#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+

 

#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+

 

#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+

#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.

 

#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

#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+

#232. Used Cars (1980)

 

 

Watching this one, it's clear to me that Robert Zemeckis always had an aptitude for cartoon zaniness. Used Cars might be a bit more raucous and inconsistent than much of what came later, but the energetic humour and chaotic set pieces (I'm starting to notice that car stunts peaked in the early '80s) showcase a young talent who's not afraid to get wildly creative with scripts and visuals.

 

This enthusiasm also allows the movie to remain dark and cynical without getting unbearably sleazy, which is a winning tone in my mind. And it of course helps that our hero is played by a post-Disney, pre-comeback (unless you count Elvis) Kurt Russell, who manages to turn a total sleazebag into a charming go-getter. In fact, the entire cast is able to keep things light and broad, and it enhances both the laughs and the satire.

 

On the negative end, though, the approach can get pretty unwieldy at times. There's too much plotting for my liking, and the pacing routinely feels uneven (while I enjoy the action-heavy third act, for example, it goes on for far too long). But I can easily forgive some messiness if it leads to more lunacy, especially when said messiness is arguably part of the charm.

 

Grade: B+

 

#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-

 

#225. Like Mike (2002)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Saw this one with my cousins back when it was new, and the only stuff I really held on to was the fantastical premise, the scarring scene where Crispin Glover burns a photo of Jonathan Lipnicki's mom in order to get information, and that godforsaken theme song, which has played in my head every single time I've seen a basketball (or should I say, bas-ket-ball) court ever since.

 

Literally nothing about the central relationship between Calvin and Tracy left an impression (in fact, I had no memory of the Tracy character in general), which is funny because, as an adult, this was the aspect I liked most. It's a simple and predictable little arc, but it's also a sound and resonant one, and Lil' Bow Wow and Morris Chestnut have enough chemistry with one another that you completely buy the relationship.

 

Otherwise, the movie's basically what you'd expect: a cute little children's power fantasy. And even if the sugary energy and schmaltzy tone can feel a bit juvenile to an adult viewer, there's still enough in the way of humour, innocence, and fun appearances (the cameos in this one frankly blow Space Jam out of the water) that I don't regret not leaving it in the past.

 

Grade: B

 

#224. The Gentlemen (2019)

 

 

When it comes to the gangster stuff, Guy Ritchie tends to be pretty divisive. And I do get it. Like, if you aren't into the kinds of movies where everyone's a witty, gun-slinging badass, the shtick probably gets old extremely fast. But, as someone who will never tire of post-Tarantino bloodbaths, I have to admit that this speed, tone, and personality is right up my alley.

 

And, sure, you could argue that Ritchie's playing it safe here by revisiting familiar territory, but I find it hard to care when, one, the result is this entertaining, and two, there's enough dignified polish to separate it from the likes of Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. This change might erase some of the indie grittiness that he's known for, but it makes up for that with some faux-refinement, which juxtaposes the similar subject matter really well.

 

More than anything, though, I just love his sense of style: the cute structuring (I was beginning to worry that there was too much setup going on, but it arguably makes the payoff all the more satisfying), the fluid storytelling, the colourful dialogue, the playful accents, the distinct characters, the fast action, and the winning mix of tension and humour. I don't know what it all adds up to, but I know it's fun as hell.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. Unless you count Glass Onion, this is actually my first Hugh Grant movie. And my god, what an introduction. Just hearing him say Raymond's name in that cheeky cockney voice delighted me to no end.

 

#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+

 

#216. Pokémon Detective Pikachu (2019)

 

 

Yeah, I was a Pokémon kid. I collected the cards, watched the show, and played the video games. For a good three or four years there, it was pretty much the center of my entertainment universe. So the prospect of a big-budget live-action Pokémon movie absolutely appeals to the inner child - and, who am I kidding, adult - in me.

 

And, honestly, I thought this one was pretty good. The plot's extremely predictable (especially if you're at all familiar with Ditto), most of the characters are cutouts, and the jokes don't have a great hit rate, but there's a sense of livable, vicarious plausibility to the whole thing that basically renders those elements moot for me. Frankly, when I'm watching these real people interact with Bulbasaurs and Mr. Mimes, I can't pretend to care about depth or nuance or whatever.

 

If you do, though, the movie wisely takes the Roger Rabbit route of attempting to balance the silly cartoon stuff with a grounded, noirish story involving the protagonist's family. Again, it's not as successful as Roger Rabbit, mostly because said story's nowhere near as interesting, but it nevertheless provides a decent amount of heart, a cool neon aesthetic, and some fantastic worldbuilding, all of which I appreciated.

 

What I didn't appreciate, though was the fact that Poliwhirl doesn't make a single appearance. What the hell, guys?

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. A lot of these Pokémon were much furrier than I was expecting. Like, in my mind, Jigglypuff's always had the texture of one of those squeaky bouncy balls that you'd find in a Toys "R" Us bin.

 

P.P.S. Loved the Angels with Filthy Souls reference, especially because it fits right in with the whole '90s nostalgia thing.

 

#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.

#212. Love & Other Drugs (2010)

 

 

Love & Other Drugs unfortunately suffers from the same problem that I find a lot of romantic comedy dramas have, and that's that it's trying to accomplish far too much at once. The storytelling's kind of jumbled (there's a relationship subplot, a career subplot, and a Parkinson's subplot, and all three are fighting for dominance), as are many of the emotions, which largely results in every element feeling slightly underdeveloped, and therefore a bit surface-level and generic.

 

And it's a shame, because the genre fundamentals are otherwise quite good. Jake Gyllenhaal is a likeable fit for both the lighter and heavier aspects of the script, Anne Hathaway pulls off the tired frustrations of her tricky character fairly well, the two have incredible chemistry with one another (a pair of extremely hot people make for a cute couple; more at eleven), and Josh Gad is used the exact right amount for comedic relief. 

 

This is an agreeable enough watch for the most part, with decent amounts of humour, warmth, and heart. I just think those qualities would've been even more prominent and consistent with the removal, or reduction, of at least one of the storylines (as funny as some of the Viagra stuff was, that's probably the one I'd choose), a less sterile visual palette, and a smoother tonal balance. 

 

Grade: B

 

#211. Project A (1983)

 

 

Okay, I can see that these Hong Kong martial arts movies are going to take some getting used to.

 

Like, obviously I knew better than to expect seamless dubbing, but I wasn't quite as prepared for the borderline-amateur technical aspects (for instance, there are almost zero establishing shots here, so each scene just kind of awkwardly crashes into the next one), bizarre tonal shifts, and weirdly dense plotting. I don't even know if these defects are specific to Project A or if they're simply par for the course with this subgenre, but, either way, it made it really hard for me to get wrapped up in the story, to the point where I was starting to zone out in between all the action.

 

But I guess the action is why we're here, and it doesn't disappoint. Every single fight scene is a striking display of creativity, athleticism, timing, and certifiable recklessness not seen since the days of Buster Keaton, and they consistently took my breath away. In particular, the back-to-back bicycle and clock tower sequences are just spectacular, even if they result in the movie peaking far too early.

 

Now, is the action good (and plentiful) enough to make everything else worth sitting through? It's a pretty close call in my opinion, but I'll go with a tepid "yes". Even when the movie's at its least accessible, you can always tell that Jackie Chan is trying his absolute hardest to entertain, and I admire that level of effort.

 

Grade: B-

 

#207. An American Werewolf in London (1981)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 2

 

There aren't a ton of horror-comedies that manage to succeed as both horror and comedy, but American Werewolf is one of the few that walks that difficult line nearly perfectly. And I think that's because John Landis never really allows the genres to get in the way of each other. As much the scares tend to come with playful nods to werewolf tropes (lycantropes?), they're also played straight enough that none of the intended intensity is lost.

 

But it's not just the balance of tones that makes this movie great. It's also the murky, fog-shrouded atmospheres, the simple-yet-effective locations (I'm a sucker for a spooky subway station scene), the fantastic music choices (why include just one version of "Blue Moon" when you can have three?), and, of course, those killer makeup effects. We're all aware that the transformation scene is iconic, but I'm also a huge fan of Jack's rotting flesh - particularly that little piece of skin that dangles from his neck.

 

Plus, there's something kind of lax and awkward about the movie that I find mildly endearing. Even if it makes the result a bit imperfect (some of the timing choices, like the ending, still don't fully work for me), it keeps things from getting too smug or clever for its own good, which ensures that the homage/contemporary equilibrium is just as sturdy as the horror/comedy one.

 

Grade: A

 

#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

 

#201. Bugonia (2025)

 

 

Ah yes, another totally normal movie from Yorgos Lanthimos.

 

Bugonia is a nasty little satire, one that scrutinizes some of latter-day humanity's darkest flaws - corporate greed, conspiracy poisoning, the class divide, confirmation bias, exploited vulnerability, etc. - and features two opposing yet similarly insufferable protagonists (played to disquieting perfection by Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons) to make a strong case for the extinction of our species. Fun stuff, right?

 

Actually, yeah, it is pretty fun, and that's because Lanthimos continues to be such a strange and creative storyteller. He has this way of combining black humour, unsettling tension, and mean-spirited horror in a way that's both refreshing and unpredictable, and the result here is one of those situations where you constantly find yourself laughing in spite of (or, in many cases, because of) all the heinous shit going on.

 

It's a wild ride, and while I'm not totally convinced that it sticks the landing (those last ten minutes are either gonna make or break the entire thing on a rewatch), this journey is so maddening, bonkers, and one-of-a-kind that I also wonder if it's possible for any conclusion to feel out of place.

 

Grade: A-

 

#200. Peggy Sue Got Married (1986)

 

 

Couldn't get into this one, unfortunately. As much as I enjoyed the fantastical premise, the cute setting, and the quirky performances from our two leads (overwhelming lack of chemistry notwithstanding), the movie as a whole just didn't click for me. 

 

I don't know if that's because the script rarely bothers to play around with its time travel concept, or because I couldn't quite grasp the intended tone (I found the comedy pretty weak, and I could never tell how sincere the attempts at sentimentality were), or because the storylines were kinda draggy, or because I'm simply getting tired of boomer nostalgia, but, whatever the reason, I was mostly checked out by the hour mark.

 

The one element that kept me on course, though, was Nic Cage. You can say he's the worst part of this movie, and you certainly wouldn't be wrong to hold that opinion (the dude looks out of place every single time he shows up), but his absurd voice and terrible hair and inexplicable vampire energy made things a lot more fun and endearing for me. If every other element was similarly excessive and silly, I might have come out with a better understanding of why this thing has so many fans.

 

Grade: C+

 

P.S. It feels wrong seeing young Cage share the screen with young Jim Carrey. That's simply too much unbridled crazy for one frame.