#243. They Drive by Night (1940)

 

 

A.K.A. The Road to Frisco

 

Bit of an interesting structure to this one. The opening half is centered around two brothers who transport goods across the country, avoid loan sharks, and try to work on their home lives. But then, a good chunk of the way through, we're suddenly introduced to a trucking business owner and his wife, the latter of whom basically becomes the main character once she decides to go after one of the brothers. 

 

Much like this wife character, the movie is arguably guilty of wanting to have its cake and eat it too. The pair of storylines don't have a whole lot in common on a character or thematic level (though I guess they both reflect the dangers of this lifestyle), the tone is kind of all over the place, and certain aspects of the story - particularly Bogart's subplot - fall a bit by the wayside.

 

In all honesty, though, I don't really consider this stuff to be actively detrimental. On the contrary, I actually think they keep the energy fresh, the pacing lively, and the plot unpredictable. And between the sharp writing, Raoul Walsh's solid workmanship, and Ida Lupino's compellingly maniacal performance, the movie not only manages to maintain its momentum, but kicks into an even higher gear once we reach the third act.

 

Grade: A-

#229. Miller's Crossing (1990)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1-2

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A+

 

#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

#220. Mulholland Falls (1996)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B

 

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

#213. Dark City (1998)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

#208. The Ninth Gate (1999)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

 

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

 

#205. Scarlet Street (1945)

 

 

I know film noirs are generally quite dark by nature, but this one's downright mean-spirited. Fritz Lang takes us to one of the many ugly corners of New York, and populates it with characters that are despicable, irksome, or pathetic (or some combination of the three), which results in one of those seedy little yarns where you're waiting for, and secretly kind of hoping for, everything to go south.

 

These bleaker elements consistently appealed to me (particularly in the final twenty minutes, which get deliciously psychological), but I do think they might've worked even better if the overall movie had a bit less congestion to it. At various points, especially in the second half, we're still being introduced to new subplots and characters, and they tend to detract more than they add, hurting the overall flow of the story for me.

 

But I suppose that kind of bizarre ambition is part of Lang's appeal, right? Like, all this mayhem going on fits pretty well with his heightened styles and tones, so he mostly gets away with it. Plus, it helps that Edward G. Robinson's here to ground everything with his naive, sad sack performance, where he generates just enough sympathy for the arc to sock you in the mouth four or five times.

 

Grade: B+

 

#183. The Secret Agent (2025)

 

 

The main talking point with this one seems to be its length/pacing/sluggishness. I'll admit that two hours and forty minutes is a trying amount of time to spend on a movie that only intermittently springs to life, especially when much of the meandering feels so shapeless (though the kinetic camerawork, snappy editing, and lively performances help to keep the energy up), but I think I otherwise liked the slow burn. It gave the setting some immersion, the thrills some tension, and the structure a chance to unfold in bizarre and unexpected ways, especially in the third act.

 

There's also a good balance of personal drama and paranoid thriller here (with some cartoonish surrealism thrown in for good measure), which usually kept me invested in the conflicts and characters, gripped by the plot developments, and on edge whenever we did get some action. So even if I don't think the overall movie's quite as consistent or memorable as the two other Best Picture contenders I've watched thus far, the positives regarding scale, rhythm, tone, and political commentary (the bulk of which probably went right over my head) still make it entirely deserving of the nomination in my opinion.

 

Grade: A-

 

#167. Still of the Night (1982)

 

 

As you already know, if there's one genre that's almost guaranteed to enthrall me, it's neo-noir mysteries from the '70s and '80s - particularly the ones that were influenced by Hitchcock and giallo (which probably explains why I'm such a big De Palma fan). So while Still of the Night is a fairly safe and otherwise unremarkable little movie, the fact that it manages to hit all of those qualifiers means I predictably really enjoyed it.

 

Something that does marginally set this one apart, though, is the conspicuous lack of stylizations and operatics. That sounds like it should be a negative (and maybe it is; the presentation can be a little dry at times), but it allows for a simple story, some dreamy pacing, a lot of cool, crisp autumnal textures, and a quiet mood - one that makes the transition from drama to thriller to horror feel surprisingly seamless. 

 

And even if the runtime is a bit on the meager side, I think some of those later set pieces, as well as the long, single-take Meryl Streep monologue (while we're here: she's probably overqualified for this character, which causes her to feel mildly miscast, but it's nevertheless kinda cool to see her in a femme fatale role) make for a satiating experience overall.

 

Grade: A-

 

#162. The Grifters (1990)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B+

#157. Where Danger Lives (1950)

 

 

"Lovers on the run" is generally a rock-solid premise, and while Where Danger Lives is pretty generic for the most part, I think it manages to shake up the formula just enough to keep this sparse plot fairly interesting. Our hero is bruised and confused (sustaining one of the meanest concussions in film history), our femme fatale may or may not be totally certifiable, and we're not even certain that these two actually need to be running in the first place. It's all very vague and delirious, which I kinda liked.

 

Similarly, the adventure angle allows for a few nightmarish stops, from the used car salesman to the sketchy pawnbroker to the Whiskers Week wedding (seriously, what the hell was up with that town?). Maybe these aren't the most thrilling or memorable scenes ever filmed, but I'd say that they're paced and performed capably enough to get the job done, while also being stylistically woozy and paranoid in a way that suits both the urgent tone and dazed state of mind.

 

Aside from a tragic lack of Claude Rains (which is especially inexcusable when you consider that his six minutes of screen time are easily the best ones in the movie), and the fact that the big reveal is exactly what you're expecting it to be, I was mostly along for this tight, tense, and somewhat silly little ride. 

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. If you're a fan of Robert Mitchum's sleepy eyes, you really need to see them in action here. They're puffier and droopier than ever.

 

#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-

#141. Thieves' Highway (1949)

 

 

Can't say I've ever seen a movie depict societal corruption through a crooked produce dealer before. That's certainly a new one.

 

Otherwise, though, Thieves' Highway is a pretty standard little noir, albeit still a good one. I was truthfully hoping for more of a straightforward revenge movie, or perhaps a truck thriller in the style of Wages of Fear, but I suppose the more low-key story about exploitation, greed, and apples, while less explosive than the other two directions, is still tense and character-driven in most of the ways that matter. 

 

What helps are a few of the supporting players. Lee J. Cobb is great in any role that requires him to scream at people, and there's something about Valentina Cortese's cool and effortless charm that I find mesmerizing. Both actors give these characters, and the world around them, a lot of flavour, and they - along with Jules Dassin and his crisp direction - really add to the movie's dark and cynical tone.

 

Many people seem to take issue with the ending, but it didn't really bother me. Like, yeah, the cops suddenly barging in and chastising our hero for not being a law-abiding citizen is obviously dreadful, but, notwithstanding, I can accept this kind of all-too-neat conclusion if I feel as though our heroes have earned it. And, in this case, I do.

 

Grade: B+

 

#132. Dragged Across Concrete (2018)

 

 

If I'm engaged by what's going on, I can absolutely enjoy a slow burn. Dragged Across Concrete is over two-and-a-half hours long, has a languid pace, and spends large swaths of the runtime on scenes that most movies wouldn't even think to include (the Jennifer Carpenter segment is the most obvious example). And yet I savoured basically every minute of it.

 

Granted, this is a crime thriller starring Mel Gibson and Vince Vaughn, so I was more or less on the movie's side before the word go, but there's still something about the way it paces and unravels itself that really worked for me. The characters are so well-drawn, the action is so swift and unflinching, and the storytelling is so tense and colourful (black's a colour, right?) that the whole thing feels airtight, even when it drags.

 

Plus, for a movie this bleak, dark, and unapologetic in its worldview, it's got a surprisingly solid hangout vibe. The stakeout sequences, in particular, are among the best I've ever seen. Between the patience of the writing, the quality of the acting, and the stakes of the situation, you really begin to experience the boredom, frustration, and uncertainty of their dilemma, and you find yourself hoping that the long wait is worth it.

 

As far as payoffs are concerned, I'd say it is.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. Those masked robbers are the stuff of nightmares, but I couldn't get past the fact that one of them sounds exactly like Aaron Eckhart. Seriously, watch the movie and tell me you don't hear it.

 

#123. Odd Man Out (1947)

 

 

Carol Reed sure knew how to stylize these kinds of movies, didn't he? Much like The Third Man, Odd Man Out is heavy on dark tones, tactile settings, and political anxieties, with a lot of shadowy figures in trench-coats running down backlit alleys (maybe my single favourite noir trope). So, at least texturally, this one's for me.

 

Structurally, I'm not so sure. I mean, I like that the movie spends the first half-hour presenting itself as a straightforward heist thriller only to shuffle around to different perspectives and genres as it goes along, but I think my problem is that I'm not always interested in these new perspectives. For every one that works, there's probably two that feel like unnecessary padding. And it doesn't help that the pacing slows down considerably once the crime stuff is out of the way.

 

Still, I guess it all comes together pretty well, both because it turns this character's incapacitated state into something of a journey and because this journey slowly paints a distinct portrait of the entire community. And, again, even when I wasn't super invested in the story, I was always captivated by the vivid moods and compositions.

 

Plus, it's nice to see a little blood in something this old. Gives the movie an added edge. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#90. Sudden Fear (1952)

 

 

The first thirty minutes or so of Sudden Fear are decent enough, if a bit dry and conventional. But once everyone's intentions come into focus, and Myra listens to that SoundScriber recording (including a skip on "I know a way," which was a fantastic touch), we abruptly swerve into thriller territory, where the movie had me hooked right through to the end.

 

Perhaps the strongest element here, along with the glossy cinematography, is our protagonist's arc. I love seeing her transformation from a woman in peril to someone who suddenly understands her predicament to a fighter who now has to figure out what to do about it, all on her own. It's immediately compelling, and made all the better by Joan Crawford's heightened vulnerability. She was born for the kinds of roles that capitalize on her wide-eyed looks of shock and anger.

 

Granted, both her performance and the movie's overall presentation are probably verging on being over-the-top, but I honestly prefer a little hyperbole in my noirs. Gives them some needed energy, y'know? And besides, the whole thing's so twisty and shadowy and emotion-heavy that the storytelling feels consistent, and therefore largely believable.

 

Bold statement, but I stand by it: this movie's as taut and entertaining as anything Hitchcock made up to this point.

 

Grade: A

 

#63. Blue Thunder (1983)

 

 

This is another one of those movies that I sought out primarily because of the actors involved. Anything that includes Roy Scheider (even if he only took the job to get out of Jaws 3-D), Malcolm McDowell, Candy Clark, Daniel Stern, and Warren Oates is something that I probably should've seen by now.

 

But while the cast is undeniably great, it's the action that makes Blue Thunder worthwhile. The concept of a helicopter being some unstoppable killing machine is actually pretty novel to me, and the movie really makes the most of this premise, with its state-of-the-art technology and badass weaponry. I shudder at the thought of flying in airplanes, much less choppers, but there were a handful of moments where I genuinely wished I could ride in that thing.

 

I'll concede that much of the conflict between Scheider and McDowell is pretty contrived, and the conspiracy subplot isn't developed or resolved nearly as much as I'd like, but the movie makes up for both with a half-hour climax, complete with fantastic aerial stunts and explosions (not to mention ridiculous amounts of collateral damage), and even a car chase where Clark is allowed to get in on the action. As go-for-broke third acts go, this one doesn't disappoint.

 

Grade: A-

 

#60. Crimes of Passion (1984)

 

As much as I tend to prioritize mood and style in my reviews, those characteristics aren't everything to me. And a good example of why is Crimes of Passion, a sleazy boundary-pusher with great aesthetics and, in my opinion, not much else.

 

Texturally, this thing really pops, with its prog score and gorgeous neon lighting (dare I say that it all feels slightly giallo-inspired?). And it tackles eroticism and religiosity and repression in ways that must've felt super fresh in the ultra-conservative '80s. The meat and bones, however, don't really work for me. I thought the plot was uninteresting, the drama was flat, the characters were across-the-board unlikeable, and the tone was surprisingly dreary given the subject matter.

 

Kathleen Turner and the probably-miscast Anthony Perkins seem to be enjoying themselves, though. And the pun-heavy dialogue is pretty amusing (even if it starts to grate after a while). I don't necessarily have a problem with trash, but I'd prefer that it be at least somewhat fun. And I think Ken Russell takes this material far too seriously for any of it to be entertaining, or for the B-movie vibes not to clash with the many attempts at sincerity.

 

Grade: C+

 

#39. Phantom Lady (1944)

 

 

When it comes to smaller noirs, I prefer a playful balance between serious and silly, between dark and light. And I think Phantom Lady finds that balance. It's got the grim tones and brooding atmospheres and life-or-death stakes that you'd hope to find, while also being strange and over-the-top enough (erotic drumming, sculptured heads, evil hands) that I'm still having a fun time.

 

Where the movie truly started cooking for me, though, was through the changing of protagonists. For the opening twenty minutes or so, we think this is Scott's story. But once he gets sentenced early on, we discover that the true lead is actually Kansas, and we're now going to follow her as she attempts to rescue him. It's a refreshing change of pace because, one, Ella Raines is a much better actor than Alan Curtis, and two, it inverts the femme fatale trope, and allows a woman to play detective (and an unambiguous noir hero) for once.

 

Even with a slight and largely implausible story, I enjoyed this somewhat subversive little mystery.

 

Grade: A-