#254. The Cooler (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Is this a real thing? Do casinos actually hire people with quantifiably bad luck to walk around and ruin players' hot streaks through nothing more than their terrible vibes? Because, if so, I think I may have found my true calling.

 

Well, on second thought, perhaps not. Between the grainy visuals, the melancholic mood, the smooth-yet-downbeat score, and the constant threat of seeing Alec Baldwin break someone's limbs with a baseball bat, The Cooler doesn't exactly glorify this line of work. But the whole thing's so seedy and gritty that the concept at least feels credible to me, and it counter-balances the touches of fantasy extremely well. 

 

It also makes for three incredibly compelling main characters. Shelly has more depth than your typical crime movie antagonist, and both Natalie and Bernie are so jaded and sympathetic that you really root for them as a pair. Plus, as bleak as their story may be, there's more than enough style, personality, energy, and heart for it to simultaneously work as an optimistic little fairy tale about love and redemption.

 

Oh, and the fact that these two are played by Maria Bello (one of the coolest and most underrated actors out there) and William H. Macy doesn't exactly hurt on a likeability level.

 

Grade: A

 

#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+

 

#239. Something Wild (1986)

 

 

For roughly the first forty-five minutes of this movie, I was having a decent enough time. I liked the rom-com premise, the charming chemistry between Jeff Daniels and Melanie Griffith, and the impulsive spirit, but the experience as a whole wasn't exactly rocking my world, either, and there were moments where I found myself thinking that both the script and the jokes were starting to wear a bit thin.

 

Then Ray Liotta showed up.

 

The second this dude appears on screen, everything shifts. The mood immediately becomes dark and dangerous, the stakes increase exponentially, and I suddenly found myself far more invested in the plot. Even if this change is only here to add some fresh conflict, I was thrilled to go along with it, and I think the fact that Liotta pulled it off while still fitting the manic tone really speaks to his abilities as an actor. 

 

It also, of course, speaks to Jonathan Demme's abilities as a filmmaker. His fearless approach is so consistently energetic and eccentric that I think the moods blend pretty seamlessly. Plus, I'm just a sucker for sudden-yet-smooth left turns in general, and I like my comedies on the darker side to begin with, so I guess it was an easy sell in my case. Makes the journey that much quirkier, that much scarier, and, ultimately, that much more romantic.

 

Grade: A

#235. La Bête Humaine (1938)

 

 

A.K.A. The Human Beast and Judas Was a Woman

 

It's funny: for a movie that literally includes "Human" in the title, La Bête Humaine seems to be equally fascinated by train mechanics. But that's certainly not a complaint; trains are among my favourite movie settings/objects, and they'd be even more common if I had my way. So Jean Renoir definitely got off on the right foot with me by making the entire opening a near-wordless train sequence.

 

After that, we largely settle into a proto-noir (or Re-noir, if you will) story of plotting and guilt, the kind where every major character is a horrible person and where most of them end up even worse than they started. Some elements are a bit underdeveloped for my liking (like Lantier's homicidal outbursts, or Roubaud's descent into jealousy), but the tone makes up for that, with atmosphere so bleak and foreboding that it feels almost profound for 1938.

 

Otherwise, I think the strongest element here is the central relationship between Lantier and Séverine, precisely because the two have such little chemistry. It adds to Lantier's sense of isolation, it raises the question of whether Séverine was actually into him or simply using him (which is kept open-ended by Simone Simon's wonderfully vague performance), and it amplifies the shades of pessimism and fatalism throughout.

 

Grade: A-

 

#231. Sayonara (1957)

 

 

It must've been exhausting to be a casual moviegoer in the late '50s. With cinema waging war on the new medium of television, pretty much every release was now two-and-a-half hours long (if not longer), subject matter had largely become weighty and self-important, and the entire concept of brisk pacing was basically thrown out the window.

 

For these reasons, I've always found it slightly daunting to go back and watch a movie from this era (especially because its brand of spectacle doesn't necessarily lend itself to smaller home screens), but I can get on board with an elongated runtime if, say, there's enough thematic depth and purpose to justify it. And that's where Sayonara mostly succeeds in my eyes.

 

Sure, the movie's needlessly bloated, with a presentation that can definitely feel preachy and drab, but this gives it the necessary room to explore some delicate topics in a way that would've been really progressive for the time (hence the Oscar nods). This, combined with the passionate performances, significant story/character developments, and immersive settings (there's something about Japanese architecture that I find incredibly soothing), was enough to keep me invested in the relationships.

 

Grade: B+

 

#230. Sweet Charity (1969)

 

 

Bob Fosse always had a unique knack for combining colourful imagery and energetic characters with sleazy settings and dark subject matter. It's a bittersweet aesthetic that he perfected in the '70s with films like Cabaret and All That Jazz, but you can definitely see it starting to come together in Sweet Charity, which manages to make 1969 New York City look like both an idealistic wonderland and a soul-crushing hellscape.

 

It's also quite camp, with some countercultural spirit and avant-garde filmmaking techniques to keep things fresh and creative. And while the musical elements usually have a pretty tenuous connection to the actual narrative (causing certain scenes to feel like filler), and the bizarre editing choices only occasionally land, Fosse channels enough passion and temporary catharsis into the choreography and overall atmosphere that the emotions largely remain consistent.

 

Also keeping the tone in place is Shirley MacLaine, who, on top of giving a great performance, brings such an effervescent joy and light to every single scene. It makes the songs that much more endearing (to the point where you don't really care that next-to-nothing is actually happening), the character that much easier to root for, and her arc that much more effective. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#215. The Heartbreak Kid (1972)

 

 

It's a testament to Charles Grodin's abilities as a comedian/actor that Lenny Cantrow isn't the single most despicable character ever put to film. I mean, maybe he still is (the guy's a spineless, inconsiderate, self-centered jerk who never learns a single thing), but Grodin has this subdued, almost endearing awkwardness about him that makes Lenny's desperate insincerity more watchable than it should be.

 

I have to also credit Elaine May, though, for not letting this guy off the hook. In just about every major scene, she locks the camera down, John Cassavetes-style, and lets the drama play out in the most sweaty, uncomfortable, claustrophobic way possible. It's the kind of subtly agonizing presentation that smacks of both emotional intelligence and a creative point of view, and it ultimately makes for an damning depiction of male self-destruction.

 

Still, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find the conflicts a bit monotonous, and the comedy only mildly funny. But I guess both of those qualms are slightly soothed by the presence of Eddie Albert, whose stern indignation largely balances much the queasiness at play. I especially love his barely-contained rage at the restaurant, as well as his baffled delivery of "There's no deceit in the cauliflower?"

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. Holy shit, does this movie need a remaster. Every version I could find made me feel like I was watching a 480p YouTube video from 2006.

#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

#212. Love & Other Drugs (2010)

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B

 

#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+

 

#196. Singin' in the Rain (1952)

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

I usually feel a slight sense of trepidation when it comes to tackling the more popular and acclaimed movies, but not so much here. And I think that's because Singin' in the Rain is so pleasant and likeable and beautiful and entertaining that the positives basically speak for themselves.

 

Like, where to start? The gorgeous Technicolor? The catchy songs? The athletic choreography? The breathtaking pastel sets? The funny dialogue? The sharp industry satire? It's all so marvelously composed and effortlessly executed (despite the fact that these numbers are clearly exhausting) that you can't help but smile through the entire thing.

 

And unlike a lot of musicals from the time (or any time), there's not a single dull moment throughout. The title sequence, "Make 'Em Laugh", and "Good Morning" are all rightfully immortalized, but then you've also got the lovely "You Were Meant for Me", the energetic "Moses Supposes", and the show-stopping "Broadway Melody", as well as a fun showbiz plot and a cute romance in between all the winning numbers. It's about as joyous and perfect as Old Hollywood gets.

 

Case in point: the movie has appeared on pretty much every significant film list there is (including a top ten placement from both the American Film Institute and Sight & Sound), and you almost never hear any objections.

 

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

#170. There Goes the Neighborhood (1992)

 

A.K.A. Paydirt

 

I'm down for any movie with a Mad World-esque scavenger hunt premise, even if the results are often messy and mediocre. So while There Goes the Neighborhood is clearly both of those things, the mere fact that it's about a group of characters who collectively lose their minds over some buried treasure is enough to keep my feelings positive. 

 

The main selling point here is obviously the cast. I don't know how you manage to get Jeff Daniels, Catherine O'Hara, Hector Elizondo, Rhea Perlman, Judith Ivey, Harris Yulin, Jonathan Banks, Dabney Coleman, and Chazz Palminteri together and not score a hit out of it, but this group nevertheless makes the most of a tepid and underdeveloped script, while also keeping things appropriately chaotic.

 

Honestly, maybe too chaotic. Like a lot of zany comedies, this one commits the understandable mistake of having way too much going on at the same time. People speak over one another, everything moves a bit too quickly, and it all starts to feel like overload after a while (especially when you take into account rookie Bill Phillips's clunky and unpolished direction), to the point where very little leaves much of an impression. I had a fun time with the movie, but I can also see why nobody ever talks about it.

 

Grade: B

 

#169. Valley of the Dolls (1967)

 

 

To my eternal dismay, I tend to like camp more in theory than in practice. On paper, something like Valley of the Dolls sounds fun and lively and colourful (and I'll agree that the pastel sets and hammy performances do manage to provide some charm), but, as an actual viewing experience, I mostly just found the movie unpleasant and dull.

 

Those seem like preposterous adjectives given the subject matter and overall presentation, but I guess my problem is that the whole thing quickly gets bogged down by tedious pacing and coarse conflicts, both of which really kill the vibe. And it probably doesn't help that the structure's as loose as it is (especially since these three women barely appear to know each other), or that we never settle on a consistent tone.

 

Still, the energy does pick up every now and again (thanks mainly to the wonderfully miscast Patty Duke, whose cringy-yet-endearing performance keeps things from totally flatlining), and I can usually sense some melancholy underneath the kitsch, which lends a lot of much-needed weight. This isn't an awful movie, necessarily, but I'd argue that it ultimately suffers from being stuck in something of a no man's land: too dark to be fun, and too silly to be resonant. 

 

Grade: C+

#145. Mad Love (1935)

 

 

A.K.A. The Hands of Orlac 

 

I knew I was in for a uniquely deranged time when the opening credits abruptly ended with a clenched fist punching through a window.

 

Mad Love is a bold and perverse little movie, at least by Old Hollywood standards. It's kinda slight overall (coming in at a sparse sixty-eight minutes), and it doesn't quite give itself the time necessary to fully develop every one of its competing plot threads, but it sure is an effective genre piece. The subject matter is fun and pulpy, Peter Lorre really outdoes himself on the creepiness front (especially when you combine those enormous eyes with the eggiest of bald heads), and there are a good seven or eight supporting parts adding to the flavour, including Charlie Chan's son, a reporter straight out of Batman '89, and a somewhat role-reversed Colin Clive.

 

What really sets this one apart, though, is the strong visual style. Karl Freund brings everything to life through his unique combination of German Expressionist and Universal Horror sensibilities, and Gregg Toland proves that he always knew how to capture dark shadows and creative angles (if you've ever found yourself looking for a link between Metropolis, Dracula, and Citizen Kane, here it is). Everyone's playing at the same heightened level here, and it results in a zany-yet-macabre thrill ride.

 

Grade: A-

 

#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+

 

#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+

 

#127. White Christmas (1954)

 

 

I'm starting to notice a trend with these Golden-age Hollywood musicals. They always start off so warm and likeable, and then the magic starts to wear off a bit once the conflict is introduced.

 

The first forty-five minutes or so of White Christmas are adorably sweet (perhaps to a sickly degree, but I have no problem with it). The tone, the comedy, and the chemistry are all a joy to behold. But then we reach Vermont, and are presented with one of those tedious and bizarrely common misunderstanding subplots, and it really starts to harsh the mellow for me - especially because we have to spend upwards of half an hour watching these two romantic leads argue with each other over literally nothing.

 

Fortunately, everything else keeps spirits bright. The songs are still pleasant, the performances are still charming, and, most of all, the whole thing just looks fantastic. Between the VistaVision format (which this movie was apparently the very first to use), the Technicolor processing, and the beautiful sets, every single frame pops off the screen, really adding to the buoyant mood and colourful presentation.

 

Wouldn't have minded a little more Christmas, though. Outside of the title track and the closing scene, you might as well have called this movie Green Summer. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#114. Dragonwyck (1946)

 

 

This is one of those Gothic period melodramas, similar in story and style to Wuthering Heights and Rebecca. And, just like those two comparables, it works best when it leans into the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) eeriness of its setting.

 

When we're trapped in this hauntingly beautiful titular castle, with its towering sets, spooky vibes, unsettling music, and creepy (is there any other kind?) turn from Vincent Price, we reach that level of dark pomp and circumstance that I find atmospherically irresistible. And the whole thing's captured with such glowing cinematography and measured pacing that it's hard to believe this was Joe Mankiewicz's first movie.

 

Well, okay, you can sometimes tell. The tone's not as consistent as I'd like, and the passage of time could've been communicated a lot better (months frequently pass out of nowhere, and minor characters [including one or two who seem kinda vital] completely vanish from the story without explanation). But while the overall execution is far from perfect, I think the scenes that focus on building character and mood mostly are.

 

Grade: B+

 

#112. The Navigator (1924)

 

 

Thus far, the silent films I've covered haven't exactly rocked my world, so I thought I'd return to ol' faithful.

 

More than maybe any comic actor prior to... god, the seventies?, Buster Keaton still manages to make me laugh. It's all there in his stone face, limber body, flawless timing, and legitimately certifiable stunts. And even if his films lack the plotting and emotional depth of, say, a Chaplin movie, I think it's precisely that jokes-come-first prioritization that continues to make him so likeable and watchable (and besides, who really cares about plot in something like this?).

 

Of course, that's not to say that The Navigator is structurally flawless. It takes a little too long to get going (especially given the runtime), and much of the third act conflict with the cannibals has obviously not aged well. But everything in between - i.e. Keaton and Kathryn McGuire on the boat - is pure bliss. It's nothing but physical comedy and clever prop work, which is exactly what we came for.

 

There's also something I find especially cozy about this one. Probably has a lot to do with my love of large and largely empty settings (think The Overlook in The Shining, or the mall in Dawn of the Dead), of which this boat is a perfect example. It's grand and intimate at the same time, which adds an extra layer of warmth and comfort to the humour, in my opinion.

 

Grade: A