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Reviews
The Other Half of the Sky: A China Memoir (1975)
An interesting window into China in 1975, but a lot of propaganda
A difficult film to rate. Made at a time when China was softening after about a quarter century of isolation, it's an utterly unique window into the country, at least as it presented itself to this group of travelers led by Shirley MacLaine, as well as a window into their decidedly American reactions. The spirit of the undertaking is certainly noble. To travel to a place and meet its people always has a way of demythologizing it, and what one says, that "they're just human beings," cuts through preconceived ideas and stereotypes at the most basic level.
Unfortunately, it's also quite a propaganda piece. MacLaine is spoon fed the party line and the virtues of Mao in scene after scene. When she asks a couple of wives what they like about her husband, they talk about the purity of their partner's political ideologies. When she asks children what they want to be when they grow up, several state they want to be part of the People's Liberation Army and be a success for the revolution. The happiness of the people is on full display, all of the time, and it's a bit much.
In one of the more lucid moments, one of her traveling companions offhandedly says "They're programmed." In another, MacLaine practically touches the third rail with the hypothetical question about a genius artist who wants to create art not for the collective. The response is that such a person would be given the books of Marx, Engels, Mao, et al and "persuaded" to change his thinking. It's a terrifying answer alluding to re-education camps delivered through a smile, and not even over political dissent. There were no other hard questions or allusions to (for example) the terror of the Cultural Revolution, though while in China that would have been off limits to MacLaine and bad form besides, as she was a guest. She did seem to buy most of what she saw, however. It's a smaller thing, but she also repeated the myth that the Great Wall can be seen from the moon, perhaps an indication of her willingness to believe things.
On the other hand, seeing people and activities in China in this time held my interest. There are good points made about the advance of women's rights under Mao, though the comparison to the older women interviewed who had their feet bound when younger was not apt, as the practice had already been nearly eliminated before the Communists took power, something that isn't mentioned to MacLaine (nor does she ask). The exercises and games for small children instilling cooperation and the greater good seemed virtuous and beneficial, not indoctrination (at least at that age), though it's notable that similar teaching of cooperative behavior and simple ethics was also being done in Taiwan. Lastly, the Caesarean birth with acupuncture instead of anesthesia was pretty incredible, though far too graphically shown for my taste (seriously, beware if you're squeamish).
I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (1973)
Entertaining
A nice blend of giallo and early slasher, I really enjoyed this. The visuals are beautiful, including the filming in the university town of Perugia, a killing out in a forest at night that felt positively primordial, and, it must be admitted, the ample female nudity. Sergio Martino is really over-the-top with his adoration/exploitation of breasts; even when they're covered, we often see nipples, including a scene early on where three women walking in the background are all braless, which I chuckled over. If gratuitous objectification is something that will bother you, this is probably one to skip.
While Martino doesn't show a lot of restraint in that department, he does when depicting the murders, which was effective. The tension in the scene in the house in the final act is gripping, and not because we see graphic violence or blood spraying everywhere. The pacing and buildup are quite good as well.
Aside from the unevenness of restraint, there are contradictions in other ways. There are moments that look quite real, like a guy without a helmet on a motorcycle crashing and pitching head first over his handlebars, and there are moments that are comically fake, like a little boy falling off a cliff, his arms and legs not moving a bit because he's obviously a mannequin (I laughed out loud and watched it again). The backstory relating to childhood trauma is ridiculous and highly cliched, but the film does a pretty good of keeping us guessing who the killer is, so it didn't matter too much to me.
Overall, this is well constructed especially for the genres, and one to see.
Barefoot Adventure (1960)
Window into an era
"Small wave riding has changed drastically over the years, but big wave riding hasn't. It's still basically a matter of survival."
There is something so pure about these old surfing films from Bruce Brown, made at a time when outside of Polynesia and Hawaii, the sport was in its infancy. Despite a low budget and relatively primitive technical gear, he captured fantastic footage of early surfers in various locations in California and Hawaii. At this point he was mostly interested in showing these to fellow surfers to fund the next set of adventures/films. In the introduction to this one, he recalls once renting a 1000 seat auditorium in Anaheim and having just six people show up. As the original narration to Barefoot Adventure was lost he dubbed it 30 years later but was still sharp on details, and this time lag allowed him to point out things with the benefit of perspective and how much things had changed.
For example, a new surfboard in 1960 cost $75, weighed 40 lbs, and the leash had not yet been invented. There were just six flights a day into Honolulu. We see Jack O'Neill wearing an early version of his wetsuit (which he turned into a very profitable business), and no wonder, with the water temperatures in Santa Cruz about 48F.
Brown is a little scattered in flitting us about from place to place, sometimes just for brief scenes, and sometimes a little repetitious in the information he gives us. Some of places which stood out included the big waves of Oahu (at Waimea Bay Sunset Beach, and Makaha), various places in SoCal (Brooks St at Laguna Beach, The Wedge at Newport Beach with its treacherous body surfing, and Huntington Beach Pier), and in Santa Cruz (Steamer Lane, Pleasure Point).
Surfers include Del Cannon, the "Sir Laurence Olivier of Surf Films," Joey Cabell, who has "one of the smoothest and most graceful styles in surfing," and 15-year-old Robert August (who would later appear in Brown's legendary film, The Endless Summer). There are many others, including more unique fellas like Don Golden, who pioneered kayak surfing. It's a little too bad we didn't see more of the only woman surfer who appears, 14-year-old diminutive Joey Hamasaki of Hawaii.
In addition to the surfing wipeouts (of which there are many) and the goofing around which Brown freely admits was corny, we also get the majesty of enormous waves in Hawaii that were impossible to surf following a storm. As for the hijinks, they provide a little comic relief, but it was unfortunate that Brown spent time mocking the old lady tourists taking hula lessons. Maybe the best moment was when he pretends Del Cannon has his brakes go out while driving downhill. Brown deadpans: "Dell said, 'fasten your seatbelts!' Walt said, 'They haven't invented them yet!'" leading to Walt using a rope to lasso a tree and eject himself from the vehicle, which I chuckled over. I'm not sure the rather dramatic blowing up of the car later out in the field and then leaving it there was such good karma, particularly as he points out that Hawaiians weren't always friendly (I was thinking, hmm no wonder).
Overall, certainly not a masterpiece, but as with his other surf films, hypnotically mesmerizing to me, and a great window into an era.
Dramma della gelosia (tutti i particolari in cronaca) (1970)
A little too zany
It was interesting to see Marcello Mastroianni in a role so counter to his usual polished, urbane type, and the same goes for Monica Vitti. This is a zany comedy, one that feels very much of the period, and Ettore Scola uses creativity telling its story, like characters breaking the fourth wall or having us listen in on their thoughts. He certainly doesn't portray Rome in an idealized way; what we see is a dirty mess, especially that beach, but that and the police using force to break up a rally for the communist party are the bits of political commentary he sneaks in here. If only there had been more content along those lines, or at least a little bit of seriousness in the characters of this love triangle. Unfortunately it's all wacky comedy given to us at a manic pace. It felt like it was trying too hard, or in any event, just wasn't funny to me, and my interest waned over the second half. The tragedy of the story failed to resonate because these characters felt too silly to ever really invest in. If you're new to Scola, I would highly recommend checking out We All Loved Each Other So Much instead.
You and Me (1938)
Crime doesn't pay
That moment when Sylvia Sidney and George Raft are going in opposite directions on the escalator and reach out to caress each other's hands in passing is so sweet. She also looks mighty fine with her hair tousled in the shower. This pair under the direction of Fritz Lang, who tries his hand at some experimental things during an otherwise conventional post-Code film, make this a passable effort despite its heavy-handed, rosy messaging re: crime not paying.
Both stars play ex-convicts who have re-entered the work force at the same department store. He's finished his parole, and she has a month or two to go. The owner of the store is a humanistic figure who believes that ex-convicts can be rehabilitated, and moreover (as he explains to his exasperated wife), that they need a job or otherwise they'll be forced to return to a life of crime. Bravo to that.
The pair get married but there are sources of tension all around. For one thing, his old gang is pressuring him to do one more robbery. More importantly, she hasn't told him about her past, or that because she's still on parole, she's not legally allowed to get married. He becomes suspicious and eventually finds out the truth, something which makes him blow his top. As he expresses his ire, I loved the power of his icy glare, even if it felt like his character was being unfair to her.
The Expressionistic cinematography is beautiful and Lang does some unexpected things with musical numbers as well, including a song at the opening of the film and the bit with the ex-convicts reminiscing over prison and how they would communicate with one another via different patterns of knocks. Unfortunately, there's also a ridiculous "crime doesn't pay" lecture from Sidney, who is literally at a chalkboard performing math for the crooks who've already been caught, disarmed, and made to promise they'll show up on time to work the following day. It's all a bit much, even to a sap like me.
The Velvet Vampire (1971)
Terrible acting, but campy as hell and kinda fun
"I think I'd like to drive your buggy."
The good: the desert scenery (those Joshua trees!), the female empowerment (there from the beginning, in an attempted rape), and the soundtrack (blues singer Johnny Shines, the acoustic guitar during dream sequences, and electronica during dramatic ones). The use of color added visual flair, and I liked the ending too.
The bad: the acting is terrible and perhaps only matched by the inane dialogue in the script. Along those lines, the chase in the penultimate scene felt like it came out of a student film project. The double seduction was probably edgy for the period, but it never felt like it fired on all cylinders because the performances had no passion.
Overall: obviously not great, but fun for a B movie, and wisely only 80 minutes. Kinda funny that I had just seen a yellow dune buggy of another sort in the Aussie low budget film Alison's Birthday (1981) too.
Non si sevizia un paperino (1972)
Entertaining
In one of this film's strongest moments, the townsfolk commit a brutal murder out of superstition, and it's never investigated. One of the cops alludes to needing to arrest the whole town if he was to do something about it, which is a pretty damning indictment of the backward villages in what appears to be Basilicata (or thereabouts). But in an even better moment, as the bloody victim crawls to the edge of a roadway, affluent passing motorists with families, presumably on their way to a city while speeding through the Italian equivalent of "flyover country," see and ignore the victim. Yes, there's a serial killer of children on the loose, but how about these other people from both walks of life, Fulci says.
This is certainly a solid giallo, helped by the rugged countryside and a cast which includes Barbara Bouchet and Irene Papas. That title is something too, though if you're concerned, rest assured, no live ducks even appear, much less get harmed. It does tend to creep along rather slowly in places which is a drawback, particularly as it goes through a couple candidates for the murders who are obviously going to turn out to be red herrings. I guessed the killer early on, though maybe this was more of a surprise shocker for 1972, and certainly must have been controversial. The final scene on the cliffs is pure camp. Overall, not a masterpiece, but enjoyable.
C'eravamo tanto amati (1974)
Masterpiece
"The future passed us by. We didn't even notice."
Ettore Scola's We All Loved Each Other So Much is an homage to cinema, a critique of Italy over the three decades following the war, and a bittersweet look at how people can be so tightly connected at a certain time and place, but then have very different trajectories in life from there. That includes how friendships and loves can be found, but how they can also be destroyed in an instant, or alternatively, sustained despite separation. It also includes how ideals can be sacrificed or rigidly adhered to, both to great detriment, and how paths not taken can haunt someone with the feelings of what might have been. It's funny, intelligent, and sentimental, and had an ending that left me tingling.
You can't be on much firmer ground than helping to beat the Nazis in WWII, and that's where the three main male characters meet: Gianni (Vittorio Gassman), Nicola (Stefano Satta Flores), and Antonio (Nino Manfredi).
Gianni is a lawyer after the war, and soon finds himself with the unpleasant possibility of defending a rich owner of a construction firm who faces all sorts of corruption charges (Aldo Fabrizi). The man has no problem firing someone and paying them half of what they're owed, using the Tiber for sewage, or building luxury housing instead of public housing. He says to Gianni, "When you win the struggle with your conscience, you win the struggle of existence," and unfortunately these are the words Gianni learns to live by. Gradually we see him rise in power and wealth through this channel, first by marrying the man's daughter Elide (Giovanna Ralli). It's as if he's sold a bit of his soul relative to morals in business as wealth as the truth of his heart, because he still thinks of a woman he loved, Luciana (Stefania Sandrelli).
Elide's arc from lovestruck klutz to a refined but lonely woman is incredibly poignant. It's a telling moment when she's in bed with Gianni, wearing an awkward retainer and reading The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (in Italian, titled Furore, or Fury), seemingly haven gotten what she wanted by marrying him, but in her innocence (and perhaps a sign of his selfishness even in bed) having to ask him "what does 'orgasm' mean?" She's devoted to him and trying to grow as a person, but in just the scene before, he was thinking about the fight he had with Luciana that ended their relationship. Later in life, she thinks of Antonioni's The Eclipse as leaving her stunned, that "Other artists have plumbed the depths of the feminine soul, shining a light into its solitude, and its incommunicability with the rest of humankind." The scene with him communicating to her the last time she was alive as well as when she's died are heartbreaking and brilliant.
Meanwhile, Nicola is a professor after the war, one whose strong leftist political ideas defending neorealist films for their commentary on the bourgeois causes him to lose his job. Of De Sica's films he says "It allows us to pinpoint the true enemies of the citizenry: the false defenders of gracefulness, poetry, and beauty, and of all the hypocritical values of your bourgeois culture!" He's a true fan of cinema, in one iconic moment re-enacting Sergei Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin on the Spanish Steps in Rome, but the trouble is, he's intellectual to an extreme and rather irascible. After getting sacked, he separates from his wife and son and attempts to become a movie critic. There's a hilarious scene where he's on a televised quiz show 'Double or Nothing' and blows a question on his beloved Bicycle Thieves because he tries to provide more information than he's being asked. It's funny but one of the things he blows is a chance to reunite with his wife and son, something he could have done if he hadn't gambled on trying to answer another question.
Federico Fellini and Michelangelo Antonioni are honored in this film, but it's dedicated to Vittorio De Sica, and through Nicola most of all, feels like a special tribute to him. De Sica had died just a month before it was released, and it feels like Scola was speaking directly to him when Nicola is attending De Sica's speech and he thinks this when prompted to go talk to his idol, lines which gave me goosebumps.
"I ought to talk to him about other things: grand illusions, hopes, disappointments. We thought we could change the world, but the world changed us. Sad and depressing tales for me and probably for him too."
In contrast to the other two lead male characters, Antonio is the purest of heart and works as a humble porter, then a stretcher-bearer at a hospital. One day he meets Luciana and falls in love with her for life, and it's through this devotion that most of his story is told.
As the three men who surround Luciana all seem to represent different classes of Italians (Antonio: blue-collar worker, Nicola: radical intellectual, Gianni: the corrupt wealthy), it's easy to think of her as representing the soul of Italy being tugged in each of these directions (maybe too easy). Seeing her move between men, loving Gianni so much that she attempts suicide after they break up, and trying to find work as an extra for Fellini as he films La Dolce Vita at Trevi Fountain all provide great moments, but none are better than when at the end Gianni confesses he's always loved and thought of her and she says "Well I haven't." and that "It's in the past now," which was sensational.
Early on, Scola has Luciana and Antonio attend Eugene O'Neill's Strange Interlude, which aside from being funny (Antonio is bored and squirms when he's told they're only in act 3 of 10), introduces us into the play's technique that Scola will use himself, that of letting us in on a character's thoughts while those around them freeze and fall silent. He doesn't overdo it, and as the thoughts are always those conveying the greatest sense of emotion and vulnerability, it's extremely effective. Scola does other things, like that glorious fade into color on the street artist working in chalk as he moves the story forward in time, or Antonio imagining himself talking to Luciana dubbed onto a scene of (fittingly) Of Human Bondage (1964) with Kim Novak and Laurence Harvey.
How the main characters meet for dinner after a chance encounter 25 years later sets the stage for a stirring ending. The camaraderie between Antonio and Nicola devolves into political arguments and a fight, but it's Gianni who Scola sets his sights on. "Our generation is truly disgusting," Gianni thinks at the table, when the viewer knows it's really him, with his heart that's two sizes too small and his empty riches, who is disgusting. Scola gets some commentary in on the issues continuing to plague Italy even after the progress of legalizing divorce (which didn't happen until 1970), including "fascist terrorism, political cover-ups, economic crises, embezzlements, and high corporate profits." We see Luciana waiting in a giant line outside of a school which has limited admission, hoping to be one of those whose lottery numbers are drawn, an apt metaphor for how the system is failing the people.
I suspect there are all sorts of bits about politics and about Rome that I missed, which must make the film even more meaningful to Italians. One little example that I caught on to is a character quipping "Ridi ridi che la mamma ha fatto i gnocchi" ("Laugh, 'cause mom made gnocchi"), which he humorously attributes to Dante, but is an idiom said ironically to people who are laughing when they shouldn't be.
The soundtrack is also a highlight, feeling completely in sync with the bittersweet sentimental notes in the film, and the standout being the recurring E io ero Sandokan. It's a song about the brotherhood of the partisans fighting in the war, and it was incredibly meaningful that Antonio and Nicola were singing it with others around a fire while Gianni was declaring his love for Luciana in the hope he could take her from Antonio again. The lyrics to this song in English include these lines:
"We were all ready to die
But we never talked about death
We talked about the future
If destiny sets us apart
The memory of those days will always keep us together"
It's notable that even to the pure Antonio, a man who would generally stick together with his war buddies forever, the sight of Gianni at his mansion, diving into his pool is too much for him. He doesn't envy Gianni, he pities him. I adored this ending, how it closed the circle back to the beginning, and was followed with the dedication to De Sica.
Kings of Pastry (2009)
des compétences incroyables
Those who like cooking competition shows will probably like this documentary, which follows three master pastry chefs competing for the prestigious Meilleur Ouvrier de France. The level of their craftsmanship is stellar, the artistry in their creations exquisite, and the tension as they scramble to finish (while not breaking anything!) palpable to say the least. Imagine attempting to do the most intricate sculpture imaginable out of sugar, but with judges watching you like a kettle of hawks. As the competition is held every four years, it felt like the Olympics.
After a bit of a slow start the film picked up when we started seeing chef Jacquy Pfeiffer in his planning phases in Chicago, and it never let up from there. Pennebaker and Hegedus weaved together the human elements of the chefs they focused on, their family and supporters, as well as got a pretty impressive level of access into the competition itself. Along the way we get at least inkling of the many technical challenges (e.g. Humidity being an enemy of sugar), but mostly it's just a marvel to behold these creations. The only thing off for me was the soundtrack, which was annoyingly jaunty and felt unsophisticated, which wasn't a great match for the skill and precision the chefs were displaying.
L'hippocampe, ou 'Cheval marin' (1935)
Decent early documentary
For 1935, a reasonably good short documentary about such a unique creature, the seahorse. The footage of the male giving birth to hundreds of offspring by spasmodically squeezing them out of its pouch, while captured in an aquarium, is fascinating, and Painlevé does convey information in addition to reveling in how "exotic" they are. I'm not sure all of it was completely accurate, as he says the largest seahorses are two feet long and googling around says about one, but this was nearly 90 years ago after all. He also has a tendency to attribute human characteristics to the seahorse, e.g. It's upright posture giving it a pompous air, or its eyes having an anguished expression. Lastly, beware, there are also moments of dissection to show the internals of the seahorse which were a bit jarring, at least to this viewer.
Someone's Watching Me! (1978)
A little uneven, but impressive for TV in 1978
"Rape is when a man consciously keeps a woman in fear."
For a made-for-television film that has a fairly predictable, linear story line, which is a woman being relentlessly stalked, this is entertaining and has a few nice bits of social commentary sprinkled in. That starts with a tough female character (Lauren Hutton), who refuses to hide and even breaks in to the suspect's residence a couple of times. She's also good under pressure at her job, funny, and sexually free (with a supportive new boyfriend, David Birney).
One of the woman's friends (Adrienne Barbeau) is open about being a lesbian, and she's a good, completely "normal" person, pretty bold for TV in 1978. There's also a sleazeball at work early on who has to be told "no" over and over again, which I thought echoed the main story and showed what women have to go through on the job, especially in this period. Meanwhile, in response to her complaints, the police are almost completely useless, and don't believe her as an eyewitness to an attack on her friend.
What holds the film back a bit is the scripting of the character motivations for the woman, which are geared more to produce tension than to make complete sense. For one thing, she doesn't close her curtains or unplug her phone when the harassment ramps up. When she does break into the suspect's apartment, a scene with heavy Rear Window vibes, I wondered why in god's name she wouldn't take the man's log of his badgering calls as evidence and flee, instead of focusing his telescope back on her apartment (oh, so she can see her friend attacked of course), or later why she would pull her desk over on top of herself awkwardly while frightened (ah, so she can discover the listening device he's planted underneath it).
All in all though, a solid effort, completed right before Carpenter began making his breakout film, Halloween, and definitely one to check out for fans of his.
Alison's Birthday (1981)
Has its moments
This indie Australian horror film is not without its charms, but it's very derivative of Rosemary's Baby, and so obvious about it from the beginning that its simple plot loses most of its sinister energy. I liked the natural chemistry and performances of the two leads (Joanne Samuel and Lou Brown), the yellow dune buggy he zips around in, and the scene in the graveyard that ends with him using a pitchfork to pole vault over a fence, which I chuckled over. The ending was pretty good too. There just wasn't a lot of horror or even life to this overall, and when I learned it had been made for television initially, I wasn't surprised.
Skyscraper (1959)
Hasn't held up well
This short documentary gives the viewer a sense of the magnitude of the task of putting up a skyscraper in Manhattan, in this case, the Tishman building at 666 Fifth Avenue (now 660). Architectural details like the original aluminum curtain wall comprised of relatively lightweight panels embossed with geometrical patterns and inserted between windows may hold some interest, but there really isn't a lot of meat to what's presented. Unfortunately it's saddled with dopey narration from some of the men who worked on the project who say things like "hey, that's me!" and answer each other's questions as the footage plays. The jazzy soundtrack is also tedious because the lyrics are so forced to fit a construction project ("It takes a lotta men..."). The fact that Shirley Clarke chose a subject that's often taken for granted is praiseworthy but the way she went about it hasn't aged particularly well. It's a good thing it was only 21 minutes, or I have a feeling I may have begun disliking it.
Ran dong (2023)
Lovely film
"Susan has a pair of god-gifted dancing shoes
They can take her away from this weary world
Like the smoke of a cigarette
It was a cloudy night
When she kissed me and floated into the heavens
Honey, goodbye
What a night
What a beautiful night
So beautiful
How it makes me weep"
A connection of three young people in a remote area of China, each dealing with a deep sense of melancholy, each frozen to some extent by life, each wandering a maze wondering which way to turn. The affluent guy from Shanghai is disillusioned with the world and avoiding his mental health provider, the tour guide has had her dreams of being a figure skater broken and is estranged from her family, and the local cook who was never much good in school is dealing with unrequited love and wondering if this is all there is to life. You could say it's a trifecta of loneliness and depression. While the film quietly hit me in the gut (hell, you could say quietly pummeled me), somehow it didn't feel leaden, maybe because the characters are buoyed by being with one another. The snowy, rugged landscape around Yanji, near the border with North Korea, fit the tone perfectly. Just a lovely film, acknowledging the tough times in life, but somehow finding ways to move forward, thus feeling guardedly optimistic.
El Naser Salah el Dine (1963)
An epic tale
"Understand that our law here is justice and mercy. All are free to worship their faith. Religion belongs to God and the motherland is for all."
Chahine's film about the legendary Saladin is grand and certainly inverts the traditional narrative of the Crusades told from a European perspective, which is refreshing. There is great power in lines like "I hope to see the Arab nation united under one flag, only then can we liberate Jerusalem from the foreign usurpers" and "Those who use the cross as an excuse to invade my land are not brothers." Chahine's use of inventive cinematography and color pop, and the pre-CGI battle scenes with hundreds of people and horses out on rugged landscapes give the film an epic feel. The performances from Ahmed Mazhar as Saladin and Hamdi Gheiss (in whiteface and an auburn wig) as Richard the Lionheart aren't particularly nuanced, but they do convey the majesty and power of both men.
It's of course notable that this was made after Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser had stood up to Britain and France in the 1956 Suez Crisis and united Egypt and Syria in the short-lived United Arab Republic from 1958 to 1961. To the world he was the face of Arab unity and strength, and the name of the film, Al Nasser Salah Ad-Din, is a play on his name, clearly comparing him to Saladin. The fact that Saladin was a Kurd, not an Arab, isn't mentioned in the film but it may be immaterial given what he's come to mean to Middle Eastern nations trying to stand up to the colonialism of the West.
The film begins in the year 1187, when Jerusalem had been in Christian hands for 88 years (after having been in Islamic hands for 461), and Saladin is uniting Muslim forces to take it back. "The Arabs of Jerusalem are now mere refugees, driven from the land on which they lived for generations," one laments. Christians massacre Arab pilgrims to steal their riches in order to finance the defense of Jerusalem, and European forces greatly outnumber Saladin's combined troops. Using cleverness he lures the rash Raynald of Châtillon into battle and decisively defeats him in the battle of Hattin, personally beheading him afterwards for not converting to Islam (well, in the film it's shown as a duel and Saladin is magnanimous and tolerant of all faiths, but more on these historical inaccuracies in a bit).
Despite promising free passage to Jerusalem to Christian pilgrims, a very different message of Muslim slaughter is conveyed to the kings of Europe, which launches the Third Crusade two years later, led by Richard the Lionheart of England and Philip Auguste of France. Despite success at Acre in another of the film's grand (and fiery) battle scenes, Richard struggles to keep unity within his forces and take Jerusalem. A year later he agrees to a settlement and leaves for England. So the film is roughly covering the years from 1187 to 1192, over eight hundred years ago, when all sorts of distortions have taken place and accepted as history (most notably by the works of Walter Scott, which Chahine heavily leveraged).
This is what holds the film back: its history is rubbish. Aside from the invented characters to create love interests (and to get Leila Fawzi and Nadia Lufti into the film) and its many falsehoods (like making the battle of Acre a cakewalk, or making Philip responsible for the massacre of Arab prisoners instead of Richard), Chahine exaggerates the righteousness of the Arabs and the pettiness of the Crusaders to the point of creating hagiography. Richard is depicted as courageous to be sure, but in contrast to his constant shouting, Saladin is always measured in his speech, seeks peaceful solutions, and treats his adversaries respectfully. Hell, he even doctors Richard to save his life after the Lionheart is struck with a poison arrow by his side, a scene taken out of Walter Scott's fictional account in The Talisman.
Along the way we get didactic speeches with lines like this one from the Arab leader Issa, 'the smiling one' (Salah Zulfikar), "Jerusalem has always been an Arab land! Our history proves that we can rule it in peace and with respect." or this ridiculous speech from Berengaria, Richard's wife (Laila Taher), "I,as a Christian queen, after spending a year here in the East, prefer that Jerusalem remains in the hands of a just king of any religion than falling into the hands of treacherous, immoral Christians." There was never a moment where this felt like an honest accounting of the events or attitudes of the 12th century; it played completely as an idealization to symbolize Arab opposition to Zionism in the 20th.
I have to also say, for being a 186 minute beast of a film, it could have used more of Saladin himself. Too often in its middle it bogged down in the squabbling and intrigues of the various Crusaders, making the film lag. While I felt like I couldn't trust any of these details Chahine was feeding me, I did appreciate the spirit of his film, which honors chivalry, the respect for others, and the pursuit of peace, as those things are still sorely missing in the world 61 years later. I also appreciated the perspective shift, as it's also true that too often in the West, Muslims are portrayed as violent terrorists. Ironically, Saladin would die shortly after Richard departed, and four years later, Nasser and the Arab world suffered a humiliating defeat in the Six-Day War with Israel. This little window into the glory years of both periods, albeit skewed, is fascinating.
The Witches (1990)
Good for fans of Jim Henson
My middling review score is probably unfair as I only came across this film as an adult, and it's clearly geared for kids (at least, those old enough to handle its dark elements). To give you an idea for how I thought about the film, the only bright note in the first half hour for me was seeing Mai Zetterling at 65, in what would be her penultimate performance. It picked up when the witches, led by their grand master (Anjelica Huston), reveal themselves en masse, with the fantastic makeup effects coming unmistakably from Jim Henson's crew (and sadly, in what would be his last film).
The kids transforming into mice and navigating all sorts of dangers while trying to save the country from having all of its children exterminated flows along familiar lines, but the climactic scene over soup was fun. I really enjoyed how the film seemed committed to having the kids accept life as mice and look on the bright side, so the ending was a mistake to me, particularly when I read later that it changed Roald Dahl's original ending and incensed him. That quashed the idea I had of rating it a bit higher. However, I'm sure this would be better as (or with) a kid, or if you're a fan of Henson's work.
Sullivan's Travels (1941)
Brilliant
Sullivan: I want this picture to be a commentary on modern conditions. Stark realism. The problems that confront the average man.
Producer: But with a little sex.
Sullivan: A little, but I don't want to stress it. I want this picture to be a document. I want to hold a mirror up to life. I want this to be a picture of dignity. A true canvas of the suffering of humanity.
Producer: But with a little sex in it.
Sullivan: (reluctantly) With a little sex in it.
John Sullivan (Joel McCrea) is a Hollywood director who wants to make a meaningful film about the struggles of the poor, and upon being criticized by studio bosses for not having any idea of what that means given his affluent background, goes out on a journey in ragged clothing, pretending to be a vagrant. In telling this story, Preston Sturges also takes us on another journey, both through various film genres and as a parable of life, with elements of comedy and romance transitioning to drama and tragedy, and ending on a wise, almost philosophical note. As it doesn't stay in one lane it is sometimes criticized as muddled, but I loved it.
Sturges was gifted when it came to dialogue, and it's really highlighted early on in the scenes with rapid fire conversations at the studio and when Sullivan meets an aspiring actress about to leave Hollywood (Veronica Lake). These feel incredibly natural and fit the brisk pace Sturges sets from the beginning. He shows he can be effective without dialogue too, as later when the two are traveling around as hobos there are scenes where this becomes essentially a silent movie, as they eat terrible food, flop down amidst a sea of men (one of them snoring), then awaken to find his boots stolen. Sturges does this again when the haggard faces in a church listen to the sermon from a worked-up preacher who looks like a salesman, another scene shot without words.
Veronica Lake is fabulous with her repartee and easy chemistry with McCrea, and iconic with her flowing "peekaboo" hairstyle. Through her character we get a little commentary about the machinery of Hollywood, particularly when she alludes to the casting couch. In an echo of producer's insistence about the fictional movie Sullivan plans to make, O Brother, Where Art Thou? (and yes, this is where the Coen brothers got this title), she's also the "little bit of sex" in this picture. I can just imagine audiences in 1941 wondering if they could "see something" as her breasts push up against the shower curtain, a steamy scene, or, like Sullivan, staring at them as he says "You look very pretty in that outfit." She's cute when she calls Sullivan "big boy" when she thinks he's a tramp, or "fathead" (a word Sturges was fond of) when she discovers he's actually rich and throws him into the pool, or aggressively combs his hair before she ends up in his laps, legs flailing. "Why don't you go back with the car, you look about as much like a boy as Mae West," indeed.
As with the references within the film, I saw Lubitsch in its playful moments, and Capra in its humanism. It comments on the barbarity of the prison system and makes an appeal for the dignity of the downtrodden. In a remarkable inversion, Black churchgoers sing Go Down Moses while shackled white prisoners file in. Sullivan recognizes the need to be kind and spread the wealth, handing out $5 bills until he's beaten up and robbed. Despite the uplifting nature of the film, Sturges is clear-eyed about human behavior, and what happens to the crook in the train yard is brilliant.
The arc of Sullivan's character isn't one that's led him to grand truths about the struggle between Labor and Capital, it's one of discovering true empathy. It recognizes systemic evil in the world from those in positions of power, and the importance of keeping one's spirits up to help endure it. It's notable that his character goes from this position:
"Don't you think with the world in its present condition, with death snarling at you from every street corner, that people are a little allergic to comedies?"
To this one:
"There's a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that's all some people have? It isn't much, but it's better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan."
Great film, utterly unique, and highly entertaining.
Kairo (2001)
Interesting premise, but bogs down
A supernatural horror film that regretfully I just never connected with. It certainly has an interesting premise, and Kurosawa seemed to foretell the ironic loneliness of the computer age, a time when people are "more connected." It's also to his credit that he creates eeriness without resorting to shlocky jump scares or gore. Here ghosts are making their presence felt in increasing numbers via the internet; talk about a ghost in the machine. Unfortunately after some great moments during the setup stages, the film completely bogs down. The actual underlying content, that ghosts may be returning because of an overflow in their world, or that they're lonely too, is pretty thin, and it's not enough for a two hour film creeping along at a snail's pace. There is certainly style here, but not enough substance, at least for me.
His Kind of Woman (1951)
Great star power, but loses its way
"Alas, why must I be plagued by yammering magpies on the eve of battle?"
It's a shame this movie fizzled as it did, as it had such potential. The cast is a dream and it starts off as a gritty noir, but unfortunately many other genres are jammed on in odd ways and it morphs into a Frankenstein of a film. It's a simple story (too simple to support a two hour run time), and starts with a gambler (Robert Mitchum) being paid a lot of money to go to Mexico and await further instructions.
Clearly the guy is being set up and it's not hard to conceive of how, but along the way he meets a beautiful lounge singer (Jane Russell) and several mysterious guests at a hotel, things which kept my interest. Unfortunately there are serious pacing issues in the middle, perhaps first faltering in the scene where Mitchum's character irons his money (huh?) and banters rather lamely with Russell. It's unforgivable that two such magnetic actors were mostly wasted here, though they do have some nice eye candy moments.
The film takes a further turn for the worse with the increasing involvement of a Shakespeare quoting actor who loves to hunt (Vincent Price). It's a fine supporting character and Price really hams it up which was a little amusing, but then he kind of takes over, doling out disparaging comments against women and quoting The Bard in equal measure. The long scene of him shooting it out with the bad guys ala a Western just wasn't that interesting, nor was the melee at the end. The overloaded smaller boat quickly sinking for laughs didn't fit either.
Raymond Burr is suitably menacing as the mob boss behind it all, but by the time he's back on the screen near the end, the film seemed like a hopeless muddle. His character's vacillation over what to do with Mitchum made no sense, including the attempt with the evil Nazi drug, and it all seemed overly drawn out. It's almost as if someone inartistic thought "more" equaled "better" and just piled it on. I can't say I ever actively begin disliking it because of its star power and because it was so bizarrely fascinating, but it was a disappointment.
Female on the Beach (1955)
Trashy passion
I like my Joan Crawford characters tough as nails, and this one starts off that way, doling out acerbic one-liners while independent and happy to be alone. Unfortunately, she rather quickly dissolves into a puddle of desperation over a local lothario (Jeff Chandler), one she knows preyed on the previous lonely middle-aged woman who was living at her place, that is, until she wound up dead one night. The passion ignited in Crawford's character is kinda trashy and melodramatic which may hold some appeal, but it's the way it comes about that's tough to like.
You see, this is one of those cases where a man is shown getting the affection of a woman by relentlessly pursuing her, never taking "no" for an answer. It's not uncommon for films of the period but tough to enjoy, especially when one is suffering whiplash over just how quickly Joan's character wilted. Chandler is kind of like Clark Gable lite here, lacking any kind of charm of grace which would help me understand the appeal. Meanwhile, his character is seriously annoying, entering her house before she's awake in the morning without permission, resisting giving her key back, pressuring her to go out on his boat, and giving her an unwanted leg rub. He also mutters lines like "I don't hate women, I just hate the way they are" and "A woman's no good to a man unless she's a little afraid of him." Ugh.
Ironically, he wants the real estate agent (Jan Sterling) to quit pressuring him for a relationship, since after a one-night stand in the past he hasn't been interested in her, and yet he does the exact same thing to Joan's character. And sure enough, a little lonely after only being there for a day and despite professing a desire to be alone, Joan sees him on his boat and is inexplicably nice to him (argh). Somehow she's now attracted, and a few tender moments later they're suddenly kissing. She moves in for more and he resists, saying, "You'll get grease on you." Her eyebrow arches as she responds breathlessly, "Will I?" Did I mention the trash factor is strong with this one?
Later, having read the dead woman's diary and understanding how he duped her, Joan reverts to hating him, getting a few nice moments in like throwing a martini into his face and biting his hand to get him to release her wrists. No matter. He chases her down on to the beach and literally tears her dress off, because that's how to deal with a spirited woman, right? After she backhands him, the two dissolve into a big kiss, the waves crashing. Again, argh.
It was fun wondering where the film might go from there, since we know the man had been pimped out by his Uncle and Aunt in the past, and his instant love and newfound virtue are awfully suspicious. There is a nice twist but the conclusion isn't one I liked because of the above issues, and what that must have been teaching young men.
I can see why the film may hold some appeal though, because if you can look past the problematic aspects, there is campy entertaining value here. Joan Crawford at roughly 50 is still a force, and it was fun to see her do things like strut down the sandy beach in heels. She also has her share of quotable lines:
"Well, I have such a nasty imagination. If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone with it."
"I have a long list of dislikes. It's getting longer."
"You're about as friendly as a suction pump."
"I wouldn't have you if you were hung with diamonds upside down!" (huh?)
"I'm sorry to spoil your record, lover boy, but I'm not as starved as Eloise."
Dolores Claiborne (1995)
Compelling story and fine film
Kathy Bates is a powerhouse in this film about a maid accused of the murder of her longtime, now elderly and infirm employer, a rich woman on an island off the coast of Maine. Her estranged daughter arrives from New York (Jennifer Jason Leigh, who's also fantastic), and a story of repressed memories of an abusive, alcoholic husband/father is gradually revealed through flashbacks.
The idea of blaming a parent for something from the past, confronting them about it after not seeing them for 15 years, and then finding out their only concern was you makes for a powerful backdrop to this story. The dynamic between mother/daughter and maid/employer lead to scenes of great dramatic tension, and it was remarkable how strong all three of these female characters were, despite being mistreated by the men around them.
As with a lot of Stephen King stories, there is more exaggeration in character types than subtlety, and scenes like a murder happening precisely at the moment of a total solar eclipse, or three different characters saying the line "sometimes being a b*tch is all a woman has to hold on to" are a little bit too much, at least for my taste. It's almost like an updated version of 19th century style writing, which isn't to say it's bad, but he doesn't mind convenient plot devices or laying it on a little thick, e.g. The employer having a skeleton in her closet re: her dead husband too.
Overall, however, it's a compelling story and fine film. The setting in a rugged part of Maine fits the stoical Dolores Claiborne well, and the stories in both the present and past are both gripping. Ellen Muth does a great job as the young version of the daughter - that dead look in her eyes during an especially traumatic moment really got to me. I was less convinced by the Maine accent that John C. Reilly tried to pull off, but Christopher Plummer was suitably conniving as the lead detective, and the big scene at the interrogation was well played by Leigh especially. This one's entertaining in a mainstream Hollywood kind of way, but can also churn a few emotions.
My America... or Honk If You Love Buddha (1997)
A diverse view of Asian Americans
"Then, for a school project, I interviewed my grandparents about their internment camp memories, and my teacher told the class they were lying. That something like the camps could never happen in America. In that moment, I knew it was racism that defined my life. And I would never turn the other cheek as my parents had. I fight back."
A quest to represent perspective, communicating truths of what it has meant over generations to be of Asian descent in America, as well as just how diverse this umbrella term really is. As Tajima-Peña travels to various parts of the country, she presents quite a kaleidoscope of people. There are some tough topics here, like firsthand experience with internment during WWII, abuse in the home while growing up, or Hmong immigrants having lost children in Laos, getting rocks thrown at them while being told to "Go back to your country," in Duluth, and the husband losing his job. However, Tajima-Peña keeps the spirit of the film light and irreverent, including when she quotes racist sources in a deadpan manner.
It's a disparate group, but I appreciated most the streak of fighters that ran through it, including the beatnik turned actor Victor Wong, civil rights and black power activists Yuri and Bill Kochiyama, Seoul Brother rappers in Seattle Michael and Raphael Park, UCLA student activist Alyssa Kang, the lesbian about to come out to her German-Indian family Madhuri Rosemary Anji, and the filmmaker and her family as well. The Kochiyamas tickled and impressed me most of all, and the reading at the grave of Freedom Rider James Chaney, killed by the KKK, was a treat. I probably could have done without real estate entrepreneur/hustler Tom Vu, or the Burtanog sisters in New Orleans, 8th generation Filipino Americans who consider themselves white and discourage family not to marry black people, but by including them Tajima-Peña presents a broader, less varnished picture.
It's a small film but with each new person Tajima-Peña brought into the film, or as she circled back to Victor Wong or her own family in ways that framed the narrative, I was always interested. I found the final quote quite powerful too:
"I've realized the question is not how people become real Americans, but how America has become its people. We are its people."
Le cinquième élément (1997)
Entertaining
A science fiction action film that's probably a little too cheesy for my taste, but that's all right, it doesn't take itself seriously and it's fun enough. The world-building and aliens are pretty cool, and scenes like Bruce Willis driving his taxi through a swarm of vehicles in the air and Milla Jovovich being created out of a fragment of her body ala a biological 3D printer were pretty cool. Technology has advanced along in a few hundred years, yet humorously the pre-iPhone phone technology looks about the same.
The film fades a little as it plays out first on a resort planet and then back in Egypt. We meet a high-energy entertainer (Chris Tucker) who gives a funny (and prescient) glimpse into the future, but the character is carried along too far into the battle scenes, where he becomes a little like Jar Jar Binks. Meanwhile, the savior for humanity, the fifth element character, goes from assuring the taxi driver that she will protect him to needing to be saved by him, and really not doing much of anything other than being placed like an object in the ancient formation. The love story and how this character was treated are weak spots, holding the film back a bit.
Capote (2005)
Brilliant performance, lackluster story
A stellar performance from Philip Seymour Hoffman to be sure, but a story that was dry as toast and stretched out far too long. It zooms in on just one part of Truman Capote's life, his writing of In Cold Blood, and focuses on how he wheedled his way into the confidence of the pair of killers, using them and yet empathizing with them. These just weren't compelling stories to me, neither (a) the background and motivation of these killers as opposed to the people they victimized, nor (b) how the author went about collecting the information for his book (though shout out to Catherine Keener as Harper Lee, she was great too). I had a similar reaction to the book itself - very well written, but only of moderate interest. Thank goodness for the few scenes sprinkled in of Capote holding court and telling jokes at parties, as they provided much needed life, and I wish there had been more of them.
A Simple Plan (1998)
Fantastic
Love the authenticity in the feel of a small town in winter, and love the character arcs in this film, which bend both because of a tangled web set in motion by greed, and because we gradually learn more about them. For example, the simple-minded brother, akin to Lenny in Of Mice and Men (Billy Bob Thornton) actually understanding the most about what happened to his father, and also feeling the most guilt. Or the wife (Bridget Fonda) seeming the smartest in crafting "a simple plan," but also proposing risky things, and eventually completely demolishing the concept of a humble life together with her husband if she didn't suddenly become rich, a brilliant scene. Or the brother/husband (Bill Paxton) who seems the most rationale, but who we come to see just how far set apart he is from the others because of his college degree, and who calmly puts aside his morals to increasing degrees. Great performances all around, great script, and great direction from Sam Raimi.