#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.

 

#236. Nickelodeon (1976)

 

 

Even when he's making a slapstick comedy like Nickelodeon, there's something about Peter Bogdanovich's style that I find strangely lifeless. The staging and stunts are solid, but there's not much visual flair to speak of (though I do concede that monochrome look helps), the story quickly runs out of steam, the attempts at sentimentality don't work at all, and the whole thing just comes off quaint and insignificant as a result.

 

I'm similarly not especially crazy about the comedy, but, funnily enough, it's for the exact opposite reason. There's simply too much excess. These hijinks never give you a chance to breathe, and there's rarely any room to react to anything. Combine that with the overbearing sound design that accompanies every single pratfall (like, maybe there's a reason why this subgenre worked best in the silent era), and it feels like sensory overload at times.

 

And, look, it's easy to appreciate Bogdanovich's obvious enthusiasm for the material. I like the desert setting, the period detail, and the way it captures the "innocence" of the era (Birth of a Nation looks a tad more respectable when you remove all the Klan stuff). But when everything else is bloated and/or bland, I just don't think it translates to a very wistful or even interesting product.

 

Grade: C+

#228. Coma (1978)

 

 

Both a medical drama and a conspiracy thriller, Coma is one of those tales of paranoia that tries to keep you guessing at every turn, in a Rosemary's Baby kinda way. And while that's not generally my preferred brand of suspense (I tend to find "Why won't anybody believe me?" plots more frustrating than fascinating), it mostly works here thanks to Michael Crichton's tight, straightforward approach.

 

Like, you can easily imagine this subject matter being either intensely dry or ridiculously silly, but he avoids both extremes by including an ordinary protagonist, an emotional entry point via her central relationship (and the casting of Michael Douglas as her partner is inspired; there's just something inherently untrustworthy about that guy), and some real-world social stakes, as well as a few shadowy stalkers and creepy care facilities to keep things pulpy and energetic.

 

Granted, it's not always a perfect balance (some of the cards are revealed a bit too early for my liking), and the lone conflict can sometimes get kinda tedious, but there's nevertheless an eeriness about the hospital setting, the slippery doctor characters, and the mere concept of acceptable losses that makes these two genres a solid match.

 

Grade: B+

 

#221. Husbands (1970)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

In theory, I can appreciate what Husbands is going for. By presenting its themes (middle age, aimlessness, toxic camaraderie) in the ugliest and most obnoxious manner possible, the movie makes a pretty compelling case for the values of normal adulthood simply by removing them. It's a clever and poignant approach, with a ton of potential for interesting drama.

 

In practice, though, I just kinda find the whole thing tedious, irritating, and uncomfortable. Every scene seemingly goes on forever (especially the early one at the bar, where we spend upwards of ten minutes listening to these guys berate a woman for not singing well enough), the dialogue has that improv feel to it that causes most of the words to feel empty, and the characters are so insufferable that it quickly becomes difficult to care about them. 

And, yeah, I know this stuff's all probably intentional, but that doesn't make it any easier to sit through, frankly. I like the gritty cinematography, the chemistry between the three leads, and the occasional moments of introspection, but everything else continues to do very little for me.

 

Grade: C+

 

#215. The Heartbreak Kid (1972)

 

 

It's a testament to Charles Grodin's abilities as a comedian/actor that Lenny Cantrow isn't the single most despicable character ever put to film. I mean, maybe he still is (the guy's a spineless, inconsiderate, self-centered jerk who never learns a single thing), but Grodin has this subdued, almost endearing awkwardness about him that makes Lenny's desperate insincerity more watchable than it should be.

 

I have to also credit Elaine May, though, for not letting this guy off the hook. In just about every major scene, she locks the camera down, John Cassavetes-style, and lets the drama play out in the most sweaty, uncomfortable, claustrophobic way possible. It's the kind of subtly agonizing presentation that smacks of both emotional intelligence and a creative point of view, and it ultimately makes for an damning depiction of male self-destruction.

 

Still, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find the conflicts a bit monotonous, and the comedy only mildly funny. But I guess both of those qualms are slightly soothed by the presence of Eddie Albert, whose stern indignation largely balances much the queasiness at play. I especially love his barely-contained rage at the restaurant, as well as his baffled delivery of "There's no deceit in the cauliflower?"

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. Holy shit, does this movie need a remaster. Every version I could find made me feel like I was watching a 480p YouTube video from 2006.

#206. A Boy and His Dog (1975)

 

 

2024 came and went and we still don't have a means of telepathically communicating with our pets. Why is the future never as cool as we expect it to be?

 

Ah well. At least we're not (yet) living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. A Boy and His Dog has something of a proto-Mad Max aesthetic, with its desolate settings, ugly ethics, distinct hierarchies, and extremely cynical outlook, but the difference is that this is also a comedy featuring an intelligent, sarcastic dog. It's a bizarre combination of tones, and they don't always completely gel with one another, but I have to respect how bold and offbeat and weirdly charming it all is, in a "What if Disney made really fucked up movies?" kinda way.

 

And while the presentation is generally on the dry and slow side, and the bickering banter between Vic and Blood gets a tad one-note after a while (though the dynamic never stops being unique, or adorable), there's also just enough variety that I wouldn't call the movie bland or tedious, either. A lot of that has to do with the extra-dystopian Downunder stuff in the third act, which includes contrary scenery, whiteface makeup, android enforcers, and an artificial insemination plot. It's still not as dynamic or as unsettling as I'd like, but it shook things up in a way that I appreciated.

 

Grade: B

 

#192. Let's Scare Jessica to Death (1971)

 

 

Bit of a misleading title here. You'd think it would imply either a tongue-in-cheek tone or some kind of narrative about an evil and elaborate plot against someone, but it really isn't either of those things. Instead, this is mostly one of those slow, grimy, downbeat psychological horror movies that were quite common in the '70s, albeit with a few noteworthy characteristics that help to set it apart.

 

The biggest is obviously Zohra Lampert. It can't be easy to convincingly pull off a character that's losing the ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, but she nails this complex and vulnerable role by staying as present and grounded as possible. It's a great performance, and it overshadows the other actors to such a degree that you quickly feel alone with her and her fragile mental state, which gives everything that much more legitimacy and gravity.

 

Beyond that, the atmosphere is adequately macabre (with visuals that give off a slight Italian horror vibe), the setting is beautiful and haunting, and the post-hippie seediness of it all really adds to the sense of dread. So even if the movie's ultimately a bit cheap, silly, and sedate, those murky moods and internal scares work well enough that I can understand why its cult legacy is continuing to grow.

 

Grade: B+

 

#175. The Sentinel (1977)

 

 

This is a horror movie from the '70s, so it's predictably pretty heavy on atmosphere, which is fine by me. Michael Winner's direction isn't always as flashy as I'd like, but his slow-burn approach mostly manages to keep things creepy and foreboding, and the gory practical effects go a long way in providing some grotesque tactility. Plus, I really like the apartment building as a primary setting.

 

Unfortunately, the story's a bit of a letdown. Granted, both ghosts and Satanism generally rank quite low on my list of genre topics (mainly because I don't think either one's especially scary, and because they both tend to follow predictable and frustrating narrative beats), so it's possible that I was never gonna fall in love this one. But I also thought the mystery was kinda weak, and the religious plot just sort of felt like nonsense to me after a while.

 

There is one successful source of intrigue here, though, and that's how Winner got so many big names to sign on. I don't know if they were that hard up for work, if the script was that much better than the final result, or if blackmail was involved, but, whatever the reason, I'll admit that it's pretty fun seeing so many familiar faces. I love a good game of "Spot the Star", especially when the movie involved is only sporadically interesting.

 

Grade: B-

 

#159. The Drowning Pool (1975)

 

 

Didn't realize this was a sequel (to a movie I've never seen) until I started reading up on it after the fact. Whoops!

 

Ah, whatever. I can't imagine I'm missing a ton of context here. The story seems pretty isolated, and the character doesn't appear to have much of a backstory (aside from the brief romance that's explained to us). Throw that on top of the fact that you've got Paul Newman playing a detective, and I was able to buy in almost immediately. 

 

Most P.I. thrillers from around this time were generally interested in some form of deconstruction, but I like that The Drowning Pool opts for a relatively direct (though still narratively complex) approach. A lot of that has to do with my transparent love of straightforward mysteries, naturally, but it also means that the protagonist can now be charming and affable in a way that doesn't feel out of place, and the story can include some genuine stakes without becoming grim or overbearing. There's a good balance here, and it generates a charisma that easily overcomes the nuts & bolts plot.

 

Also working to the movie's benefit are the sunny Louisiana setting, Gordon Willis's contrasting cinematography (lots of appealing lights and darks going on), a great title-related set piece, and a witty, intelligent script. I guess I need to add Harper to my watchlist now.

 

Grade: A-

 

#152. Le Boucher (1970)

 

 

A.K.A. The Butcher

 

This is one of those quiet thrillers where most of the action takes place below the surface. It's all about slow pacing and tranquil settings and blossoming romances, with the darker, stabbier stuff happening in the background (assuming we get to see it at all). But Claude Chabrol shows a clear understanding of the genre by combining Hitchcockian suspense with French New Wave cinematography to create some continual, uneasy, and free-flowing tension, which can be felt even in scenes that otherwise appear to be completely innocuous.

 

So while this means that the movie's generally pretty light on outright scares, it's still effective in the sense that you spend basically the entire runtime expecting something horrific to happen. And then, when it inevitably does, the outcome is one of the tensest third acts I've seen in a while. Granted, things don't necessarily play out in the way that you'd expect (just as the story isn't as reliant on mystery or horror as it really could've been; everything about this one is subdued and strange), but it works on a tonal and character level, while still providing the melancholic thrills that we've long been anticipating. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#128. Murder by Decree (1979)

 

 

You're unlikely to find a mystery as cynical, paranoid, and gloomy as this. Welcome to the '70s, Sherlock Holmes.

 

Murder by Decree has a lot worth recommending. Christopher Plummer and James Mason are near-perfect as Holmes and Watson (especially Plummer, who brings a sense of sentimentality to the role that makes the character a lot more likeable than usual), the foggy London sets are wonderfully atmospheric, and I think the Jack the Ripper premise fits pretty seamlessly. So the foundation is solid.

 

Unfortunately, the mystery started to lose me after a while. I mean, I suppose it's sporadically thrilling, especially on the many occasions where our leads are in imminent danger, but I also thought it all unfolded a little too slowly and aimlessly (like, did we really need the Donald Sutherland stuff?) to ever get fully invested. And that final explanation/accusation scene is downright interminable.

 

Still, while the story didn't always grab me, I liked the darker tone and presentation - especially because they're sporadically offset by some winsome humour. For the rest of my life, I'll never be able to eat peas without thinking of this movie.

 

Grade: B

 

#122. Fat City (1972)

 

 

Gotta give John Huston some credit: he knew how to keep up with the times. This movie is so aggressively '70s that you can practically smell the cigarettes and body odor.

 

Fat City is essentially the un-Rocky. It's bleak, it's unsentimental, and it never once makes you want to stand up and cheer (unless you're a big fan of alcoholism). Doesn't make for an especially lively or likeable movie, but it reeks of legitimacy. Every frame feels incredibly authentic and lived-in, and you really get the sense that these people are going to be stuck in their shitty situations forever, regardless of what they do.

 

I just wish the whole thing was a bit more focused. Despite the realism, it's all kinda soft and episodic for my liking, to the point where the material doesn't quite leave the impact that it probably should. As a domestic drama, I don't find any of these dynamics interesting or developed enough to care about (and it doesn't help that I think most of the characters are either bland or annoying), and, as a boxing movie, the bouts are almost laughably unconvincing. So a good chunk of it falls a bit flat for me.

 

Still, I can see why many people consider this to be among Huston's best work. The tone's unique, the point of view is distinct, and Stacy Keach gives a great performance. It's just too bad that there's a vaguely aimless vibe to the presentation that makes it difficult for me to latch onto anything.

 

Grade: B-

 

#111. The Last Detail (1973)

 

 

If you wanted to make an anti-establishment movie in the '70s (and it was pretty common practice at the time), you weren't gonna find a more perfect lead than Jack Nicholson. Everything about the guy screams anger, rebellion, and controlled insanity, so he's perfect for a script about powerless men who want to fight the system but know deep down that they never will.

 

It's a somber premise, frankly, and neither Robert Towne nor Hal Ashby shy away from this futility. But they're also willing to indulge in some beer-soaked shenanigans for the time being, with the result being an entertaining and exhausting little odyssey, one that strikes a great balance between comedy and drama (especially because, no matter how silly or stupid the antics get, you never once forget what they're doing or why they're doing it).

 

I also just love the look of this movie. It's got some great wintery atmosphere, and it makes heavy use of long takes and dissolves, all of which emphasize the length of the journey, the sluggish stupor these poor guys find themselves in, and the bleakness of their future. It's simple, straightforward, and character-rich storytelling, which is precisely how I like it. Know what I mean?

 

Grade: A+

#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.

#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+

 

#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+

 

#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

#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

 

#65. The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976)

 

 

Okay, I know the slasher genre was still finding its way in the mid-70s (meaning most of the entries from that time are gonna scan as prototypes today), but, even by that metric, this one seems kinda shoddy and deficient to me.  

 

For one (and maybe I'm just a victim of my own expectations here), The Town That Dreaded Sundown barely feels like a horror film for much of the runtime. It's honestly more of a police procedural, which would be fine - who doesn't love a good cop thriller? - except there's no excitement to it. Between the dirt-cheap visual quality, the ultra-cheesy narration, and the misguided attempts at comedy, this movie is constantly undermining its own mood, killing any sense of tension or urgency in the process.

 

And it's too bad, because you can see the significance here. Those murder set pieces, few and far between as they frustratingly are, do feel influential, with the stalker POV shots, the slow build-ups, the motiveless killer in a mask, and the bloody victims. These scenes are genuinely effective, and they hint at a much better Friday the 13th-meets-Zodiac thriller lurking beneath the surface. But all the surrounding elements are so second-rate and uninspired that the movie never comes especially close to getting there.

 

Grade: C