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.

Mr. Holmes

Ian McKellen makes a pretty good old Sherlock, so much do that this film makes one wonder what he might have done with the role in his younger days. I doubt he could have unseated the legendary Jeremy Brett, but he could have been at least an adequate substitute. Here he plays the consulting detective in his last days, approaching death and loaded with regrets, and the whole package delivers both the keenness we’ve come to expect from the famous man and a vulnerability that reminds us that even the greatest of humankind are not without their flaws (even if the representation is of a fictional character). Laura Linney as the old Holmes’s housekeeper and Milo Parker as the housekeeper's son and the detective's unlikely compatriot provide quality supporting work. The story delivers the kind of logical flourishes one expects from a tale of Sherlock solving—or in this instance, trying to remember—a long ago case, though given the circumstances of Holmes being in his deep twilight, the plot simply could not include the level of action and danger that were hallmarks of the canon. No matter—you just have to be satisfied with a movie that entertains and intrigues on a quieter, subtler level than the usual. There’s reason enough to stay on the trail of this flick. 

To Catch a Thief

This movie is what they used to call "a real hoot." For one thing, it’s a visual feast—and I don’t just mean the exquisite Grace Kelly. The French Riviera scenery is spectacular. Meanwhile, Cary Grant is Cary Grant, with all that entails; all the performances—from stars and supporting cast—are spot on; Hitchcock’s direction is as good and exciting and clever as ever; and the script delivers both clever turns of phrase and exciting action in equal doses. The only rub is that there’s a lot of French spoken in the film, without subtitles, because in 1955 it was assumed that any educated person would know a certain amount of the language. That’s hardly a deal breaker—you know what’s being said from context—but it can take the viewer out of the moment to an extent. Otherwise this is classic cinematic entertainment at its finest. If it tries to steal your admiration, let it. 

Wake Up Dead Man

Word of warning: don’t watch this movie if you’re sleepy. I did, and wound up dozing off about 45 minutes in. Is that a commentary on the quality of the film, or just a product of circumstance? Maybe a bit of both. For sure, this story takes its time getting to the heart of the proceedings. That leisurely pace gives the movie a sense of being—somewhat appropriate for a murder mystery—rather lifeless. The film does eventually get going, and in doing so presents an interesting aspect of the script: some intriguing ruminations on faith and the church and their value and meaning. Plus you get to watch more of Daniel Craig inhabiting the character of Benoit Blanc, which is good entertainment. Still, I can’t help but think that this entry in Rian Johnson’s series is a touch below the previous outings. Whether that marks a death knell for the franchise or represents just a momentary dip remains at this point a question still to be answered. Not dead yet, perhaps, but in need of a little more energy—something you can say about your correspondent as well. 

Glass Onion

A few years ago, it seemed like Daniel Craig was certain to be remembered as a guy who played James Bond. Maybe that still holds, but a couple more of these films—we're at three as of this writing—and it may no longer be a sure thing. His Benoit Blanc is arguably a more memorable character, and you can’t deny that it is a persona that is truly Craig’s own, rather than a borrowed or inherited legacy. It helps, too, that these Knives Out movies are good, entertaining, fun and funny, and blessed with a lot of current (at least) cultural currency. In this edition, the story works well, and the cast and setting have plenty of interesting facets (though here the collected characters border on caricature). The fly in this ointment lies in the focus on—and critique of—the ultra rich and their natures. The view has merit and the parody pulls few punches, but it means spending a lot of time with some really unpleasant characters, even if just representations thereof. That aspect of the story does get a bit distracting, one might say…though one can argue the critique is not so much a distraction as the point of the presentation in the first place. I guess it depends on how much you care about the mystery aspect of a mystery, versus character, setting and mood. Me, I’m not so much on the whodunnit angle, so my viewing mind tends to shift towards the other story elements. It works here, though I’m not sure it would in every story. As it is, you can just focus on Craig and let him be your guide to a decent way to kill a couple of hours. I guess this movie doesn’t exactly shatter any expectations, but the fact that it works overall is crystal clear. 

Charade

It’s like a sophistication overdose: Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant, in Paris no less. Grant may have been showing his age a bit here in the early ‘60s—the very sly, witty script even jokes about it repeatedly—but he still brings plenty of suave to this offering, a charm offensive that perfectly complements Hepburn’s own considerable charisma in this ever-so-urbane yet never stuffy romantic whodunnit thriller. The City of Light setting helps pump up the cultivated atmosphere, providing a context that magnifies the stars’ natural qualities. The supporting cast of later well-known but then still-developing actors does excellent work in giving the top-billed characters strong but never overshadowing support. And that script really shines, with its steady peppering of snappy lines to go with its smart but not distractingly overdone story twists. Really enjoyable stuff that should receive any true movie buff’s stamp of approval. 

Winter's Bone

The feel good movie of the season it ain’t. This is like watching a Dorothea Lange picture set in motion, and with an equal measure of sociological implications in the viewing. Most prominent in this viewer’s thought: the remarkable persistence of this sort of living, even into our postmodern, allegedly advanced world. Some minor details might be different—meth rather than moonshine, for instance—but otherwise this could just as easily be a story from the Depression years as the 21st century. And that suggests the question: how do people stay in this state, seemingly without any aspiration toward some better kind of life? The implication, if not the actual answer, is that even if aspiration does exist in this sort of setting, then it has little efficacy in most people's lives. That must be due to people giving up—and, based on what we see here in a fairly true-to-life telling, then the give-up must typically happen at a remarkably young age. That's depressing. Apart from such cultural musings, what stands out here is Jennifer Lawrence in her breakout role, which was helped immensely by her bringing personal verisimilitude to her character and that character’s journey through the ins and outs of a tricky, dangerous subculture. She really shines here, both in this context and also in terms of being the very picture of someone who was bound to break out. You can put Lawrence in as many stocking caps and hunting jackets and other countrified accoutrements as you like, but the embryonic movie star underneath still shows through. Again, this is not exactly a crowd-pleaser, but the film tells a strong story with realism, fine acting, and a note-perfect script that keeps the tale moving and comes across as spot-on throughout. If this vision reflects your upbringing, my condolences; if you’re just visiting through the magic of cinema, take it in and leave with plenty to think about. 

Conclave

You’d think I’d be put off by the sight of so many priests and nuns, but I guess miracles can still happen. In fact, this film is good enough to overcome any religious biases one might have. The story is fascinating, absorbing, entertaining, enlightening and and even somewhat inspiring in its faithful dimensions. The performances of the principal players are note-perfect all the way around, especially Ralph Fiennes as the dean in the titular gathering’s lynchpin role. And, last but not least, the presentation is a visual feast, with the spectacular scenery of the Sistine Chapel playing at least as prominent a role in the story as any of the actors. One might quibble that there’s a certain predictability in the plot's outcome—in the broad stroke, not so much the final twist—but that hardly spoils the full experience. Ultimately, this is as much a tale of ideas as it is a chronicle of any human actions, and it’s in those thoughts and concepts and beliefs where the work finds its fullest depth. The church may have gone astray, but there is, or once was, something that means a great deal to a great many, and this movie argues that a kernel of that core belief still has a place in this world. Must-watch stuff. 

Nope

This movie takes its good sweet time getting into the meat of its story. That’s actually something of a throwback, since horror flicks in olden days didn’t put their monsters, chaos and gore out front and center until well into the running time. They generally worked the slow build, unlike much of today’s more hyperkinetic fare. So that’s not an inherent problem with this one; what causes some viewer consternation here at the start, more than anything else, is Keke Palmer's high-volume, grating presence in the otherwise quiet and ominous stage-setting early scenes. You almost want to walk away just to keep her from getting too much on your nerves. Thankfully, the plot and action soon rev up and begin to deliver the kinds of jolts that make her boisterousness relatively muted in comparison. A lot about the middle of the movie is appreciable, with some nasty surprises giving the narrative some high-energy moments. But then, the denouement leaves a bit more to be desired: the monster weirdly transforms, without necessarily becoming anything more particularly scary or alien in character, the characters go off into behaviors that don’t seem particularly rational, and the beastie meets its destiny in a way that does not make much sense. So there are good scenes in the middle, the direction and cinematography present rich visuals—a notable achievement considering the dry-as-dust desert setting of the story—and a lot of the film works ... but there’s also a tepid opening and a not especially compelling ending. You get just enough here to turn a "nope" into a "yes," but just barely—and you are hardly inspired to shout out that affirmative.

Dressed to Kill

Quite possibly the best of the Universal/Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies. The mystery is clever, the antagonists are formidable, and Holmes is at the top of his game, even if the villains temporarily get the best of him. In other developments, Watson remains something near a moron—how did such a creature ever get a medical license?—the anachronism is still a thing, though not particularly glaring in this outing, and Holmes doesn’t bother with any disguises (and is even taken in by the criminal lady’s outfit!). The movie moves swiftly, provides an entertaining tale, and comes to a satisfying conclusion, even if some of the hallmarks of the Holmes canon are still missing (mainly, the atmosphere of Victorian England, which is so integral to most of the stories on the page). It may be a bastardized version of the Conan Doyle character’s adventures, but this film still delivers enough of what you expect of the super sleuth to make it worth a look.

Terror by Night

Well, what do you know—this time, there’s an actual client who engages Holmes, though not to solve a mystery so much as to serve as a watchdog. No matter—the case still provides enough twists and turns to fill a mostly entertaining hour. Points of interest here include the fact that virtually the entire movie takes place on a train, which necessitated ample use of railway footage—a treat for train enthusiasts in the audience. This outing also shows perhaps the height of the series’ Watson abuse; the Nigel Bruce portrayal of Sherlock’s sidekick is vaguely insulting in most of these films, but here he is really treated as a total doofus. As usual, though, the reason this work works lays squarely with Rathbone's efforts as Holmes; he leaves the viewer supremely confident that, no matter how clever the villain may be, he’s no match for history’s most famous detective. A jolly good show.

The Woman in Green

There’s a series of murders going on in London—but then again, when aren’t there? Thankfully, Sherlock Holmes is around to piece together the details and bring the spree to an end. In other words, this flick is pretty much exactly what you’d expect from a circa 1945 Basil Rathbone vehicle. There are, of course, issues with the production vis-a-vis what we know of Conan Doyle’s canon. The setting is contemporary, thus stripping the tale of all of the usual late-empire trappings (the ‘40s setting is so out of step with what one would think of as the hero’s natural habitat that the erstwhile Victorian gentleman may as well be Sam Spade rather than Sherlock Holmes). There is a mystery, but no client; the consulting detective is merely invited into the case by the baffled police inspector (Gregson, in this instance; the client interview is a staple of Holmes stories, but is bafflingly absent in many of these movie adaptations), and the climax of the movie and the case is less a matter of the sleuth putting the puzzle together and more a matter of Holmes simply outfoxing the villains. So how, then , is this movie a good watch? Largely, it works on the strength of Rathbone's portrayal of the character; the more I see of him in the role, the more I judge him to be an exceptional fit for the Holmes persona. He may not match the great Jeremy Brett, but Rathbone is a physical match for the character, and he carries himself in the part much as a reader of the original tales would expect the man to be. It also helps that these entries in Universal’s Holmes series move briskly and come in at barely more than an hour. It takes little effort to watch and pays that small effort with a near iconic portrayal and an entertaining story. The success here is, dare I say it, just that elementary.

Sherlock Holmes

Trying to make fiction's foremost intellectual into an action hero seems to entirely miss the point. A large part of Holmes’ appeal comes from his ability to fight crime with his mind, not so much with his fists or a weapon. Here, the bits where Holmes describes and acts upon his deductive reasoning come across as unconvincing. Perhaps that’s a product of Robert Downey Jr. playing the title character; though he’s a fine actor, Downey simply doesn’t look the part of the famously tall and angular sleuth. In fact, Jude Law as the long suffering—and somewhat whiny—Watson is also miscast; if the actors had traded roles, the whole movie might have worked better. The storyline, about occult murders and other assorted hoohah, is notable mostly for the presence of Mark Strong hamming it up as a supposedly supernaturally-inclined peer of the realm who comes across as a cheap Dracula knockoff. The presence of Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler provided something nice to look at, but she too is unconvincing in her role. Finally, director Guy Richie offers some good visuals—the depiction of Victorian London looks spot on—but does so in a way that suggests a strong affinity for style over substance, or over anything else for that matter. It all comes across as something of a mess: a movie with poor casting, a story that really isn’t all that interesting, and a production team that simply didn’t understand the very nature of Holmes and his appeal. I offer these people this clue: don’t do this sort of thing.

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon

It’s not exactly canon, as they say, but that’s hardly surprising when you lift Holmes out of Victorian times and place him in the midst of Britain’s World War II struggle. The story here is a bunch of humbug about trying to protect a scientist and the weapon he has developed—a storyline with particular contemporaneous interest, though one that does not entirely match the typical, unusual nature of the great man's preferred cases. The movie often fails to live up to the promise of an authentic Holmes experience; an early scene depicting a test of the doohickey shows a laughably obvious desert landscape supposedly substituting for England’s Salisbury plain, and there are other production stumbles. Nevertheless, the movie does move at a quick and entertaining pace, and there remains enough of the super sleuth's trademark traits in Basil Rathbone's version of the character—the deductive skill, the facility with disguises, the confidence bordering on arrogance—that fans can feel an affinity for the classic embodiment of one of fiction's greatest personas. The only real regret with this flick is a lack of essential Britishness; though everyone speaks with a British accent, the atmosphere of the story never really conveys that sense of Holmes’s home country, which is so very much a part of the appeal of Conan Doyle’s creation. Still, for a film that was made to be an almost throwaway, Saturday afternoon matinee feature—the best time to watch this one is either on a lazy weekend morning or late at night—it provides just enough entertainment value in its brief running time to work as a light and casual watch. It’s no mystery: if Sherlock Holmes is on the case, you’re going to have a pretty good time.

The Firm

In which we learn that lawyers are sleazy. Sorry, sport—that’s old news. I’ve never read a John Grisham novel; never seemed like my cup of tea. So I had to overcome some preconceptions to appreciate this flick, and I’d have to say the effort mostly succeeded. As always, it helps to have Tom Cruise working towards that goal; he brings his usual solid performance here as young, on the verge of being compromised lawyer Mitchell, though here he plays it without his usual level of hyper-confidence. Even without his normal level of self-assurance, Cruise gives the audience a protagonist to root for. Our lead is ably assisted in this effort by a host of familiar faces in supporting roles, with Jane Tripplehorn not the least among that secondary cast as Mitch’s suffering but ultimately involved and active wife. The plot is intricate, though not so much so that it trips on itself, and there’s just enough action to relieve any slow spots in the proceedings. No doubt the references to various workings of the law are accurate and relevant to the story, though perhaps that’s the least important aspect of the production. I’m going to say that overall, this is a good, entertaining and satisfying flick—I’d just prefer not to have to swear to that under oath. Your witness, counselor.

Jack Reacher: Never Go Back

A second and likely last outing for Cruise as Reacher. (The character moved on to a streaming series, and I’m guessing those footing that bill demanded exclusivity.) This outing is more explicitly military in its operational theater, so to speak, which both ups the ante in terms of the danger to the hero and compatriots, and creates more of a muddle in terms of who is guilty or a problem or an ally. One hopes the military is not this corrupt; one fears (with evidence) that it is. As for the personal dimensions, Cruise brings the same confidence and intelligence to the role of reacher as in the first flick. One interesting aspect of his performance: Cruise's Reacher, unlike many a badass movie protagonist, is not invulnerable; he takes a licking, and feels it—he just makes sure to deliver a bit more damage than the opponent in the end. It’s a big part of what makes you root for the guy. Another intriguing aspect: the clearly handsome Reacher partners with equally handsome women in both flicks to work through the problem, yet there are only teases of romantic involvement; Reacher, true to his mission statement of personal detachment (in all things, apparently), avoids any strings. It’s not a typical approach to the genre, and makes these stories stand out. Maybe they don’t stand out as movies overall—this and it’s predecessor are good but not exceptional—but they do stick out somewhat within the genre. One wonders what more Cruise might have made with this character, but that seemingly was not meant to be. (And maybe we would have been poorer in Mission: Impossible movies if that had played out.) Ultimately, it’s a bit of a dead end, but one that provides two solid hours of entertainment on its way to relative irrelevance.

Jack Reacher

The idea of Tom Cruise portraying Jack Reacher was laughable to my late mother, a fan of the novels. Cruise’s relatively diminutive physical presence is apparently not a match for the character on the page, but, as this film demonstrates, it’s not really an issue once the longtime star makes the role his own. The bedrock of Cruise’s success in movies has been confidence, the possession and projection thereof—and as usual, Cruise brings his A-game essence to this story. You get the sense, when you’re watching his portrayal of the ex-army investigator, that Cruise’s Reacher really can take out five or so dudes of bad intention without any help. You also believe the more contemplative aspects of the tale—for an action thriller, this film has a lot of quiet and talky (but not boring) scenes—and that Reacher is not just a bundle of writhing muscles, but a substantial brain, too. The mystery requires that sort of thinking; while some pieces of the puzzle may seem (or are) simple, how the picture resolves offers a worthy challenge to even the most seasoned whodunit fan. Put all that together with strong supporting work by Rosamund Pike, Richard Jenkins and David Oyelowo, as well as the city of Pittsburgh in all its glorious grittiness, and you end up with a perfectly respectable thriller that doesn’t, um, fall short of expectations.

A Haunting in Venice

Is this a good mystery? I wouldn’t know—it’s really not my genre. But I do like extraordinary characters, and in Hercule Poirot, as portrayed by Kenneth Branagh, you do have an iconic presence who really draws in the viewer. The portrayal comes across as that much fresher given that the story in this outing is a relatively untouched property, rather than the well-trodden paths of the Nile and the Orient Express. Add to those appealing elements some keen direction and skillful cinematography—the movie is a visual treat all the way through—and the result is a film that mostly satisfies. Again, I’m not a mystery fan, so I will confess that I grew a tad bored with the roundabout trip to an ultimately unwieldy explication...but that may just have been me watching the movie while being tired, too. As for the implied-by-the-title supernatural aspect of the story, the movie ultimately supplies one or two jolts, but overall it's a rather tame dose of the spooky. In sum, this is a finely-crafted movie for adults, with just enough touches of intrigue, chills, and interesting and exotic setting to lift the overall work into something worth the viewer's time.

Knives Out

So this is what qualifies as reinvention these days? That’s a bit harsh, because I don’t want to imply that this is anything but a solid, entertaining bit of cinema. It is that. I’m simply noting that this work is not the world-changing item that some of the hype says it is. The movie really doesn’t need that hard sell; it stands on its own merits well enough. A large quantity of the credit for that accomplishment rests with the two principal performers: a sly, quirky and ultimately deep performance by Daniel Craig, who continues to fashion a low-key argument that he’s among the best actors working today; and a surprisingly powerful and dominant performance from Ana de Armas, who is the true star of this show and carries a great deal of the film’s weight with her. The rest of the ensemble offers quality supporting work with rarely a misstep, but it’s the efforts of the primary two who make this a movie over and above the ordinary. As I’ve stated previously, I’ve never been a particular mystery fan, so the machinations of the whodunnit plot really meant little to this viewer (though it didn’t seem to me that the solution to the puzzle was really anything all that clever). Mostly, the main contribution to the flick's quality—on top of the leads’ efforts—comes from the director’s sense of style, so score one for Rian Johnson, too. You don’t need to effuse into the ridiculous in order to find this a satisfying piece of cinema—and that shouldn’t be a mystery to anyone.

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.