Mini Reviews for January 16 - 22, 2023

In case you missed it, here's my Favorite Movies of 2022 post! I'm hoping to get the 2022 music post out in the next week, too, so stay tuned!

Movies

Skinamarink (2022)
I was constantly pinging between scared, bored, and nostalgic here. Scared and bored are probably self-explanatory: the movie is very spooky at times, and also intentionally dull, too, and those two modes have a symbiotic relationship, for sure. I'm not sure the scares would be as effective if this wasn't incessantly switching among staticky shots of mundane stuff like Legos and ceilings, though I do agree with my friends I saw this with who felt that the movie was kind of impatient in the way it was channel-flipping between different images. The nostalgic feelings I had are weirdly specific; I've seen a lot of people talking about how this movie recalls the feeling of being a child in a dark house in the middle of the night, which is true, but also, when I was growing up my family had a VHS tape that contained most of the public-domain cartoons that are playing on the TV throughout the film, and it was bizarrely cozy to have those cartoons exhumed from deep in my early childhood memories. I'm positive that wasn't the intention of the filmmakers, but that's kind of the thing with childhood memories: the strange mix of fear and comfort, stupid sound effects and incomprehensibility. Also, gotta love that this film is in its own way a feature-length tribute to Archive.org, which the opening credits explicitly shout out. Anyway, good movie, pretty cool that something this out-there is getting a relatively big audience. Grade: B
 

Human Nature (2001)
What a bizarre failure of a movie. The screenplay by Charlie Kaufman certainly has ideas about the ways that bourgeois cultural values suppress more liberated ways of living, but embedding those ideas in a screwball farce framework in the model of Bringing Up Baby or The Miracle of Morgan's Creek is a fatal mistake because Kaufman simply does not know how to (or won't) fill his writing with the moment-by-moment jokes that usually sustain this kind of film. As a result, it's a deeply goofy movie that is only actually funny on a few occasions. It's interesting to see a Kaufman screenplay operating at this thoroughly silly tenor, but maybe the reason why his movies tend to be so much more lugubrious is that it doesn't work at all here. And if I hadn't seen Michel Gondry's name in the credits, I don't think I would have believed he directed this movie, because it's pretty much asleep at the wheel, stylistically. Incredible that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was only a few years away for both of these guys. Grade: C

Possession (1981)
Probably the best case scenario for "What if demon possession were a metaphor for the dissolution of my marriage?" It's as good as it is because of just how relentlessly committed the cast is to pushing this idea to the outer limits of what seems physically possible, screaming and writhing around for minutes on end. It feels like the cinematic equivalent of extreme metal or some other bruising kind of performance whose entire point is to see what aesthetic opportunities lie outside the realm of comfort and convention. A lot of this, I think, is meant to be subjective; when we see the couple screaming at each other in their apartment, we're supposed to be seeing what their argument feels like rather than what it actually literally is, and the same goes for any number of extreme sequences, including a notorious one in which Isabelle Adjani's character describes having a miscarriage in the Berlin metro and we cut to a surreal and deeply unsettling show of her flailing about in an empty metro station as unknown liquids spew from her body. It's wild, and I thought it was good in the sense of leaving me somewhat shell-shocked, though I can sympathize with people who find all of this off-putting. There's also a lot of stuff about espionage and the German political situation in the waning years of the Cold War that I'm not really equipped to dig into, but I enjoyed the way that they added a wacky paranoid conspiracy aspect to the movie. Sure, maybe your wife is harboring a demon in her apartment, but have you considered what that means for geopolitics? Grade: A-

Melvin and Howard (1980)
I had a hard time getting on this movie's wavelength. The DVD case and first ten minutes of the movie indicated that this was about a guy who allegedly met Howard Hughes and then believed he was a beneficiary of Hughes's will, but the film quickly drops that in favor of an extremely low-key ramble through the man's humble (but somehow incredibly volatile) life. The movie moves seamlessly between very radical life changes, and there were at least a couple of times that I didn't realize what was happening until it was already passed because the movie makes so little to-do about its many, many left turns. By the time the final fifteen-ish minutes bookended the film with more Howard Hughes will drama, the shape of the movie kind of came into focus for me as a deeply sympathetic meditation on the directionlessness of being a lower-middle-class person with little agency in your life, but even then, I'm not completely sure what to make of it except that I ultimately enjoyed it. I imagine if I ever rewatch it, my feelings on it will be clearer now that I know what's going to happen. Grade: B

La Strada (1954)
Extremely depressing. Giulietta Masina has an incredible capacity for radiating innocence from her face, and most of the film involves us seeing that innocence betrayed time and time again once her character is sold to an abusive circus strongman "husband." For as much as Fellini is known for exploring the ideas of unfettered exuberance and life as a carnival-like bacchanal, this movie seems like a bitter refutation of anyone trying to find philosophical contentment within that view of life, as The Fool's "pebble" speech to Masina's character which tries to generate meaning and purpose into the chaos of life is the thing that convinces her to stay with her abuser, since her life must have "meaning" despite the pain. The movie kinda takes a long time to get there, and I'm not sure it quite needs to take that long, even though this movie is fairly short in terms of Fellini films (only 1h40m), but maybe that's a me problem, as I'm finding it increasingly difficult to give my undivided attention to movies I watch at home. Also, I feel dumb for not realizing before now that Woody Allen's Sweet and Lowdown is a remake of this. I know some people hate Allen for this, but I kinda love how often he's drawn from the well of "I'm going to remake a movie many people consider one of the greatest of all time." I wish more people would do that, because it's usually at least interesting when it happens. Grade: B+

Mini Reviews for April 19 - 25, 2021

 It's the end of April, and I'm still wearing sweaters. What is this?

Movies

Bad Trip (2021)
It's an audacious concept—basically, a buddy road trip comedy with all the scenes being performed in public with real, unsuspecting people, hidden-camera-prank-style. Not being a huge fan of hidden-camera pranks, I wasn't sure I was going to like this at first, and definitely some of this doesn't quite work (I didn't find the Juice Bar scene to be very funny, for example). But by the end, this had won me over by just how committed this was to its concept. It's not just doing the typical Jackass-style skits; it takes every beat of a mainstream scripted comedy and puts it in public in front of people who don't realize it's a movie, even sentimental/maudlin elements like a tearful reunion after a fight or moments of character growth, and eventually, it becomes clear that this isn't about pranking anyone so much as experimenting with the good will of the public, and in that regard, it's very sweet and disarming. I wouldn't want every comedy to be like this, but for this movie, it works. Grade: B

Relaxer (2018)
A movie about a dude who—ostensibly because of a bet but realistically because of lack of emotional fortitude—never leaves his couch. And it's disgusting in a seriously impressive way; near the beginning of this movie, the protagonist pukes on himself, and the film takes care to make sure you never forget that he's done that as he sits on an increasingly dank and grimy couch. This is surely not for everyone, but I was kind of in awe of how well the movie evokes senses like touch and smell that are not native to cinema. I also really dig its very Buñuel-esque narrative, wherein this dude's quest to never leave his couch becomes a semi-allegorical voyage through time and space. That said, it also made me feel bad on an existential level, because it's not hard to equate the protagonist's attempts to self-actualize by doing increasingly absurd media-based challenges with the fact that I spend a lot of my time watching movies and reading books thinking it will make me an interesting, enlightened person. Thanks, Relaxer. Grade: A-

Justin Timberlake + The Tennessee Kids (2016)
There's an element to any concert doc where your enjoyment of the whole thing is at least partially a factor of how much you enjoy the music being played. So, cards on the table, I'm only intermittently a JT fan, especially of his 20/20 Experience era, which (with the exception of "Mirrors," which is a top-ten 2010s pop song, imo) is my least-favorite Timberlake solo period before whatever that folk-ish album was that he did a couple years ago. I dunno, both JT and Daft Punk decided to swing majorly for the "our first album in a very long time is an hour-plus '70s R&B/disco revival!" story in the same year, and Justin just got smoked by those French dudes. So I was never going to love this as much as, say, Stop Making Sense, despite the obvious similarities. But be that as it may, what Jonathan Demme captures here is some seriously tight consummate musical professionalism, maybe the most impressively sleek and put-together pop concert I've ever seen, and it is to the movie's great benefit that as much as possible it avoids presenting Timberlake as a monolithic pop persona and instead foregrounds the collective effort of dozens (hundreds?) of people that is needed to put on a show like this. The best part of the movie by far is the final 15-ish minutes, when the show climaxes with Timberlake's two best songs ("SexyBack" and "Mirrors," of course) and then immediately cuts to footage of the road crew assembling the stage prior to the concert. It's a genuinely beautiful juxtaposition—perhaps an overly romanticized depiction of the relationship between a gigantic pop star and the "regular" people who created him, but I'd honestly prefer that romanticism way more to the way that gigantic pop stars tend to consume every bit of effort by their army of collaborators and render it invisible within their single, totemic persona. Such warmth in those final minutes here. Grade: B

Memories of Murder (살인의 추억) (2003)
It's nice to see a movie with cops who are as effective at solving cases of violent crime as cops in real life are, i.e. not very. I have no idea if real-life cops are as clueless as these guys, but it's a welcome correction to the typical police procedural beats that especially in the early going, this movie is very funny as it shows its leads pulling out wacky investigation technique after wacky investigation technique like they're trying to be Dale Cooper or something—I got an enormous laugh out of the part where one of the cops deduces that the killer must be someone without pubic hair, and his partner is like, "How does that help us? Are we supposed to just pull down people's pants and check?" and then there's a jump cut to the first cop at a bathhouse semi-stealthily eyeing people's crotches. Even in the movie's more serious beats, it's hilarious to see two people who basically don't know what they're doing at all go through motions of being Serious Detectives, and I appreciate that this movie punctures the pieties of police procedurals. A lot of people have made the observation that this pretty closely connected to the movie Zodiac, and I agree that the two are thematically parallel in their exploration of how investigation becomes obsession. But whereas Zodiac emphasizes the clinical, procedural elements, having its characters act precisely and carefully as they collect evidence, Memories of Murder shows its detectives as being fundamentally chaotic actors within their world—even at their most precise, they are still abusing people and violating civil rights and creating horrifying collateral damage, calling the whole endeavor into question in a way that I don't think Zodiac is brave enough to commit to. Grade: A

Godzilla (ゴジラ) (1954)
Filling in this monster-sized gap in my cinema viewing. I knew going in that the basic cultural memory this movie was drawing on was the U.S. firebombing of Tokyo/nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but for some reason, I wasn't prepared for how grim that would make this movie—I guess the longer legacy of the Godzilla movies always seemed to me a little sillier than what this movie is. But it's an astoundingly somber meditation on disaster and the terrifying capability of human beings for destruction. This movie also moves. I was prepared for a slow burn, but no, this plot moves at a breakneck pace that is really wild, especially in the early stages before we have real human characters and it's just a bunch of scenes depicting the escalating national crisis. Also, as I was watching this I suddenly remembered that I had watched the end of this movie (maybe the whole movie? I don't remember anything excepting the underwater ending) with my dad when this was on TV sometime when I was like 5 or 6. It's weird to feel nostalgia for a movie that I didn't think I had seen before. Grade: A-

Books

The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates (2019)
It's far from Coates's first foray away from the nonfiction writing on which he made his name (he's had quite a run as a comic-book writer, for example), but that this is his first novel still feels surprising, given its scope: a long, fairly dense narrative involving a kind of folk-magical evocation of the Underground Railroad that feels heavily indebted to the more mystical impulses of both Stephen King and Toni Morrison in terms of how they treat memory, both personal and cultural, as a nexus for the metaphysical. To my tastes, Coates is still strongest as a nonfiction writer, and while his prose sings in the book's more ethereal passages, it struggles to render characters that jump off the page and a plot that moves with a meaningful structure. But it's to his credit that those flaws feel like somewhat minor inconveniences in the context of the grander, more powerful flourishes of the novel, so who am I to judge? Grade: B

Mini-Reviews for July 24 - 30, 2017

I'm beginning to think that looking for F-rated movies is a self-defeated project. Maybe one only finds an F picture when one isn't trying to find it.

Movies

Dunkirk (2017)
The structural games are fun and Nolan-y and a clever way to tell intimate stories while maintaining a sweeping scope. But ultimately, it's not a movie about the mechanistic approach to time (despite the best attempts of a tedious, obvious Hans Zimmer score that literally ticks like a clock—blerg, just go away, dude). It is, to simplify slightly, a rebuke of the exclusionary self-interest of patriotism, framed through an impressive barrage of kinetic, tense action sequences. To its great credit, Dunkirk nearly avoids Godard's old anti-war-film paradox precisely through how it handles these scenes (and there are plenty—it would not be an exaggeration to call the entire film 100% action), developing them as a series of small parables regarding the role of British identity in a time of crisis. The most British thing, Nolan argues, is selfless sacrifice in the opening of its borders to those in need. In our current political climate, that's practically radical. Grade: B+

War for the Planet of the Apes (2017)
There isn't a lot of hope in War for the Planet of the Apes, which shows humanity trapped between self-extinction and dehumanizing captivity and abuse at the hand of the apes—Woody Harrelson's Colonel, despicable as he may be, is fundamentally correct about humankind's future, which, alone, is one of the smarter and more startling touches to this already smart and startling franchise. And that's just the villains (War is the first of these new PotA movies that presents human kind as basically irredeemable). These apes, we know (provided this series follows the same trajectory as the originals) go on to create a brutally oppressive society on the foundation of Caesar's rebellion. Its grim battle scenes bear this out with as unflinching and bloody a portrayal of combat as the PG-13 rating is likely to allow, and the film's "happy" ending is further unsettled, not just for the actual events depicted but by the score of the film itself, which highlights the final shot with uneasy ambivalence. The feel-bad movie of the summer, for sure, and a vital, terrific success because of it. You'll be hard-pressed to find a movie with more brains and heart this summer's blockbuster landscape. Grade: A-

A Cure for Wellness (2017)
You likely won't see a prettier-looking movie all year, from the uh-MAZE-ing cinematography to the neat way that the set design and costuming blends modern society with a lush, Victorian-Gothic sensibility into a haunting timelessness. But holy Moses, this movie is demented—delightfully so for a large portion of its runtime, but by the end, culminating in a scene of sexual assault that I have severe reservations with, it's decidedly not delightful. But... I kind of love it anyway? It's rare to see a movie, even a horror movie (which Wellness most definitely is) go so all-in with artsy smut, and reservations and all, it's a singular viewing experience I'm not likely to forget soon. Grade: B+

Chef (2014)
Jon Favreau writes, directs, and stars in a gigantically cloying fantasy with wish-fulfillment ranging from the mildly implausible (starting your own restaurant and having complete creative freedom as a chef) to the downright ludicrous (hooking up with both Scarlett Johansson and Sofía Vergara, marrying the latter [twice!]). Good golly, though, the food looks amazing. So amazing that it inspired me to get up from the movie and make my own spaghetti sauce (which turned out great, btw). It's a very silly, inconsequential film, but its love for food is contagious enough that I'm not completely turned off by Favreau's obvious self-indulge. Grade: B-

In the Mood for Love (花樣年華) (2000)
To say that it's Brief Encounter wrapped first in a blanket of aching ennui before being crushed by the insurmountable uncaringness of the universe is technically accurate, but it does nothing to communicate just how gorgeous and moving every second of this film is. There's nothing surprising about one of the most acclaimed movies of the 21st century being amazing, but in case you haven't heard it enough, let me say it again: this movie is incredible. Grade: A

Stop Making Sense (1984)
In the studio, Talking Heads are inscrutable and alien, hermetically sealed within their chilly beats and existential dread. This is perhaps a consequence of their very late-'70s/early-'80s production or maybe an intentional choice of aesthetic, but regardless, it's a vital aspect of the band's sonic identity, and I regard it very much as a feature, not a bug, of the band. Which is why it's such a shock to discover that onstage, Talking Heads became an honest-to-goodness, heart-in-the-gut rock band without compromising a modicum of their essential character. Would you have guessed that the band that gave us "Houses in Motion" could break a sweat? Well, they can; in fact, the band practically spends the entire set drenched in perspiration. It's a fantastic feat of both the band's formidable, go-for-broke musicianship and Jonathan Demme's shadowy, evocative filmmaking that the band becomes as immediate as it does without sacrificing the cock-eyed existentialism that makes their music so compelling. And not to downplay any of the many, many talented individuals that make this film one of rock's greatest visual documents, but the protagonist here is unquestionably David Byrne, who thrashes about the stage like a human in exuberant agony at the realization that he doesn't know what it means to act human. From his herky-jerky dances was born a generation of Thom Yorkes and Annie Clarks; within Demme's frame, the strange geometry of this brilliant man is mesmerizing. Grade: A

Music

Brockhampton - Saturation (2017)
It's hard not to hear an album with a heavy, industrial feel and not jump immediately to the twin standards of heavy, industrial hip-hop, Death Grips and Yeezus, and while that comparison isn't entirely unwarranted (these beats are heavy—just listen to the opening "Heat," which is appropriately hot), the album's more surprising textures come on tracks like "2Pac" and "Swim," which abruptly pivot toward R&B and even soft rock. This brand of abrasive, experimental hip-hop tends to be a bit monochromatic, but Saturation is a cornucopia of sounds that paint the album's themes of self-doubt and coming-of-age with an egalitarian approach to genre. Plus, it's cool to see a hip-hop collective in 2017, as dominated by monolithic figures as the industry is. Grade: B+

Miles Davis - Sorcerer (1967)
On the brink of diving deeply into the jazz-fusion avant-garde, Miles Davis released Sorcerer, in many ways a summation of his '60s quintet work up to that point. There are peppy hard-bop numbers ("The Sorcerer"), smokey modal compositions ("Pee Wee," on which Miles doesn't appear at all), and even a vocal piece closing out the album ("Nothing Like You"). It's almost more of a Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter album than a Davis one, as they contribute five of the seven tracks, and as such, it's appropriately sax- and piano-heavy. In 1967, Davis had bigger things on his mind, and he only had one more fully acoustic album left in him before his electric period; one gets the impression that he was a little tired of this mode at this point, given his lack of involvement with the album's composition. So Sorcerer isn't "essential" in any sense of the word. But it's still very good and a fantastic document of jazz's left-of-center in the mid-'60s. Grade: B+

100 Years...100 Movies 73-75: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Silence of the Lambs, In the Heat of the Night

Hello all! I'm working my way through AFI's 100 Years...100 Movies list, giving thoughts, analyses, and generally scattered musings on each one. For more details on the project, you can read the introductory post here.

Lots of crime in the movies in this post. Yep.

73. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969, George Roy Hill)
Now, this is a fun one. Admittedly, a lot of that has to do with the acting. Paul Newman and Robert Redford are at the height of their movie-starishness, and they have a great dynamic as the titular Butch and Kid (Harry Longabaugh, if you're curious—no, his mother did not name him "Sundance"). Despite being stuck in a quasi-tragic Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque plot, the two look like they're having the times of their lives, and the movie lets them have it. That's the other aspect of this movie's fun: it's playful to the end. I compared its story to Bonnie and Clyde, mainly because of the date of this movie's release and the western-antihero protagonists who, yes, rob banks and get all blow'd up at the end, but that's about where the comparisons end because this film's tone is entirely different than anything Bonnie and Clyde ever does. Well, I should say tones because really, there are more than one. This is a movie that jumps from goofy to serious to ironic to tense with complete disregard of historical accuracy and tonal continuity, which makes it a plucky, energetic film to experience, especially for the first time. If I'm being completely honest, I'm not sure all that pluck ends up justifying some of the film's more dead-end moments, making the movie more uneven than its placement on this list would indicate, and the whole thing often feels more fun than meaningful. But, hey, given that I just praised The Shawshank Redemption for lacking just such Importance, I should have room in my heart for this one, too. And I do. I like it.

74. The Silence of the Lambs (1991, Jonathan Demme)
Okay, so here's another fun one. Yes, I am using that word loosely. The Silence of the Lambs is one of those movies that's kind of weird to call "fun" (I mean, it features not just a cannibal but also a dude who wants to wear women's skins), and that's probably not the right term, but there's no question in my mind that the film's primary MO is to entertain. That's the contradictory thing about so many movies, especially horror movies: they aim to entertain you with emotions that would not normally be entertaining to experience, such as fear (see also: tragedies and their invocation of sorrow). One of the things I love about The Silence of the Lambs is how deftly it navigates that contradiction. Whereas other films, including many of the horror thrillers inspired by Silence's success, are often sadistic, punishing affairs for not just their characters but also their audiences, this movie is often funny and humane in its treatment of the story. Silence also manages to avoid the other major pitfall of the crime genre in that, in spite of having a spirit of fun, it gives the criminal acts the weight they deserve. CSI this is not, and every death in the film have a gravity to it lacking in so many other cinematic criminal acts. It manages to pull off both the fun and the gravity because, like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Silence of the Lambs has an excellent command of tone. In fact, it's pretty much a masterpiece of sustaining a singular tone throughout, which makes this film a remarkably cohesive, mesmerizing one in spite of its perhaps contradictory goals. That gives it an edge over Butch Cassidy in my book, if we're going to compare the films I'm (maybe misguidedly) calling "fun" in this post.

75. *In the Heat of the Night (1967, Norman Jewison)
This is definitely a monumental film. Monumental in the sense that this movie came out in '67 not only starring a black actor (no less than top billing, too!) but also featuring a plot and screenplay that depict with uncompromising condemnation the vicious racism of the then-contemporary American South. Heck, a movie like this would be monumental in 2014, too, which, sorry folks, is just disgraceful. Think about it: how many recent movies have seriously taken to task the racial strife in modern-day America and more specifically, the modern South? We've got plenty of films like The Help and 12 Years a Slave that loudly (and in The Help's case, perhaps arrogantly) proclaim that golly, our society sure used to be racist, but films that examine contemporary racism? Those are few and far between, and hotly contested when they do come around (just look at the embarrassing attacks that greeted Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing upon its release). All that is to say that yes, I acknowledge the historical importance of In the Heat of the Night. Now, in addition to being historically significant, is In the Heat of the Night a "good" movie? I'd say it is, though if I may split hairs, I'd have to say that is isn't a "very good" movie (and certainly not a "great" one). First, the good: Sydney Poitier and Rod Steiger are both fantastic, and they have a cool buddy-cop chemistry, the texture of which also does a lot to "show don't tell" the racial politics of the town. It's also a fairly spritely, exciting movie, with consistent action beats and that boring character development thingy mostly relegated to small moments that don't detract from the overall momentum. The bad: the character development, for one. Poitier and Steiger's characters are still good (if a bit broadly drawn), but hoo wee, the rest of the cast is stuck with the paper-thinnest of stock characters solely in service of the plot. And speaking of the plot, the mystery (the, ahem, "murder on their hands they don't know what to do with") isn't all that great. Not to give anything away, but it's way too dependent on some pieces of information that we get a scant half hour from the movie's end, so much so that I feel like it's jerking me around, and it's not even that cool of a reveal anyway. The film is also mostly rote, visually, though I suppose it could have looked a lot more interesting back in the late '60s. Who knows? Anyway, not a waste of time, but not, I think, an all-time classic either.

And I'm now officially seventy-five percent done with this list! Woo hoo! Let me know what you think of these movies. Until next time!

You can read the previous post, #s 70-72, here.
Update: You can read ahead to the next post, #s 76-78, here.