Notes From the Rental Pile
Friday, July 6th, 2007
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006, Guillermo del Toro)
Guillermo del Toro’s fantasy political horror film is a superb blending of fantastical fairytale and brutally realistic critique of Franco’s fascism during the Spanish civil war. Adult in theme to be a conventional fairytale, the film nonetheless, delivers a visceral experience worth the heaps of praise thrust upon it by the press. The film follows Ofelia, a young girl sent with her pregnant mother to live in a secluded military outpost with her new step dad, a sadistic military commander, who finds a secret world where she is an ancient princess. Shifting between stylized fantasy, with blind monsters and a devilish faun, to a bleached out political thriller that is monstrously more horrific than anything Guillermo conjures up in the underworld, Pan’s Labyrinth is realized with such precision that it will, no doubt, ensure long-lasting impact with audiences.
The Lake House (2006, Alejandro Agresti)
In this latest offering of romance from Hollywood, a mailbox with magical, time altering powers serves as the conduit for unrequited love between two different owners of the titular lake house, where our star-crossed lovers play out their romantic longings. Keanu reeves plays Alex Wyler, an architect who has recently moved into the sprawling lake house designed by his aging father, played by Christopher Plummer. The previous owner of the house, Kate Forster (Sandra Bullock), a humourless nurse who has resigned herself to years of mediocrity. Both souls communicate with each other through the mailbox in a quaint process of sending letters back and forth. The rub (there always is one) of course is that Keanu is living two years in the past while Bullock is in the future, having previously moved out of the lake house before Keanu arrived.
All That Heaven Allows (1955, Douglas Sirk)
Douglas Sirk is widely acknowledged as a director famous for making feature length soap operas for the screen, and more importantly, for the exclusive pleasure of women. And while his subject matter, here, a love story about a well-to-do upper crust widow (Jane Wyman) and her manly gardener (Rock Hudson), is pure soap opera with a heavy dose of cheese, Sirk’s imaginative stylizations helps to elevate the film into something more universal and emotionally satisfying. Without his use of suggestive camera movement, decorative mise-en-scène, and especially his expressionistic lighting, Sirk’s film would remain nothing more than a heavy handed melodrama. What Sirk does is treat the environment the characters inhabit as something so magical and grand that, surprisingly, we want to immerse ourselves into their world, ultimately creating a romanticized sense of realism that allows audience involvement in the drama.
Day For Night (1973, Francois Truffaut)
Winner of the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, Day for Night follows a fictional cast and crew as they attempt to shoot a film. We are taken into the world of filmmaking as seen by Francois Truffaut, revealing the hardships, stress, repetition and boredom but most importantly the love of making movies.
Everything Is Illuminated (2005, Liev Schreiber)
Indie actor Liev Schreiber jumps into the director’s chair for his debut film, Everything Is Illuminated. In its most threadbare description, the plot concerns a Jonathan’s (Elijah Wood) journey through Poland in an effort to track down the woman who once saved his grandfather from the Nazis. Jonathan’s journey is essentially about the search for buried scars, and it’s pulled off with surprising cinematic fortitude, especially coming from a first-time director. While the material would seemingly need the static, natural, and objective observations of its director, Schreiber imbues the film with whimsy and flights of imagination that offers the narrative momentum that is at once lyrical and poignant. The journey to reveal the past is contrasted with the journey through a countryside littered with remnants of the old and the new, such as an old couple sitting on a park bench while just over a small hedge a modern day skateboarding park is busy with activity. The film suffers slightly from its disruptive shifting of tone from peculiar road-trip comedy to holocaust tragedy, but overall it is worth seeking out, especially for Eugene Hutz’s performance as the Polish guide, Alex.
The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005, Scott Derrickson)
It’s inevitable that a supposed horror movie with the word “exorcism” in the title will undoubtedly bring out comparisons to the classic, The Exorcist, especially with the recent release of two equally flawed and downright stupid prequels to the original film. (Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist in 2005 and Exorcist: The Beginning in 2004) This film however, has nothing to do with the original Exorcist; it’s more of a thriller, courtroom drama and horror film. That it can manage to do all three in an intriguing presentation is something that shouldn’t be ignored. With solid performances, genuine scares and an interesting story that allows the audience to choose between the spiritual and the scientific, The Exorcism of Emily Rose can stand alone as very good weekend movie rental.
Fantastic Four (2005, Tim Story)
This has the distinction of being the most recent comic book movie to look like an episode of “Days of Our Lives”. With great comic book movies like Batman Begins and Spiderman 2, how can the people responsible for this believe that what they’ve put out is anything but a hackneyed attempt at filmmaking? Even the poorly conceived ending that attempts at sequel possibilities suggests the director didn’t think there would be one. This movie is anything but fantastic and ultimately completely useless, only kids under 10 years of age might find it any fun. Although, if I had kids I’d make them watch The Goonies instead.
The Flowers of St. Francis (1950, Roberto Rossellini)
Even though I’m a fan of Roberto Rossellini films, notably Stromboli (1950) and Europa ’51 (1952), I kept avoiding The Flowers of St. Francis because of its subject matter. I mean, who honestly wants to watch a film about a group of Italian monks living in the hills, preaching and proselytizing? If indeed, dear reader, you end up skipping this film because of your religious bias, then you would end up missing a great achievement of cinema, and its spiritual power. Rossellini’s film needs a full review; a short paragraph won’t do it justice but I’ll try. Simply put, the film is told as a series of short vignettes, following St. Francis and his disciples as they build a humble life on the outskirts of the Italian countryside. Their daily activities of building a hut, gathering flowers for a nun’s arrival, praying, and missionary work, is detailed with such delicate grace that it’s nearly impossible to illicit a cynical response from the viewer, especially an atheist such as myself. If the idyllic scenes and simple story don’t create a spiritual awakening, you’d be hard pressed to ignore the transcended power of Rossellini’s images and message.
Foul Play (1978, Colin Higgins)
I remember seeing 20 minutes of this movie when it was on A&E about three years ago. I remember thinking that Chevy Chase and Goldie Hawn were funny together. From what I could gather back then, the plot seemed like a quirky comedy/thriller. I don’t remember why I couldn’t finish watching it but I told myself that one day I would rent it and see if the movie was a sleeper hit. Well, I’ve rented it and all I can say is this: I have a horrible memory and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I saw it on A&E; a two-bit episode of Columbo would have been better than this.
Grand Illusion (1937, Jean Renoir)
A film so steeped in praise and critical adulation, Grand Illusion worried me before I sat down to see it for the first time. The act of watching the film - about a group of WWI soldiers (French, British, and American) in a German prison camp – was somewhat distracting considering I had years of critical eyes looking over my shoulder, but in the end, Renoir’s careful direction and emotional honesty won me over. The film treats all of its characters, including the German guards, with such affection that the lofty idea of a classless society bound together out of a deep respect for honor and basic human dignity, speaks highly of Renoir’s ultimate humanism.
Hide & Seek (2005, John Polson)
If you’ve happened to live under a rock for the past 30 years and didn’t know who Robert De Niro was, you’d be hard pressed to find any recent movie showcasing his acting talents. As a matter of fact, you’d be hard pressed to find a movie with Robert De Niro that had any redeemable value whatsoever. Hide & Seek stars the aforementioned De Niro chewing scenery and hamming it up, all in an effort to convince us that his latest is anything but a tired film masquerading as a thriller/horror film. We get the prerequisite little daughter who “sees” dead people after experiencing the traumatic loss of her mother. Now, our little Goth-to-be is visited by a mysterious imaginary friend named Charlie, who commits “scary” hauntings in order…oh, what’s the point of continuing? It’s nothing but a clichéd and boring film that lacks any scares. Skip this.
In A Lonely Place (1950, Nicholas Ray)
Nicholas Ray’s In A Lonely Place is an often overlooked screen gem noted for its bitter cynicism towards the dream factory that is Hollywood, and a scathing indictment of Hollywood’s crass treatment of the screenwriters. Even still, the film contains a terrific performance by Humphrey Bogart as the struggling and elusive screenwriter, Dixon Steele. Bogart plays with the noir-hero convention, lending Steele a dangerous ferocity that stems from his insecurity as a member of society, filling the performance as something more than just macho posturing. The plot is rather straightforward: Dixon Steele is hired to adapt a bestselling novel into a film but not having the patience or the wherewithal to actually read the book, he gets a coat check girl (a simpleton who loved the book) to describe it for him. Unfortunately for the woman, she is murdered after leaving Dixon’s hacienda-style home and he becomes a prime suspect in her death. The film is great fun and a forgotten film noir worth checking out.
Little Man Tate (1991, Jodie Foster)
Jodie Foster’s directiorial debut is heartwarming without being overly sentimental. The story is about a boy genius trying to find a place for himself in the world while being forced to choose between his well-meaning but struggling mother (Foster), or the challenging director of a program for gifted children (Dianne Wiest). Sure we all know how it’s going to end and at times it resorts to made-for-television cliches, but in the end it’s a well told story with an intelligence all its own.
Lord of War (2005, Andrew Niccol)
Follows the exploits of Yuri Orlov (Cage), a morally bankrupt arms dealer as he makes a living illegally selling guns to warring faction all across the globe. The film is well made, with some striking cinematography and careful directing but the whole film feels a little episodic as Yuri buys guns, sells guns, returns home to lie to his wife and then he’s off doing it all over again. It’s not a big deal though and doesn’t detract of the film due to the fine acting, including Ethan Hawke as the Interpol agent on his trail.
Lost In America (1985, Albert Brooks)
This satiric comedy by Albert Brooks pokes fun at yuppie culture during the 80’s and the popular quest of finding yourself. This film is considered a comedy classic by a lot of critics, and although the first half is funny and engaging, the film loses steam in the last act, mainly because there is no last act. The film abruptly ends without giving the audience a sense of closure; bearing that in mind though, it’s still funny and watching Albert Brooks berate his wife on the meaning of a “nest egg” is classic. Worth a rental but the film works well if you consider that it’s a satire first and a comedy second.
Love And Death (1975, Woody Allen)
An overlooked Woody Allen film I’ve been waiting to see for a long time. It’s been constantly noted that Woody Allen’s latest film, Match Point, is unique because it’s set outside his home base of New York, but Love and Death is even farther – 18th century Russia. All of the major Allen staples can be seen here at an early stage, before he refined them in his later films, although some may argue that he perfected them early in his career and has been copying himself ever since. Completely slapstick in its delivery and tone, Allen plays a Boris Grushenko as a typical Woody Allen character (nebbish and neurotic) forced to join the war against Napoleon, but just wants to live peacefully as an artist and marry his cousin Sonja (Diane Keaton). Allen’s critique of the absurdity of war and the ineffectiveness of pacifism, all disguised as a satiric look into Russian literature, “epic” novels, and his infatuation with the films of Ingmar Bergman (specifically, Persona) acts as a showcase for his major fear: the inevitability of death. This, of course, is told is such over the top manner that it’s hard to take him seriously, but you can’t deny the fact that it’s entertaining and extremely funny.
March of the Penguins (2005, Luc Jacquet)
Trying to watch this documentary knowing all the hype surrounding it was pretty distracting, but I came away having enjoyed it anyway. Even though the process that these penguins have to go through every year to reproduce was amazing, I was surprised at just how ordinary the documentary was. To be quite honest, it feels just like your regular Saturday afternoon nature documentary, except with Morgan Freeman doing the voice over. Worth a viewing but don’t believe the hype.
Matilda (1996, Danny DeVito)
From the mind of Roald Dahl, the man who wrote James and the Giant Peach and Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, comes the story of bright little girl who, with the help of her pretty and understanding school teacher, defeats her evil school principal and her even worse parents. What an odd movie this is. Directed by Danny DeVito, it’s apparent early on that Matilda isn’t your ordinary children’s story. It’s filled with cruel and despicable characters like Matilda’s sleazy dad (Danny DeVito), a used car salesman who’s more concerned when Matilda chooses to read a book instead of watching television like the rest of the family. There’s also the hideously devilish principal, Agatha Trunchbull (Pam Ferris), who terrorizes the students with her brutish discipline and torture chambers. A great sequence involves Matilda and her teacher, the sweet natured Miss Jennifer Honey (Embeth Davidtz), sneaking into Agatha’s house to take back a doll that once belonged to them, only to be caught and chased through the house by Trunchbull. DeVito doesn’t pull any punches considering it’s a children’s story and delivers a darkly farcical film that’s just as endearing as it is scary.
The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton)
A psychotic preacher named Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum) marries a lonely widow in order to find the hidden money that her late husband left behind before his arrest and ultimate hanging. The widow’s two children, John and Pearl, are the only people to know where the money is hidden, and so it’s up to Powell as preacher and stepfather to influence the children to give up the goods. The preacher’s ability to use his twisted interpretation of the bible to influence the widow and the townsfolk into believing that he is a good man says a lot of the susceptibility of religious ideology and its creation of an environment ripe for shame and guilt that forces people to accept the word of God, no matter how suspect it is. The film is known to most people because of the distinct tattoos Powell has on his hands. The word “hate” is written on his left hand and “love” on his right, allowing him to preach about the struggle of right-hand and left-hand, or good versus evil. Once the children escape and find solace with Rachel Cooper, an old grandmotherly figure, they learn to use the bible for spiritual growth, setting the stage for the literal battle between good and evil. Sometimes a little silly, particularly in the end, The Night of the Hunter is a beautifully shot parable that teaches spiritual awakening as a means of conquering evil, no matter what its form.
The Out-of-Towners (1970, Arthur Hiller)
Why was a remake of this film made back in 1999 with Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin? I would imagine it had something to do with updating Jack Lemmon’s original portrayal of George Kellerman - an uptight and neurotic do-gooder who arrives in Manhattan with his wife, Gwen (Sandy Dennis), for a job interview at a prestigious firm. Of course even before they arrive, their trip runs into an ever-worsening set of trials and tribulations that forces them to endure everything from losing their luggage to losing their hotel room for not calling ahead. Lemmon perfectly embodies George as a small time man with a big mouth, and recalls similar traits of Felix Unger in Neil Simon’s other film, The Odd Couple. George’s insistence on writing down the name and number of every person who fails to help him so he can sue them later is hilarious, even when it’s repeated over and over again after George meets more and more unsuspecting New Yorkers. The problem though, especially with a film that takes place over a condensed amount of time, is that the writer has to keep coming up with an escalating set of problems to test the characters and their relationship, without resorting to tomfoolery or nonsense. And although Simon’s script achieves a certain level of competence early on, after the the Kellerman’s are in a police chase and somehow become involved in an anti-Cuban demonstration, it’s made clear the film is a one-trick pony that feels tired way before it ever finishes.
The Petrified Forest (1936, Archie Mayo)
Well noted for being Bogart’s first lead-role which subsequently led to his rising popularity, The Petrified Forest succeeds due to Leslie Howard’s performance as Alan Squier, an English writer and beatnik traveler who stops at a lonely diner only to get caught up in a hostage crisis when the criminal, Duke Mantee (Bogart), arrives with guns in hand. While the film is a lot more serious than the typical home-invasion style films of the past (and present), its sense of danger and claustrophobia (provided by the majority of the action taking place inside the diner) are never fully realized. Even with its desert setting, there was never any overbearing presence of confinement, which in turn mutes the sense of danger. Fortunately, the screen pairing of Leslie Howard and Bette Davis works to full effect. Her conversations with Alan, which routinely border on the philosophical, engage her imagination and help free her from her lonely and desperate circumstances inside the family diner. These early scenes account for much of the action throughout the film and they work so well that when Bogart does make his appearance as the sinister criminal, the effect is fun but not up to par with the beginning.
The Polar Express (2004, Robert Zemeckis)
This is one of the best Christmas-Holiday Season movies that I’ve seen in a long while. It’s too bad this movie didn’t get the credit it deserves, not only is the quality amazing but the story is well told and exciting. I was reminded of the first two Harry Potter movies but for some reason I found this one a little more entertaining. The plot, if you’re not sure, is about a young boy who has lost his faith in Christmas and doesn’t believe Santa actually exists. He is transported on a magical train to the North Pole to meet the famous man in red and white. It’s really engaging and highly entertaining, with a feel good message that isn’t preachy or sappy, proving that Robert Zemeckis can do no wrong.
Rashômon (1950, Akira Kurosawa)
Akira Kurosawa’s classic film is beautifully photographed, ingeniously choreographed, and barring the ridiculous optimism of its ending, is a highly entertaining piece of film history. At once a detective story and philosophical parable on the nature of truth, justice, and man’s interpretation of his environment, Kurosawa’s film is notable for its use of multiple narrative constructs that has influenced several films to this day (The Usual Suspects being the most noticeable). Nearly derailed by the inclusion of a strained humanist message at the end, with the discovery of an abandoned baby, Rashômon nevertheless maintains the power of its theme, creating an influential milestone.
Re-Animator (1985, Stuart Gordon)
A campy horror film designed as an excuse to shock the audience with gory special effects and over-the-top blood-letting, Re-Animator is merely straight-to-video schlock that fails to scare and quickly grows tiresome. Sure, it’s meant to be a silly romp of blood and guts, but the director’s inability to approach the satire with wit or inventiveness made me lose my patience quickly for a story that ultimately just wasn’t engaging enough to begin with.
Sorcerer (1977, William Friedkin)
The story is about a group of criminals and runaways, living in the slums of an unidentified South American country, who take a job transporting a highly explosive substance for an oil pipeline company. Of course, this is based on the excellent French film Wages of Fear (1953) and why Friedkin, coming off great success with The Exorcist (1973), chose to make this drivel is beyond me. I would say that this film is a total sleep-inducing disaster from beginning to end, but considering I couldn’t even keep watching past the first hour, my assessment wouldn’t be accurate. The first hour, the section of the film I saw, utilizes washed out handheld cinema verite cinematography that wants to convey a sense of urgency and realism (so prevalent to a lot of films from the 70’s) becomes increasingly more frustrating as the film grinds on, worsened all the more by the choppy editing. There isn’t much to like about a film that takes itself this seriously. Since I can’t tell you what I thought of the second half, I can give you an idea of what happens from watching it with my fast-forward button pushed to the max: men get the job driving the trucks, they go off in the jungle, a big explosion occurs, someone dies, more people die, last shot is a close-up of Roy Scheider. End credits. This film should get zero stars from me but I don’t have an image on my computer of no stars so a half will do…for now.
Spies Like Us (1985, John Landis)
Another long lost Chevy Chase comedy from my childhood. It stars Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd as two lowly government bureaucrats who are unwittingly sent as decoy spies. Some of the film is really funny and can still make me laugh even after I’ve seen it a million times. In the end though, the film is too uneven and when Chevy and Akroyd aren’t in the scene, the film stops dead. The Cold War government conspiracy subplot is played way too seriously and kills whatever momentum the movie might have had. A movie like this works better as something you stumble onto while flipping channels in your bathrobe.
THX 1138 (1971, George Lucas)
It’s truly surprising to watch THX 1138 knowing it was directed by George Lucas. After endlessly criticizing him for his lack of competence as a director (both visually and with actors), Lucas’s first feature, adapted from a short film he made while attending USC film school, is a visually stunning and somewhat engaging allegory on the consumerism and conformity of the ‘60s and ’70s disguised as a science fiction thriller set in a distant future. Lucas’s approach is interesting; he leaves out a lot of exposition in favor of allowing the audience to get gradually acclimatized to the environment and the situation. Lucas claims he did this in order to make the film appear as a documentary made in the future for an audience of that time. While this is a commendable idea, the story does fail to engage the audience emotionally. Although technically brilliant, THX 1138 is soulless.
