#58. ...And Justice for All (1979)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

We always talk about how disillusioned filmmaking became in the 1970s, but I feel like this one goes under-discussed in that conversation. It's as bleakly cynical as just about anything to come out of that bleakly cynical decade, and it does so while being an absurd black comedy. 

 

That's the great thing about ...And Justice for All, though: through its juggling act of emotions, many of which are at polar opposite extremes, you get a clear and somewhat terrifying mosaic of just how insane and ridiculous the American Legal System really is. You're laughing one moment, you want to punch the screen at the very next, and then you're back to laughing again, which feels exasperatingly true to life.

 

Honestly, everything about this movie is up my alley, even the qualities that probably don't fit (the helicopter scene is a good example; it's overlong and a little goofy for the intended tone, but it's also funny and character-driven enough that I don't care). Beyond the mix of comedy and drama, I love the combative dialogue, the crisp textures, the stand-and-cheer climax, and Pacino's powerhouse performance.

 

As his early movies go, I'd put this one right up there with The Godfather and Dog Day Afternoon. And anyone who disagrees with me is out of order.

 

Grade: A+

 

#57. Shane (1953)

 

 

As someone who grew up watching those 100 Years... 100 ____ countdowns over the years, I can confidently tell you that Shane is one of the American Film Institute's all-time favourites. It's on both movie lists, the western list, the hero list, the cheers list, and the quotes list (where the line is literally just "Shane! Shane! Come back!"). Despite their consistent attempts at selling me on its greatness, though, I'd never felt especially compelled to watch it before now. And I think that's because, in basically every other context, all you ever hear is that it's boring, sappy, and overrated.

 

Well, I've now finally seen the movie for myself, and while I can definitely understand where those detractors are coming from (this thing is undeniably slow and cloying, and Alan Ladd isn't exactly the coolest hero ever), I'm siding with the AFI on this one. I tend to love a "small community rises up against the evil corporation" premise, and it makes for a great good vs. evil narrative here. As conflicts go, it's certainly on the simplistic side, but I think most of us prefer when older westerns are black and white like that.

 

The movie's also got a strong cast, some beautiful Technicolor landscapes, and a generally heartwarming feel to it. Definitely not overrated in my eyes - though I do agree that the kid could've stood to be less annoying.

 

Grade: A

 

#56. Bob Roberts (1992)

 

 

Good thing this is just a work of fiction, right guys?

 

The obvious appeal of Bob Roberts lies in its satire (I mean, duh; why else would Tim Robbins want to make a mockumentary like this?). It's sharp, it's biting, and it all feels disturbing prescient. That's the thing about history, you see: nothing ever truly changes. 

 

I guess my issue here, though, is that, outside of this clever writing, I'm not getting a whole lot else. The humour's pretty lite for my liking, the insanely huge supporting cast is given basically nothing to do (to the point where they seem to be here just so you can point at the screen and say "Hey, it's that guy!"), and the whole presentation feels kinda one-note to me after a while. I like what the movie's going for, and I certainly agree with it, but it didn't take long for the smothering irony to wear on me.

 

Still, Robbins gives an amusingly smug performance, and the Don't Look Back ripoffs are fun enough. This is absolutely a movie that deserves to exist - I just wish I found it more playful or engaging or varied than I do.

 

Grade: B-

 

#55. Fractured (2019)

 

 

I don't claim to be an expert at predicting the outcomes of movie plots. Generally speaking, when a writer throws a curveball into their script, it takes me by surprise (I'm pretty dumb, after all). So please believe me when I say that you'll be able to call the twist of Fractured within the first fifteen minutes.

 

Honestly, it's so obvious and telegraphed that I'm not even sure I should call it a twist. Like, once the inciting incident happens, you know exactly how everything's gonna play out. And then the movie wastes the next hour and a half of your time trying to convince you that you're wrong (to the point where I was actually starting to expect a double bluff to occur), only to eventually relent and admit you were right all along. It's as disappointing as it is infuriating.

 

Putting the writing aside for a minute, I guess there's some adequately chilly atmosphere here, and Sam Worthington's more or less fine as the lead (though I can never tell if he's attempting an American accent or not). But it's hard to admire either when the movie as a whole is so weak and cliche-ridden.

 

As someone who's pretty dubious of Netflix originals, this one didn't even come close to swaying me.

 

Grade: C

 

#54. Déjà Vu (2006)

 

 

What a neat concept: taking a routine (albeit captivating) thriller about a detective trying to catch a terrorist, and reworking it into a sci-fi rescue movie. The whole idea's completely preposterous, don't get me wrong, and I can totally understand if the story loses you once Washington enters that surveillance room, but I was able to go with it.

 

Tony Scott's energy is the glue here. As always, he chooses to emphasize action over everything else, which not only helps the exposition-heavy script go down easier, but it also allows the two genres to mesh as well as they do. And even when it feels like the movie should be starting to go off the rails, he keeps everything mostly believable through his focused pacing and keen attention to detail.

 

No matter what angle you take with this movie, I'm a fan. I think it works as a Hitchcockian obsession story, as a post-9/11 conspiracy thriller, and as a cracking piece of Bruckheimer entertainment. Maybe the first Scott movie I've seen that I can truly say I enjoyed unreservedly.

 

Grade: A

 

#53. The Champ (1931)

 

 

I kinda like it when older movies are a little on the sentimental side. Those heavy-yet-basic emotions just seem to fit right in with a more primitive style of filmmaking. And I think that's why I was able to appreciate The Champ: it's a simple family drama about the relationship between a father and his son, but it's that simplicity that allows the story to pack such an emotional punch.

 

Of course, being that the movie's almost a hundred years old, you're bound to notice a few cliches in the conflict. The father's past his prime, he's now a drinker and a gambler (though, as this was from the pre-Code era, the movie's refreshingly direct about both), and he's at risk of losing custody of his boy. It's not the most original story ever written, and there's some outdated hokiness at times, but the heart is undeniable. You can feel the love between these two characters, and it makes both the journey and its conclusion incredibly moving.

 

What elevates everything to true tearjerker status, though, is Jackie Cooper. This adorable little guy gives one of the most heartbreaking performances I've ever seen from a child actor.

 

Grade: A-

 

#52. The Long Voyage Home (1940)

 

 

Here's a movie with a good foundation. I like the premise, about a group of fun-loving party animals aboard a tramp steamer during the war, and I like the cast that they put together to play this motley crew (particularly Thomas Mitchell, Barry Fitzgerald, and John Qualen). Frankly, any time a movie's about a minimal group of people in a claustrophobic setting, I'm in.

 

As a story, though, The Long Voyage Home didn't really grab me. I don't know if that's because it takes a little too long to get going or because it often lacks focus (either way, I'm concerned that the real reason is that I wasn't being patient enough), but I honestly only cared about these people when they were fighting for their lives on that soaking wet deck, or when one of them died. 

 

Fortunately, this is among John Ford's moodiest movies, thanks almost entirely to Gregg Toland's proto-noir cinematography (you can see the hints at Citizen Kane every once in a while, and those are always the strongest moments), so, even if the narrative wasn't hooking me, the melancholic tones and the shadowy visual textures were.

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. A possible indicator that I wasn't at my most engaged: I didn't realize John Wayne was attempting an accent until the final twenty minutes.

 

#51. 21 Grams (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Needed more Lockjaw and Sensei in my life, apparently.

 

21 Grams is structured like a disorienting puzzle. It's told from three different perspectives, and it's presented in a non-linear manner. You'll probably need a few minutes to find your bearings, and you might initially get the sense that Iñárritu is only employing these gimmicks because he thinks they're cool (Amores Perros is similarly told out of order), but you soon realize that this is not only an incredibly effective means of creating a looming threat, but it also cleverly depicts just how fractured and frenzied these characters' lives are.

 

Because, again, like Amores Perros, this is a movie about pain and grief and loss, and about how those scars never truly leave us. Emotionally-speaking, it doesn't matter how this story is put together; the agony is relentless. Pretty bleak stuff, no doubt, but it's also haunting and powerful as hell. And the harrowing intensity is made all the more potent by some grainy photography and three unforgettable performances.

 

Hits just as hard on a rewatch, if not moreso.

 

Grade: A

 

#50. One Battle After Another (2025)

 

 

Watched at: Cineplex Cinemas

 

I hadn't been to a theater since the release of Knives Out - nearly six goddamn years ago - so I knew it was high time that I finally made a return, and I knew I needed to mark that return with something special.

 

Enter one of the grandest, one of the showiest, and one of the most popular movies of the last half-decade. I've heard nothing but great things about One Battle After Another over the past few weeks, and I'm so, so, so glad to say that it lived up to the hype. From start to finish, this is just an uninterrupted flow of movement, mayhem, thrills, laughs, and uncomfortable sexual tension. And no matter how insane or silly it gets (which is obviously the appeal), the political overtones are so palpable and so frustratingly relatable that the whole thing feels not only sincere, but refreshing.

 

I'm a Paul Thomas Anderson fan. As directors go, he'd easily be in my top ten. But I don't often find myself loving a movie of his after just one viewing. It usually takes more time and patience than that. Not here. This one had me from the very start, and I thought it only got better as it went along. It's too early to say that this might be my favourite work of his, but I will tell you that it's already the conversation, which is saying something.

 

Grade: A+

 

P.S. Oh my god, was that car chase awesome. I genuinely felt like I was on a roller coaster for the bulk of it.

 

P.P.S. Sean Penn's walk in this movie is some of the funniest physical acting I've ever seen.

 

#49. Only When I Laugh (1981)

 

 

Murder by Death is one of my all-time favourite movies, and James Coco gives possibly my favourite performance in that film (it's either him or Falk), so I've long been curious to see the Neil Simon adaptation that got Milo Perrier a Best Supporting Actor nomination. And I was ultimately pretty pleased with the result.

 

This is one of those sigh-and-smile movies, the sort of bittersweet comedy-drama that Woody Allen churned out almost annually around this time. And while the presentation's a tad stagey (to the point where you can tell that this was originally a play), the writing is so sharp and compelling that the material works for me. It offers some gentle insight into complicated relationships and human nature, while also throwing out the kinds of clever one-liners and rapid-fire turns of phrase that make you wish you were much quicker on your feet than you actually are.

 

Granted, the genres do sometimes clash with one another (during the big dramatic scene, characters are still speaking in a droll manner, and it seems a little out of place), but there's a palpable insecurity and anxiety to these characters that keeps everything stabilized and believable. I liked spending time with these people, and I liked seeing them interact with one another, even if the subject matter isn't always pretty.

 

As for Coco, he's incredibly warm and funny in the role (to such an extent that the Razzie nomination makes zero sense to me), but this is clearly Marsha Mason's show. And if she's as good in her other Neil Simon movies as she is here, the 0/4 Best Actress shutout she received wasn't deserved.

 

Grade: A-

 

#48. Sinister (2012)

 

 

Back in 2020, Broadbend Choices did a study based on viewer heart rates, and came to the conclusion that Sinister is the single scariest movie ever made. And you know what? I kind of get it.

 

That doesn't mean that it's without its share of issues. The premise is pretty unoriginal (even if the story does take a few interesting turns), the family drama is largely tedious, and my god are those jump scare noises insufferable - whether or not they actually get a reaction, it's such a lame and manipulative tactic. Plus, a lot of the reveals are too silly to be effective.

 

But, man, the lead-ups to those weak payoffs are really strong. This is a movie that knows how to build suspense. And not much is required, either: just Ethan Hawke (who really sells the weight of this stuff) watching creepy Super 8 footage and walking around dark rooms at night. That's all. Does it always lead to something terrifying? Not exactly. But I felt like I could hear my own pulse in the meantime.

 

So, yeah, the result checked out in my case.

 

Grade: B+

 

#47. The Crush (1993)

 

 

I'd like to think that I have a pretty high tolerance for shitty thrillers from the '90s, but even I'm struggling to drum up a defense for this one. Not only is it extremely unoriginal (it's basically just Lolita meets Fatal Attraction, though far less entertaining than either one), not only is the direction clumsy and the writing borderline-inept, not only are the two lead performances generally unconvincing, but it barely even passes as cinematic. Between the cheap quality and the by-the-numbers storyline, everything about The Crush screams "movie of the week" to me.

 

Also, on a more personal note, I'm just not a big fan of this kind of conflict in general. You know, the "some lunatic's trying to ruin my life and everyone else is too stupid and gullible to believe a word I say" conflict. Even at the best of times, it makes me anxious and frustrated in a way that I almost never enjoy watching. So maybe this one didn't stand much of a chance with me in the first place.

 

Like I said, I have a weakness for the trash of this era, so I can't pretend that I was having a truly torturous time or anything. But, having said that, I can't really think of a single reason to recommend it to anyone, either (except perhaps for that brief moment where one character gets socked in the face and flies across the room).

 

Grade: C

 

#46. Walk on the Wild Side (1962)

 

 

And all the coloured girls go: doo, do-doo, do-doo, do-do-doo...

 

The problem with a lot of movies from the early '60s is that they clearly wanted to be seen as daring and dangerous, but they weren't allowed to go all the way yet, so we're left with stories that lean too heavily on vague implications, with lame and generally underbaked results. And that's the case with Walk on the Wild Side: despite all the risque subject matter, it mostly just comes off as bland.

 

It's also overly dramatic, but I didn't mind that aspect as much. I kinda liked the soap opera theatrics and the generally trashy vibe, especially in the opening half hour or so. It's only once Laurence Harvey and Capucine reconnect that the story starts to lose me. The pacing suddenly becomes far more sluggish, and we're never really given much of a reason to care about their relationship in the first place (which isn't helped by the fact that both actors lack charisma, especially compared to Jane Fonda and Barbara Stanwyck), so the drama's even further diluted.

 

Frankly, I think the entire movie should've been about Harvey and Fonda catching trains and bumming rides during the Depression. That would've been far more interesting, and almost certainly more wild.

 

Grade: B-

 

#45. Dracula (1979)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

When a story has been adapted as many times as Dracula has, certain iterations are bound to get lost in the shuffle. And while that's arguably the case here, I really don't think that fate was deserved. This version is every bit as good as anything Universal or Hammer ever made, in my opinion.

 

Granted, I can see why it didn't blow audiences away. The pacing's pretty slow, the washed-out visuals don't exactly pop, and the tone emphasizes romance over scares, which likely disappointed many viewers. But there's something about the elegance of this one that really works for me. Between the characteristically gloomy atmospheres, the dreamlike movements, and the fog-and-cobweb-covered sets, Dracula '79 creates the exact kind of classy-yet-spooky texture that I want from these movies. 

 

It also breaks from the typical structure, which I actually find pretty refreshing (frankly, a lot of adaptations start to lose me a little once Dracula leaves his castle and travels to London). I get that this is by no means the definitive version of the character, but I like that it was daring enough to take a few liberties here and there, and I like that it focused on mood and style over anything else.

 

Grade: A-

 

#44. Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008)

 

 

At some point in the late 2000s, it seems like we all grew kinda tired of the Judd Apatow formula. Of the improv-heavy dialogue, the overlong runtimes, and the less-than-stellar track record of trying to infuse some forced drama. But while Forgetting Sarah Marshall is arguably guilty on the first two counts, I'd say that it largely succeeds in the genre-mixing department.

 

Probably helps that the movie's as cozy as it is. A lot of that comes down to the genial Hawaiian setting, as well as the remarkable supporting cast (particularly Jonah Hill and Paul Rudd), but I think it's mainly because Jason Segel provides a lot of heart. His script is full of warmth and sincere emotion, and he's a much more likeable lead than most of the funnymen from this time. Plus, the fact that his character is so depressed means that the bulk of the humour is actually pretty reserved - or at least reserved for a raunchy comedy with three separate penis shots.

 

I still have my Apatow-related issues with this movie (some of the romantic stuff isn't super believable, and the obvious ad-libs occasionally to get on my nerves [Bill Hader's gotta be the worst offender here]), but I was otherwise taken by its funny and unusually friendly manner. I would also pay to see that puppet Dracula musical in its entirety.

 

Grade: A-

 

#43. Pygmalion (1938)

 

 

Wait a minute - in order to get a woman to fall in love with me, all I need to do is psychologically terrorize her for months on end? Why didn't anybody tell me sooner?

 

Pygmalion has long been eclipsed in popularity by the enormously successful My Fair Lady, but I think it's worth watching in its own right. What this movie lacks in music and visual splendour, it more than makes up for in colourful dialogue, cute comedy, and the occasional lavish set. And while I find both protagonists to be kind of obnoxious, Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller are a charismatic pair, and the two manage to develop a charming back-and-forth with one another.

 

It's just a shame that we don't get to see more of it, frankly. May main issue with this movie is that the teaching portion (i.e. the portion with the most potential for comedy and character development) is almost entirely glossed over, which means that we don't get to see much of a connection form. And that's really too bad, because the drama's otherwise compelling, complex, and surprisingly sweet. Something about that '30s presentation makes this rude romance so much easier to swallow. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#42. Vanilla Sky (2001)

 

 

You know you're in for a strange and possibly juvenile experience when the movie you're watching opens with a Radiohead song. 

 

For anyone who thinks Vanilla Sky is pretentious and incoherent, I get it. This thing's a total mess, from the convoluted storytelling to the dissonant mix of genres. And it's got one of those all-too-impressed-with-itself third acts that I'm not generally a fan of. But I also can't pretend that the puzzling premise and the creative soundtrack and the warm cinematography and the passionate performance from Tom Cruise didn't speak to the edgy and confused teenager in me.

 

Does it all manage to come together? Couldn't tell ya. But I respect the ambition here. I like that Cameron Crowe had the audacity to make something so weird and sentimental. And even if all the risks don't pay off (frankly, a good majority of them probably don't), it nevertheless takes me back to a time when Hollywood wasn't afraid to take huge swings with huge names. 

 

Solid concept, middling execution. Might have to check out Open Your Eyes now. 

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. Radiohead is actually among favourite bands. But that doesn't mean that I don't still get "desperate for cool points" vibes from a director whenever they use one (or, in this case, two) of their songs.

 

#41. Nebraska (2013)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

While Alexander Payne has almost always been able to masterfully combine the heartbreaking with the heartwarming (I'm told Downsizing is the lone exception here, but I haven't seen that one yet), Nebraska comes with an added dose of tenderness. It's even quieter than his usual output, gently capturing the melancholy of the American Midwest through open landscapes and ordinary characters. 

 

This is a movie about the past (hence the beautiful black & white format), about rediscovery, and about possible redemption, and it's all held together by understated storytelling, simple-yet-effective camerawork, and a tremendously vague performance from Bruce Dern. You're never totally sure just how coherent the guy really is, even if his determination is certainly never in question.

 

I don't think this one quite reaches the same entertaining heights that Sideways and The Holdovers do (though I guess that's kind of the point), but it's still an amusing, emotional, and highly satisfying journey.

 

Grade: A

 

#40. Shakespeare in Love (1998)

 

 

Bit of a complicated legacy with this one. It was released to near-universal acclaim, yet the only times I ever hear anyone mention it nowadays is when they're either praising Saving Private Ryan or criticizing the Oscars. Though I guess that's bound to happen when your producer all but buys the Best Picture prize.

 

There's a part of me that wants to defend this movie, to tell the Academy haters out there to stuff it. But I can't quite get there. Shakespeare in Love is somewhat endearing in its fabrications and lightheartedness and cutesy dialogue, and the sets and costumes are generally convincing, but the story just doesn't grab me. As much as I like the idea of turning The Bard into a total horndog, I didn't find him or Viola or their romance particularly compelling or insightful.

 

This isn't as stuffy as your typical Oscar bait, but the presentation falls right in line. There's not a whole lot of life or personality here. Though at least Geoffrey Rush and Judi Dench (who won Best Supporting Actress for doing almost nothing, yet it doesn't feel undeserved) and even Ben Affleck manage to provide some exuberance.

 

Grade: B-

 

#39. Phantom Lady (1944)

 

 

When it comes to smaller noirs, I prefer a playful balance between serious and silly, between dark and light. And I think Phantom Lady finds that balance. It's got the grim tones and brooding atmospheres and life-or-death stakes that you'd hope to find, while also being strange and over-the-top enough (erotic drumming, sculptured heads, evil hands) that I'm still having a fun time.

 

Where the movie truly started cooking for me, though, was through the changing of protagonists. For the opening twenty minutes or so, we think this is Scott's story. But once he gets sentenced early on, we discover that the true lead is actually Kansas, and we're now going to follow her as she attempts to rescue him. It's a refreshing change of pace because, one, Ella Raines is a much better actor than Alan Curtis, and two, it inverts the femme fatale trope, and allows a woman to play detective (and an unambiguous noir hero) for once.

 

Even with a slight and largely implausible story, I enjoyed this somewhat subversive little mystery.

 

Grade: A-

 

#38. BlackBerry (2023)

 

 

I'm a Canadian. I've lived in Ontario for basically my entire life. And it wasn't until I watched this movie that I learned the BlackBerry was invented in my home province. How embarrassing for me.

 

Anyway, BlackBerry was pretty good. It's the typical "rise and fall of a company" storyline, one that probably vibes a little too close with The Social Network to feel in any way original, but it's still erratic and high-stakes enough to completely suck you in. Plus, it allows Glenn Howerton to scream obscenities at people he sees as being beneath him, which is always a treat.

 

I don't know if I'm completely sold on the Office-style cinematography, though, which I often found kinda jarring and obtrusive. But I guess the tradeoff is that it does make for a frenzied and claustrophobic atmosphere. And the journey is very compelling, from the home-grown innovations to the corporate compromises. Overall, it's an engaging time, even if the hairstyles are never once believable.

 

Oh, and bonus points for the hockey subplot. As a lifelong Leafs fan, any movie that references Mats Sundin is a movie that has my heart.

 

Grade: B+

 

#37. The Man with the Golden Arm (1955)

 

 

The thing about addiction movies is that they tend to come off like extended PSAs. I'm not saying that they shouldn't exist, but I am saying that you need to bring either a new perspective or some unique stylizations in order to keep everything from feeling cliche.

 

But while the former is mostly what you expect (once Frankie steps off the bus and starts bragging about how clean he is, you know where things are headed), Preminger accomplishes the latter through some cool backlot sets, consistent camera movement, and jazzy scoring. It's not the kind of atmosphere you'd expect to find in this kind of drama, but it's hectic and grimy enough to work.

 

What also works is the performances, Sinatra's especially. Even though his arc plays out somewhat predictably, he manages to sell it all with terrified expressions and wavering deliveries. The movie never hits quite as hard as, say, The Lost Weekend, and it sure takes a while to get going, but it's a daring endeavour all the same, with enough earnestness and twisty storytelling to keep the subject matter interesting. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#36. Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970)

 

 

This is one of those war movies that feels more like a history lesson than a piece of drama. Generally speaking, that's not really my thing, and it doesn't always work for me here (especially in the opening forty-five minutes, which are ungodly dry), but I do think there's something admirable about the scrupulous, impartial approach that it takes.

 

Specifically, I'm talking about the fact that we get to see everything from both perspectives. And while neither side ever bothers to develop any of its characters, and everything runs kinda grey (especially on the American front), I think the movie finds some energy in those moments of cross-cutting as the tension begins to mount.

 

This pays off with the extended attack sequence, which, while overlong, is so technically remarkable that it mostly makes the slow build-up worth it. And I also appreciated that, right through to the very end, the movie never chooses one side over the other. I still think the emotional impact would've been far greater if the human element was more present, but, as textbook chapters go, this is an impressive recreation all the same. 

 

Grade: B

 

#35. Bubba Ho-Tep (2002)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

This is now the second time I've seen this movie, and both times I expected a lot more than I actually got. I mean, it's a horror-comedy where Bruce Campbell thinks he's Elvis Presley, Ossie Davis thinks he's JFK, and the two of them team up to fight an ancient Egyptian mummy. How could it possibly disappoint?

 

Well, the execution leaves a lot to be desired, particularly in regards to the limp story and sluggish pacing. And, like, I can appreciate the decision to give Elvis an existential crisis, but when it starts to take up the bulk of the runtime, and gets in the way of all the fun genre stuff, you can't help but feel as though the movie isn't living up to its fullest potential.

 

And that's a shame, because there are moments of B-movie greatness here. Campbell and Davis bring a lot more energy and gravitas than the script does, Coscarelli captures a lot of the concept's inherent goofiness, and I just love the retirement home as a horror setting. This is an amusing enough time, and it's far too creative and weird to outright bash, but I think this is also one of those cases where reading the plot synopsis is somehow more enjoyable than actually watching it.

 

Grade: B-

 

#34. Shoot the Piano Player (1960)

 

 

A.K.A. Shoot the Pianist

 

One of my biggest cinematic blind spots is the French New Wave. I saw one or two of them in university, but not nearly enough to even pretend to have an understanding of the movement. So I decided to dip my toe in with Shoot the Piano Player, which I chose entirely due to its 81-minute runtime.

 

And I'm glad I did. There's something catchy and uninhibited about this movie, from the free-flowing storytelling to the unpredictable camera movements to the unique blend of genres. It's messy, but it's also playful and vivacious (which also contributes to this being a good introduction to New Wave), and doesn't have much interest in playing by the rules.

 

But while I liked the style, I was also pretty invested in the narrative. Part of that's thanks to the mix of upbeat and melancholy moods, but it was mostly because I was able to connect with the Charlie character. This guy's sensitive and shy and confused in ways I immediately related to, which I think caused the emotional beats to hit even harder.

 

Grade: A-

 

#33. Dead Man (1995)

 

 

This is one of those cases where mood takes precedence over plot or characters, and that's generally how I like it. As a story, Dead Man really isn't anything all that special. It's slightly subversive in many ways, but it's also kinda tedious and one-note. Though I can't really find it in myself to care when the vibes carry such potency.

 

This whole movie feels like a dream, or like some hazy purgatory between life and death, between the natural world and the spiritual world. And it captures this strange state of mind through beautiful Western landscapes, sharp black & white photography, some deadpan wit, a handful of quirky performances (many of which are much briefer than I would've preferred, but I digress), and - my personal favourite - Neil Young's thunderous, hypnotic electric guitar scoring.

 

Do I know what Jarmusch is trying to say with this movie? Not in the slightest. Hell, maybe he isn't trying to say anything at all. But what I do know is that I found the whole experience to be surreal, whimsical, and even a little profound - perhaps because it's all so perplexing. 

 

Grade: A

 

#32. Angel Heart (1987)

 

 

Couple of interesting genres going on here. We've got a straight-ahead detective story, with dingy settings and down-to-earth characters, contrasted with a supernatural horror movie about voodoo and the occult where Robert De Niro dons long hair and sharp nails. I'm not sure the tandem always works (the more fantastical elements sometimes come off a little absurd in this context), but it's a strangely bewitching experience all the same.

 

One thing the movie definitely gets right is the descent aspect. From beginning to end, you can tell we're headed somewhere sinister. I guess one could argue that this causes the eventual twists to feel a little telegraphed, and I won't pretend that every step of the investigation is completely riveting, but I still love that you can feel reality slip away as we head to New Orleans and delve deeper and deeper into this unusual mystery, slowly removing the genre trappings until there's nothing left.

 

Tonally, this is a strange one. I can't tell if it's taking itself too seriously or not seriously enough. But I guess there's something about that weird middle ground that makes for some interesting atmosphere.

 

Grade: B+

 

#31. The Man Who Laughs (1928)

 

 

There's no denying the importance of silent cinema, but I should probably come clean early and own up to the fact that my attention span isn't always super compatible with these early movies. I'm hoping to eventually improve on that front, though, so I figured it might be a good idea to get my feet wet as quickly as possible. 

 

I started with The Man Who Laughs because I was expecting a horror movie in the vein of Dr. Caligari or Nosferatu, both of which I quite enjoyed. But while those Expressionist textures are definitely present, this is really more of a Hunchback of Notre Dame-style tragedy. I tend to be most drawn to silent dramas when the emotions are at their heaviest, though, so that was fine with me.

 

What I didn't care for so much was the long-winded and unfocused narrative. As heartfelt and tender as the romance was, and as compelling as Mary Philbin and Conrad Veidt are, it too often felt as though the two supposed leads were reduced to supporting players in their own story. Large swaths of the runtime are dedicated to the intrigue and corruption of the Royal Court, and that stuff just didn't grab me at all.

 

Fortunately, we end with a pretty strong third act, which features more melodrama, more theatrics, and even some swashbuckling action. This is no doubt a seminal movie; I just wish the whole thing was a little tighter and more consistent. 

 

Grade: B

 

#30. Oz the Great and Powerful (2013)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Caught this one at the theater with my family back when it came out, and I can still recall the experience being mildly disappointing. Watching it again over a decade later, it's easy to see why (the CGI-heavy visuals aren't really to my taste, and I always thought Franco and Kunis were distractingly miscast), but the positives suddenly stood out to me a lot more.

 

For one, after fifteen years of soulless Disney remakes, it's nice to see one that isn't a simple knockoff. This is a movie that has a unique story to tell and actually dares to take a few risks, even if those risks are often unsuccessful. Beyond that, I was more compelled by the underdog story this time, and I found that Weisz and Williams were both so awesome in their roles that they mostly undid the damage caused by the other two leads (which: I've changed my mind on Kunis; she's perfectly fine).

 

But I think the real saving grace here is Sam Raimi. This is far from his best or most characteristic work, but I was surprised to finally recognize just how much of his style can be felt throughout, from the dark visual tones to the campy sense of humour. Gives the movie some needed texture and bite, and it made for a more enchanting adaptation than I remembered. 

 

Grade: B

 

#29. Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)

 

 

Okay, I know I'm predisposed to fall head over heels in love with anything that even remotely resembles giallo, but I really do think Eyes of Laura Mars is much, much better than its middling-at-best reputation. Nearly every aspect worked for me, including the slightly fantastical premise (which would feel out of place in most '70s thrillers, but it fits right in with this tone and subject matter), the creative casting, the eerie-yet-stylish settings, and that awesome Barbra Streisand song.

 

Even the elements most people criticize - the campiness, the slightly out-of-nowhere ending, the generally grimy vibe - was stuff that I enjoyed (honestly, my only complaint is that I wish Raul "R.J." Julia had a bigger role, but that's true of most of the movies he appeared in). The mystery captivated me from beginning to end, as did the storytelling, as did the performances. This may be sleaze, but it's opulent sleaze, which is my favourite kind.

 

And, hey, Irvin Kershner got the job for The Empire Strikes Back because of this movie. So, if nothing else, I can at least sleep at night knowing George Lucas is on my side.

 

Grade: A+

 

P.S. Did Tommy Lee Jones ever look young?

 

#28. Charlie's Angels (2000)

 

 

The concept of adapting older TV shows into contemporary comedies wasn't exactly novel in the year 2000, but every stage of that trend was cute to me. It's always gonna be tempting to make light of the pop culture from our past. And besides, something like Charlie's Angels is very easy to make light of, so the decision tracks here.

 

That's not to say that this movie's especially good, though. A lot of the humour falls completely flat, and most scenes just kinda slam awkwardly into one another with zero rhythm or consistency. It's all a little too hectic for my liking, with the result being one of those action-comedies where so much random shit is going on that I struggle to pay full attention after a while.

 

Still, I feel strangely inclined to be slightly defensive here. It's probably some combination of the three likeable leads (especially Diaz, who knows exactly what kind of movie she's in), the more tongue-in-cheek aspects of the comedy, and the general Y2K-ness of it all. Energy this glossy is hard to wholeheartedly dislike. 

 

Grade: B-

 

#27. Monkey Man (2024)

 

 

On the whole, Monkey Man is my kind of action movie. It's a bit more depressing than I typically prefer, but it also has a gripping revenge narrative, a simultaneously grimy and extravagant style, a booming soundtrack, and even some cultural flavour, complete with sociopolitical commentary. The mood is chaotic and the violence is ferocious, and Dev Patel presents it all with such energy and emotion and originality (while his influences are pretty obvious, I'd say that he brings them together in a relatively organic way) that his passion is never in question.

 

Yeah, the second half isn't quite as electric as the first, and yeah, you can sometimes tell that this is the guy's directorial debut (certain elements feel a little over-explained, and he doesn't always have the strongest handle on tone, particularly when it comes to balancing the traumatic backstory with the over-the-top fight scenes), but I guess that stuff doesn't really matter. At least, not when the action's this flawless. And certainly not when the spirit, the flash, and the sense of adrenaline are all this palpable.

 

Grade: A-

 

#26. The Train (1964)

 

 

When it comes to action movies, or maybe just movies in general, I tend to have a better time when trains are involved. The more trains, the merrier - that's what I say. So a movie literally called The Train had a lot to live up to.

 

Fortunately, it's directed by John Frankenheimer, so we're in good hands. He knows how to establish a big scale while keeping everything taut and tight, making for a thriller with both high stakes and personal characterizations. It's kinda modern in that sense, though that could also be because it basically plays out like a heist movie, or because it leans so heavily on explosive spectacle.

 

Both of these elements should probably intrude on the grim premise, but they really don't, and I'm guessing that's due to the fact that everything feels so authentic. We're dealing with real locations, real trains, real stunts (which might explain why Lancaster's here, even though his character is supposed to be French), and real explosions. On top of creating a viscerally sweaty and industrial texture, this really puts into perspective the risks these guys are taking, and it forces you to ask whether any of it is actually worth the effort in the first place. But I guess that's war for you. 

 

Grade: A

 

#25. The Plague of the Zombies (1966)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Like a lot of Hammer movies, The Plague of the Zombies has gorgeous aesthetics (lush colours, beautiful sets, foggy atmospheres, bright red blood) that are slightly bogged down by a dry and talky story.

 

Actually, the setup for this one isn't too bad. I like the mysterious, almost Twilight Zone-esque premise, which makes for some immediate intrigue. And even though you can feel the absences of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee in something like this, André Morell more than makes up for that by bringing a similar sense of charisma and weight to the proceedings.

 

But once this intrigue is out of the way, the movie starts to lose a lot of steam by leaning on long dialogue scenes and drawn-out set pieces. And there just generally aren't many scares here (maybe three total, with one of them being a fake-out dream sequence). The strengths are still good enough for me to call this a worthy entry in the Hammer canon, but I'd have to imagine that it already seemed like an ancient relic by the time Night of the Living Dead came out two years later.

 

Grade: B

 

#24. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)

 

 

One of the most coke-induced movies to come out of the '80s (which is really saying something), the obvious appeal of To Live and Die in L.A. is that it's an unapologetically over-the-top thrill ride. The plot's a little convoluted for my liking, and there are a few irksome cliches thrown in, but, otherwise, this is nothing but action, sex, violence, betrayals, car chases, and Wang Chung. Everybody's having fun tonight!

 

If there's one aspect that seals the deal for me, though, it's the style. This thing's packed with neon lighting, synth-heavy music, and dingy atmospheres (kinda like if Wim Wenders tried to make a Michael Mann movie), and it's pretty much everything I could've hoped to find in a thriller from this era. I guess you could make the argument that these flashier elements are somewhat at odds with the gritty cop story, but it works for me because Friedkin simply refuses to tone anything down. Now, the "Popeye" Doyle-style protagonist is even more unhinged, and the action's a whole lot bloodier, so the excesses are popping at equal levels.

 

As you've no doubt already learned about me, that's the kind of decadence and consistency that I find hard to resist.

 

Grade: A

 

#23. Underworld (2003)

 

 

I was always mildly curious about this franchise, mainly because I like Kate Beckinsale and because I just generally have a fondness for trashy, over-earnest nu-metal sludge from the early 2000s. But I have to report that the viewing experience was about as tedious as I was worried it would be.

 

Many critics have described Underworld as "shallow" and "derivative", which is true enough, but I think my problem is that the story, no matter how seriously it takes itself, just isn't interesting. There must be five or six different subplots going on here, and yet the lack of interesting character dynamics or established stakes made it difficult for me to remain invested in any of them.

 

Yes, the aesthetic is kinda neat, with its leather outfits, Gothic locations, rainy atmospheres, and fashionable blue filtering (it all feels very Evanescence), and, yes, I enjoy watching Michael Sheen and Billy Nighy ham it up, but I need something else after a while. A compelling romance, a more creative action scene, an occasional change of pace. Anything.

 

As is, I found the whole experience to be elusive and slightly dull.

 

Grade: C+

 

#22. Easter Parade (1948)

 

 

There really is something transcendental about those sweet, simple Technicolor musicals of the '40s and '50s, isn't there?

 

That's not to say that they were all great movies or anything. Frankly, even Easter Parade has its faults, primarily in its story-heavy structuring and its emphasis on a love square that I didn't find particularly compelling (or convincing, for that matter; at the movie's conclusion, I found myself wondering if Garland was actually making the right decision). But then you remember just how warm, colourful, and lively the visuals are, and these issues suddenly seem a lot more trivial.

 

Plus, I should probably touch on the main selling point, which is obviously the extravagant dance numbers. I'm not sure that any of these songs have fully achieved immortality status (though "Steppin' Out with My Baby" must come close, especially in that one shot where Astaire's moving in slow motion against a background of normal-speed backup dancers), but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that Irving Berlin's tunes are so endearing and delightful, and watching these two leads perform together is such a genuine pleasure, that the best elements of this movie are just a joy to behold. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#21. Coyote Ugly (2000)

 

 

Here's a movie that wants to be seen as trashy and salacious and at least somewhat distinctive, but the problem is that those ambitions are constantly undercut by a mind-numbingly unoriginal story. "Young woman moves to the big city in hopes of 'making it', only to realize that achieving her dream is much more difficult than she ever thought possible" is already a trite premise, but then you tack on the disapproving parent, the bland and needlessly complicated romance, and the hellish-turned-homey work setting, and you start to feel like you can connect the dots yourself. 

 

Still, it does contain a few of my guilty pleasures. The editing's pretty lively, as is the soundtrack (you can try to resist it, but you know [but you know] that "Can't Fight the Moonlight" kicks ass), and I'm a total sucker for Y2K-era fashion and culture, which this movie's got in spades. It's also really sincere and optimistic in a way that speaks to me, possibly because it seems so emblematic of the times. I'm not at all surprised to learn that Coyote Ugly has become a cult film, especially considering how upbeat it is. As close as I am to getting there, though, the formula's simply too stale for me to completely agree.

 

Grade: B-

 

#20. Crumb (1994)

 

 

By and large, documentaries aren't my thing. I'm really more of a fiction guy, at least as far as this medium is concerned (funny enough, when it comes to books, I tend to be the exact opposite). Of course, having said that, if the material interests me, I can absolutely get on board. And that was the case with Crumb. 

 

I didn't have much prior knowledge of this man or his cultural importance, but Terry Zwigoff enlightened me with an insightful and compelling portrait, one that also makes use of some careful structuring. We open with an introduction to his artistry and voice, and we then spend the next two hours learning why he has this particular voice. It's actually pretty fascinating.

 

That's not to say that I like the guy. I don't. He honestly comes off like a bit of a self-obsessed creep. But the movie isn't really asking you to like him, either. It's incredibly honest about his shortcomings, from the controversial elements in his art to the evident flaws in his personality. And yet, when we delve a little deeper into his world, and start to learn more about him, the women in his life, and especially his brothers, everything falls into place. The information is doled out rather expertly, and it makes the whole thing feel strangely relatable, which is exactly what a biographical documentary is supposed to do.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. This is the second movie I've watched in two days where someone admits to finding Bugs Bunny attractive. Just thought that warranted mentioning.

 

#19. From Dusk till Dawn (1996)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

The main talking point with this movie, other than the fact that it sees Quentin Tarantino at possibly his most foot-obsessed, has always been the sudden genre shift. Most viewers tend to enjoy the crime-heavy first half to some degree, with its dry, dusty settings, hostage-related suspense, and sharp dialogue (which Clooney performs the hell out of, by the way). But then this story takes an unexpected detour around the halfway mark, where it remains for the duration. It's the kind of thing you either go with or you don't.

 

I'm able to go with it. Generally speaking, I like when movies are daring enough to take sudden left turns like this. And while the back half definitely feels a little cheaper at times (which isn't helped by the janky special effects and campy performances), and you kinda get the sense that Tarantino only did it because he got bored and/or wrote himself into a corner, I think it's still an engrossing and fun time. And it helps that the stylish dialogue and interesting character developments and amusing twists are just as present as they ever were.

 

If horror really was as stagnant in the mid-90s as everyone says, something this offbeat and subversive must've been a welcome change of pace.

 

Grade: A-

 

#18. Wayne's World (1992)

 

 

Wayne's World is one of those easygoing comedies that manages to rise above its own premise and sense of humour. We've seen the "small-time protagonists fight to maintain the integrity of their project against money-hungry businessmen" setup elsewhere, and I was honestly never especially crazy about the silly catchphrases and incessant camera mugging (which I guess makes me Pralines & Dick). Despite this, though, the mood is always so light and the punchlines are otherwise so creative and versatile that the movie basically becomes its own brand of humour.

 

What keeps everything infectious, though, is the characters. Wayne and Garth might be hammy and kinda lame, but that's why we find them so endearing. And the fact that this movie actually takes the time to showcase their friendship (we see what they do in their spare time together, how they make each other laugh, how they confide in one another, etc.) that it all becomes that much sweeter and more sincere, which I think is why I'm so willing to play along with the shenanigans.

 

So I guess what I'm really trying to say is: I didn't think this movie sucked.

 

Grade: A-