment in the series is actually better than the original. Which is not to say this one isn't chock full of '70s exploitation elements; pearl-clutchers should stay away from this flick. But the battles are better, there's more of an intelligent storyline, and there's even some artful direction beyond the flashy stuff that inspired any number of later actioners. If not for the rape and nudity and bloodiness, you might see this flick cited among the "classics" of back in the day--but then it wouldn't be quite so perversely entertaining. I'll hold back on the PURR because of the rough edges, but the MEOW--which was tenuous for the original--is more well deserved here.

Hanzo the Razor: Sword of Justice

What a weird movie. There's no way a film like this could be made today, and it's hard to call it a good movie, but back in the early '70s, a very self-conscious exploitation flick like this one could find a life, and it's, um, artistic sensibilities--bloody action and porno-jazz soundtrack (with corresponding story elements; be forewarned) against a backdrop of Shogun Japan--do add up to a strangely entertaining mixture, in a perverted sort of way. Watching this movie, you can see its influence on Quentin Tarantino's oeuvre, for sure, and that makes it an article of interest for anyone who has a certain bend towards filmdom in all its manifestations. See it if you're that type; anyone else can probably skip it.

Parasite

Entertaining, engaging, and more than a little thoughtful. Is this flick all those things to a Best Picture degree? I'm not sure about that--the level of the competition matters, too--but it's closer to that level than I expected going in. The story's rich layering helps immensely, as do several fine performances from the actors playing the members of the antiheroic Kim family. Their work translates well, and suspends the viewer's judgement of their actions long enough to maintain the audience's open state of mind as the proceedings reach their equally open-ended conclusion. It was a deserved honor to be nominated, for sure; actually winning the statue was a bit of icing on this film's cake. Ultimately, this film may be remember as the signal that the rest of the world has at least caught up to Hollywood, if not surpassed it.

No Man's Land

A brilliant little picture about one absurd and tragic day in the midst of the Bosnia war. The story is told with grim humor almost from start to end, but the laughs never dull the impact of the awfulness of the situation. This one received lots of thought for a "Best of All" induction; it's not quite that great, but it's still well worth seeing.

Good Bye, Lenin!

A movie that starts sweet and charming, funny but not a riot, which then slowly builds into something surprisingly involving and emotional before the end. And if you're nostalgic for Cold War East Germany, hey, bonus points for you. A film that's ultimately more than the sum of its parts. Strongly recommended.