#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+

 

#143. Yojimbo (1961)

 

 

A.K.A. The Bodyguard

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Of the handful of Akira Kurosawa movies I've seen, this one's probably my least favourite, but that doesn't mean that I don't still think it's pretty great. 

 

Like, you did hear me say the words "Akira Kurosawa", right? Of course the movie's pretty great. Not really sure what else there is to say. I guess I'll add that, especially relative to the other acclaimed filmmakers from around this time, the guy's work tends to hold up from an entertainment perspective. I personally don't think Yojimbo is quite as consistently engaging as his best material (the second quarter kinda drags for me), but it's still tense and exciting in all the ways you'd want from a renowned action-thriller, while also being goofy enough to make for a passable comedy.

 

This is also just a great premise. When you see these two competing crime lords fight for the town's supremacy, you're not only inherently compelled by the conflict, but you immediately find yourself on the side of this loner who wants to wipe both of them out. And it sure doesn't hurt that the loner is played by Toshiro Mifune, who has more aura than pretty much any actor in the history of film.

 

So, yeah, just to restate the obvious: great performances, great compositions, great cinematography, and great uses of movement. It's really not hard to see why everyone's still borrowing from these guys over sixty years later.

 

Grade: A-

 

#142. Ali (2001)

 

 

I think what I like most about this movie is that it knows how the boilerplate biopic formula should be presented.

 

When you stretch a narrative over the course of ten years, it tends not to work especially well as drama. And that's arguably the case here: we don't get much insight into Ali's state of mind, most of the subplots (especially the ones involving Drew Brown and Malcolm X) are extremely underdeveloped, and it all starts to feel very connect-the-dots after a while.

 

But what Michael Mann gets is that this episodic structure lends itself much better to montage than it ever could to realism. So he instead turns the whole thing into a hazy, impressionistic spectacle, using music and vivid imagery and a feverish blend of film and digital cinematography (those nighttime workout scenes really anticipate Collateral and Miami Vice) to create a brooding, soulful, myth-making whirlwind. We may not learn a whole lot about this man, but it's incredibly easy to see why he was bigger and more legendary than any of us could ever hope to be.

 

Bit of a shame that this style peaks so early in the movie, though. Those first fifteen minutes are so striking and stimulating that the remainder really has nowhere to go but down.

 

Grade: A-

#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+

 

#140. Trauma (1993)

 

 

Were I to ever become a filmmaker (it's not gonna happen, but let's pretend for a second), Dario Argento would probably be my biggest influence. I love everything about this guy's deranged aesthetic, from the hypnotic imagery to the beautiful women to the gloved psychos to the twisted kills to the disjointed-yet-strangely-fitting scores. If this formula could be distilled into a drug, I'd inject it into my veins on a concerning basis.

 

That's not to say that all of his movies are masterpieces, though. Once we reach the mid-to-late '90s, the quality seemed to fall off a cliff. And you can already see it a bit in Trauma, which did come out before that expiration date, but which (along with Two Evil Eyes) started to show a few cracks in the foundation. The tone is all over the place, the music is pretty lackluster, and the plotting is kinda clumsy. If you aren't generally into weird giallo nightmares, then you're likely to find the movie a total mess.

 

As someone who is into weird giallo nightmares, however, I think this one's still a real winner. I love the mystery, the suspense, the rain-soaked atmosphere, the final reveal, and the fact that Piper Laurie and Brad Dourif randomly show up in small parts (doesn't it just feel right to see them in this kind of movie?). It might not quite have the same consistency, cinematography, or scoring of Argento's best works, but those stylishly irresistible fundamentals are still strong enough that my enjoyment was never in jeopardy.

 

Grade: A-

 

#139. Rango (2011)

 

 

As studio-backed animated films go, this is certainly a strange one. Even on just a visual level, I'm not really sure how I feel about it. The character designs are hideous, frankly, but Gore Verbinski also manages to bring a lot of life to the movie through detailed lighting and well-realized environments. Most of it pops off the screen - even, on occasion, the ugly freak creatures that inhabit it.

 

Shifting our attention to the story, it's not quite as memorable or unique as I'd like (especially in regards to the Liar Revealed plot, which has always, by far, been my least favourite kids' movie trope), but I love that it's willing to take its time and really bask in this blistering setting. No matter how ridiculous the action or comedy gets, there's a measured pace to the movie that captures the essence of westerns in a way that actually kinda surprised me.

 

When it comes to this medium, I'll always be partial to the likes of Disney and Pixar (forgive me, I was brainwashed from a very young age), but I can absolutely appreciate a big-budget animated movie that seeks to do something different. Especially when the results are this bizarre.

 

Grade: B+

#138. Veronika Voss (1982)

 

 

A.K.A. The Longing of Veronika Voss

 

She is big. It's the pictures that got small.

 

Veronika Voss is about a washed-up actress who is desperately trying to cling to her ever-decreasing relevance, and is slowly being driven insane in the process. It's basically the German Sunset Boulevard (which is to say that it's heavier on experimentation and lighter on humour), with huge emotions and striking visuals to match. In particular, I love those sterile white environments, which coldly and clinically reflect this poor woman's controlled state of mind.

 

Unlike Sunset Boulevard, though, the movie's not quite as focused, tonally or narratively, as I'd like. Rainer Werner Fassbinder (maybe the most German name I've ever heard) has a lot of interesting ideas, but many of them seem to get slightly lost in the shuffle, especially the ones regarding love and addiction. And while the subplot with the evil doctor is easily the most compelling conflict in the movie, it's so cartoonish and over-the-top that I'm not sure how well it gels with everything else.

 

Still, it all works on a stylistic level (the use of lighting here is fantastic), and most of it works on an emotional level. Whatever issues I have with this one, there's a sad cruelness to it that's likely to stick with me.

 

Grade: B 

 

P.S. This is the last place I expected to hear "The Battle of New Orleans". It really works, though, in an unusual, almost nightmarish kinda way.