#256. Life is Sweet (1990)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#255. The Little Prince (1974)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A-

 

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

 

#254. The Cooler (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A

 

#253. La Strada (1954)

 

A.K.A. The Road

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A

 

#252. The Morning After (1986)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#251. The Butterfly Effect (2004)

 

 

Version: Director's Cut

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#250. Young Adult (2011)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#249. Mank (2020)

 

 

Something like Mank should've been a slam dunk for me. Even when you put aside my being a fan of David Fincher (and, to a lesser extent, Gary Oldman), I'm fond of Citizen Kane, I usually like movies about movies, and I'm always interested to learn more about Hollywood in the '30s and '40s. But while I wouldn't call this one a misfire, I can't say it left much of an impression, either. 

 

Well, certain elements kinda did. The script has its share of interesting exchanges (though the snippy dialogue quickly wears out its welcome), the actors largely elevate the material, and while Fincher's direction doesn't exactly evoke the era, the visuals still pop. But I guess my problem is that, beneath this technical stuff, the movie just seemed kind of empty to me. I didn't find any of the characters or conflicts super compelling, and I was never all that curious to see where the story was headed.

 

Worst of all is the structuring. I mean, I get why it's here: the nonlinear storytelling is obviously a nod to Kane. But Orson and/or Herman employed this technique to develop their characters and cloud the central mystery, whereas the usage of it here really only serves to create that much more of an emotional disconnect. The result may not be Fincher's worst movie, but it's almost certainly his least noteworthy one.

 

Grade: B-

 

#248. Timecop (1994)

 

 

When you watch the opening scene of this movie, in which a time traveler with futuristic weapons kills five Confederate soldiers and steals their gold, you can't help but feel as though the rest of the script kinda wastes its no-limits premise. Unfortunate as it is, if you're here to see some fights between major historical figures and cops from the future, you're gong to be extremely disappointed.

 

But that's when you need to remember that this is a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. Like, with all due respect, the ceiling was only ever going to be so high. And, once you adjust your expectations accordingly, I think there's a lot to enjoy here. The story, while not nearly as playfully batshit as it could've been, is still creative and well-structured, the presentation is appropriately lean and grimy, and the supporting cast brings a decent amount of flavour and charisma.

 

Plus, there's the aspect that's always the best part of these sci-fi/action movies, and that's all the futurism/time travel stuff. Even if it predictably results in a thousand plot holes, it gives us some charming sets and designs (I especially love how wrong they were about what cars would look like in 2004), and it ensures a fast pace, which, along with JCVD's patented kicks & splits routine, keeps the action fun and engaging.

 

Grade: B+

 

#247. Disraeli (1929)

 

 

This is officially the oldest talkie I've ever seen (I seriously need to get around to watching The Jazz Singer at some point), and I think I'm beginning to understand why the technological advancement was initially met with some pushback. Like, as cool and charming as it is to hear spoken dialogue in a movie this old, the limitations regarding audio recording result in a very static presentation, with awkward blocking and a motionless camera.

 

Similarly, the storytelling's fairly primitive and formulaic, but at least this aspect was slightly less dry than I was expecting. Well, okay, the premise, about a prime minister's attempt to purchase the Suez Canal, didn't exactly have my heart racing, but there was enough of a strategy component (like Disraeli feigning an illness in order to trap a spy, or bluffing so that he could get a banker to sign a paper) that I remained at least somewhat invested in the plot.

 

Also keeping me invested was George Arliss, and not just because of the ridiculous haircut (was that thing painted on?). His performance may be hammy and over the top, but there's a playful mischievousness about him that both endeared me to the character and provided some much-needed energy and levity. If there's a reason to recommend this one to all the Best Picture nominee completionists out there, it's easily him.

 

Grade: B

#246. Stand and Deliver (1988)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Saw this one, predictably enough, in our middle school gym during an assembly. I can still recall our principal (and this is my lone memory of the guy) accidentally introducing it as Stand by Me and everybody being audibly disappointed when another faculty member corrected him.

 

That initial feeling mostly ceased by the time the movie got going, though. Stand and Deliver may be a fairly formulaic bit of academic schmaltz (I do give it credit, however, for hopping on that trend relatively early), but there's a reason why every school on the planet has it in their rotation: it's educational, it's inspirational, and it gives kids an underdog tale that they can relate to. Our group absolutely ate it up. 

 

Watching the movie again as an adult, it's clear that certain aspects of the story are total fiction (no way are a group of teens, regardless of their background, making that kind of educational jump in under a year), and the storytelling's sometimes a bit rushed and messy, but the feel-good presentation, as well as the committed performances from Edward James Olmos and Lou Diamond Phillips, are typically enough to overcome those defects. That's the stuff that left an impression when I was thirteen, and it's the stuff that still works on me now.

 

I do wish it got me to actually care about calculus, though. But I guess that's more of a me problem. 

 

Grade: B+

#245. Appaloosa (2008)

 

 

Appaloosa? Wasn't that the name of the woman from Purple Rain?

 

It's easy to see why this one didn't make bank. 2008 was a year of fast and fun blockbusters, so casual audiences likely weren't interested to see a slow, atmospheric throwback western. I know that's how I felt at the time. But now that I've developed a greater appreciation for westerns (and slower stuff in general), I can say I enjoyed it more than I probably would've as a fifteen-year-old.

 

No, the movie doesn't contribute much to its genre, and no, it doesn't quite have my preferred texture (there's something crisp and clean about the sets and cinematography that scans as false to me), but I think it otherwise generally pulls off the modest goals it sets for itself. The scenery's vast, the conflicts sizzle, and the violence comes fast and lethal, which makes up for the lack of visual legitimacy.

 

And while a few of the performances don't entirely work for me (Jeremy Irons is uncharacteristically benign, and Renée Zellweger looks a bit out of place), the central dynamic between Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen provides the necessary charisma. I was already aware that these guys had solid chemistry thanks to A History of Violence, but they're finally given the opportunity to shine as a pair here, and they make for a compelling, and cool, tandem.

 

Grade: B

#244. The Conjuring (2013)

 

 

Haunted house movies have never ranked very high on my list of horror subgenres (mainly because I don't believe in ghosts), but I can still find them effective if they keep things simple and sincere. And that's why something like The Conjuring works for me: it doesn't subvert a single trope, but it commits so hard to the material and atmosphere that the scares feel earned.

 

Sure, this means a lot of scenes where characters investigate strange noises and occurrences, but James Wan's direction is subtle and restrained enough to pull these moments off. Plus, they're generally restricted to the first half. Once the demonologists arrive, the approach becomes hands-on and investigative, with a team dynamic at play, both of which made the story much more enjoyable and compelling to me.

 

Also, you have no idea how relieved I was to see that the conflict was almost never interpersonal. So often in these movies, we get way too many scenes where characters either don't believe each other, or start behaving differently and no one catches on, and it's just nice to see one take the level-headed route. Makes for a more satisfying watch, and it also causes me to actually want the best for these characters, which inherently raises the stakes.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. I spent most the movie waiting to see Patrick Wilson notice that Darth Maul-looking guy in the mirror, only to remember near the end that this happens in Insidious.

 

#243. They Drive by Night (1940)

 

 

A.K.A. The Road to Frisco

 

Bit of an interesting structure to this one. The opening half is centered around two brothers who transport goods across the country, avoid loan sharks, and try to work on their home lives. But then, a good chunk of the way through, we're suddenly introduced to a trucking business owner and his wife, the latter of whom basically becomes the main character once she decides to go after one of the brothers. 

 

Much like this wife character, the movie is arguably guilty of wanting to have its cake and eat it too. The pair of storylines don't have a whole lot in common on a character or thematic level (though I guess they both reflect the dangers of this lifestyle), the tone is kind of all over the place, and certain aspects of the story - particularly Bogart's subplot - fall a bit by the wayside.

 

In all honesty, though, I don't really consider this stuff to be actively detrimental. On the contrary, I actually think they keep the energy fresh, the pacing lively, and the plot unpredictable. And between the sharp writing, Raoul Walsh's solid workmanship, and Ida Lupino's compellingly maniacal performance, the movie not only manages to maintain its momentum, but kicks into an even higher gear once we reach the third act.

 

Grade: A-

#242. Good Will Hunting (1997)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

I had extremely fraught feelings on this one the first time I saw it. The smooth storytelling, powerful acting, and general schmaltziness mostly appealed to me, but I simply couldn't stand the main character, whose insufferably smug attitude irritated me to the point where I genuinely struggled to watch him, let alone root for him.

 

After a second viewing, I can definitely see why I felt that way (the scene with the Michael Bolton guy is such power fantasy horseshit that it still makes me cringe), but I was more appreciative of Will's arc this time around. The opening collection of vignettes does some great work to subtly establish his psychological and intellectual complexities, and the fact that everyone around him responds so differently to his behaviour helps to explain his questionable choices. I still don't know if I like the guy, but I think I at least understand him a bit better now.

 

And besides, it's hard for me to remain annoyed when every other element has this much warmth to it. Damon and Affleck's writing remains emotionally authentic despite some overwrought dramatics, both Williams and Skarsgård elevate the story's resonance via their maturity and weariness, and Gus Van Sant captures the bittersweet tone with a keen sense of melancholy (even if using Elliot Smith is kind of a cheat code). Put it all together, and you've basically got the cinematic equivalent of a warm hug.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. I don't think I ever noticed just how short Robin Williams was before now. Speaks to his force of personality, I guess.

#241. Southland Tales (2006)

 

 

If I were to rank every movie I've reviewed based solely on how weird they are, Southland Tales would easily win out. I don't even know what second place would be (Bubba Ho-Tep? Vanilla Sky? Bugonia?), but, whatever it is, it wouldn't come especially close.

 

Like, at least those other movies are mostly coherent. This one's so vague and impenetrable that it often borders on becoming unwatchable. Combine that with the smug satire and the self-important writing, and I can understand why it's also one of the more divisive movies I've seen thus far. Honestly, there were many moments, especially in the opening hour, where I came close to dismissing the whole thing as a pretentious waste of time.

 

And yet, I dunno, something about the bizarro presentation started to click with me after a while. That's not to say that the movie suddenly becomes great or anything, but more that I simply had no choice but to respect the sheer madness, ambition, creativity, and moderately prophetic commentary on display. By the time Justin Timberlake began lip syncing to The Killers, I was just like "Okay, Richard. You win."

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. One thing I unambiguously appreciate is the against-type casting. If you think The Rock, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Seann William Scott, and Jon Lovitz are one-dimensional actors... you're probably right, but at least we're seeing them attempt something different here.

 

#240. Big Hero 6 (2014)

 

 

Despite my enduring affection for animated Disney movies, I haven't exactly done a stellar job of keeping up with the new releases. In the last twenty years, the only ones I'd seen were Wreck-It Ralph and Frozen, so I thought it was about time I got around to another one. And I settled on Big Hero 6, mainly because the big, fluffy robot always looked so adorable to me.

 

Now that I've watched it: yeah, he absolutely is adorable. I'd almost certainly die for Baymax if I had one in real life. But he's not the only draw here. The story's also really sweet and likeable (even if the message is a bit overstated in the early goings), and the visual aesthetics are extremely crisp and clean. I especially love how fluid everything is, as well as the colourful, futuristic setting that combines elements of Tokyo and San Francisco.

 

Granted, I'm still writing this in the midst of my superhero fatigue, so a few of the action sequences caused me to slightly disengage, but I enjoyed the animation, meta humour, and cute character dynamics enough to have an extremely fun time. Plus, this is the first movie on the blog that made me cry (damn you, Disney), so I can't pretend that the emotional aspects - no matter how manipulative - didn't work on me.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. If there's one major minus here, it's gotta be the villain. Dude might genuinely be in the running for least interesting Disney baddie, right up there with the governor from Pocahontas.

 

Five Frames

 

Part 1: On with the show, this is it

 

#239. Something Wild (1986)

 

 

For roughly the first forty-five minutes of this movie, I was having a decent enough time. I liked the rom-com premise, the charming chemistry between Jeff Daniels and Melanie Griffith, and the impulsive spirit, but the experience as a whole wasn't exactly rocking my world, either, and there were moments where I found myself thinking that both the script and the jokes were starting to wear a bit thin.

 

Then Ray Liotta showed up.

 

The second this dude appears on screen, everything shifts. The mood immediately becomes dark and dangerous, the stakes increase exponentially, and I suddenly found myself far more invested in the plot. Even if this change is only here to add some fresh conflict, I was thrilled to go along with it, and I think the fact that Liotta pulled it off while still fitting the manic tone really speaks to his abilities as an actor. 

 

It also, of course, speaks to Jonathan Demme's abilities as a filmmaker. His fearless approach is so consistently energetic and eccentric that I think the moods blend pretty seamlessly. Plus, I'm just a sucker for sudden-yet-smooth left turns in general, and I like my comedies on the darker side to begin with, so I guess it was an easy sell in my case. Makes the journey that much quirkier, that much scarier, and, ultimately, that much more romantic.

 

Grade: A

#238. The War of the Worlds (1953)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Let's start with the positive: this is probably the most visually stunning sci-fi movie to come out of the '50s. The use of Technicolor brings a lot of beauty and legitimacy to the concept, and it causes these already impressive effects (the ships, the creatures, the death rays, and the explosions all look amazing) to pop that much more.

 

Unfortunately, as predictable as this may sound, the human stuff is where the movie continues to lose me. While the sheer volume of destruction is enough to provide some adequate stakes, and the tight nature of the script mostly keeps things from getting too draggy, the characters are simply vacuums of personality (which isn't exactly helped by the performances), and it quickly causes me to disengage with what should be a fun story.

 

Similarly, the resolution's a total letdown (I can still recall laughing out loud the first time I saw it), but it mostly gels with the hokiness at play, while also wrapping things up fairly tidily, so I won't complain about that one. Instead, I'll say that, despite the bulk of this thing being a bit silly and dated for my liking, I can at least respect how influential the technical and genre components have proven to be.

 

Grade: B-