#113. Thirst (2009)

 

 

Something I like about vampire stories is that there's about a million unique directions you can take with the subject matter, and almost all of them are interesting. It can be a comedy about change, a romance about lust, a drama about guilt/mortality, or simply a thriller about bloodsucking monsters. And the wonderful thing about Thirst is that it manages to fall under every single category simultaneously.

 

Like, the ambition here is just remarkable. Every time you think the movie has locked into its genre/plot, it suddenly swerves into a completely different tonal lane. I suppose you could argue that the result is kinda messy, with a few too many strings being pulled at once, but I found it all incredibly fresh, diverse, riveting, and unpredictable, thanks especially to Park Chan-wook's lively and energetic (not to mention funny and creepy and horny) direction.

 

Shamefully, this is the first Asian film I've reviewed on this blog, and I really need to make a concerted effort to ensure that I don't go another 112 posts before watching the next one - especially if I can expect similar results.

 

Grade: A

 

#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

 

#111. The Last Detail (1973)

 

 

If you wanted to make an anti-establishment movie in the '70s (and it was pretty common practice at the time), you weren't gonna find a more perfect lead than Jack Nicholson. Everything about the guy screams anger, rebellion, and controlled insanity, so he's perfect for a script about powerless men who want to fight the system but know deep down that they never will.

 

It's a somber premise, frankly, and neither Robert Towne nor Hal Ashby shy away from this futility. But they're also willing to indulge in some beer-soaked shenanigans for the time being, with the result being an entertaining and exhausting little odyssey, one that strikes a great balance between comedy and drama (especially because, no matter how silly or stupid the antics get, you never once forget what they're doing or why they're doing it).

 

I also just love the look of this movie. It's got some great wintery atmosphere, and it makes heavy use of long takes and dissolves, all of which emphasize the length of the journey, the sluggish stupor these poor guys find themselves in, and the bleakness of their future. It's simple, straightforward, and character-rich storytelling, which is precisely how I like it. Know what I mean?

 

Grade: A+

#110. Mud (2012)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

The first time I saw this one, it mostly missed me. I don't know if that's because I fell victim to my own expectations or if I was simply hoping for a snappier story, but, either way, it didn't make much of an impression. Now that I've given it a second chance, though, I think I've fallen in love with it.

 

Mud might be quiet and tentative, but it also plays out with such subtle suspense and ambiguous character motivation that every single scene thoroughly gripped me this time around. And because Jeff Nichols examines his coming-of-age themes and ideas through subdued interactions, isolated settings, uneasy atmospheres, and beautiful imagery, it results in a take on love and its complexities that's as poignant and thrilling as it is heartfelt.

 

If you, like me, didn't have much of a reaction to this one after a single viewing, I'd highly recommend a rewatch. Once I knew what tone and pace to anticipate, I couldn't get enough of the way everything gradually unfolded, and felt as though I could've watched these characters in this setting forever. 

 

Grade: A+

 

#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-