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.

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.

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.

  

Meet Me in St. Louis

A sweet and charming vision of an America that disappeared long ago. Calling this film old-fashioned hardly covers it; really, much of these proceedings come across as hopelessly square, and without anything that even resembles real-life drama. Nevertheless, there is much joy to be found in this chronicle of a year in the life of a well-to-do heartland family at the beginning of the last century. Judy Garland is, of course, the main draw here. She looks, sings and acts splendidly throughout, and director Vincente Minnelli puts her lovingly on display in virtually every scene; in retrospect, it seems they were almost fated to be together. There are several memorable musical numbers woven into the narrative, and there’s a terrific sequence set on Halloween featuring the very young and mischievous Margaret O’Brien that is a sheer delight. Even the contrived and somewhat overly saturated technicolor camerawork only serves to deliver a heightened sense of fantasy, fun and dreamy romance. As visions of the past go, this one is radically different from what we experience today—and thus it is, perhaps, that much more appealing. The past is like a country you can never visit again, as someone once said…but it sure would be fine to meet the right people there. This is about as close as you can get.

The Return

It’s not the whole Odyssey, it’s just, as the title suggests, the last and most important part. The story is told here quietly (mostly) and with a great deal of restraint, until the resolution comes. This telling relies on subtle speech and gestures to get its message across, about the pain of separation and loss, about duty and honor, and war and peace, and family and home. Details matter here. The film appears to have been shot only in natural light, either the clear and sometimes harsh light of the day, or the flickering and obscuring light and shadows of fire, as befits a tale that tells us of the Bronze Age. The tone is meditative through much of the film’s narrative—and yet, when that climax is reached, that extraordinary scene of both triumph and tragedy, it is thrilling to watch, a magical moment that has come down to us through the ages and never grows old, even if heroes like Odysseus do. What a gift the Greeks gave to us, their progeny, in this tale that defines what a classic is, and this rendering is very much worthy of resting within that canon. This is a bow well strung that hits its mark precisely.

The Shootist

There are so many movies about old gunslingers that it seems like a contradiction: you wouldn’t expect that many tales of old gunslingers, because you figure not too many of them make it to be old, given the nature of their pursuits. Yet, here’s another one, featuring that oldest of old pistol packers, John Wayne, who is perfectly believable as a veteran of the range who is dying of cancer. (He would succumb to the disease in real life not long afterwards.) Lauren Bacall is a bit frosty as the widow who provides the outlaw with room and board and a bit of sympathy. Able support comes from another veteran of the genre, James Stewart, in a small but meaningful role as a doctor. Meanwhile, the real star of the film may be Harry Morgan, who is an absolute hoot as the local lawman who gives Wayne’s character a regular earful. The weak link here may be Ron Howard as the impressionable youth who takes a shine to the old gunslinger; let’s say it’s a good thing that directing worked out for him. This movie was late-period Western storytelling, both in when it came out (1976) and in setting (1901 in Carson City, well after the frontier had been officially closed). That gives the production an interesting feel, one that conveys a sense of change—of, indeed, things passing away—more so than what you get in the traditional oater full of horses, wide open spaces, and black and white morality. Nevertheless, the film still delivers its share of shootouts, old-time Americana, and the presence of one of the genre’s legends—still delivering the goods even at the end of the ride. As ways to go go, this one hits the target. 

Sabrina

Some actors are actors, and others are movie stars. This movie features lead actors who were most emphatically movie stars. Longtime favorite Humphrey Bogart and more recent obsession Audrey Hepburn bring their legendary, luminous presences to this delightful story, which features a ton of charm and wit and just the right amount of romantic sentiment. William Holden—no slouch himself in the movie star department —provides terrific support here, while Billy Wilder brings his usual expertise to both the script and the director’s chair. Mostly though, this story shines because the two leads just bring something extra special to their roles. It’s the kind of thing that Hollywood used to deliver routinely—indeed that it was built upon—and it is ever so refreshing to turn back the clock and experience it once more. A movie that everyone can fall in love with—whether you live in the big house or over the garage. 

The Adventures of Prince Achmed

Well, it’s not every day that you get to watch a hundred-year-old movie. Nor does it happen that the film in question is as beguiling as Lotte Reiniger's silhouette stop-motion animation work. There are scenes in this movie that are so creatively expressed that the viewer is left wondering exactly how they were done—even in this time of digital filmmaking and realistically rendered visuals. It’s pure creativity and imagination that went into the making of this film, which tells a tale from the Arabian Nights that contains much that is familiar to most audiences—the famous story of Aladdin—blended into a second story about the titular character and his own world spanning deeds. It’s a lot of fun to watch and the story is not too difficult to follow despite the need for English sub subtitles of the German subtitles (in an otherwise wordless presentation. The current fashion is to be highly concerned with the last five minutes and to concurrently ignore everything that came before, but that is a dreadful mistake—a conclusion proved by looking at this postcard from the far ago. The light and magic here come not from a genie or a lamp, but from the continuum of human creativity and consciousness.

Funny Face

This movie starts from the preposterous notion that dressing Audrey Hepburn like an Albanian peasant somehow hides the fact that she is perfectly exquisite. Don’t worry—they get over their misapprehension soon enough. From there you get a healthy dose of Hepburn in all her usual glory—appearing glamorous, laying on the charm, and even singing and dancing in mock bohemian-beatnik style—not to mention plenty of Parisian beauty and joie de vivre. Plus you get to watch a delightful performance from Fred Astaire, who reminds the viewer that even this late in his game he still brought plenty of charm and dash to his role. Sure, the musical numbers are somewhat dated at this point, and I must admit my usual lack of enthusiasm for dance set pieces—but the film as a whole gives ample reason for one to enjoy its fun and clever humor and romance. Such simple pleasures may no longer be fashionable, but quality moviemaking is always in season. 

Dracula (2025)

Leave it to a Frenchman to make perfume a key ingredient in the old vampire’s story. That’s just one refinement that director Luc Besson brings to this retelling of Stoker’s tale. Normally I’m a stickler for story fidelity when it comes to adapting a book into a movie, but in this case some of the changes work quite well. You can forgive Besson for shifting a large part of the story’s setting from London to Paris—it is, after all, his home turf, and not exactly a place that’s not cinematic. The difference brings a certain freshness to the non-Romanian parts of the narrative, especially given the fin-de-siècle nature of the place and time. Meanwhile, other aspects of the story are preserved to a strong degree, making the overall film a blend of both faithful adaptation and creative extension and development. There are plenty of gothic elements and eye-catching visuals here; this outing clearly owes some debt to Coppola's now-thirty-years-old version, though it lacks most of that works gleeful ghoulishness. The principal actors are quite good in their roles, and it’s always welcome to see the ever-entertaining Christoph Waltz bringing his inimitable presence in the Van Helsing role. The only real misstep comes at the climax, when the ultimate battle turns into an actual battle, one that plays more as an over-the-top exercise in moviemaking rather than as an appropriate resolution to a conflict that is ultimately more psychological and spiritual than physical. Otherwise, we're on solid ground (consecrated or otherwise) here. You’d think, at this point, that this story has been told so many times that there could be little left to find exciting in any new adaptation, but here is a proof that creative individuals can bring something new to even the oldest—maybe even worn out tales. Contrary to the story’s core premise—and perhaps expectations—this movie definitely does not suck. 

Send Help

The viewer is immediately confronted with a question by this movie: was the casting of Rachel McAdams in the lead role a mistake? The issue arises from the fact that her character, Linda, is presented from the start as a nebbish and unattractive creature—which is a difficult sell when McAdams, who has famously portrayed hotties in prominent roles, is the creature in question. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to cast an actual, non-physically perfect actress in the role, for some legitimacy? The issue is only given more weight by the film’s early scenes, which indulge in any number of clichés about office politics and interpersonal dynamics. Perhaps dolling up—or down, as it were—a standard beauty to portray a fugly was just another example of moviemaking laziness. Or so one might think. As the story goes on, though, it becomes clear that Linda straddling the line between attractive and unattractive is a core component of the narrative. You’re never quite certain who the villain really is here, until the unwinding of the plot eventually leaves no doubt. Before you get to that point, the story delivers plenty of entertainment, including thrills, scares and more than a few outright laughs along the way. By the end, you can appreciate the importance of—as the lady herself would tell you—strategy and planning. That’s what went into this work, and the early questions are all part of the plan. Not a bad trip, and worth the time you spend there. 

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’.

Coda

In this case, title case, not upper case. This is not a review of the Oscar winner from a few years ago; it's about a film with a similar title from a few years before that. With this movie, the title is perhaps more relevant, since the term refers to the end of a musical piece, and this story is about the tail end of a fictional musical master’s career. The plot summary for this flick could simply read, “talented old man struggles with himself”—and, as you might imagine, there are reasons why that would be a difficult sell for the majority of viewers. Luckily, the old man in question here is the exceptional Patrick Stewart, who gives a convincing performance as Henry, a legendary pianist who has had to deal with a bit too much and isn’t entirely convinced that he can take any more. Along the way Katie Holmes reminds us of how talented and charming she is, while Giancarlo Esposito provides more than able support as Henry’s agent and confidant. Further support comes from the music that is woven in throughout the story, brilliant and beautiful pieces that reflect Henry in his inner turmoil and in his moments of achieved calm and acceptance. No doubt, this film is not everyone’s cup of tea, but if you are in a contemplative mood, and open to some quiet, deep storytelling, this work will work for you.