#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.

 

#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

 

#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

 

#217. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

Whenever I find myself thinking that the whole Avengers phenomenon might've been a bit overblown, I have to stop and remind myself that, when I was a kid, crossovers were only ever found in sitcoms, children's cartoons, and this haphazard curiosity.

 

That probably explains why I circled back to it more than once. I mean, it's not as though I was all that enamoured by the story or the action. Hell, even a handful of the characters went directly over my head at the time (I didn't know who Allan Quartermain or Dr. Moriarty were until years later). But I guess I simply liked the idea of seeing some literary figures team up to fight bad guys, because my memories of the movie were generally positive.

 

Now that I'm a bit older, its flaws are a lot more apparent to me (the plot never goes anywhere interesting, the character motivations are non-existent, the middle hour is a slog, and the special effects are genuinely terrible), but I still can't bring myself to hate the movie, either. Nostalgia aside, I love a good steampunk aesthetic, I doubt any movie with Sean Connery at its center could ever truly bore me, and there's something small and silly about the whole thing that I find almost refreshing in today's landscape.

 

Grade: B-

#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.

 

#214. The Uninvited (1944)

 

 

This has to be one of the most approachable and, ironically, inviting haunted house movies ever made. It has an unusually light and jaunty tone (which, aside from keeping the material fun, is perfect for establishing some investment in the horror elements and dramatic backstories), and a familiar-yet-unearthly presentation that ensures a certain warmth and coziness throughout.

 

Of course, a lot of that also has to do with the dark and elegant beauty of the house itself. When I see this place, with its enormous staircase (I was kinda hoping to see Ray Milland slide down that banister at some point, but I digress), open rooms, and stunning views, I can understand why these characters would take such a risk. And the gorgeous use of light and shadow only adds to its allure.

 

Even zooming out from the setting, though, nearly everything about this movie delighted me. I'm sure a lot of people find it slow and quaint, but I thought it was cute, funny, and spooky in equal measure. My only issue is that it gets a bit plot-heavy down the stretch, but even that doesn't really detract from the bouncy pacing, colourful moods, and adorable effects.

 

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.

 

#197. Frankenstein (2025)

 

I'm starting to worry that Guillermo del Toro might be on something of a Tim Burton trajectory (though not nearly as severe) in that he's continuing to pick projects that feel a bit... obvious? Expected? Like, you hear "Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein", and the images you picture in your mind aren't far off from the real thing.

 

Fortunately, unlike Burton, del Toro hasn't gotten noticeably lazy yet, so this movie's about as striking, gorgeous, and tangible as anything else he's made (even if the visuals are occasionally marred by dark lighting, unconvincing CGI, and excessively slick digital cinematography). And while he sometimes takes a few bizarre and frustratingly literal liberties with the source material, his perpetual enthusiasm ensures that the tones, textures, and emotions are appropriately operatic.

 

Plus, I love his sense of scale. We can discuss whether the world needed another Frankenstein movie in 2025, but the fact that this version has such a consistent vision, while also being more ambitious and over-the-top than any of the prior adaptations I've seen (even the Branagh one), not only justifies its existence in my eyes, but it gives the experience a certain maximalist conclusivity. Whoever tries to tackle Mary Shelley's story next will have a difficult bar to clear as far as ambition is concerned.

 

Grade: A-

 

#193. The Golem: How He Came Into the World (1920)

 

 

A.K.A. Der Golem, wie er in die Welt kam

 

Apparently, this was actually the third in a trilogy of Golem movies made by Paul Wegener, but the reason I'm covering it first (and last) is because the other two have unfortunately been lost to time.

 

On the bright side, How He Came Into the World is a prequel, so its story is pretty comprehensive. It's also, as you might expect, rather basic (though I give it credit for beating nearly every Frankenstein adaptation to the punch), but the structure is sturdy enough, the pace is steady enough, the emotions are compelling enough, and the horror elements are effective enough that I was mostly captivated by what was going on. Plus, the fact that this 1920 movie is both German and rooted in Jewish heritage/mysticism gives it a cultural significance that bumps the overall resonance up a few notches.

 

Helps, too, that the whole thing looks as good as it does. Like, even if the style isn't particularly original (it's basically just Dr. Caligari with a touch of Georges Méliès), that Expressionist combination of striking imagery, unusual angles, heavy makeup, and insane architecture is guaranteed to bewitch me no matter how many times I see it.

 

Grade: A-

#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-

 

#164. The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)

 

 

Regardless of your familiarity with Oscar Wilde, you can tell this movie's based on a book. The dialogue's intelligent, and the themes are potent, but the presentation is a little too stuffy for its own good. Everything's on the dry and talky side, with storytelling that simultaneously feels rushed and padded (as though some chapters are given far too much focus, while others have been ripped out entirely), and a whole lotta narration that, particularly in the middle hour, completely derails the momentum. 

 

Still, there's an old school gothic horror feel to the movie that mostly works. The cinematography, compositions, and sets are uniformly stunning, the actors (especially George Sanders) give these words some life, and the scenes featuring the actual portrait are truly unsettling. I adore the sparing-yet-striking use of colour for those insert shots, and the harsh musical stings that accompany them really add to the terror, in a proto-jump-scare kinda way. Plus, the ending is a solid payoff.

 

It's just a shame that this aspect takes such a backseat. If we spent as much time on the genre stuff as we do, say, Gray's inner turmoil, or the interchangeable romances, the movie likely would've had a much stronger hold on me.

 

Grade: B

 

#163. Labyrinth (1986)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1, though I'm no longer certain I actually saw the whole thing, because all the stuff I remembered happens in the first half.

 

My fifth grade teacher actually showed this one to us, and, in hindsight, I'm glad she did. Ten is basically the perfect age to handle a darker fairy tale while still being kinda scared by it (okay, a few elements were downright terrifying to me - particularly Bowie himself), and that sense of danger really makes the whole experience feel stirringly vivid and real. 

 

Watching the movie again over twenty years later (I didn't enjoy doing that math), it still feels vivid and real, but that's mostly because I'm now far more appreciative of the '80s creativity on display. The practical puppets are adorably tactile and full of life, and the labyrinth itself is just a fantastic series of sets and set pieces. There's a new design and creature around every corner, and they all really come together to bring this nightmarish world to life.

 

Sure, the story becomes a little repetitive here and there, and it starts to lose some steam after the Fire Gang scene (though the Relativity-inspired climax gets us back on track), but this setting is ultimately so imaginative and weird that I can live with a meandering narrative. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#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+

 

#130. Scrooge (1951)

 

 

A.K.A. A Christmas Carol, as it's known in the States (and presumably Canada, considering everyone I've ever discussed this movie with uses that title).

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

We all have that one version of A Christmas Carol that we cherish most, the one that we hold especially dear because it introduced us to the character. Well, Scrooge is mine. It was always my dad's favourite, and I've shared that sentiment ever since we first watched it together.

 

Beyond nostalgia, part of the reason why I continue to love this telling is the eerie and foreboding tone (those ghosts creeped me out as a kid), as well as the deeper dive into the Christmas Past portion (which paints a more detailed portrait of the character). But let's not bury the lede here: the reason to watch this one is Alastair Sim, who, for my money, gives the greatest Scrooge performance of all time.

 

Some actors excel at the villainous stuff, while others are more believable in their redemption. Sim is one of the very few who nails both. You totally buy him when he's cantankerous and miserable (though, even in his worst moments, there's still something nakedly desperate about his expressions and deliveries that generates some sympathy), just as you totally buy him when he's doing headstands and laughing like a schoolboy. Wonderful performance, and one that really brings out the emotions of the story.

 

I'm sure I'll cover my share of adaptations over the coming Decembers, but this one will likely always be the gold standard in my eyes.

 

Grade: A

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

#92. The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941)

 

 

A.K.A. All That Money Can Buy, which was its original release title (in order to avoid confusion with The Devil and Miss Jones, another RKO production).

 

Satan's always a fun character to center a story around, right? Like, I get that the dude has by now been depicted so many times on screen that he's nowhere near as inherently intimidating as he once was, but I still think there's something dangerous and exciting about seeing this sinister figure tempt ordinary people with material possessions in exchange for their souls. 

 

Naturally, this is the area where The Devil and Daniel Webster makes the biggest impression. Beyond the fact that the drama's especially compelling here, Walter Huston really leans into the mischievous side of the character, and the effects used to generate the other supernatural beings are incredibly vivid. It's a lot of shadows and visual blurriness, which creates a certain dream-turned-nightmare atmosphere.

 

The overall story is pretty basic and familiar for the most part, and it tends to be somewhat light on the fantasy aspect for my liking, but there's also a folk tale quality to the movie that makes it feel slightly timeless. And while I can't put it in the same league as The Wizard of Oz or It's a Wonderful Life (though what is?), it's operating on similar levels of imagination and morality, further enhancing that classic appeal.

 

Grade: A-

 

#89. Sleepwalkers (1992)

 

 

By most accounts, this is one of the weaker Stephen King stories (I almost said "adaptations", but then I remembered that it was an original screenplay) in existence. And, yeah, I get it. Sleepwalkers is silly and dumb and not at all scary, and feels more like the kind of thing you'd catch on YTV on a Saturday night than a movie that got a wide theatrical release.

 

But, as someone who grew up loving Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, this kind of cheap, whimsical, distinctly early '90s horror works just fine for me. The concept of cat-like shapeshifters that can only be killed by actual cats is both ridiculous and really fun, and the unusually committed cast (particularly Alice Krige and Mädchen Amick) help to somewhat - somewhat - ground and legitimize this insane story.

 

Is it developed or tonally consistent? Not in the slightest (though both arguably add to the camp appeal). But it's also got a vibrant tone, a tumultuous teen romance, two cute leads, fun puppet effects, charming monster makeup, corny kills (even of the literal variety), and honest-to-god incest. So the universal derision is mostly lost on me.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. I can't hear that Enya song without expecting Lauryn Hill to tell me that she's gonna find me and take it slowly.

 

P.P.S. Considering he has the perfect face for these effects, it's honestly kinda shocking that Ron Perlman doesn't transform in this movie.

 

#74. Pacific Rim (2013)

 

Guillermo del Toro makes action movies with the energy of a ten-year-old boy - and I mostly mean that as a compliment. Like, even when the results aren't to my taste, his enthusiasm is so palpable, and his artistry is of strong enough quality, that there's something infectious about it.

 

Take Pacific Rim, possibly his dumbest movie to date. The dialogue and characterizations and arcs are about as elementary as they come, and the premise is literally Robots vs. Aliens. I won't pretend that it's is my preferred brand of action, but I place this one above, say, a Transformers sequel thanks to its visual quality. And I'm not referring to the battle sequences (they're mostly bland and muddy), but the dialogue scenes, which contain enough stylistic weirdness and bioluminescent beauty to frequently remind you that an actual filmmaker was in control here.

 

It also helps that del Toro keeps everything relatively simple and dynamic, and his understanding of things like pacing and focus allows the rest of us to actually follow - and moderately care about - what's going on.

 

Grade: B

 

#35. Bubba Ho-Tep (2002)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

This is now the second time I've seen this movie, and both times I expected a lot more than I actually got. I mean, it's a horror-comedy where Bruce Campbell thinks he's Elvis Presley, Ossie Davis thinks he's JFK, and the two of them team up to fight an ancient Egyptian mummy. How could it possibly disappoint?

 

Well, the execution leaves a lot to be desired, particularly in regards to the limp story and sluggish pacing. And, like, I can appreciate the decision to give Elvis an existential crisis, but when it starts to take up the bulk of the runtime, and gets in the way of all the fun genre stuff, you can't help but feel as though the movie isn't living up to its fullest potential.

 

And that's a shame, because there are moments of B-movie greatness here. Campbell and Davis bring a lot more energy and gravitas than the script does, Coscarelli captures a lot of the concept's inherent goofiness, and I just love the retirement home as a horror setting. This is an amusing enough time, and it's far too creative and weird to outright bash, but I think this is also one of those cases where reading the plot synopsis is somehow more enjoyable than actually watching it.

 

Grade: B-

 

#33. Dead Man (1995)

 

 

This is one of those cases where mood takes precedence over plot or characters, and that's generally how I like it. As a story, Dead Man really isn't anything all that special. It's slightly subversive in many ways, but it's also kinda tedious and one-note. Though I can't really find it in myself to care when the vibes carry such potency.

 

This whole movie feels like a dream, or like some hazy purgatory between life and death, between the natural world and the spiritual world. And it captures this strange state of mind through beautiful Western landscapes, sharp black & white photography, some deadpan wit, a handful of quirky performances (many of which are much briefer than I would've preferred, but I digress), and - my personal favourite - Neil Young's thunderous, hypnotic electric guitar scoring.

 

Do I know what Jarmusch is trying to say with this movie? Not in the slightest. Hell, maybe he isn't trying to say anything at all. But what I do know is that I found the whole experience to be surreal, whimsical, and even a little profound - perhaps because it's all so perplexing. 

 

Grade: A

 

#30. Oz the Great and Powerful (2013)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Caught this one at the theater with my family back when it came out, and I can still recall the experience being mildly disappointing. Watching it again over a decade later, it's easy to see why (the CGI-heavy visuals aren't really to my taste, and I always thought Franco and Kunis were distractingly miscast), but the positives suddenly stood out to me a lot more.

 

For one, after fifteen years of soulless Disney remakes, it's nice to see one that isn't a simple knockoff. This is a movie that has a unique story to tell and actually dares to take a few risks, even if those risks are often unsuccessful. Beyond that, I was more compelled by the underdog story this time, and I found that Weisz and Williams were both so awesome in their roles that they mostly undid the damage caused by the other two leads (which: I've changed my mind on Kunis; she's perfectly fine).

 

But I think the real saving grace here is Sam Raimi. This is far from his best or most characteristic work, but I was surprised to finally recognize just how much of his style can be felt throughout, from the dark visual tones to the campy sense of humour. Gives the movie some needed texture and bite, and it made for a more enchanting adaptation than I remembered. 

 

Grade: B