#255. The Little Prince (1974)

 

 

The footage of Bob Fosse wearing all black and dancing around like a snake has been making the rounds online recently (mostly because of how much it obviously influenced Michael Jackson, who just got a new biopic), and it piqued my interest enough to get me to seek out the source.

 

For the most part, The Little Prince lived up to that curiosity. It might be small and cheap (and slightly lacking in the song department, let's be honest), but it's also warm and cute and charming, which is what matters to me. Between the adorable production design, the endearing effects, the kooky wide-angle cinematography, and the generally playful tone, the whole movie feels like a storybook come to life, and it's just a joy to behold.

 

Now, granted, there's not exactly a ton of plot going on, so the gimmicks wear a little thin after a while, but that's where two incredibly inspired bits of casting provide some rejuvenation in the back half. I've already mentioned Fosse as The Snake, who looks cool as hell, but the true standout for me (and I think everybody) is Gene Wilder as The Fox. Seeing him run through the woods and hide behind trees in an orange suit is one of those precious visuals that I'll cherish forever.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. Columbo killer count: 2. Richard Kiley (they truly spared no expense when it came to casting this movie) and Clive Revill.

 

#251. The Butterfly Effect (2004)

 

 

Version: Director's Cut

 

I'm not always crazy about movies that put the concept first, but this is one of those cases where I found it fun and clever enough to give pretty much everything else a pass. And that's worth pointing out because, in most regards, The Butterfly Effect is honestly pretty subpar. The plotting's inconsistent (even by the standards of the subgenre), the drama's overwrought and phony, and the performances are honestly kind of terrible.

 

And yet, because the movie's about a dude who can go into the past and alter the future, I mostly found myself entertained. It's neat to see a story attempt to cover so many timelines and potential outcomes (my favourite: the one where our protagonist is a cool frat boy, mainly because it's played so straight), and I'm always down for a plot that treats itself like a puzzle, regardless of whether it's actually solvable.

 

Plus, the whole movie has that angsty, distinctly early 2000s vibe (think Final Destination) that I'll forever have a soft spot for. Combine that with the exploration of cause and effect, as well as some of the moral dilemmas presented, and it all makes for a surprisingly emotional and thought-provoking watch - especially if we're talking about this specific version. Good lord, what an ending.

 

Grade: B+

 

#248. Timecop (1994)

 

 

When you watch the opening scene of this movie, in which a time traveler with futuristic weapons kills five Confederate soldiers and steals their gold, you can't help but feel as though the rest of the script kinda wastes its no-limits premise. Unfortunate as it is, if you're here to see some fights between major historical figures and cops from the future, you're gong to be extremely disappointed.

 

But that's when you need to remember that this is a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie. Like, with all due respect, the ceiling was only ever going to be so high. And, once you adjust your expectations accordingly, I think there's a lot to enjoy here. The story, while not nearly as playfully batshit as it could've been, is still creative and well-structured, the presentation is appropriately lean and grimy, and the supporting cast brings a decent amount of flavour and charisma.

 

Plus, there's the aspect that's always the best part of these sci-fi/action movies, and that's all the futurism/time travel stuff. Even if it predictably results in a thousand plot holes, it gives us some charming sets and designs (I especially love how wrong they were about what cars would look like in 2004), and it ensures a fast pace, which, along with JCVD's patented kicks & splits routine, keeps the action fun and engaging.

 

Grade: B+

 

#241. Southland Tales (2006)

 

 

If I were to rank every movie I've reviewed based solely on how weird they are, Southland Tales would easily win out. I don't even know what second place would be (Bubba Ho-Tep? Vanilla Sky? Bugonia?), but, whatever it is, it wouldn't come especially close.

 

Like, at least those other movies are mostly coherent. This one's so vague and impenetrable that it often borders on becoming unwatchable. Combine that with the smug satire and the self-important writing, and I can understand why it's also one of the more divisive movies I've seen thus far. Honestly, there were many moments, especially in the opening hour, where I came close to dismissing the whole thing as a pretentious waste of time.

 

And yet, I dunno, something about the bizarro presentation started to click with me after a while. That's not to say that the movie suddenly becomes great or anything, but more that I simply had no choice but to respect the sheer madness, ambition, creativity, and moderately prophetic commentary on display. By the time Justin Timberlake began lip syncing to The Killers, I was just like "Okay, Richard. You win."

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. One thing I unambiguously appreciate is the against-type casting. If you think The Rock, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Seann William Scott, and Jon Lovitz are one-dimensional actors... you're probably right, but at least we're seeing them attempt something different here.

 

#240. Big Hero 6 (2014)

 

 

Despite my enduring affection for animated Disney movies, I haven't exactly done a stellar job of keeping up with the new releases. In the last twenty years, the only ones I'd seen were Wreck-It Ralph and Frozen, so I thought it was about time I got around to another one. And I settled on Big Hero 6, mainly because the big, fluffy robot always looked so adorable to me.

 

Now that I've watched it: yeah, he absolutely is adorable. I'd almost certainly die for Baymax if I had one in real life. But he's not the only draw here. The story's also really sweet and likeable (even if the message is a bit overstated in the early goings), and the visual aesthetics are extremely crisp and clean. I especially love how fluid everything is, as well as the colourful, futuristic setting that combines elements of Tokyo and San Francisco.

 

Granted, I'm still writing this in the midst of my superhero fatigue, so a few of the action sequences caused me to slightly disengage, but I enjoyed the animation, meta humour, and cute character dynamics enough to have an extremely fun time. Plus, this is the first movie on the blog that made me cry (damn you, Disney), so I can't pretend that the emotional aspects - no matter how manipulative - didn't work on me.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. If there's one major minus here, it's gotta be the villain. Dude might genuinely be in the running for least interesting Disney baddie, right up there with the governor from Pocahontas.

 

#238. The War of the Worlds (1953)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Let's start with the positive: this is probably the most visually stunning sci-fi movie to come out of the '50s. The use of Technicolor brings a lot of beauty and legitimacy to the concept, and it causes these already impressive effects (the ships, the creatures, the death rays, and the explosions all look amazing) to pop that much more.

 

Unfortunately, as predictable as this may sound, the human stuff is where the movie continues to lose me. While the sheer volume of destruction is enough to provide some adequate stakes, and the tight nature of the script mostly keeps things from getting too draggy, the characters are simply vacuums of personality (which isn't exactly helped by the performances), and it quickly causes me to disengage with what should be a fun story.

 

Similarly, the resolution's a total letdown (I can still recall laughing out loud the first time I saw it), but it mostly gels with the hokiness at play, while also wrapping things up fairly tidily, so I won't complain about that one. Instead, I'll say that, despite the bulk of this thing being a bit silly and dated for my liking, I can at least respect how influential the technical and genre components have proven to be.

 

Grade: B-

 

#217. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B-

#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+

 

#206. A Boy and His Dog (1975)

 

 

2024 came and went and we still don't have a means of telepathically communicating with our pets. Why is the future never as cool as we expect it to be?

 

Ah well. At least we're not (yet) living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. A Boy and His Dog has something of a proto-Mad Max aesthetic, with its desolate settings, ugly ethics, distinct hierarchies, and extremely cynical outlook, but the difference is that this is also a comedy featuring an intelligent, sarcastic dog. It's a bizarre combination of tones, and they don't always completely gel with one another, but I have to respect how bold and offbeat and weirdly charming it all is, in a "What if Disney made really fucked up movies?" kinda way.

 

And while the presentation is generally on the dry and slow side, and the bickering banter between Vic and Blood gets a tad one-note after a while (though the dynamic never stops being unique, or adorable), there's also just enough variety that I wouldn't call the movie bland or tedious, either. A lot of that has to do with the extra-dystopian Downunder stuff in the third act, which includes contrary scenery, whiteface makeup, android enforcers, and an artificial insemination plot. It's still not as dynamic or as unsettling as I'd like, but it shook things up in a way that I appreciated.

 

Grade: B

 

#201. Bugonia (2025)

 

 

Ah yes, another totally normal movie from Yorgos Lanthimos.

 

Bugonia is a nasty little satire, one that scrutinizes some of latter-day humanity's darkest flaws - corporate greed, conspiracy poisoning, the class divide, confirmation bias, exploited vulnerability, etc. - and features two opposing yet similarly insufferable protagonists (played to disquieting perfection by Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons) to make a strong case for the extinction of our species. Fun stuff, right?

 

Actually, yeah, it is pretty fun, and that's because Lanthimos continues to be such a strange and creative storyteller. He has this way of combining black humour, unsettling tension, and mean-spirited horror in a way that's both refreshing and unpredictable, and the result here is one of those situations where you constantly find yourself laughing in spite of (or, in many cases, because of) all the heinous shit going on.

 

It's a wild ride, and while I'm not totally convinced that it sticks the landing (those last ten minutes are either gonna make or break the entire thing on a rewatch), this journey is so maddening, bonkers, and one-of-a-kind that I also wonder if it's possible for any conclusion to feel out of place.

 

Grade: A-

 

#197. Frankenstein (2025)

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: A-

 

#182. Deep Blue Sea (1999)

 

 

I have a soft spot for late '90s studio schlock, as well as simplistic horror movies where a small group of characters fight to survive in an isolated setting. This one manages to hit both of those weak points, and has a good time doing it, so I can only dock so many points for stupid writing and terrible effects.

 

Actually, if anything, those two qualities only serve to enhance the charm. This isn't a Sharknado situation, where the entire project reeks of laziness and cynicism. No, Deep Blue Sea cares, and plays everything completely straight (with just the right amount of self-awareness), which makes the cornier elements a million times more likeable and fun as a result.

 

Plus, while this earnestness often takes us in some strange directions (the whole religious subplot, for instance, goes over really weird), it also allows for some effective genre scares, creative violence, cheesy dialogue, committed performances, surprisingly decent action set pieces, and LL Cool J's absolute masterpiece of a theme song. The whole thing's a junk heap, but it's a determined and entertaining junk heap.

 

And regardless of where you stand on the movie's quality, I think we can agree that Sam Jackson's big speech is a legitimate top hundred horror moment.

 

Grade: B+

 

#181. Brainstorm (1983)

 

 

There's a reason why the only times you ever hear about this one are when people discuss Natalie Wood's sudden and mysterious death. And that's because, in pretty much all other regards, there just isn't a whole lot worth talking about. 

 

Okay, maybe that's a bit harsh. I suppose Brainstorm has value. The premise, for instance, about technology that can project one person's consciousness and sensations onto another via headset, is pretty creative and ahead of its time, and the sci-fi visuals are generally quite stunning. But that's basically where my compliments end. Everything else feels off to me, from the weak acting (Wood looks bored, Louise Fletcher is all over the place, and I don't even know what Christopher Walken's going for) to the atrocious dialogue to the choppy editing to the uneven sound mixing. And the result is a bewildering, insta-dated misfire, at least in my opinion.

 

Even the alternating aspect ratios, which, sure, probably look really cool in a theater setting, are mostly jarring on a home screen. All the non-virtual scenes (which is ninety percent of the movie) are now covered by both vertical and horizontal black bars, which causes everything inside to look boxed-in, small, and inconsequential. Makes the whole experience feel less cinematic to me, not more.

 

Grade: C

#174. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

Here it is, the most widely reviled film of my lifetime. We all know the story: expectations were unreasonably high, and all those years of build-up and excitement eventually led to disappointment, which turned to anger, which turned to hate, which turned to endless screeds about how George Lucas "raped" our collective childhoods (yes, people actually said that).

 

It was all a bit much, honestly, to the point where the heavy backlash inevitably received a backlash of its own. Nowadays, you're much more likely to hear about how this trilogy's actually underrated, and that the initial reception was far too negative. I'd like to agree with that stance. I really would. But it frankly doesn't survive actually sitting down and re-watching the damn thing.

 

Yeah, sorry, but, all these years later, long after I've come to accept this prequel for what it is, it still doesn't do all that much for me. I don't hate it by any means (in fact, the kiddie tone [along with Darth Maul and "Duel of the Fates"] might even give it a tiny leg up on the two entries to come), but the defects are just too overwhelming to ignore. They almost go without saying at this point: convoluted plotting, clunky pacing, wooden acting, awful dialogue, bland CG environments, a general lack of passion, etc. Despite the wealth of potential here (which might partially explain all the fruitless fan edits), most of it's squandered by tedious storytelling and lazy creative decisions.

 

Now, in fairness, Lucas always insisted, rather defensively, that these movies were made for children. Maybe so. But I was six years old in 1999, and, as a member of that target audience, I can assure you that I still would've chosen any of the Original Trilogy episodes over this one every single day of the week.

 

Grade: C+

#161. Osmosis Jones (2001)

 

 

Doesn't surprise me to learn that this one bombed. I mean, I was a dumb eight-year-old in 2001, and even I wasn't especially interested in seeing it. And yet, there must've been something about the title and character design that made an impression on me, because here I was, a quarter century later, still kind of curious about what I was missing.

 

And... I actually quite enjoyed it. My younger self would've been pleasantly surprised. There's a Y2K feel to the animation, the upbeat R&B soundtrack (god, I miss this kind of music in movies), and the general sense of humour that hit my nostalgia bone, and I was really into the premise and worldbuilding. Just the concept of making characters out of human cells and organisms is genuinely clever (it's very Inside Out meets Magic School Bus), to such a degree that I'd have to imagine that the jokes and conflicts basically wrote themselves.

 

There's also some live-action stuff going on here, and while it's definitely on the lazy and lethargic side (especially given the over-reliance on gross-out humour, and the fact that Bill Murray's turning in another one of his "I'm way too good for this" performances), I still found it funny and energetic in a way that gels with the animation. But you might want to take that opinion with a few grains of salt - I'm a sucker for any movie that combines these two mediums.

Grade: B+

#156. They Live (1988)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

When I marathoned John Carpenter's filmography a few years back, They Live was actually one of my least favourites (maybe not bottom three, but close). And I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that I couldn't conflate the satire being so outlandish and on-the-nose compared to the dreary presentation. I was expecting something quick and silly in the vein of Big Trouble in Little China, and what I got instead was honestly much closer to Dark Star.

 

Now that I knew what tone to expect, though, the dryness and overall story started making a lot more sense to me. Granted, I still think the first third's a little bland and the final third's really sloppy, and the Meg Foster stuff continues to flatline for me, but I was much more compelled by the rhythmic pacing, the downright hypnotic scoring, and the arrow-straight commentary this time. This movie might not have Carpenter's usual energy, but it sure has his pulse and bitter sense of humour.

 

It also has two of the best scenes of his career, and you likely already know what I'm talking about. The first is where Roddy Piper initially puts on the sunglasses, which is just a great bit of worldbuilding. And the second is the unending alley brawl, which feels like it takes up a third of the runtime, and which is the exact brand of kinda sincere/kinda tongue-in-cheek excess that fits this movie like a glove.

 

Grade: B+

 

#144. Phenomenon (1996)

 

 

After a decade-plus of cinematic irony poisoning, there's something about a sweet, sincere little fantasy-drama from the '90s that feels like a breath of fresh air.

 

That's not to say that Phenomenon is a phenomenal movie or anything. It's sappy and silly and likely not super memorable, but I guess I'm just a sucker for a small scale and some genuine heart. I like the fact that this script introduces its sci-fi element without any explanation, I like watching George slowly learn how to utilize his new gifts, and I just generally like the movie's charming vibe, from the autumnal rural setting to the prominent soundtrack to the simplistic-yet-wholesome characters. It's all very approachable and cute to me.

 

I'm a bit more mixed on the third act, though, where the tone suddenly becomes strangely heavy (especially in relation to the opening hour). I would've preferred to see things remain pleasant and airy, but this sudden shift does gel with the schmaltziness of the movie's overall presentation, while also shining a light on its themes, so I suppose I can live with it. Also probably helps that we've got actors like John Travolta, Robert Duvall, Kyra Sedgwick, and Forest Whitaker to bring everything home.

 

Grade: B+

 

#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

 

#94. Blue Sunshine (1977)

 

 

Like most low-budget horror movies, especially from around this time, Blue Sunshine can be a little rough around the edges. The tone's wildly inconsistent, the performances aren't very believable, and the ending lacks resolution. But, as you might expect, there's also something distinct and offbeat about this presentation that gives the movie a unique style of its own.

 

Probably my favourite aspect here is the unique mix of genres, wherein slasher sensibilities are blended with a political thriller plot. As the former, it can include a handful of chilling murder sequences (the one with the fire sure is memorable), and, as the latter, it can create some decent intrigue through a bizarre mystery. It's not always a perfect marriage, but these halves do complement each other unusually well, especially given the fact that they both center around suspense and paranoia (and also because they're both so distinctly '70s).

 

Also, this is just a solid horror premise. Like, if D.A.R.E. really wanted to scare our generation straight, they should've just told us that LSD would eventually cause all of our hair to fall off. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#74. Pacific Rim (2013)

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Grade: B