#252. The Morning After (1986)

 

 

As much as I love a slow burn thriller, I can also appreciate one that doesn't waste any time. So the opening scene of The Morning After, in which a hungover woman wakes up next to a murdered body, made a great first impression. Right off the bat, the story's got some personal stakes and narrative urgency, and I immediately found myself on the side of this character who's trying to figure out what the hell happened.

 

After that, though, the movie settles into a more routine and casual presentation. It's kinda disappointing considering where we started, and the mood's rarely as palpable as I'd like from here on out (though at least Sidney Lumet can be counted on to keep things tight), but I was still able to enjoy the workmanlike plotting, the neo-noir atmospherics, and the central relationship's compellingly dubious dynamic.

 

Plus, while some of the character stuff doesn't quite work (there are times where it's genuinely hard to tell whether this woman cares about, or even remembers, her present situation), the attempts at development go over well, and Jane Fonda and Jeff Bridges are so natural and sympathetic in their performances that they mostly manage to overcome the script's tonal and structural inconsistencies.

 

Grade: B+

 

#228. Coma (1978)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#227. The Blue Dahlia (1946)

 

 

This is one of those noirs that has a really solid foundation (an interesting premise, a respectable cast [including a reunion between Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake], an original screenplay by Raymond Chandler himself), but, in my opinion, just a so-so result.

 

Part of that's due to Chandler's hardboiled tone, which I'm frankly not all that crazy about (it always comes off kinda dry and dense to me), but I think it's also a matter of the story and characters not living up to their potential. The mystery lacks intrigue, the plot seems to revolve around a string of increasingly implausible chance encounters, and the final reveal is so rushed and random that I wouldn't be surprised if they made it up on the spot.

 

Still, while these elements make the whole thing feel a bit distant and mechanical, there's enough style throughout that I wouldn't quite call it dull, either. Ladd and Lake provide adequate movie star charisma (especially when they're together, as rare as that is), the colourful mix of supporting characters adds a good deal of flavour, and the sets and costumes mostly get the mood across, even if the cinematography almost never does. Decent genre entry, but it could've been a lot better.

 

Grade: B

#223. Prom Night (1980)

 

 

I'm a ridiculously easy mark when it comes to slasher-whodunits. Even in the case of something like Prom Night, which isn't especially creative (it's basically Friday the 13th in a Carrie costume), doesn't have as many suspects as I'd like, and is pretty tepid as far as violence goes, I was nevertheless absolutely absorbed by the mounting tension, intriguing mystery, and killer dance moves.

 

I think it helps that the movie doesn't mind taking its time. Sure, it results in an extremely dry opening hour, with maybe a few too many scenes centered around blah characters and dynamics, but it also keeps the slow burn suspense simmering for as long as possible, which draws things out in such a well-paced way that the eventual chase scenes actually have some weight and urgency to them. 

 

Beyond that, I liked the school setting, the warm, glowing, almost dreamlike cinematography, the faint echo of the dance music in some of the scarier sequences, the two main casting choices (while Leslie Nielsen doesn't have a big part, it's always a treat to see him in a serious role), and the clumsy action, which only adds to the overall believability. I guess I can understand why this movie doesn't have a stellar reputation, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have a lot of fun with it.

 

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.

#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

#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?

 

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#188. Hollywoodland (2006)

 

 

I'll say this for Hollywoodland: as fictionalized Old Hollywood detective movies from 2006 go, it's certainly better than The Black Dahlia.

 

Granted, that's not saying a whole lot. The latter was almost unwatchable, and the former's still pretty bland. I guess there's some decent atmosphere here and there (even if the saturated cinematography completely kills the immersion), and Affleck and Brody are mostly turning in good performances, but everything else feels uninspired to me, from the hokey genre tropes to the trite stabs at drama.

 

More than anything, though, I think my biggest problem probably comes down to structuring. Like, as much as I can appreciate the attempt to tell two related stories with two different protagonists, this approach results in a mystery that barely scratches the surface of its subject matter from either side. And what we're left with is a pair of underbaked halves instead of a satisfying whole, which ultimately lessens the movie's overall impact.

 

Grade: C+

P.S. Is Ben the first actor to technically play both Batman and Superman in live action?

#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-

 

#165. Disturbia (2007)

 

 

Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum.

 

No movie with this premise is ever going to live up to the ridiculously high bar set by Rear Window, but I think Disturbia is honestly a pretty effective little teen thriller. The concept of spying on other people from the confines of your own home is an inherently cozy and suspenseful (albeit unoriginal) one, and the hyperactive, distinctly 2000s presentation provides a lot of warmth and energy.

 

Now, does every element work? Not exactly. The opening few minutes are far heavier than this kind of movie is equipped to handle (which is especially noticeable in the two or three moments where we return to this tone, because it always feels jarring and out of place), and the relationship subplot, while occasionally cute, isn't overly convincing. However, once we enter full-blown serial killer territory, the sailing immediately becomes much smoother. 

 

Part of me wishes that the later story beats were a little less predictable, but then I have to remind myself of the target audience here. And, as redundant crowd-pleasers aimed at adolescents go, I think this one's fun, occasionally tense, and actually fairly well-acted. I'd forgotten how good Shia LaBeouf could be in his younger years.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. The true breakout star of the movie, however, has to be David Morse's earring.

 

#159. The Drowning Pool (1975)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A-

 

#153. Cop (1988)

 

 

Here's a movie that, at least story-wise, is about as generic as they come (which I suppose makes the simplistic title pretty apt), with its serial killer premise, obsessed/corrupt protagonist, and generally seedy vibe. And yet, I dunno, maybe I'm just weak to this kind of thriller in general, but I otherwise found it sturdy and atmospheric enough that these cliches didn't really bother me.

 

Part of that simply comes down to the plot, which, basic as it might be, kept me invested (I was into the mystery, the methodical presentation, and the untrustworthy characters), but I think it's ultimately the Jameses, both B. Harris and Woods, that take this one to the next level. The former uses dark cinematography, dingy settings, moody scoring, and harsh imagery to lend some noirish style to this economic procedural, and the latter is at his smarmy best, somehow managing to remain charismatic no matter how frequently or overtly he crosses the line (which is why you hire him in the first place). The result is undoubtedly trashy, but it's fun, well-crafted trash.

 

And if you're into trash as much as I am, then you'll probably agree when I say that the final line is priceless.

 

Grade: A-

 

#149. Mr. Arkadin (1955)

 

 

A.K.A. Confidential Report

 

With the obvious exceptions of Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil, Orson Welles as a director kinda frustrates me. I'll watch a movie like Mr. Arkadin, and I can absolutely see the strokes of genius - it's there in the non-linear storytelling, the unusual camera angles, and the uses of light and shadow. And yet, there's also something laboured and unsatisfying about it, which always keeps my enjoyment at arm's length.

 

Much of that probably comes down to the script, which is so confounding and nonsensical that I struggled to get attached to anything. But I also couldn't quite get past the surprisingly sloppy execution, which includes obvious dubbing, rushed pacing, clumsy narration, and chopping editing. And even if you can blame those on the studio, that doesn't explain the bland characters and wooden performances.

 

It's a real shame, because, again, you can see the potential buried underneath these shortcomings. But promise and goodwill only go so far, and this one is simply too all over the place (or, if we're being less charitable, downright unfinished) for it not to ultimately feel like another Welles work that comes up just short. 

 

Grade: B-

#146. Session 9 (2001)

 

 

As the real estate saying goes: location, location, location.

 

The main character of Session 9 is the asylum that it takes place in. With its majestic exterior and creepy, run-down interior, you could film pretty much any horror story here and it would probably be effective. And I think that's why I like the fact that this movie's execution is so simple: no matter how much time we spend watching these guys walk down long, dark hallways, it always creates some palpable tension and paranoia.

 

Brad Anderson's decision to shoot the entire thing on digital video also goes a long way. This look definitely takes some getting used to, and we're not exactly in "every frame's a painting" territory here, but it nevertheless gives the movie a grounded, quasi-realistic, almost Blair Witch feel, which meshes incredibly well with both the unsettling mood and the everyday characters.

 

I'm not entirely convinced that this one fully sticks the landing (certain aspects of the ending aren't super satisfying, and the connection between the intertwining narratives feels kinda tenuous to me), but the build-up is so sinister and well-crafted that I still generally find it to be a worthy exercise in fear and dread.

 

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

 

#135. Confidence (2003)

 

 

We've stumbled onto another one of my guilty pleasure subgenres: flashy heist movies that think they're a lot more clever than they really are.

 

Confidence is, in almost every regard, unoriginal. The plot, convoluted as it is, is generally pretty predictable, the characters are all total cutouts with zero personality beyond maybe a single quirk, and you can sense the influences (ranging from Mamet to Soderbergh to Guy Ritchie) at all times. Also, this one's a bit of a nitpick, but I have no idea why so many crime movies from around this time felt the need to give everything away via far-too-revealing foreshadowing openers. Awful trend.

 

Like I said, though, I'm an incredibly easy mark with this stuff. So, sure, the movie's derivative and surface-level, but it's also a stylish, slickly-made little caper, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have fun with it. James Foley's colourful and assured direction really appealed to me (though the editing could've used a tad more restraint; the whole thing feels like it was put together by Hoffman's character), as did the impressive and charismatic lineup of character actors, as did the playful tone, as did the neatly-packaged storytelling. Mediocre Ocean's Eleven is still a good time in my eyes.

 

Plus, it ends with "Clocks" by Coldplay. How can I dislike any movie from 2003 that ends with "Clocks" by Coldplay?

 

Grade: B+

 

#128. Murder by Decree (1979)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B