#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+

 

#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+

 

#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.

#229. Miller's Crossing (1990)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1-2

 

The Coen Brothers are my favourite filmmakers, and have been for quite a long time now. Visually, tonally, stylistically, and even thematically, they simply make the kinds of movies that I want to watch. And while I don't necessarily adore everything they've ever made, the batting average is high enough that you'll more than likely grow tired of my endless praise before long.

 

For that reason, I chose to lead off with Miller's Crossing, which had never been a personal favourite (the dense opening half hour always kept it at arm's length for me). But, lo and behold, it totally clicked for me this time, so I guess that plan backfired. I've come around on the complicated plot and era-specific dialogue, and I'm finally able to see just how rich and moody the whole thing is.

 

Whether we're talking about the costumes, the comically large sets, the beautiful music, the muted cinematography, the wild set pieces, the squib-heavy violence, the dry humour, or the colourful collection of characters and performances (I'm especially partial to Jon Polito and J.E. Freeman, but everyone shines here), it all makes for a compelling drama, a terrific period piece, and a well-constructed slice of pulp.

 

So not only do I now view this as another Joel & Ethan masterpiece, but I can also recognize it as maybe the first instance in which their bizarre tonal aesthetic (namely, mixing serious tension with borderline-slapstick) came together in a way that only they could make work. It's just a flawless bit of filmmaking, and I doubt I'll give it the high hat ever again.

 

Grade: A+

 

#220. Mulholland Falls (1996)

 

 

More than any other subgenre, I'm willing to forgive a little artificial silliness when it comes to neo-noirs. I don't know if that's because I find these movies a bit artificial and silly to begin with, or because it allows the presentation to be flashy and over-the-top in a way that appeals to me, but when I watch modern actors wear old-timey costumes, smoke cigarettes, and beat people up, I can't help but smile at the excess.

 

It's not always a seamless fit, though, and I'm wondering if that's the case here. Mulholland Falls has a fairly intriguing mystery, a palpable atmosphere, an appealingly grey collection of characters, and an impressive cast, but the story/tone only somewhat works for me, and I think that's because this sheen of indulgent self-awareness may not mesh super well with bleaker and more sincere subject matter. Or maybe I just found the pacing a bit too slow.

 

Whatever the case, I'd still say this one's worth seeing if you're generally a fan of L.A. crime dramas, even if it doesn't reach the level of its influences (though I suppose that's true of basically any movie that borrows from Chinatown, save Roger Rabbit), nor L.A. Confidential, which blew it out of the water and into obscurity the following year.

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. It must suck to act opposite Nick Nolte. Dude spits like a camel.

#213. Dark City (1998)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

A few weeks ago, if you had pointed a gun at my head and said that you'd shoot me unless I could tell you a single thing that happens in this movie, I would've been a goner. Literally all I could recall was the nighttime aesthetic, the towering production design, and Kiefer Sutherland being a weird little freak.

 

After a second viewing, I can kinda see why those were the only elements that left much of an impression (the story's a bit muddled and messy, the other main characters are mostly generic, and the noir tropes aren't especially original), but I found Murdoch's conflict to be fairly intriguing and compelling this time, and all the stuff with "tuning" and The Strangers made for more inventive worldbuilding than I'd remembered.

 

So while I still think the exposition could've been doled out a lot better, and some of those plot developments and reveals continue to feel like nonsense to me, the movie is ultimately distinct, ambitious, captivating, and energetic enough that I'd be surprised if it completely left my brain again. But, even if it does, at least I already know that the atmospheric and beautiful (and charming, thanks to some '90s CGI) visuals probably won't.

 

Grade: B+

 

#208. The Ninth Gate (1999)

 

 

This is one of those instances where the journey is far more interesting than the destination. I was really into the intrigue-heavy opening hour, with its eerie premise, cozy sets and settings (libraries, trains, hotel rooms), patient - often bordering on slow - pacing, and subtle menace. The whole thing's very sinister and atmospheric, and yet it also possesses a loose, almost silly tone that keeps the material light and playful.

 

For the most part, I think the movie balances this strange combination of moods reasonably well. But the same can't quite be said for the third act, which regrettably crosses over into "downright ridiculous" territory. There's admittedly some charm to that (for instance, hearing Frank Langella repeatedly yell "Mumbo Jumbo!" almost makes the entire portion worth it), but the forced theatrics, terrible fire effects, and largely unsatisfying final scene end things on a bit of a sour note for me.

 

Still, the majority of the adventure kept me invested, thanks especially to Johnny Depp's focused performance and Roman Polanski's assured direction. And even if I wasn't entirely satisfied with some of the later results, the ambience, buildup, and ambition ensured that I was always curious to see where it was all heading.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. I'm no expert on the matter, but shouldn't dealers wear gloves when handling old books? Or, at the very least, not blow cigarette smoke all over them?

 

#198. Freeway (1996)

 

 

Matthew Bright read "Little Red Riding Hood" and thought to himself, "You know what this needs? Prostitution and pedophilia."

 

In fairness, though, I guess Freeway isn't that tonally out of line compared to a lot of older fairy tales. It just feels that way because it's a million times sleazier and trashier. The writing is edgy and in-your-face in the most '90s way imaginable, the high-contrast cinematography ensures that the subject matter remains disgustingly believable, and the performances are so heightened that the characters might as well be cartoons.

 

It all makes for a pretty fresh and fun take on a classic story, and even if the entertainment levels aren't always as consistent as I'd prefer (I think the movie loses some of its juice one we shift from the highway portion to the courtroom/prison stuff), the interesting range of exploitation subgenres keeps things playfully energetic, while also ensuring that the formulaic structure is at least somewhat upended.

 

More than anything, though, I think Reese Witherspoon is what makes the movie so messily enjoyable. I couldn't get enough of her spirited attitude and exaggerated accent, and I kinda wish we got to see this side of her more often.

 

Grade: B+

 

#189. Searching for Bobby Fischer (1993)

 

 

A.K.A. Innocent Moves

 

I went through a bit of a chess phase in elementary school. It didn't last long, and my interest was quickly killed by two of my cousins, both of whom stomped me every single time we played (yeah, I was one of those kids who would give up on activities if I wasn't immediately good at them), but that brief period did give me some lingering affection for the game, which probably made this movie that much more enjoyable to me.

 

Even if you know absolutely nothing about chess, though, I'd have to imagine that it's still pretty easy to relate to the themes of innocence, compassion, and conserving love for your interests without allowing stress or pressure to destroy them (which I've already felt once or twice with this very blog, meaning the movie hit home for me in more ways than one), especially when you consider the inspirational nature of the script, Steven Zaillian's warm, heartfelt direction, and the who's who of great character actors. 

 

It's all tender and moving enough that I'm mostly able to look past a few tedious conflicts, as well as Ben Kingsley's iffy performance. Man, between this, Sneakers, and Species, someone really needed to tell this guy back in the '90s that he shouldn't be attempting accents.

 

Grade: A-

 

#182. Deep Blue Sea (1999)

 

 

I have a soft spot for late '90s studio schlock, as well as simplistic horror movies where a small group of characters fight to survive in an isolated setting. This one manages to hit both of those weak points, and has a good time doing it, so I can only dock so many points for stupid writing and terrible effects.

 

Actually, if anything, those two qualities only serve to enhance the charm. This isn't a Sharknado situation, where the entire project reeks of laziness and cynicism. No, Deep Blue Sea cares, and plays everything completely straight (with just the right amount of self-awareness), which makes the cornier elements a million times more likeable and fun as a result.

 

Plus, while this earnestness often takes us in some strange directions (the whole religious subplot, for instance, goes over really weird), it also allows for some effective genre scares, creative violence, cheesy dialogue, committed performances, surprisingly decent action set pieces, and LL Cool J's absolute masterpiece of a theme song. The whole thing's a junk heap, but it's a determined and entertaining junk heap.

 

And regardless of where you stand on the movie's quality, I think we can agree that Sam Jackson's big speech is a legitimate top hundred horror moment.

 

Grade: B+

 

#174. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

Here it is, the most widely reviled film of my lifetime. We all know the story: expectations were unreasonably high, and all those years of build-up and excitement eventually led to disappointment, which turned to anger, which turned to hate, which turned to endless screeds about how George Lucas "raped" our collective childhoods (yes, people actually said that).

 

It was all a bit much, honestly, to the point where the heavy backlash inevitably received a backlash of its own. Nowadays, you're much more likely to hear about how this trilogy's actually underrated, and that the initial reception was far too negative. I'd like to agree with that stance. I really would. But it frankly doesn't survive actually sitting down and re-watching the damn thing.

 

Yeah, sorry, but, all these years later, long after I've come to accept this prequel for what it is, it still doesn't do all that much for me. I don't hate it by any means (in fact, the kiddie tone [along with Darth Maul and "Duel of the Fates"] might even give it a tiny leg up on the two entries to come), but the defects are just too overwhelming to ignore. They almost go without saying at this point: convoluted plotting, clunky pacing, wooden acting, awful dialogue, bland CG environments, a general lack of passion, etc. Despite the wealth of potential here (which might partially explain all the fruitless fan edits), most of it's squandered by tedious storytelling and lazy creative decisions.

 

Now, in fairness, Lucas always insisted, rather defensively, that these movies were made for children. Maybe so. But I was six years old in 1999, and, as a member of that target audience, I can assure you that I still would've chosen any of the Original Trilogy episodes over this one every single day of the week.

 

Grade: C+

#170. There Goes the Neighborhood (1992)

 

A.K.A. Paydirt

 

I'm down for any movie with a Mad World-esque scavenger hunt premise, even if the results are often messy and mediocre. So while There Goes the Neighborhood is clearly both of those things, the mere fact that it's about a group of characters who collectively lose their minds over some buried treasure is enough to keep my feelings positive. 

 

The main selling point here is obviously the cast. I don't know how you manage to get Jeff Daniels, Catherine O'Hara, Hector Elizondo, Rhea Perlman, Judith Ivey, Harris Yulin, Jonathan Banks, Dabney Coleman, and Chazz Palminteri together and not score a hit out of it, but this group nevertheless makes the most of a tepid and underdeveloped script, while also keeping things appropriately chaotic.

 

Honestly, maybe too chaotic. Like a lot of zany comedies, this one commits the understandable mistake of having way too much going on at the same time. People speak over one another, everything moves a bit too quickly, and it all starts to feel like overload after a while (especially when you take into account rookie Bill Phillips's clunky and unpolished direction), to the point where very little leaves much of an impression. I had a fun time with the movie, but I can also see why nobody ever talks about it.

 

Grade: B

 

#162. The Grifters (1990)

 

 

This wasn't at all what I was expecting. When I heard the title and saw the cast and watched the opening scene, which introduces us to these three characters via tracking shots and split screens, I anticipated a heist movie with energy and pizzazz. Or at least something that gets into the craft and showmanship of grifting (can you tell I'm a fan of Ocean's Eleven?). But what I got instead was a downbeat neo-noir, one that lands somewhere between pulp pastiche and bleak character study.

 

That's not a bad thing, for the record. I generally like being surprised. And even if the vibes of this one are still undeniably strange (the tone, dialogue, and score feel slightly "off", and that's before we get to the incest), causing me to spend a decent chunk of the runtime wondering what the hell I was watching, there's nevertheless a dark nastiness to the mood and plot that I found somewhat intoxicating after a while - to the point where Stephen Frears's Oscar nomination started making sense to me (and the same goes for Huston and Bening, who both nail their tricky characters).

 

Certain movies tend to work better in the rear view than in real time. It's probably too early to make that judgment call with this one, but I can tell you that my thoughts on it are much more positive now than they were during the actual viewing.

 

Grade: B+

#155. Waiting for Guffman (1996)

 

 

As much as I try to be open-minded about different kinds of comedy, I don't think I'll ever be an improv guy. Like, I can definitely appreciate how hard it must be for actors to make up their lines as they go along, but I think that's my very issue with the format: I can almost always sense that thought process as I'm watching it, which results in material that never feels especially authentic to me.

 

Still, if there's one troupe that can be counted on to win me over, it's gotta be Christopher Guest and his band of weirdos. I've loved Best in Show for a few years now, and while I wouldn't put this one on the same level, it certainly shares many of the same strengths. The casting is obviously wonderful (you could choose any of these people as the MVP and you wouldn't be wrong), and I appreciate the simple story, which never really gets in its own way.

 

Unlike Best in Show, however, I'm not sure that I'd call this one particularly funny (though it does have its share of moments; Guest's dance moves will likely never leave my brain). But I guess it makes up for that with a similarly affectionate outlook, which makes the whole thing a lot sweeter and more likeable than your average moc.

 

Grade: B

#150. The Sweet Hereafter (1997)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Like most movies about grief and loss, The Sweet Hereafter isn't always an especially easy watch. You can practically feel the pain of this shattered rural community through the screen. And yet, Atom Egoyan keeps everything relatively restrained, which not only provides a grim and chilly atmosphere that perfectly reflects its vast, wintery setting, but it also creates some compelling ambiguity from a character perspective.

 

Why are these victims responding in the way that they are? Similarly, is this lawyer genuinely interested in helping them, or is he just here to absolve himself of his own domestic faults? We never fully know, which I think speaks to the way humans try (and, understandably, fail) to make sense of tragedy. And this enigmatic circumstance is made all the hazier by a fractured structure and an unresolved ending, both of which really fit on a thematic level.

 

I won't pretend that this is the kind of movie I typically gravitate towards, and I think one or two of the subplots probably could've been cut (my vote goes to the sexual abuse scene, which feels like tragedy overkill to me), but the whole thing is so ominous and provocative that I ultimately find it impossible to look away.

 

Grade: A-

 

#144. Phenomenon (1996)

 

 

After a decade-plus of cinematic irony poisoning, there's something about a sweet, sincere little fantasy-drama from the '90s that feels like a breath of fresh air.

 

That's not to say that Phenomenon is a phenomenal movie or anything. It's sappy and silly and likely not super memorable, but I guess I'm just a sucker for a small scale and some genuine heart. I like the fact that this script introduces its sci-fi element without any explanation, I like watching George slowly learn how to utilize his new gifts, and I just generally like the movie's charming vibe, from the autumnal rural setting to the prominent soundtrack to the simplistic-yet-wholesome characters. It's all very approachable and cute to me.

 

I'm a bit more mixed on the third act, though, where the tone suddenly becomes strangely heavy (especially in relation to the opening hour). I would've preferred to see things remain pleasant and airy, but this sudden shift does gel with the schmaltziness of the movie's overall presentation, while also shining a light on its themes, so I suppose I can live with it. Also probably helps that we've got actors like John Travolta, Robert Duvall, Kyra Sedgwick, and Forest Whitaker to bring everything home.

 

Grade: B+

 

#140. Trauma (1993)

 

 

Were I to ever become a filmmaker (it's not gonna happen, but let's pretend for a second), Dario Argento would probably be my biggest influence. I love everything about this guy's deranged aesthetic, from the hypnotic imagery to the beautiful women to the gloved psychos to the twisted kills to the disjointed-yet-strangely-fitting scores. If this formula could be distilled into a drug, I'd inject it into my veins on a concerning basis.

 

That's not to say that all of his movies are masterpieces, though. Once we reach the mid-to-late '90s, the quality seemed to fall off a cliff. And you can already see it a bit in Trauma, which did come out before that expiration date, but which (along with Two Evil Eyes) started to show a few cracks in the foundation. The tone is all over the place, the music is pretty lackluster, and the plotting is kinda clumsy. If you aren't generally into weird giallo nightmares, then you're likely to find the movie a total mess.

 

As someone who is into weird giallo nightmares, however, I think this one's still a real winner. I love the mystery, the suspense, the rain-soaked atmosphere, the final reveal, and the fact that Piper Laurie and Brad Dourif randomly show up in small parts (doesn't it just feel right to see them in this kind of movie?). It might not quite have the same consistency, cinematography, or scoring of Argento's best works, but those stylishly irresistible fundamentals are still strong enough that my enjoyment was never in jeopardy.

 

Grade: A-

 

#137. 12 Monkeys (1995)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

I've long been curious to see if a rewatch would make this movie click for me. Now that I've seen it again, I guess the answer is "kinda".

 

At the very least, I can agree that this is an intriguing and creative portrait of a dystopian future. I love the unique takes on time travel, reality, and memory, and it's always nice to see Bruce Willis give a shit in something (though I still think he comes up short next to Madeleine Stowe and Brad Pitt). Plus, while Terry Gilliam's grotesque and eccentric style isn't generally my thing, it clearly suits this world pretty well, and establishes an unnerving atmosphere that looms large over the entire story.

 

My problem, though, is that this story still doesn't really do it for me. Despite the intelligent premise, I just don't think it plays out in an interesting or thoughtful way. The plot gets muddled very quickly, the many attempts at complicating the structure feel kinda tryhard to me, and, despite both of these traits, the twists are somehow far too telegraphed (I remember calling this one on my first viewing). There's a really solid foundation here, but I ultimately find myself struggling to care about much of what's going on - which is pretty crazy when you consider how high the stakes are.

 

So... yeah. Still mostly torn on this one. I don't think it'll ever fully be my thing, but I can absolutely appreciate the clever ideas and compelling visuals, and I totally get why so many people love it.

 

Grade: B

 

#131. Postcards from the Edge (1990)

 

 

Based on the largely autobiographical novel by Carrie Fisher, Postcards from the Edge gets most of its charge from having two legendary actresses essentially play two other legendary actresses. Meryl Streep is the Fisher surrogate, while Shirley MacLaine steps in for Debbie Reynolds, and both do a wonderful job of capturing their characters'/actresses' eccentricities.

 

The movie itself is a bit looser in its story and structure than you might expect, but I mostly see this as a positive. While it generally lacks the bite that comes with material surrounding fame and addiction, and you get the feeling that we're barely scratching the surface of these individuals, the lighter and somewhat detached tone makes for an easy, likeable watch. And it gives the leads a unique relationship. These two might make up, but you could easily see them falling into the same exact traps all over again, which gives both characters some honest and agreeable complexities. 

 

Even if you're not into the drama, though, this one's still worth watching for the sharp writing, the murderers' row of a supporting cast, and the showstopping finale, where Streep performs the hell out of "I'm Checking Out".

 

Grade: B+

 

#124. Mouse Hunt (1997)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 2-3

 

I was feeling a bit nostalgic, so I thought I'd return to this unhinged piece of mayhem. And it didn't disappoint. Actually, if anything, it went over even better than it did in my youth.

 

One thing I've learned about myself from years of endlessly rewatching the first three Home Alone movies is that I very much enjoy seeing cocky, dim-witted villains get their comeuppance at the hands of small underdogs. It's also part of the reason why I grew up loving Looney Tunes and Tom and Jerry (even if I was one of those precocious snobs who rooted for Tom). And that's pretty much the entire appeal of this one. Probably doesn't sound like much, but it's all I need, and Nathan Lane and Lee Evans (and Christopher Walken, in a fantastic cameo) are committed enough to ensure that the slapstick remains fresh and satisfying from beginning to end.

 

Also contributing to the quality of this thing is rookie Gore Verbinski, who gives the movie a gothic style and palette that wouldn't look out of place next to The Addams Family and Batman Returns (which, if you know anything about me, is extremely high praise). It's shockingly gorgeous to look at, in both architecture and cinematography, and it carries a dark-yet-whimsical tone and texture that hits my sweet spot. Might explain why I grew up to be such a big Coen Brothers fan.

 

Grade: A