#109. Only You (1994)

 

 

Marisa Tomei, Robert Downey Jr., and Bonnie Hunt in the same romantic comedy? Yes please.

 

Only You mostly isn't anything special. It's cheesy, it's kinda trope-heavy, and it's got one of those scripts where at no point does a single character behave like an actual human being. And yet, I dunno, there's a lightness to the movie that manages to turn these potential irritants into minor virtues.

 

A lot of that comes down to the casting (which, again, is fantastic), as well as the setting (even if Italy's a total cheat code in this genre), but I think it's also because the movie wisely runs on emotion instead of logic. It plays out like like a bit of a fairy tale in that sense, which allows us to put aside the cynicism and flaws, and instead get swept up in the sweet romance.

 

My sister's been recommending this one to me for years now, and I'm glad I finally got around to it. Sure, a few of the cliches are still kinda tedious, and, yeah, the premise definitely starts to run out of steam after a while, but the whole thing's so warm and light and fun that it made me smile more often than it didn't. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#108. Candyman (2021)

 

 

As horror remakes go, this one's got some pretty solid direction. Between the striking camerawork, the moody score, and the dark undertones, Nia DaCosta establishes some wonderful atmosphere, right down to one of the better opening credits sequences I've seen in a while. But the movie starts to lose me a little when it comes to the writing, which somehow manages to be both confusing and over-explained. 

 

On the one hand, the social commentary is heavy-handed and the dialogue is often far too on-the-nose (though I guess that's Jordan Peele for you). But then, on the other, I'm just not seeing much of a narrative throughline here, especially in the back half. It's a lot of hazy character motivations and random plot developments, making the whole thing feel a lot more muddled than it really ought to be. And the rushed third act certainly doesn't help.

 

Still, on an individual basis, most of these scenes are pretty gripping, and the use of angles and sound are incredible at times. I just wish they were in service of a script that relied less on theme and more on actual scares (you know, like the original).

 

Grade: B-

 

P.S. If this is how you're going to use Tony Todd, you're better off not using him at all.

 

#107. Sawdust and Tinsel (1953)

 

 

I know I'm not always super patient when it comes to older foreign filmmakers, but I can usually vibe with Ingmar Bergman. His knack for cold, steely atmospheres, hypnotically-paced stories, and haunting looks at the darker side of humanity all have a way of sticking with me, and Sawdust and Tinsel is no different.

 

This is one of his earlier movies, and, as such, you can tell that he hasn't quite perfected his formula just yet (the writing, in particular, is more scatterbrained than usual). But it's still a stark, powerful tale of sex, loyalty, and aspiration, as well as the mistakes that come with combining all three. And the grotesque circus setting really emphasizes both the plight of the characters and the chaos of their situation.

 

Shot by Sven Nykvist, in the very first of his many collaborations with Bergman, this one's also got a lot of the trademarks that you'd hope to see from these two: the gloomy imagery, the surreal moods, the subtle implications, the lack of sound. It actually feels like a silent film in many ways, with strong emotions and powerful visuals to match.

 

Grade: A-

 

#106. Cry-Baby (1990)

 

 

The great thing about John Waters is that, no matter how mainstream his movies became, that sense of ugly tastelessness remained.

 

Cry-Baby is probably his single most accessible feature. It has catchy '50s music, fun dance numbers, generally agreeable comedy, and a charmingly self-aware performance from Johnny Depp. And yet, while you're watching the movie, you never once forget that it was made by the guy who got Divine to eat dog shit.

 

This reminder is present in the campy visuals, the over-the-top line deliveries, the unusual casting choices, and the intentionally cringy atmosphere. You can decide for yourself whether these are inherently good qualities (I'll admit that they're not always my thing), but I definitely give Waters credit for maintaining that strange and repulsive voice. At the very least, it results in a product that makes Grease look downright restrained.

 

If you've never seen a Waters movie before, this is a pretty safe place to start (and if you end up finding it too weird, stay far away from anything else he ever made). Having said that, though, I don't think I'd place it among his best work. The story's not always super engaging, and it's slightly lacking in the edge that made his better movies feel substantial. 

 

Grade: B

#105. A Thousand Clowns (1965)

 

 

Whenever I start watching a movie about a zany weirdo who struggles to conform, I'm always worried that it's going to result in some kind of trite "we all need to learn to have fun every once in a while" message. But while A Thousand Clowns occasionally possesses that energy, particularly in regards to some of the whimsical editing choices, it actually takes the opposite route, presenting a man who must come to grips with the fact that he needs to find work in order to save his family. And I find that premise far more interesting and compelling.

 

You also wouldn't expect to see Jason Robards in this kind of role (on paper, it seems better suited for someone like Dick Van Dyke), but his glum, expressive face makes the character a lot more sympathetic than he really ought to be. And the relationship he has with his nephew feels charming and legitimate, especially on the few occasions where the mask starts to slip and you can see how much he really cares for him.

 

More than anything, though, there's just a sturdy balance of humour and poignancy here. And even if the presentation's on the dry and stagy side (which stands to reason, considering the movie is, you know, based on a play), the strong dialogue, convincing performances, and unique tone help to bring it all to life. 

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. I'm kinda surprised that Martin Balsam won an Oscar for this. He's not terrible or anything, but I feel like every other lead makes a bigger impression than he does.

 

#104. The Living Daylights (1987)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

If you asked me, point blank, to pick a favourite movie franchise, I wouldn't have to think twice before answering: it's Bond. James Bond. I adore this ridiculous series, and have for roughly as long as I've been familiar with film as a medium (which is my way of preparing you in advance for a lot of unusually high grades). Like, were I to jot down a list of the hundred movies I watched the most when I was a kid, I'm dead certain that every one of the first twenty 007 entries would qualify. 

 

Well, make that nineteen. For whatever reason, I almost never returned to this one. Probably had something to do with the lame and underdeveloped villains, the downright convoluted (even by these movies' standards) plot, and my fraught feelings on Timothy Dalton. In any case, as recently as two days ago, I would've asserted that The Living Daylights was among my least favourite Bond adventures.

 

Not anymore. This past viewing finally made everything click for me. Yeah, the villains and plot are still pretty blah, but I was really taken with the tonal balance this time. It's just a solid mix of visual spectacle and grounded stakes, made even better by that killer opening, a strong supporting cast, generally solid pacing, and some of the best stuntwork in franchise history.

 

As for Dalton, I continue to find him a little uptight for this particular outing (his frigid presence gels much better with a darker tone, and we'd see in his one and only follow-up), but Maryam d'Abo humanizes him with perhaps the sweetest performance of any Bond Girl. The two are a cute pair.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. That Necros dude really needs to expand his musical library.

 

#103. I'm No Angel (1933)

 

 

Even before watching this, my first Mae West movie, I was certainly familiar with her screen persona: the attitude, the sexuality, the confidence, the blonde hair, the insane eyebrows. I wasn't totally sure whether these characteristics could remain charming for an entire feature, but this fear mostly subsided by the time I recognized her astonishing aura and obvious knack for wit. Like all the other gents in this woman's life, she quickly won me over.

 

As for the movie around her, it's definitely on the messy and uneven side (the first quarter's a crime story, the second quarter's a brief circus show, the third quarter's a romantic comedy, and the fourth quarter's a courtroom procedural), but I suppose that unrestrained pulpiness fits right in with her appeal. And even when some elements feel slightly underdeveloped (the romance is the most obvious example; Cary Grant doesn't appear until we're past the halfway point), it's all pretty entertaining, and the sharp dialogue and personable performances ensure that substance is never a concern.

 

My main takeaway, though, is just how daring this material is. When I hear those sexual innuendos and double entendres, I imagine how close they must've come to giving that Hays asshole a coronary, and it brings a smile to my face.

 

Grade: B+