#256. Life is Sweet (1990)

 

 

It honestly took me a while to get into this one. Like, I'm not generally a "slice of life" guy to begin with (to paraphrase Hitchcock, I much prefer slices of cake), but when you tack on the obnoxious personas and the borderline-indecipherable accents, there were points during the first half where I felt completely detached from anything that was going on.

 

But then, somewhere around the middle, it mostly started to work for me. The tiny, seemingly mundane human moments coalesced into something sincere and substantial, and the "obnoxious" characters (who laugh at their own jokes, trip over themselves, and just generally seem like dorks) eventually brought about an extra layer of realism that enhanced the overall sincerity and complexity. Regardless of how I felt about these people at the beginning, I quite liked them by the end.

 

And even if some elements don't quite work (all the stuff with Aubrey, for instance, feels a bit cartoonish and out of place to me), I'd say that they're mostly redeemed by the unremarkable-yet-relatable working-class family dynamic. In particular, the heated argument between the usually-affable mother and her volatile daughter is a wonderful expression of the frustrations of love, and it's the kind of moment that gives an otherwise light movie some genuine depth.

 

Grade: B+

 

#255. The Little Prince (1974)

 

 

The footage of Bob Fosse wearing all black and dancing around like a snake has been making the rounds online recently (mostly because of how much it obviously influenced Michael Jackson, who just got a new biopic), and it piqued my interest enough to get me to seek out the source.

 

For the most part, The Little Prince lived up to that curiosity. It might be small and cheap (and slightly lacking in the song department, let's be honest), but it's also warm and cute and charming, which is what matters to me. Between the adorable production design, the endearing effects, the kooky wide-angle cinematography, and the generally playful tone, the whole movie feels like a storybook come to life, and it's just a joy to behold.

 

Now, granted, there's not exactly a ton of plot going on, so the gimmicks wear a little thin after a while, but that's where two incredibly inspired bits of casting provide some rejuvenation in the back half. I've already mentioned Fosse as The Snake, who looks cool as hell, but the true standout for me (and I think everybody) is Gene Wilder as The Fox. Seeing him run through the woods and hide behind trees in an orange suit is one of those precious visuals that I'll cherish forever.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. Columbo killer count: 2. Richard Kiley (they truly spared no expense when it came to casting this movie) and Clive Revill.

 

#254. The Cooler (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Is this a real thing? Do casinos actually hire people with quantifiably bad luck to walk around and ruin players' hot streaks through nothing more than their terrible vibes? Because, if so, I think I may have found my true calling.

 

Well, on second thought, perhaps not. Between the grainy visuals, the melancholic mood, the smooth-yet-downbeat score, and the constant threat of seeing Alec Baldwin break someone's limbs with a baseball bat, The Cooler doesn't exactly glorify this line of work. But the whole thing's so seedy and gritty that the concept at least feels credible to me, and it counter-balances the touches of fantasy extremely well. 

 

It also makes for three incredibly compelling main characters. Shelly has more depth than your typical crime movie antagonist, and both Natalie and Bernie are so jaded and sympathetic that you really root for them as a pair. Plus, as bleak as their story may be, there's more than enough style, personality, energy, and heart for it to simultaneously work as an optimistic little fairy tale about love and redemption.

 

Oh, and the fact that these two are played by Maria Bello (one of the coolest and most underrated actors out there) and William H. Macy doesn't exactly hurt on a likeability level.

 

Grade: A

 

#253. La Strada (1954)

 

A.K.A. The Road

 

If I were to make a list of movie characters that need to be protected at all costs, Gelsomina would probably land in my top ten. She's the picture of innocence, childlike wonder, and heartbreaking despair (with an unspoken depth that's incredibly moving, in a Forrest Gump kinda way), and Giulietta Masina perfectly amplifies these qualities via her diminutive size and broad facial expressions.

 

She's really the ideal protagonist through which Federico Fellini (my first movie of his, by the way) can tell this touching and delicate tale of two lonely souls who desperately need love in their lives. It's simply impossible to watch this woman and not feel for her, and she also makes a perfect foil for Zampanò, whose all-consuming anger lies at the exact opposite end of the emotional spectrum.

 

You wouldn't necessarily expect to buy into a genuine connection between these individuals, but the road trip structure and dire, isolating lifestyle do suggest a certain co-dependency, and they're both so damaged and pathetic that you find yourself hoping for them to make the realization. And, as despicable as he might be, seeing Zampanò get there too late is enough to turn him into an equally tragic figure in my eyes.

 

Grade: A

 

#252. The Morning After (1986)

 

 

As much as I love a slow burn thriller, I can also appreciate one that doesn't waste any time. So the opening scene of The Morning After, in which a hungover woman wakes up next to a murdered body, made a great first impression. Right off the bat, the story's got some personal stakes and narrative urgency, and I immediately found myself on the side of this character who's trying to figure out what the hell happened.

 

After that, though, the movie settles into a more routine and casual presentation. It's kinda disappointing considering where we started, and the mood's rarely as palpable as I'd like from here on out (though at least Sidney Lumet can be counted on to keep things tight), but I was still able to enjoy the workmanlike plotting, the neo-noir atmospherics, and the central relationship's compellingly dubious dynamic.

 

Plus, while some of the character stuff doesn't quite work (there are times where it's genuinely hard to tell whether this woman cares about, or even remembers, her present situation), the attempts at development go over well, and Jane Fonda and Jeff Bridges are so natural and sympathetic in their performances that they mostly manage to overcome the script's tonal and structural inconsistencies.

 

Grade: B+

 

#251. The Butterfly Effect (2004)

 

 

Version: Director's Cut

 

I'm not always crazy about movies that put the concept first, but this is one of those cases where I found it fun and clever enough to give pretty much everything else a pass. And that's worth pointing out because, in most regards, The Butterfly Effect is honestly pretty subpar. The plotting's inconsistent (even by the standards of the subgenre), the drama's overwrought and phony, and the performances are honestly kind of terrible.

 

And yet, because the movie's about a dude who can go into the past and alter the future, I mostly found myself entertained. It's neat to see a story attempt to cover so many timelines and potential outcomes (my favourite: the one where our protagonist is a cool frat boy, mainly because it's played so straight), and I'm always down for a plot that treats itself like a puzzle, regardless of whether it's actually solvable.

 

Plus, the whole movie has that angsty, distinctly early 2000s vibe (think Final Destination) that I'll forever have a soft spot for. Combine that with the exploration of cause and effect, as well as some of the moral dilemmas presented, and it all makes for a surprisingly emotional and thought-provoking watch - especially if we're talking about this specific version. Good lord, what an ending.

 

Grade: B+

 

#250. Young Adult (2011)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

There sure were a lot of character-driven indie comedies (that weren't actually comedies) being made around this time. But while Young Adult is tonally predictable and narratively contrived in the way that most of its contemporaries were/are, I think this one manages to slightly separate itself from the pack simply by daring to focus on such an uncharacteristically irredeemable protagonist.

 

Well, maybe "irredeemable" is kinda harsh, but there's no denying that Mavis is a difficult character to follow for ninety straight minutes. She's mean, she's bitter, and she's dangerously delusional. And yet, between Jason Reitman's tender direction, Diablo Cody's brief moments of pathos, and Charlize Theron's raw-yet-humanizing performance, there's also enough depth and nuance to keep her compelling, and compelling in a way that doesn't (overly) sacrifice the credibility of her arc.

 

That's not to say that every single moment smacks of authenticity (it's a good thing Theron and Patton Oswalt have such great chemistry, because the Matt stuff would be almost unbearable otherwise), but the themes of history, stagnation, and mental illness certainly do. They're earnest and uncompromising, and they manage to complement both the main character and the overall mood. 

 

Grade: B+