#106. Cry-Baby (1990)

 

 

The great thing about John Waters is that, no matter how mainstream his movies became, that sense of ugly tastelessness remained.

 

Cry-Baby is probably his single most accessible feature. It has catchy '50s music, fun dance numbers, generally agreeable comedy, and a charmingly self-aware performance from Johnny Depp. And yet, while you're watching the movie, you never once forget that it was made by the guy who got Divine to eat dog shit.

 

This reminder is present in the campy visuals, the over-the-top line deliveries, the unusual casting choices, and the intentionally cringy atmosphere. You can decide for yourself whether these are inherently good qualities (I'll admit that they're not always my thing), but I definitely give Waters credit for maintaining that strange and repulsive voice. At the very least, it results in a product that makes Grease look downright restrained.

 

If you've never seen a Waters movie before, this is a pretty safe place to start (and if you end up finding it too weird, stay far away from anything else he ever made). Having said that, though, I don't think I'd place it among his best work. The story's not always super engaging, and it's slightly lacking in the edge that made his better movies feel substantial. 

 

Grade: B

#105. A Thousand Clowns (1965)

 

 

Whenever I start watching a movie about a zany weirdo who struggles to conform, I'm always worried that it's going to result in some kind of trite "we all need to learn to have fun every once in a while" message. But while A Thousand Clowns occasionally possesses that energy, particularly in regards to some of the whimsical editing choices, it actually takes the opposite route, presenting a man who must come to grips with the fact that he needs to find work in order to save his family. And I find that premise far more interesting and compelling.

 

You also wouldn't expect to see Jason Robards in this kind of role (on paper, it seems better suited for someone like Dick Van Dyke), but his glum, expressive face makes the character a lot more sympathetic than he really ought to be. And the relationship he has with his nephew feels charming and legitimate, especially on the few occasions where the mask starts to slip and you can see how much he really cares for him.

 

More than anything, though, there's just a sturdy balance of humour and poignancy here. And even if the presentation's on the dry and stagy side (which stands to reason, considering the movie is, you know, based on a play), the strong dialogue, convincing performances, and unique tone help to bring it all to life. 

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. I'm kinda surprised that Martin Balsam won an Oscar for this. He's not terrible or anything, but I feel like every other lead makes a bigger impression than he does.

 

#104. The Living Daylights (1987)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

If you asked me, point blank, to pick a favourite movie franchise, I wouldn't have to think twice before answering: it's Bond. James Bond. I adore this ridiculous series, and have for roughly as long as I've been familiar with film as a medium (which is my way of preparing you in advance for a lot of unusually high grades). Like, were I to jot down a list of the hundred movies I watched the most when I was a kid, I'm dead certain that every one of the first twenty 007 entries would qualify. 

 

Well, make that nineteen. For whatever reason, I almost never returned to this one. Probably had something to do with the lame and underdeveloped villains, the downright convoluted (even by these movies' standards) plot, and my fraught feelings on Timothy Dalton. In any case, as recently as two days ago, I would've asserted that The Living Daylights was among my least favourite Bond adventures.

 

Not anymore. This past viewing finally made everything click for me. Yeah, the villains and plot are still pretty blah, but I was really taken with the tonal balance this time. It's just a solid mix of visual spectacle and grounded stakes, made even better by that killer opening, a strong supporting cast, generally solid pacing, and some of the best stuntwork in franchise history.

 

As for Dalton, I continue to find him a little uptight for this particular outing (his frigid presence gels much better with a darker tone, and we'd see in his one and only follow-up), but Maryam d'Abo humanizes him with perhaps the sweetest performance of any Bond Girl. The two are a cute pair.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. That Necros dude really needs to expand his musical library.

 

#103. I'm No Angel (1933)

 

 

Even before watching this, my first Mae West movie, I was certainly familiar with her screen persona: the attitude, the sexuality, the confidence, the blonde hair, the insane eyebrows. I wasn't totally sure whether these characteristics could remain charming for an entire feature, but this fear mostly subsided by the time I recognized her astonishing aura and obvious knack for wit. Like all the other gents in this woman's life, she quickly won me over.

 

As for the movie around her, it's definitely on the messy and uneven side (the first quarter's a crime story, the second quarter's a brief circus show, the third quarter's a romantic comedy, and the fourth quarter's a courtroom procedural), but I suppose that unrestrained pulpiness fits right in with her appeal. And even when some elements feel slightly underdeveloped (the romance is the most obvious example; Cary Grant doesn't appear until we're past the halfway point), it's all pretty entertaining, and the sharp dialogue and personable performances ensure that substance is never a concern.

 

My main takeaway, though, is just how daring this material is. When I hear those sexual innuendos and double entendres, I imagine how close they must've come to giving that Hays asshole a coronary, and it brings a smile to my face.

 

Grade: B+

 

#102. Meek's Cutoff (2010)

 

 

Apologies for stating the obvious, but just because a movie's slow, that doesn't automatically make it boring.

 

Take Meek's Cutoff, which is unquestionably the former. Its plot is incredibly sparse, there's very little dialogue (and half of it is so quiet that you can barely make out what's being said), and a good portion of the shots are lengthy wides. If you watch this thing and find little more than a host of beautiful landscape paintings, I totally get where you're coming from. But I actually thought it was quite thrilling.

 

Among other things, Kelly Reichardt really understands anticipation and expectation. She places these vulnerable characters in a dire situation, and uses restraint, as well as our familiarity with the genre, to wring a surprising amount of tension out of this simple premise. It's just a nonstop tale of impending doom, where we can always imagine just how south everything might suddenly go, and you don't realize until the (wonderfully ambiguous) ending that you've been holding your breath the entire time.

 

I'd be curious to see how something like this would hold up on a second viewing, now that I know where it goes. But, even putting aside the suspense, the movie's still a vivid and harrowing depiction of the hardships facing American settlers in the 19th century, and an effective look at the tedium of daily struggle.

 

Grade: A-

 

#101. Times Square (1980)

 

 

I kinda like it when movies are of their time, if for no other reason than because they tend to serve as effective time capsules, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a more 1980 movie than this. Times Square is caught right between the seedy, rebellious angst of the '70s and the poppy sellout excess of the '80s, and the result is something of a sweet-yet-sleazy punk fairy tale, one that showcases the allure of New York City without ever glamorizing it.

 

Granted, it's all pretty trivial and aimless and nonsensical, with large swaths of the runtime consumed by a whole lotta nothing, but I suppose "aimless" and "nonsensical" are quite apt for a story about adolescent frustration. And even if the uglier and messier qualities don't always feel completely intentional, this is one of those cases where the shoddy cheapness still contributes to the overall mood and attitude. I mean, that's essentially the whole appeal of punk in the first place, right?

 

Plus, on the rare occasions where the movie manages to combine its gritty street photography with that fantastic soundtrack and Robin Johnson's superbly believable performance, it reaches near-documentary-levels of authentic.

 

Grade: B

 

#100. Hot Rod (2007)

 

 

I think what we've got here is one of those movies that was "underrated" for so long that it became slightly overrated.

 

When Hot Rod first came out, it was trashed by critics, as SNL alum movies often are. But then, over the following years, it slowly found its audience, and now it feels like the praise has gone a bit overboard - particularly on Reddit. Seriously, go to any thread with a prompt like "What's a hated movie that you love?", and the top answers are almost always Grandma's Boy, Hook, and this.

 

I wouldn't go so far, personally. The tone and storytelling are pretty inconsistent, the Napoleon Dynamite presentation only occasionally works, and I've just never been huge on Lonely Island's brand of quirky and meta comedy. But I won't pretend that I didn't also have fun with it, and audibly laugh at some of the dumb and entirely unnecessary antics (with the two big standouts being Rod falling down that giant hill for close to a minute and the motivational montage suddenly turning into a violent riot).

 

Plus, as ridiculous as this movie often gets, there's also a sincerity to it that provides some emotional grounding. We laugh at Rod more than we laugh with him, but we still want to see the guy succeed, and that kind of rooting interest makes the humour and the characters a lot more likeable as a result.

 

Grade: B

 

And, with that, the first hundred is officially out of the way. Only 9,900 to go!

 

#99. The Decameron (1971)

 

 

When I heard that this one was both a comedy and an anthology, I went into it expecting a relatively easy watch. Can't say I found that to be the case, though.

 

Well, okay, some of these episodes are pretty fun. The first one, about a man who gets swindled twice in the same night, made for a solid opener, and the second, about a guy who pretends to be a deaf-mute in order to get a job (and sleep with some nuns), was mostly amusing. Talk about work with benefits, amirite?

 

After that, though, I feel like the energy started to fall off a bit, as each segment was slightly less interesting than the one before it. The jury's still out as to whether this is a case of the movie being front-loaded or me simply running out of gas (it's definitely the latter), but, either way, I think the structure grew tedious and repetitive after a while, which made for a somewhat tiring viewing experience. Never thought I'd feel this way about a collection of shorts, but there you have it.

 

Still, the outer frame with the painter ties everything together pretty nicely. And I love that closing line, which basically amounts to "Huh, maybe I shouldn't have made this." There's something honest and strangely deep about that observation. 

 

Grade: B-

 

P.S. I'm hoping Italy's seen an influx of dentists since this movie came out. Half of these guys had more fingers than teeth.

#98. Fear and Desire (1952)

 

 

A.K.A. Shape of Fear

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Glad I finally got to see a version of this that doesn't look like it was filmed on newspaper.

 

Most people place Fear and Desire at the very bottom of their Kubrick ranking. Even Stanley himself disowned it (which is no surprise, considering how big a perfectionist he became). I don't disagree with those assessments, but I will say that, watching this one again, there's more promise here than I once thought.

 

Granted, it still feels like a first effort, with forced abstractions and clunky narration, but I started to notice the stylizations this time. There's a lot of stark lighting and harsh angles and extreme closeups, all of which drive home the madness that Kubrick would soon be renowned for (with shades of Paths of Glory and Full Metal Jacket sprinkled throughout), even if these qualities aren't fine-tuned just yet.

 

You might think I'm being kind to the movie simply because I'm a fan of its director, but I'd argue that the inverse is more accurate. If I had no idea who was responsible for this, the keen eye and strange vision on display here would be enough to make me curious about anything else carrying the same credit.

 

Grade: B-

 

#97. The Whale (2022)

 

 

People seem to have turned on this one a bit since its release, and I can definitely see why. The tone is bleak to the point of being overbearing, the central themes are messy and overwritten, the score frequently undercuts the mood, the dim visuals are ugly as hell, and the prosthetics aren't very believable. There's just not a lot of nuance here, and the overall presentation can be hard to take seriously at times.

 

But, despite all that, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't roped in by the melodrama. It's possible that the material just hit home for me because I, too, struggle with an eating disorder, but I also really liked the performances (we all know how great Fraser is here, but Hong Chau and Sadie Sink are equally compelling), and, even though none of these supporting characters are particularly likeable, there was still something about their miserable dynamic that I found strangely endearing.

 

Even the murky lighting and smaller aspect ratio started working for me after a while. They're not especially cinematic choices, but they do represent Charlie's emotional state quite well, and really reflect how trapped he is, both physically and psychologically. And while the light pouring into the room at the end might've been an obvious move, I still thought it was a powerful visual moment to go out on. 

 

Grade: B

 

#96. El Cid (1961)

 

 

The issue I take with a lot of these double-VHS epics from the early '60s is that they almost always felt the need to turn their heroes into saint-like figures, robbing them of personality and depth in the process. It's Ben-Hur and Spartacus all over again: when the protagonist isn't interesting, I'm only gonna be so invested in the story - which is kinda lethal when we're dealing with a three-hour runtime.

 

And it's a shame, because these movies really are quite impressive otherwise. As expected, the production design is simply breathtaking here, with elaborate costumes and sets captured via meticulous detail and surprisingly decent cinematography. And the on-location battle sequences are equally spectacular, especially considering how many extras seem to be involved.

 

I can certainly appreciate and admire a movie like El Cid. As spectacle goes, this is pretty much the definition of a cinematic epic. But between the unengaging script, a few wooden performances (Heston's doing his typical "serious hero man" thing, to similar results), and the generally dry presentation, it can also be a bit of a chore to get through.

 

Grade: B-

 

#95. Dead End (1937)

 

 

William Wyler had a script, a single set, and a dream.

 

Dead End might not be an especially complex movie, with its shallow plot and heavy moralizing, but it sure does a great job of recreating a New York City slum through some dark, cramped construction. This set is so well-realized that I don't even really mind the fact that the whole story takes place here, especially because it makes for some vivid class conflict. With the poor living conditions contrasted against those penthouse condos, it really drives home the central themes, and emphasizes the zero sum possibilities of living in such an environment.

 

But while the setting's generally stationary, the story's actually pretty versatile. If anything, a few of these individuals actually get a little lost in the shuffle (Francey's a good example), which occasionally strains the focus, but it also allows for some snappier pacing and character-heavy interactions - the best coming from Bogart, who shows a ton of promise with a soon-to-be-trademark cool performance, and those Dead End Kids, whose antics aren't as obnoxious than they probably should be. 

 

By and large, this movie is certainly of its time, but the colourful characters, relaxed vibe, interesting plot developments, and, again, that fantastic set make for some easy and enjoyable viewing. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#94. Blue Sunshine (1977)

 

 

Like most low-budget horror movies, especially from around this time, Blue Sunshine can be a little rough around the edges. The tone's wildly inconsistent, the performances aren't very believable, and the ending lacks resolution. But, as you might expect, there's also something distinct and offbeat about this presentation that gives the movie a unique style of its own.

 

Probably my favourite aspect here is the unique mix of genres, wherein slasher sensibilities are blended with a political thriller plot. As the former, it can include a handful of chilling murder sequences (the one with the fire sure is memorable), and, as the latter, it can create some decent intrigue through a bizarre mystery. It's not always a perfect marriage, but these halves do complement each other unusually well, especially given the fact that they both center around suspense and paranoia (and also because they're both so distinctly '70s).

 

Also, this is just a solid horror premise. Like, if D.A.R.E. really wanted to scare our generation straight, they should've just told us that LSD would eventually cause all of our hair to fall off. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#93. The Rock (1996)

 

 

Look, I never said I was perfect, okay?

 

When it comes to '90s blockbusters, especially of the action variety, I'm embarrassingly easy to please. But, even with that in mind, I still have to cop to being surprised by how much I enjoyed The Rock. Michael Bay has never exactly been a favourite filmmaker of mine (shocker, I know), and it's not like this one's tonally or stylistically different from anything else he's made. So what was the secret ingredient here?

 

It could be a premise thing. I'm far more into the idea of "Die Hard on Alcatraz" than I am, say, "drillers in space" or "robots in disguise". Or it might be the fact that Bay wasn't leaning too heavily on obnoxious spectacle just yet (frankly, the whole thing feels more like it belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, which might explain the quality). But I think the most likely answer is also the simplest one, and that's the cast.

 

When you combine the talents of Sean Connery (who's as suave as ever), Nicolas Cage (who's possibly at his most endearing), and Ed Harris (who certainly can't be accused of not committing), the material basically elevates itself. And when you then tack on some sincere humour and a plot involving the US military industrial complex, you're left with a movie that's at or near the top of its class.

 

Truly can't believe I hadn't seen this all the way through before now. 

 

Grade: A+

 

#92. The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941)

 

 

A.K.A. All That Money Can Buy, which was its original release title (in order to avoid confusion with The Devil and Miss Jones, another RKO production).

 

Satan's always a fun character to center a story around, right? Like, I get that the dude has by now been depicted so many times on screen that he's nowhere near as inherently intimidating as he once was, but I still think there's something dangerous and exciting about seeing this sinister figure tempt ordinary people with material possessions in exchange for their souls. 

 

Naturally, this is the area where The Devil and Daniel Webster makes the biggest impression. Beyond the fact that the drama's especially compelling here, Walter Huston really leans into the mischievous side of the character, and the effects used to generate the other supernatural beings are incredibly vivid. It's a lot of shadows and visual blurriness, which creates a certain dream-turned-nightmare atmosphere.

 

The overall story is pretty basic and familiar for the most part, and it tends to be somewhat light on the fantasy aspect for my liking, but there's also a folk tale quality to the movie that makes it feel slightly timeless. And while I can't put it in the same league as The Wizard of Oz or It's a Wonderful Life (though what is?), it's operating on similar levels of imagination and morality, further enhancing that classic appeal.

 

Grade: A-

 

#91. Bowling for Columbine (2002)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Even putting aside his politics, Michael Moore's not for everybody. The guy can be annoying, intrusive, entitled, and, as a filmmaker, biased to the point of skewing his own facts in order to prove a point. But when he weaponizes these trollish qualities against people and corporations that deserve it, as is the case with Bowling for Columbine, it can make for a work that's as gratifying as it is insightful.

 

This documentary is a riveting and powerful look at gun violence in America, using the 1999 Columbine shooting as an entry point. Sure, a lot of this subject matter might feel kinda quaint and obvious today (we hear about a new school shooting every other week now, it seems), but that just proves Moore's point, doesn't it? It shows that, even if we never come to any hard conclusions, this was a conversation that needed - and still needs - to happen if we want to see some change.

 

And Moore's great about packaging this material in a way that's easy to digest. He uses humour to keep things entertaining (while never taking it so far as to lose the gravity of the situation), and conducts interviews with such confrontation and disdain that you get some wonderfully embarrassing first-hand insight into how full of shit most of these loudmouth gun nuts really are.

 

I'd call this one essential viewing, but chances are your middle school already showed it to you.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. As a Canadian, I'm slightly dubious of the door-locking segment, amusing as it is. With one or two exceptions, everyone I know has always locked their doors.

 

#90. Sudden Fear (1952)

 

 

The first thirty minutes or so of Sudden Fear are decent enough, if a bit dry and conventional. But once everyone's intentions come into focus, and Myra listens to that SoundScriber recording (including a skip on "I know a way," which was a fantastic touch), we abruptly swerve into thriller territory, where the movie had me hooked right through to the end.

 

Perhaps the strongest element here, along with the glossy cinematography, is our protagonist's arc. I love seeing her transformation from a woman in peril to someone who suddenly understands her predicament to a fighter who now has to figure out what to do about it, all on her own. It's immediately compelling, and made all the better by Joan Crawford's heightened vulnerability. She was born for the kinds of roles that capitalize on her wide-eyed looks of shock and anger.

 

Granted, both her performance and the movie's overall presentation are probably verging on being over-the-top, but I honestly prefer a little hyperbole in my noirs. Gives them some needed energy, y'know? And besides, the whole thing's so twisty and shadowy and emotion-heavy that the storytelling feels consistent, and therefore largely believable.

 

Bold statement, but I stand by it: this movie's as taut and entertaining as anything Hitchcock made up to this point.

 

Grade: A

 

#89. Sleepwalkers (1992)

 

 

By most accounts, this is one of the weaker Stephen King stories (I almost said "adaptations", but then I remembered that it was an original screenplay) in existence. And, yeah, I get it. Sleepwalkers is silly and dumb and not at all scary, and feels more like the kind of thing you'd catch on YTV on a Saturday night than a movie that got a wide theatrical release.

 

But, as someone who grew up loving Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, this kind of cheap, whimsical, distinctly early '90s horror works just fine for me. The concept of cat-like shapeshifters that can only be killed by actual cats is both ridiculous and really fun, and the unusually committed cast (particularly Alice Krige and Mädchen Amick) help to somewhat - somewhat - ground and legitimize this insane story.

 

Is it developed or tonally consistent? Not in the slightest (though both arguably add to the camp appeal). But it's also got a vibrant tone, a tumultuous teen romance, two cute leads, fun puppet effects, charming monster makeup, corny kills (even of the literal variety), and honest-to-god incest. So the universal derision is mostly lost on me.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. I can't hear that Enya song without expecting Lauryn Hill to tell me that she's gonna find me and take it slowly.

 

P.P.S. Considering he has the perfect face for these effects, it's honestly kinda shocking that Ron Perlman doesn't transform in this movie.

 

#88. Spun (2002)

 

 

You can tell that Spun was made by a music video director. It's all flash, all the time. But, as someone who also loves speed, energy, and saturation, I had no problem injecting this style into my veins.

 

More than anything, the editing is the clear highlight here. Because the movie's vibe is meant to be that of a drug-fueled fever dream, it contains some of the fastest and most frenetic cutting I've ever seen. You'd think this kind of whirlwind presentation would get old or annoying after a while (and, yeah, maybe it does at times), but I think there's enough characterization and emotional range throughout that it rarely becomes a problem.

 

It also helps that the movie's as raw as it is. Despite the visual pizazz, you can't really accuse this material of being glamourized or sanitized. It's honestly downright filthy at times. And yet, the mood is never so heavy or dark that it makes me want to get off the ride entirely. Sure, there isn't much in the way of substance here, but I found the lack of plot or dramatics made for some great character work, and a fun hangout experience, even if I wouldn't want to be within ten miles of any of these people in real life.

 

Grade: A-

 

#87. The Package (1989)

 

 

For context: The Fugitive is one of my all-time favourite movies. Top ten for sure, probably top five. So when I watched this one - also directed by Andrew Davis - and found an unusual amount of overlap (right down to the use of the Hilton), I was immediately on board.

 

Like The Fugitive, The Package is taut and clever, consistently tense, brimming with chilly Chicago atmosphere, and even manages to make some room for an intriguing little mystery. These similarities probably aren't saying much for the former's originality, but both movies are so snappy and sharp and well-textured (and, of course, stylistically nostalgic to me) that they make for incredibly easy viewing.

 

Plus, it also has a number of strengths in its own right. There's an added tinge of paranoia to the story, which helps to tighten the screws and raise the stakes, and I like the relationship between Gene Hackman and Joanna Cassidy. It's somewhat rare to see a slightly older couple center this kind of thriller. And the smaller roles from Dennis Franz, Pam Grier, John Heard, and, yes, Tommy Lee Jones provide a lot of personality, even if the latter three aren't as present as I'd like.

 

Most people probably wouldn't consider this movie to be anything special, but I guess we've hit on one of those cases where I'm not most people. I thought it was suspenseful, absorbing, well-plotted, full of flavour (there's also a Christmas vibe here), and further evidence that Davis might be among my favourite action directors.

 

Grade: A

 

#86. Blood Feast (1963)

 

 

This is far and away the most amateur production I've covered so far, and it definitely shows. On a technical level, Blood Feast is a garbage can. The cinematography is point and shoot, the staging is like something out of a school play, the dialogue is horrendous, and the acting is legitimately some of the worst I've ever seen (you at home could do a better job than these people). And the result is a film that feels like porn without the sex.

 

But I guess that's to be expected, right? You don't go into a splatter movie looking for sharp writing and Oscar-worthy performances. No, you're here to see some shocking and creative kills, which this thing certainly has. Granted, these aren't the most convincing murder scenes ever filmed, but they're jarring and colourful and fleshy enough to get the job done, especially by 1963 standards.

 

Unfortunately, as you might guess, there aren't enough of them. Far too many of this movie's 67 minutes are consumed by long, boring, unbroken dialogue scenes, and they really kill the vibe. I try to be appreciative of works that genuinely push the envelope (especially when they can do so simply by being aggressively tasteless), but this is clearly an instance where the influence is far greater than the actual quality.

 

Grade: C+

 

#85. The Day of the Locust (1975)

 

 

We've seen plenty of movies about Hollywood being a cruel, disappointing facade that shatters dreams on a daily basis, but this particular take feels especially sardonic. In its best moments, The Day of the Locust is a dark, searing indictment of its setting and culture, with characters that are doomed to fail and a visual style that somehow manages to turn warm, sunny imagery into a nightmarish hellscape.

 

This "best", however, can be a little few and far between. Perhaps that was the intention, though - the movie definitely has a meandering vibe to it, alternating from one perspective to the next on a dime and including scenes that probably would've been cut from something more polished. These detours only occasionally work, and the result is a slightly sluggish middle hour, but they certainly drive home the gaudy and messy atmosphere that Schlesinger was no doubt shooting for.

 

And then we reach the climax, where the movie finally reaches the grotesque and operatic heights that it's been alluding to for the entire runtime. Celebrity worship is cleverly juxtaposed against brutal street violence, and the result is an apocalyptic riot, one that's rife with mass destruction and horrific imagery. It's excessive in a way that perfectly matches the overall tone and scale, and closes this bitter satire with an unusual sense of fulfillment.

 

Grade: B+

 

#84. Night Shift (1982)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

A.K.A. the other buddy movie from 1982 that introduced a soon-to-be A-lister to the movie world through some obnoxious a cappella.

 

Ron Howard's first major release is much sweeter in practice than it probably is in theory. When you consider both the audacious prostitution premise and the murderous opening scene, you'd be forgiven for expecting something with a much darker tone. But while Night Shift lacks danger and edge (though the location work provides some grit), it compensates with a great deal of warmth and humour.

 

Granted, this approach feels somewhat generic at times, but I think that's part of the appeal. Simple as it may sound, I like when '80s comedies emphasize lighthearted tones, likeable characters, crisp nighttime atmospheres, and montages set to goofy pop tracks. And while things occasionally get weighed down by gooey sentimentality and formulaic arcs, the snappy pacing and charismatic performances do more than enough work to keep the energy flowing.

 

Speaking of: if there's one reason to see this movie, it's obviously my guy Michael Keaton. He's probably more annoying here than he is charming, but his antics are still lively enough to make the situations seem funnier than they really are - especially when they're set against the more low-key (though perfectly pleasant) performances from Henry Winkler and Shelley Long.

 

Grade: B+

 

#83. I Care a Lot (2020)

 

I'm tempted to say that I hated this movie, but I think a more accurate statement would be that I didn't understand it, particularly from a rooting interest standpoint.

 

Like, was I actually supposed to care about any of these characters? Because it sure seems like that was the intention (there are too many sincere moments for any of this to work as satire), and, if it was, then I guess I'm just not seeing the appeal here. Marla and her partner are irredeemable in a way that I didn't find even remotely compelling or fun to watch, and the Russian mafia guys are so incompetent that their frequent failures genuinely started to irritate me after a while. I promise I'm not one of those people who needs to love and relate to every character in order to enjoy a story, but I'd sure like to feel something other than seething contempt every now and then, especially when the plot relies so heavily on conveniently botched hits.

 

And even when we put aside the character stuff, I found the comedic elements tired and unfunny, the crime elements dumb and unconvincing, and the attempts at female empowerment laughably misguided. This one might've stood an outside chance if Dianne Wiest was the lead (establishing some relatable stakes and giving the feminist message far more resonance), or if it leaned more heavily on the absurdity of it all. But, as it stands, I honestly think the whole thing's a confused, miserable, aggravating wash.

 

Grade: D+

#82. The Blackcoat's Daughter (2015)

 

 

This is one of those "acquired taste" horror movies, the kind that relies much more heavily on slow burn storytelling and unsettling atmospheres than outright scares. We've seen a lot of these in recent years, and there's always something slightly ostentatious about them, but they also generally manage to hook me in with their looming and haunting moods. 

 

Osgood Perkins, a director I'm entirely unfamiliar with (though I recognize him as the son of Anthony Perkins, and as that dorky student from Legally Blonde), clearly knows how to keep this material compelling. The way he lingers on cold, dark, shivery winter textures, the way he warps his narratives in order to maintain intrigue, the way he makes use of disquieting sound design - this guy's the real deal.

 

Mind you, the concept isn't that original, and the slower storytelling doesn't always succeed (once you make the connection between the two narratives, the movie takes a little too long to wrap everything up), but it's otherwise smart and patient in the ways that matter, while also being the kind of dread-drenched experience that makes you temporarily forget what joy feels like. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#81. The Sugarland Express (1974)

 

 

I've always been a pretty big fan of Duel, Spielberg's kinda sorta film debut (it's technically a TV movie, but it later got a theatrical release), so I was expecting to find some similar enjoyment in The Sugarland Express, his first outright feature, and another one centered around a lengthy car chase. Alas, that didn't happen.

 

Despite having an incredibly basic story, Duel ultimately works for me because I care about Dennis Weaver's character. I genuinely want to see him outwit the lunatic driving that semi-truck. In this one, however, I didn't find that same emotional connection (with any of these characters, honestly), so the stakes never really had a chance to set in. This, combined with a general lack of tension, caused the low-speed car chase to completely flatline for me after about forty minutes.

 

As spectacle goes, though, you can definitely tell that it was made by an enthusiastic up-and-comer. Those panoramic shots are incredibly cinematic, as is the sunrise/sunset aesthetic. And Hawn's certainly as likeable as ever. It's just a shame that my enjoyment doesn't run much deeper than that. This movie wants to combine the danger of Bonnie and Clyde with the energy of Smokey and the Bandit (yes, I know it came out before that one; you get what I'm saying), but I think it's too bland and detached to convincingly pull off either one.

 

Still, I think this Spielberg kid has a bright future in the movie business. Call it a hunch. 

 

Grade: C+

 

#80. Animal House (1978)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

The only time I had previously watched this movie was about fifteen years ago, back when I was in high school. And I fucking hated it. Like, I was never all that crazy about sophomoric teen comedies to begin with, but I found this one especially unfunny, mean-spirited, visually hideous, needlessly overlong, and a complete waste of its cast, namely Donald Sutherland. The viewing experience was honestly so negative that it genuinely caused me to question the collective taste of every man (particularly of my father's generation, including my own father) who viewed it as the apex of comedy.

 

Now that I've given it a second chance, though, I still largely feel that way (sorry, dad), but I can also understand the intention a lot more. This is a movie that wants to be ugly, dirty, and mean. It's basically a monument to bad taste. And, to that end, it's obviously successful. Beyond that, John Belushi's antics were actually somewhat amusing to me this time around, and there's a lot more creativity and energy on display than I remembered, all of which helped.

 

Give it a few more years, and I might fully come around to this one. But, for now, my feelings are mostly down the middle. And if there's one constant, it's that I still think there should've been more Sutherland.

 

Grade: B

#79. Desk Set (1957)

 

A.K.A. His Other Woman, as it's known in the U.K. (much better title, in my opinion). 

 

My experience with Tracy-Hepburn movies hadn't extended beyond Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (the final time they worked together), so I wanted to try a second one. I chose Desk Set, more or less at random, not realizing at the time that it was their second-to-last collaboration. Apparently, I'm destined to tackle their films in reverse order.

 

Anyway, I thought this one was an absolute delight. Beyond Tracy and Hepburn's obviously fantastic chemistry, the CinemaScope format really pops, the dialogue has charm and flavour, the women share a nice camaraderie, and it's even got a corporate setting, which is an absolute favourite of mine. There's something I find incredibly cozy about office sets in movies, and this is one of the comfiest ones I've ever seen. I could live in that reference library.

 

There's also a Christmas portion, which only adds to the overall joyfulness of it, and even the somewhat dated premise (though, in fairness, many people are still afraid of being replaced at their jobs by machines) creates a cute, era-specific atmosphere. The '50s sure knew how to churn out warm, bright, colourful romantic comedies, huh?

 

Grade: A

 

#78. Saludos Amigos (1942)

 

 

There are now over sixty entries in the Disney Animated Canon, and it's my goal to eventually get to all of them, so I figured it was time I finally knocked one out.

 

We're all familiar with the struggles Disney was facing in the '40s, and how they needed to resort to cheap package films during the war to stay afloat. Well, Saludos Amigos was the first of those "films" (it's only forty-two minutes long), and it mostly exists as both a tax write-off and a government-funded piece of propaganda aimed at Latin American goodwill.

 

And, uh, you can tell. This barely feels like a completed movie, especially relative to Walt's first five features. But I guess that's the thing: you can't really compare it to Snow White or Pinocchio, because it couldn't afford to aim that high. In other words, you have to judge it on a bit of a curve. And, to that end, I suppose I can still appreciate the cute animation and well-intentioned attempts at integrating some culture, even if it's all quite dry and unengaging and inessential. 

 

Suffice it to say, had this movie been made by any other company, it probably would've been completely forgotten by now.

 

Grade: C+

 

#77. The Black Pirate (1926)

 

 

Figured it was about time I gave another silent film a shot. Unfortunately, the results were about the same.

 

I mean, there's a lot to admire about The Black Pirate. The two-strip Technicolor process really holds up (and it gives the movie a certain immediacy that might've been lacking in a black & white format), the sets, ships, and costumes look exactly how you'd want them to, and the stunts continue to impress - especially on the occasions where Douglas Fairbanks effortlessly flies around from one end of the ship to the other.

 

Once again, though, the story and pacing didn't really do it for me. And I'm fully willing to admit that my modern attention span is likely the culprit (either that or the fact that the movie had such an influence on swashbucklers that it feels kinda cliche now). The first twenty minutes and last twenty minutes are pretty fun, as is the scene where Fairbanks single-handedly takes over that other ship, but I thought everything in between felt kinda sluggish and repetitive.

 

Ah well. I'm still holding out hope that a few of these early movies will eventually be to my liking - and not just in an "appreciation" kind of way.

 

Grade: B

 

#76. The Edge (1997)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1-2, though I don't think I'd seen the entire thing from beginning to end before now.

 

The Edge belongs to possibly my all-time favourite quasi-genre: the '90s studio thriller. These movies are silly (compliment), disposable (another compliment), and stylistically nostalgic to me. They're like my form of cinematic comfort food, and I have a soft spot for almost all of them - particularly the ones I've long been familiar with.

 

Even putting all that aside, though, this movie's got some genuine muscle. It has stunning views, suspenseful action set pieces, and a sense of arduousness to it (by the end, these guys look legitimately battered and worn). Despite the pulpy and somewhat heightened presentation, it all feels real, which I guess is bound to happen when you use an actual bear in your production. Bart's the true MVP here.

 

Also making a difference are the humans involved. David Mamet's script injects some predictably sharp dialogue (with more than a few amusing anecdotes), and Alec Baldwin and Anthony Hopkins manage to create some compelling and ambiguous chemistry with one another. This isn't some hidden masterpiece or anything, but I think it's a lot more beautiful, heart-pounding, and entertaining than its reputation often suggests.

 

Grade: A-

 

#75. Heart of Glass (1976)

 

Legend has it that, in order to get the desired effect for this movie's atmosphere, Werner Herzog had almost all of his actors perform under hypnosis. I don't know if I necessarily believe that rumor (though I suppose you could say that about most stories involving Herzog), but it sure seems credible while you're watching it.

 

This one is strange. From the very beginning, you can sense the distinctly unsettling tone, and that tone persists for the entire duration. With the possible exception of the seer character (played by the one actor who purportedly wasn't hypnotized, which lends further credence to that story), everyone comes off like a drugged, twitchy lunatic. It's eerie, to say the least, and this feeling is only amplified by the movie's dim lighting, quiet scoring, and noticeable lack of movement.

 

Granted, it's a bit of a challenging watch. The story moves at a snail's pace, there's absolutely zero plot, and it took me about twenty minutes to figure out what the hell was even going on. It's all a little tedious and one-note for my liking (I was at my most engaged during the glass-forging scenes, which is probably saying something), but that note is creepy and foreboding enough that I was usually interested in seeing where it was all headed - and whether the seer was actually correct in his predictions.

 

Grade: B

 

#74. Pacific Rim (2013)

 

Guillermo del Toro makes action movies with the energy of a ten-year-old boy - and I mostly mean that as a compliment. Like, even when the results aren't to my taste, his enthusiasm is so palpable, and his artistry is of strong enough quality, that there's something infectious about it.

 

Take Pacific Rim, possibly his dumbest movie to date. The dialogue and characterizations and arcs are about as elementary as they come, and the premise is literally Robots vs. Aliens. I won't pretend that it's is my preferred brand of action, but I place this one above, say, a Transformers sequel thanks to its visual quality. And I'm not referring to the battle sequences (they're mostly bland and muddy), but the dialogue scenes, which contain enough stylistic weirdness and bioluminescent beauty to frequently remind you that an actual filmmaker was in control here.

 

It also helps that del Toro keeps everything relatively simple and dynamic, and his understanding of things like pacing and focus allows the rest of us to actually follow - and moderately care about - what's going on.

 

Grade: B

 

#73. The Big Blue (1988)

 

This movie's probably too much. It's almost three hours long, it's overblown, it's melodramatic, it's cheesy and sentimental as hell, and it contains zero subtlety. But I tend to be a sucker for those adolescent qualities, especially when they're drenched in atmosphere and nostalgia, so I was generally able to go along with it.

 

As you'd expect, the strongest sequences in The Big Blue are the ocean-related ones. This movie really captures the wonder and terrifying beauty of that mystical place, with nature doc-worthy photography and a portrayal reverent enough to put James Cameron to shame. And while the human element's not quite as strong (though maybe that's the idea; Jacques is clearly only happy when he's underwater or engaging with dolphins), I like the friendly rivalry between the two male leads, and Arquette and Reno give fairly affable performances, over-the-top as they are.

 

Is this movie as deep or complex as the setting its depicting? Not especially. But there's a hypnotic and cartoonish quality to it that I nevertheless found mesmerizing.

 

Grade: B+ 

 

#72. 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag (1997)

 

Yeah, I'm aware that this one has always had an absolutely abysmal reputation, but it's got too many of my cinematic vices (a crime story, some dark comedy, and Joe Pesci, to name three) for me not to have been a little curious. And it's probably thanks to those vices that I didn't hate the movie as much as most people seem to.

 

Granted, that's not to say that I liked it. The movie never quite manages to live up to its amusingly gruesome premise, the plot's too convoluted, a lot of the comedy doesn't land (especially the more exaggerated moments, which fly in the face of the darker subject matter), and Andy Comeau is just terrible as the co-lead. No offense to the guy, but pretty much anybody else would've been better suited for that role.

 

Again, though, the crime-comedy elements were generally my speed, especially when the movie wasn't afraid to get a little weird and macabre (the two best examples being the "Mr. Sandman" dream sequence and the instance where an obnoxious character suddenly gets thrown from a vehicle off a cliff). I'm verging on calling this one underrated, but that's not necessarily a hill I'd be willing to die on.

 

Grade: B-

 

#71. Trap (2024)

 

 

Ever since the mid-2000s, when his credibility somersaulted off a cliff, M. Night Shyamalan has settled into something of a B-movie career. Credit to him for knowing his lane, and for remaining an auteur in the meantime, but I feel like this course-correction has resulted in some people giving him way too much slack in the effort department.

 

Trap has the usual Shyamalan trappings (no pun intended) of alien performances and dialogue that makes you question whether the man has ever had a normal conversation in his entire life, but we like those qualities. They're what make him Shyamalan. What I don't like is how lazy his writing has gotten. This script feels like a first draft, switching from one protagonist to the next seemingly at random, and ultimately playing out as though he had no idea where any of it actually leads. Plus, all the police stuff is downright idiotic.

 

Unlike the worst that this director has to offer, though, the movie's not gratingly smug or self-serious. The first half is actually pretty funny, and funny in a way that feels a lot more intentional than, say, The Happening. I think a lot of that has to do with Hartnett's performance. The more this guy tries to be on-the-level, the more he comes off like a serial killer. 

 

Grade: B-

 

#70. Born on the Fourth of July (1989)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1 

 

Oliver Stone's greatest strength is also arguably his greatest weakness, and that's that his movies are so passionate that they tend to come off as preachy and overblown. But while this is undeniably true of Born on the Fourth of July, it's also so committed and vulnerable and openly satirical that it actually feels somewhat refreshing in today's landscape.

 

Unlike a lot of biopics, especially in recent years, this movie opts to depict its subject with unapologetic frankness. You can tell that Stone cares about Ron Kovic, but he also doesn't shy away from the initial naivete, nor the eventual depravity. This is a stark and comprehensive portrait of a man who, like many, was seduced and then abandoned by an American myth, and Tom Cruise goes all out (even by Tom Cruise standards) in attempting to capture him.

 

Also unlike a lot of biopics, Stone keeps this one fresh and interesting through some subversive tonal storytelling. The opening act is pure Norman Rockwell Americana, with a presentation so idealistic and over-the-top that the sudden, almost Lynchian change in mood feels all the more horrific.

 

Grade: A

 

#69. The French Dispatch (2021)

 

A.K.A. The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun 

 

You always know a Wes Anderson movie when you see one. And while you could certainly argue that his quirky and artificial visual palette has grown slightly stale over the years, and that he never really branches out or challenges himself, I at least appreciate that the man has a unique voice and a trademark style. It's what allows me to get sucked into his worlds, even when I'm not particularly interested in what they have to say. 

 

Such is the case with The French Dispatch (I'm not typing out that entire title again). After Isle of Dogs, it's perhaps the least invested I've ever been in any of his narratives, and the writing here is so verbose relative to what's actually being said that Anderson's verging even closer to self-important territory, yet I still found myself being taken by the framing, the casting, the amusing subtitles, and the sparing use of colour. Once again, that goddamn aesthetic won me over.

 

The anthology structuring is also pretty cute. It makes for a slightly uneven result (the first story tickled me, the second one very much didn't, and the third fell somewhere in between), and doesn't leave much room for emotional involvement, but I think it fits Anderson's dollhouse vibe remarkably well.

 

Grade: B+

 

#68. Electric Dreams (1984)

 

 

As a story, Electric Dreams isn't particularly interesting. I mean, there's a certain innocence to the movie that's kinda sweet, and I guess the A.I. stuff has held up pretty well, but I didn't really care about the two protagonists, nor their relationship, nor the fact that this self-aware computer was constantly trying to thwart them. It's all oddly lackluster given the subject matter, which isn't helped by the soft direction, weak comedy, and obvious ADR work.

 

But, man, those brief musical interludes come oh so close to making the whole thing worth it to me. There's a healthy portion of them, usually set to the two leads going on dates or whatever, and they really capture that charming, MTV-style '80s aesthetic that we all love so much. These scenes aren't anywhere near as deep as all the attempts at technological commentary, but they're the only moments where the movie actually springs to life.

 

Frankly, if the whole thing came at all close to capturing the pure bliss of that ending montage, where everyone dances to "Together in Electric Dreams" by Phil Oakey and Georgio Moroder (fantastic song, by the way), we almost certainly would've had a winner here.

 

Grade: B-

 

P.S. Lenny Von Dohlen will always be Jernigan from Home Alone 3 to me, so seeing a remote control car in the opening scene made me laugh.