#237. Kwaidan (1964)

 

 

A.K.A. Ghost Stories

 

About halfway through this movie, I was convinced that I was going to give it an A+. Like, just the concept of a horror anthology made out of four folklore tales was enough to immediately win my affection, and then both "The Black Hair" and "The Woman of the Snow" absolutely floored me with their slow-yet-mesmerizing pace, eerie moods, and heightened, artificial backdrops.

 

Unfortunately, the final two stories bring it from "all-time masterpiece" to merely "extremely great" for me. I thought "Hoichi the Earless" lacked the colour and rhythm of the first two, and "In a Cup of Tea" lacked the weight. They're both decent segments in their own right, but I think it might've been a wise choice to subtract twenty minutes from the former and add twenty minutes to the latter.

 

Regardless, though, it's quite the accomplishment. Between the subject matter, the style, the scarce dialogue, and the slightly off-kilter movements, the whole thing feels like a weird dream. And the scope and imagery are just wonderful. Maybe I'll eventually come around to those last two stories, but, even if I don't, I can already tell that the first two are going to be more than enough to bring me back.

 

Grade: A

 

#230. Sweet Charity (1969)

 

 

Bob Fosse always had a unique knack for combining colourful imagery and energetic characters with sleazy settings and dark subject matter. It's a bittersweet aesthetic that he perfected in the '70s with films like Cabaret and All That Jazz, but you can definitely see it starting to come together in Sweet Charity, which manages to make 1969 New York City look like both an idealistic wonderland and a soul-crushing hellscape.

 

It's also quite camp, with some countercultural spirit and avant-garde filmmaking techniques to keep things fresh and creative. And while the musical elements usually have a pretty tenuous connection to the actual narrative (causing certain scenes to feel like filler), and the bizarre editing choices only occasionally land, Fosse channels enough passion and temporary catharsis into the choreography and overall atmosphere that the emotions largely remain consistent.

 

Also keeping the tone in place is Shirley MacLaine, who, on top of giving a great performance, brings such an effervescent joy and light to every single scene. It makes the songs that much more endearing (to the point where you don't really care that next-to-nothing is actually happening), the character that much easier to root for, and her arc that much more effective. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#226. Purple Noon (1960)

 

 

A.K.A. Plein Soleil, Delitto in pieno sole, Full Sun, Blazing Sun, Lust for Evil, and Talented Mr. Ripley. This thing has more titles than Michael Jordan.

 

Any time I discover another version of a movie that I'm familiar with, I can't help but compare the two, which I know is unfair. Like, sure, when I pit Purple Noon against The Talented Mr. Ripley, it comes up a bit short (primarily because the opening skips over a lot of important character details, and because the ending is a total Hays-era copout), but, on its own terms, I still think it's an entirely absorbing thriller.

 

For one, I continue to find the Ripley character endlessly fascinating. It's always compelling to see a psychopath do their thing (some of the creepiest moments are the ones where he's practicing being someone else), and Alain Delon brings enough shadiness to keep the guy from becoming likeable or relatable, while also providing the necessary charm to make his lack of consequences believable.

 

He also ties into the overwhelming array of beauty on display here. Between the gorgeous leads, the crisp cinematography (which looks seven or eight years ahead of its time), the sun-soaked scenery, and the smooth, romantic pacing, the movie's got such a cool and classy vibe to it, and it causes the crime stuff to feel that much more striking and jarring.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. On the topic of matching identities, I can now see why Jude Law was chosen for the remake. He has the exact same features as Maurice Ronet.

 

#210. BUtterfield 8 (1960)

 

 

Another movie from the early '60s that clearly wanted to be riskier than it was actually allowed to be, BUtterfield 8 (that capital U will never not look like a typo to me) is only kept afloat thanks to the Oscar-winning turn from Elizabeth Taylor. This isn't exactly her best work, but she brings a great mix of grace and vulgarity to the role, with enough subtle complexities beneath the surface to keep her character compelling.

 

Otherwise, though, I can't find too many reasons to recommend this one. The presentation's pretty turgid, the dialogue's mostly soapy and artificial, the character dynamics aren't very interesting, the tone is dour in a way that feels tedious and mean-spirited, and the other performances are so unnoteworthy that they all but fade into the background. The production design's visually appealing, I guess, and I enjoyed some of the quieter moments (like the opening scene), but the bulk of it generally left me waiting for something interesting to finally happen.

 

The upside, though, is that it eventually does. Whether or not this direction works is another thing entirely (it certainly doesn't land on an emotional level), but I really have no choice but to respect how audacious it is, especially relative to everything that came before.

 

Grade: C+

 

#194. Bon Voyage! (1962)

 

 

Over the last few weeks, I'd been toying with the idea of watching every single live-action Disney movie (of which there are currently over 300), much in the same way that I'm planning on seeing their entire animated catalogue. But while the latter still seems like a reasonable challenge to me, wading my way through Bon Voyage! has almost single-handedly killed my interest in the former.

 

Like, did this seriously pass as children's entertainment back in the '60s? Was the landscape really so barren for kids at the time that they were willing to endure 130 minutes of empty hijinks and forced family values? 'Cause I truly can't imagine a single person, young or old, watching this movie for the first time today and not being at least somewhat bored. It's aimless, it's tedious, it's overlong, it's full of frustrating conflicts, and it's tepid at best on a comedy level.

 

Granted, the travelogue element is pretty pleasant, and I guess I should give Fred MacMurray credit for trying to liven the material up a bit (even if his performance isn't all that funny or dynamic), but I found nearly everything else to be a chore. And I can't say that it's left me especially eager to get to The Shaggy Dog or The Absent-Minded Professor any time soon.

 

Grade: C

 

#186. The Birds (1963)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Surely, this script, about birds that suddenly lose their minds and start terrorizing a small town for seemingly no reason, is the silliest one Hitchcock ever attached himself to, right? Like, it's the kind of concept that probably should've led to an all-time disaster (a la Birdemic), or at least been remembered as little more than a bizarre curiosity.

 

But The Birds isn't a bizarre curiosity, and that's because it's in such seasoned and capable hands. Hitch combines mysterious atmospherics, clever set pieces, and that patented mastery of suspense (a good example: his decision to rely on realistic sound design instead of a conventional score) to lend a world of credibility to this premise. And the result is one of the most vicious films of his career.

 

Here's how you know it's a genuine winner, though: even if you were to remove every single bird, you'd still be left with a compelling, cozy (there's a lot of lighthearted rom-com energy here, and I just love that quiet coastal setting), and slightly deranged movie about sexual longing and familial relationships. The character drama is as compelling and effective as the horror elements, which makes the eventual bird attacks feel seamless as far as tone, conflict, and overall consistency go.

 

Now, does it ever actually add up to anything? I'm honestly not sure (though the lack of answers/closure definitely contributes to the eerie effect), but, either way, I enjoyed this rewatch enough to place the movie just outside of its director's top tier.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. The surviving members of that town should count themselves lucky that geese weren't involved. Take it from a Canadian: those fuckers are ruthless.

 

#169. Valley of the Dolls (1967)

 

 

To my eternal dismay, I tend to like camp more in theory than in practice. On paper, something like Valley of the Dolls sounds fun and lively and colourful (and I'll agree that the pastel sets and hammy performances do manage to provide some charm), but, as an actual viewing experience, I mostly just found the movie unpleasant and dull.

 

Those seem like preposterous adjectives given the subject matter and overall presentation, but I guess my problem is that the whole thing quickly gets bogged down by tedious pacing and coarse conflicts, both of which really kill the vibe. And it probably doesn't help that the structure's as loose as it is (especially since these three women barely appear to know each other), or that we never settle on a consistent tone.

 

Still, the energy does pick up every now and again (thanks mainly to the wonderfully miscast Patty Duke, whose cringy-yet-endearing performance keeps things from totally flatlining), and I can usually sense some melancholy underneath the kitsch, which lends a lot of much-needed weight. This isn't an awful movie, necessarily, but I'd argue that it ultimately suffers from being stuck in something of a no man's land: too dark to be fun, and too silly to be resonant. 

 

Grade: C+

#158. The Red Light Bandit (1968)

 

 

A.K.A. O Bandido da Luz Verlemha

 

I never know whether to use the English title or the one from the country of origin when it comes to these foreign-language movies. Is there a system I need to know about? Or should I just keep going with whatever Wikipedia and Letterboxd use?

 

Anyway, The Red Light Bandit, as I'm choosing to call it, is the first Brazilian (and I'm pretty sure the first South American) film I've ever seen, so I don't have a strong handle on the underground movement it was experiencing at the time. But I will say that, as an outsider, it reminds me a lot of the French New Wave, for better and for worse.

 

On the positive side, I appreciate how uninhibited and radical the movie is, with its scrappy energy, provocative commentary (I'm especially partial to those sensationalist narrators), and general emphasis on bad taste. But, on the flip side, it's also mopey and self-satisfied in the way that a lot of New Wave movies are often accused of being, with a wandering narrative approach that, while unique and expressive, tends to get in the way of the simple, character-driven premise.

 

Speaking of, my favourite portion of the movie was the opening half hour, which manages to combine young rebellion, reckless crime, dark humour, and Beethoven's 5th in a way that feels like a proto-Clockwork Orange.

 

Grade: B

 

#151. The Fortune Cookie (1966)

 

 

A.K.A. Meet Whiplash Willie

 

You gotta respect any black & white movie that makes a direct verbal reference to Technicolor.

 

It makes sense, though. The Fortune Cookie is so sleazy and cynical (featuring a pushover, a shyster, a floozy, and a drunk as its four main characters) that it knows it doesn't deserve a colour palette. And yet, because the writing is so sharp, and because the cast is so energetic and compelling, the whole thing kept me entertained and laughing throughout.

 

Obviously, Jack Lemmon is great in this kind of role, but the true revelation here would've been Walter Matthau, who deservedly won an Oscar (and not of the Madison variety) for bringing this sly, slimy, fast-talking ambulance chaser to life. It's a wonderful performance in its own right, but it also made for some undeniable chemistry, kicking off a quasi-partnership that lasted for decades.

 

Even putting the two leads aside, though, I thoroughly enjoyed this one. The flawed-yet-endearing characters really appealed to me, as did the totally unnecessary chapter breaks, as did the gentle use of drama (which provides some Apartment-style heart and purpose). We may not be dealing with top-tier Wilder here, but I think we're actually pretty damn close.

 

Grade: A

 

#143. Yojimbo (1961)

 

 

A.K.A. The Bodyguard

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Of the handful of Akira Kurosawa movies I've seen, this one's probably my least favourite, but that doesn't mean that I don't still think it's pretty great. 

 

Like, you did hear me say the words "Akira Kurosawa", right? Of course the movie's pretty great. Not really sure what else there is to say. I guess I'll add that, especially relative to the other acclaimed filmmakers from around this time, the guy's work tends to hold up from an entertainment perspective. I personally don't think Yojimbo is quite as consistently engaging as his best material (the second quarter kinda drags for me), but it's still tense and exciting in all the ways you'd want from a renowned action-thriller, while also being goofy enough to make for a passable comedy.

 

This is also just a great premise. When you see these two competing crime lords fight for the town's supremacy, you're not only inherently compelled by the conflict, but you immediately find yourself on the side of this loner who wants to wipe both of them out. And it sure doesn't hurt that the loner is played by Toshiro Mifune, who has more aura than pretty much any actor in the history of film.

 

So, yeah, just to restate the obvious: great performances, great compositions, great cinematography, and great uses of movement. It's really not hard to see why everyone's still borrowing from these guys over sixty years later.

 

Grade: A-

 

#119. The Whip and the Body (1963)

 

 

A.K.A. What! (its ridiculous United States release title) and Night is the Phantom (its much more understandable United Kingdom release title). 

 

It's hard to care about a movie's flaws when the aesthetics are this good.

 

Not only is The Whip and the Body a stylistic masterwork, complete with sumptuous sets, gorgeous lighting, vivid colours, a lush score (even if that main theme is probably repeated once too often), and some thick, heavy atmosphere, but it's also a mix of some of my favourite horror subgenres. The movie's a ghost story, a whodunit, and a gothic romance rolled into one.

 

I mean, when all those ingredients are on the table, on top of a fun Christopher Lee performance (though I think Daliah Lavi is the real standout here), I can forgive some awkward emoting and an occasionally meandering pace. Hell, even the ending is exactly what I was anticipating it to be, but I think the whole thing plays out with such hypnotic visual mystery, and utilizes such a fiery blend of strong emotions (which hits especially hard in this Italian soap opera setting), that I simply got lost in how beautiful and powerful and striking it all is.

 

Black Sunday and Blood and Black Lace may not've grabbed me much on a first viewing (we'll see how the rewatches go), but this one certainly did. You're back in my good graces, Bava.

 

Grade: A

 

#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.

 

#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-

 

#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+

 

#59. That Cold Day in the Park (1969)

 

 

It's always fascinating to go back and watch an early project from a now-legendary filmmaker, mostly because you get to see flashes of what's to come. And that's certainly true of That Cold Day in the Park (god, what a clunky title). This movie has its share of problems, but you can also clearly tell that it's the work of a young maverick who's on the right track.

 

When I think of Robert Altman, I think of cold environments, uncomfortable atmospheres, and miserable characters, captured through long takes and slow zooms, and all of that's present here. This is a psychological drama about two people who may not be quite as they seem, and his restrained-yet-mildly-unsettling direction keeps you wondering which one is actually in danger. Cool storytelling gimmick, honestly.

 

Granted, the execution isn't perfect yet (some of the early scenes are a little on the meander-y side, and the transition from drama to thriller happens kinda suddenly), but this is a generally compelling tale of repression and loneliness, made all the better by a vivid suburban setting and Sandy Dennis's wonderfully anxious performance. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#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-

 

#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-

 

#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

 

#16. Two for the Road (1967)

 

 

It's frustrating reviewing something like Two for the Road because I can absolutely see the positives here. This movie has wit and complexity and intelligence and a fantastic performance from Audrey Hepburn. And yet my praise can only go so far, because I wasn't particularly moved by any of it.

 

My main issue is the central relationship. I just can't find much chemistry or warmth in this couple. And while I can acknowledge that romcoms don't have to be sunshine and rainbows in order to be successful, this one veers a little too far in the other direction for my liking, to the point where you start to wonder what these two even see in one another. When that happens (especially in a way that doesn't feel intentional), it can make for both a dour comedy and a tedious drama. 

 

And then there's the non-linear storytelling. I really want to praise this aspect, as it's both creative and often quite funny, but I think it ultimately does more harm than good. The narrative bounces around so frequently and arbitrarily that any sense of growth or progression is mostly lost. Maybe that's the point (relationships often stagnate, after all), but it only served to exacerbate my apathy.

 

Grade: C+

 

P.S. Another possible explanation for my not being a fan: Albert Finney's voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me. Can't say this was a familiar occurrence; I've never had a problem with the guy before. But I thought he was genuinely insufferable here.