#249. Mank (2020)

 

 

Something like Mank should've been a slam dunk for me. Even when you put aside my being a fan of David Fincher (and, to a lesser extent, Gary Oldman), I'm fond of Citizen Kane, I usually like movies about movies, and I'm always interested to learn more about Hollywood in the '30s and '40s. But while I wouldn't call this one a misfire, I can't say it left much of an impression, either. 

 

Well, certain elements kinda did. The script has its share of interesting exchanges (though the snippy dialogue quickly wears out its welcome), the actors largely elevate the material, and while Fincher's direction doesn't exactly evoke the era, the visuals still pop. But I guess my problem is that, beneath this technical stuff, the movie just seemed kind of empty to me. I didn't find any of the characters or conflicts super compelling, and I was never all that curious to see where the story was headed.

 

Worst of all is the structuring. I mean, I get why it's here: the nonlinear storytelling is obviously a nod to Kane. But Orson and/or Herman employed this technique to develop their characters and cloud the central mystery, whereas the usage of it here really only serves to create that much more of an emotional disconnect. The result may not be Fincher's worst movie, but it's almost certainly his least noteworthy one.

 

Grade: B-

 

#247. Disraeli (1929)

 

 

This is officially the oldest talkie I've ever seen (I seriously need to get around to watching The Jazz Singer at some point), and I think I'm beginning to understand why the technological advancement was initially met with some pushback. Like, as cool and charming as it is to hear spoken dialogue in a movie this old, the limitations regarding audio recording result in a very static presentation, with awkward blocking and a motionless camera.

 

Similarly, the storytelling's fairly primitive and formulaic, but at least this aspect was slightly less dry than I was expecting. Well, okay, the premise, about a prime minister's attempt to purchase the Suez Canal, didn't exactly have my heart racing, but there was enough of a strategy component (like Disraeli feigning an illness in order to trap a spy, or bluffing so that he could get a banker to sign a paper) that I remained at least somewhat invested in the plot.

 

Also keeping me invested was George Arliss, and not just because of the ridiculous haircut (was that thing painted on?). His performance may be hammy and over the top, but there's a playful mischievousness about him that both endeared me to the character and provided some much-needed energy and levity. If there's a reason to recommend this one to all the Best Picture nominee completionists out there, it's easily him.

 

Grade: B

#234. Frost/Nixon (2008)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Man, remember when American presidents could actually face the consequences of their actions? What a wild concept.

 

For the most part, Frost/Nixon is a safe and unadventurous historical drama (what else would you expect with Ron Howard behind the camera?), but the execution's smooth and direct enough that I find the whole thing really compelling. It just builds and builds in a way that feels both suspenseful and effortless, and it's not long before I'm gripped by a bunch of interviews that have already taken place.

 

Helps, too, that the movie humanizes these two people to the degree that it does. Nixon is correctly presented as a lying criminal, but there's a self-loathing loneliness to this depiction that gives the man some unexpected depth (and I like that Frank Langella does his own interpretation, rather than just an impression). And despite Frost coming off like a vapid playboy, you can sense his frustrations and inner turmoil at all times, and it lends that much more weight to the stakes of the story.

 

I don't know if I'm completely sold on the faux-documentary style (in my opinion, it detracts from the overall simplicity), and a few of the more sensational moments don't quite convince, but I think this is an otherwise impressive dramatization, with a strong central conflict, a good sense of rhythm, and a likeable team dynamic.

 

Grade: A-

 

#233. Steve Jobs (2015)

 

 

There's this thing that always happens to me when I watch a movie written by Aaron Sorkin. For roughly the first fifteen or twenty minutes, I'll roll my eyes at the breakneck pacing and all-too-witty dialogue, and I start to wonder if his charm has finally worn off. But then, without fail, I find myself slowly getting sucked into his story and characters, and I end the movie thinking "that son of a bitch did it again."

 

Steve Jobs is a heavily fictionalized biopic in the vein of The Social Network and Moneyball, and while it's not quite as flawless as those comparables, the strengths are pretty much identical: keen structuring (and I love that it's broken up into three distinct parts, all centered around press conferences), sharp back and forth, and an emphasis on emotional truth over facts. Once I was on its side, I was captivated the entire way - especially in the confrontational third act.

 

But it's not just Sorkin. Danny Boyle and cinematographer Alwin Küchler capture the screenplay's energy by implementing three different film formats (16 mm, 35 mm, and digital) to make each era unique, and Michael Fassbender, Seth Rogen, Jeff Daniels, and especially Kate Winslet bring these words to life with some killer performances. And the result is yet another in a long line of elegant-yet-complex products to carry the Jobs name.

 

Grade: A-

 

#219. The Vikings (1958)

 

 

The problem I tend to have with historical epics from the '50s and '60s is that they're usually devoid of personality, so The Vikings has an automatic leg up on the competition merely by being charismatic and boisterous and kind of pulpy. The presentation's still a little on the dry and earnest side for my liking, but there's enough exuberance and energy throughout that I was honestly surprised by how invested I was.

 

You can also really feel the communal effort with this one. The writing's got some morally compelling character dynamics, the cast (particularly Kirk Douglas and Ernest Borgnine) brings a lot of welcome flavour and intensity, the cinematography, courtesy of Jack Cardiff, is rich, beautiful, and atmospheric, and Richard Fleischer ties everything together with his textured direction. A lot of people are firing on all cylinders here.

 

So even if a handful of the slower scenes somewhat impair the pacing (the lead-up to that final battle is perhaps the worst example), and the relationship between Jamie Lee Curtis's parents is a total afterthought, the otherwise unique interplay, exciting bursts of action, and keen mix of opulence and depravity ensure that this is ultimately a higher-tier swashbuckler. 

 

Grade: A-

#204. Cleopatra (1934)

 

 

This is another one of those romantic dramas from the '30s that I find works best when it's at its most comedic. Maybe that speaks to the fact that I simply prefer a lighter tone when it comes to older films, but I think it's also because the kinkier, campier qualities are such a perfect match for Cecil B. DeMille's grand spectacle and opulent sets/costumes.

 

It's also a pretty great fit for Claudette Colbert, whose playful assertiveness keeps everything more affable and charming than the script probably deserves. And even if she doesn't have a ton of chemistry with either of the male leads (though that's mainly because both men are going for stoicism, which is so overwrought that it undercuts the possibility of any real sizzle), her strongest moments are typically the ones where she effortlessly toys with them.

 

As for the drama, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't all a little tonally rigid and structurally abridged for my liking (which results in such uneven pacing that it makes the movie somehow feel both slightly too long and far too short), but the scale is doing enough heavy lifting that you can still generally grasp the intended weight. It's just that these conflicts kinda pale in comparison to, say, a pre-Code sex scene that comes complete with swelling music, opaque curtains, and dancing performers.

 

Grade: B+

 

#202. Best of Enemies (2015)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

I despise televised debates, especially the ones centered around politics. They accomplish nothing, they never change anyone's opinion, and they always devolve into shouting contests where the loudest, most disruptive voice "wins". Frankly, just thinking about them irritates me, and I doubt I'll ever be able to forgive Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley Jr. (though the latter can forever fuck himself for many other reasons) for getting that particular ball rolling.

 

But while I have negative interest in watching two rich, entitled assholes pointlessly bicker with one another for an extended period of time (at least outside of a reality TV setting), this documentary does a pretty great job of presenting the subject matter in a way that's entertaining and easily digestible. It's snappy, it's fairly moderate, it includes a lot of enthusiastic talking heads, and it contextualizes the relevance of these men, both then and now, in a way that doesn't feel disingenuous or overblown.

 

Plus, I'm always a sucker for a historic doc that builds to a legitimate climax. So for someone like me, who knew practically nothing about either person or their encounters prior to my initial viewing, that ninth debate really bowled me over the first time, and didn't lose much of its power on a rewatch.

 

Grade: A-

 

#195. Hamnet (2025)

 

 

This is the first nominee of 2025 that I didn't quite take to, but it still has enough obvious positives that the nod makes sense to me. Like, even when you put aside the fact that the subject matter and tone fall right in line with what the Academy's always looking for, the meticulous staging is visually appealing, the atmosphere has an eeriness about it (especially in those quiet woodland scenes) that elevates the drama, and the vague approach gives the potentially tired premise some necessary rejuvenation. 

 

And yet, there's something slightly distant and detached about the movie that mostly left me cold. I don't know if that's due to the bland colour palette, the odd structuring, the underbaked character dynamics, the strained performances (Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal are clearly giving this thing their all, but it gets a bit showy at times), or just the general lack of vitality, but I didn't find the majority of the plot developments all that moving.

 

Fortunately, the third act play started to bring things back around for me. Sure, it's a pretty forced and corny conclusion, but it's also the first time that I felt fully invested in both the story and the characters. Honestly, if the whole movie leaned into that kind of emotional shamelessness, I might've connected with it more, especially with the non-dramatic elements generally being as sturdy and potent as they are. 

 

Grade: B

#134. Anna Karenina (1935)

 

 

I've never read Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, nor have I previously watched any other adaptations of this story, nor did I know anything about it. This was a viewing without any basis of comparison. But if I'm judging the material based solely on what I saw here, let's just say that I'm not in a hurry to buy the book.

 

Yeah, sorry, but this one didn't really do it for me. Greta Garbo is a decent choice for the lead, and the sets and costumes are appropriately opulent, but the characters and their relationships didn't interest me in the slightest. This movie's simply too stodgy and pared-down for a romance on this level. And it doesn't help that the dialogue has zero character, or that most scenes feel like they're only here so we can get from A to B.

 

We do start and end pretty strong, though, which helps. The opening banquet is a decent standout (the best visual of the movie is that tracking shot down the lengthy dining table), as is the drinking scene (honestly, given the cast, the short runtime, and the studio restrictions, I'm wondering if the movie would've worked better as a comedy). And the ending is somewhat effective. But that eighty-minute chunk in between is mostly a passionless slog.

 

Grade: C+

 

#118. Gods and Monsters (1998)

 

 

When you're watching a movie about the dramatic final days of James Whale, director of horror classics like Frankenstein and The Invisible Man, you expect a lot in the way of stylistic embellishment. But while there are a few touches here and there (my favourite being Brendan Fraser's Creature-esque silhouette), it's really more of a personal story about three individuals who are in serious need of companionship. 

 

That's not only a relatable and compelling premise, but one that allows for a triple character study, which is wonderfully brought to life by Fraser, Lynn Redgrave, and, of course, Ian McKellen. Sure, the tone and conflict can get a little campy and overwrought at times, but these choices are pretty appropriate given the people involved, and they never get in the way of the relationships or their developments.

 

Even the BBC presentation (which admittedly makes the movie look like a British TV series) started working for me after a while. Gives the drama that much more tenderness and legitimacy.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. Another thing this movie does quite well is resemblance-based casting. Young Jimmy looks just like McKellen, the guy playing Ernest Thesiger (the crazy doctor from Bride of Frankenstein) is a dead ringer, and you could easily convince me that they really got Liz Taylor to cameo as herself in that party scene.

 

#102. Meek's Cutoff (2010)

 

 

Apologies for stating the obvious, but just because a movie's slow, that doesn't automatically make it boring.

 

Take Meek's Cutoff, which is unquestionably the former. Its plot is incredibly sparse, there's very little dialogue (and half of it is so quiet that you can barely make out what's being said), and a good portion of the shots are lengthy wides. If you watch this thing and find little more than a host of beautiful landscape paintings, I totally get where you're coming from. But I actually thought it was quite thrilling.

 

Among other things, Kelly Reichardt really understands anticipation and expectation. She places these vulnerable characters in a dire situation, and uses restraint, as well as our familiarity with the genre, to wring a surprising amount of tension out of this simple premise. It's just a nonstop tale of impending doom, where we can always imagine just how south everything might suddenly go, and you don't realize until the (wonderfully ambiguous) ending that you've been holding your breath the entire time.

 

I'd be curious to see how something like this would hold up on a second viewing, now that I know where it goes. But, even putting aside the suspense, the movie's still a vivid and harrowing depiction of the hardships facing American settlers in the 19th century, and an effective look at the tedium of daily struggle.

 

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.

#96. El Cid (1961)

 

 

The issue I take with a lot of these double-VHS epics from the early '60s is that they almost always felt the need to turn their heroes into saint-like figures, robbing them of personality and depth in the process. It's Ben-Hur and Spartacus all over again: when the protagonist isn't interesting, I'm only gonna be so invested in the story - which is kinda lethal when we're dealing with a three-hour runtime.

 

And it's a shame, because these movies really are quite impressive otherwise. As expected, the production design is simply breathtaking here, with elaborate costumes and sets captured via meticulous detail and surprisingly decent cinematography. And the on-location battle sequences are equally spectacular, especially considering how many extras seem to be involved.

 

I can certainly appreciate and admire a movie like El Cid. As spectacle goes, this is pretty much the definition of a cinematic epic. But between the unengaging script, a few wooden performances (Heston's doing his typical "serious hero man" thing, to similar results), and the generally dry presentation, it can also be a bit of a chore to get through.

 

Grade: B-

 

#70. Born on the Fourth of July (1989)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1 

 

Oliver Stone's greatest strength is also arguably his greatest weakness, and that's that his movies are so passionate that they tend to come off as preachy and overblown. But while this is undeniably true of Born on the Fourth of July, it's also so committed and vulnerable and openly satirical that it actually feels somewhat refreshing in today's landscape.

 

Unlike a lot of biopics, especially in recent years, this movie opts to depict its subject with unapologetic frankness. You can tell that Stone cares about Ron Kovic, but he also doesn't shy away from the initial naivete, nor the eventual depravity. This is a stark and comprehensive portrait of a man who, like many, was seduced and then abandoned by an American myth, and Tom Cruise goes all out (even by Tom Cruise standards) in attempting to capture him.

 

Also unlike a lot of biopics, Stone keeps this one fresh and interesting through some subversive tonal storytelling. The opening act is pure Norman Rockwell Americana, with a presentation so idealistic and over-the-top that the sudden, almost Lynchian change in mood feels all the more horrific.

 

Grade: A

 

#40. Shakespeare in Love (1998)

 

 

Bit of a complicated legacy with this one. It was released to near-universal acclaim, yet the only times I ever hear anyone mention it nowadays is when they're either praising Saving Private Ryan or criticizing the Oscars. Though I guess that's bound to happen when your producer all but buys the Best Picture prize.

 

There's a part of me that wants to defend this movie, to tell the Academy haters out there to stuff it. But I can't quite get there. Shakespeare in Love is somewhat endearing in its fabrications and lightheartedness and cutesy dialogue, and the sets and costumes are generally convincing, but the story just doesn't grab me. As much as I like the idea of turning The Bard into a total horndog, I didn't find him or Viola or their romance particularly compelling or insightful.

 

This isn't as stuffy as your typical Oscar bait, but the presentation falls right in line. There's not a whole lot of life or personality here. Though at least Geoffrey Rush and Judi Dench (who won Best Supporting Actress for doing almost nothing, yet it doesn't feel undeserved) and even Ben Affleck manage to provide some exuberance.

 

Grade: B-

 

#38. BlackBerry (2023)

 

 

I'm a Canadian. I've lived in Ontario for basically my entire life. And it wasn't until I watched this movie that I learned the BlackBerry was invented in my home province. How embarrassing for me.

 

Anyway, BlackBerry was pretty good. It's the typical "rise and fall of a company" storyline, one that probably vibes a little too close with The Social Network to feel in any way original, but it's still erratic and high-stakes enough to completely suck you in. Plus, it allows Glenn Howerton to scream obscenities at people he sees as being beneath him, which is always a treat.

 

I don't know if I'm completely sold on the Office-style cinematography, though, which I often found kinda jarring and obtrusive. But I guess the tradeoff is that it does make for a frenzied and claustrophobic atmosphere. And the journey is very compelling, from the home-grown innovations to the corporate compromises. Overall, it's an engaging time, even if the hairstyles are never once believable.

 

Oh, and bonus points for the hockey subplot. As a lifelong Leafs fan, any movie that references Mats Sundin is a movie that has my heart.

 

Grade: B+

 

#36. Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970)

 

 

This is one of those war movies that feels more like a history lesson than a piece of drama. Generally speaking, that's not really my thing, and it doesn't always work for me here (especially in the opening forty-five minutes, which are ungodly dry), but I do think there's something admirable about the scrupulous, impartial approach that it takes.

 

Specifically, I'm talking about the fact that we get to see everything from both perspectives. And while neither side ever bothers to develop any of its characters, and everything runs kinda grey (especially on the American front), I think the movie finds some energy in those moments of cross-cutting as the tension begins to mount.

 

This pays off with the extended attack sequence, which, while overlong, is so technically remarkable that it mostly makes the slow build-up worth it. And I also appreciated that, right through to the very end, the movie never chooses one side over the other. I still think the emotional impact would've been far greater if the human element was more present, but, as textbook chapters go, this is an impressive recreation all the same. 

 

Grade: B

 

#26. The Train (1964)

 

 

When it comes to action movies, or maybe just movies in general, I tend to have a better time when trains are involved. The more trains, the merrier - that's what I say. So a movie literally called The Train had a lot to live up to.

 

Fortunately, it's directed by John Frankenheimer, so we're in good hands. He knows how to establish a big scale while keeping everything taut and tight, making for a thriller with both high stakes and personal characterizations. It's kinda modern in that sense, though that could also be because it basically plays out like a heist movie, or because it leans so heavily on explosive spectacle.

 

Both of these elements should probably intrude on the grim premise, but they really don't, and I'm guessing that's due to the fact that everything feels so authentic. We're dealing with real locations, real trains, real stunts (which might explain why Lancaster's here, even though his character is supposed to be French), and real explosions. On top of creating a viscerally sweaty and industrial texture, this really puts into perspective the risks these guys are taking, and it forces you to ask whether any of it is actually worth the effort in the first place. But I guess that's war for you. 

 

Grade: A

 

#17. First Man (2018)

 

 

It can't be easy to make an effective and compelling drama out of something we've read about in history books our whole lives. First Man, like a lot of biopics, certainly has its share of checklist moments, but it's generally more subtle and personal than that. It gets to the heart of its subject in a way that feels characteristic: a cold and reserved portrait of a cold and reserved person.

 

Watching the movie, you can understand why this man might want to take on such a scary and isolating mission, and why his achievements always come with a sense of melancholy. More than a space movie, this is really a story about grief, and about the lengths we'll go to suppress it, even if that means leaving the planet. Gosling expresses this feeling wonderfully (if you've seen Drive or Blade Runner 2049, you already knew he was born to play characters who struggle to emote), and Damien Chazelle captures it all with quiet insight and thrilling spectacle. 

 

Plus, as expected as the climax might be (spoilers: they go to the moon), its presentation is so awe-inspiring and tender that I was riveted anyway. 

 

Grade: A-