#149. Mr. Arkadin (1955)

 

 

A.K.A. Confidential Report

 

With the obvious exceptions of Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil, Orson Welles as a director kinda frustrates me. I'll watch a movie like Mr. Arkadin, and I can absolutely see the strokes of genius - it's there in the non-linear storytelling, the unusual camera angles, and the uses of light and shadow. And yet, there's also something laboured and unsatisfying about it, which always keeps my enjoyment at arm's length.

 

Much of that probably comes down to the script, which is so confounding and nonsensical that I struggled to get attached to anything. But I also couldn't quite get past the surprisingly sloppy execution, which includes obvious dubbing, rushed pacing, clumsy narration, and chopping editing. And even if you can blame those on the studio, that doesn't explain the bland characters and wooden performances.

 

It's a real shame, because, again, you can see the potential buried underneath these shortcomings. But promise and goodwill only go so far, and this one is simply too all over the place (or, if we're being less charitable, downright unfinished) for it not to ultimately feel like another Welles work that comes up just short. 

 

Grade: B-

#148. LaRoy, Texas (2023)

 

 

Something I'm starting to learn about myself: I kinda like ripoffs, or at least the ones that understand their influences well enough to effectively replicate them.

 

LaRoy, Texas is, in pretty much every regard, a poor man's Coen Brothers movie. The similarities are simply unmistakable. I challenge you to watch it and not constantly be reminded of Fargo, The Big Lebowski, and No Country for Old Men. But here's the thing: the Coen Brothers are possibly my all-time favourite filmmakers, and they aren't making anything like this anymore (or anything at all, if we're discussing them as a duo), so I'll take this kind of movie any way I can get it. 

 

And, honestly, judging it on its own merits, I think it works really well. Sure, it's not exactly on the level of those three Coen comparables, but it still has a compelling and riveting story, a fun collection of characters and performances (Steve Zahn, as you may have guessed, is the runaway standout; oh, how I've missed that guy), a fitting sense of humour, and a strong understanding of pacing and mood. Plus, there's a palpable air of melancholy throughout, which lends enough weight and significance that the movie ultimately feels like far more than just a pale imitation to me.

 

Grade: A-

 

#147. Cosmopolis (2012)

 

 

You'd think that my being a Canadian would automatically make me a David Cronenberg fan, but that hasn't really proven to be the case. In fact, with two or three notable exceptions, most of his work has always come off as undercooked and largely impenetrable to me. And this might be the single worst example yet.

 

For the first hour or so of its runtime, I was seriously wondering if Cosmopolis would land among my all-time least favourite movies. Absolutely nothing about it was working for me, from the empty and unnatural dialogue to the flavourless and interchangeable characters to the repellent visuals to the general sense of superiority that can be felt throughout. The whole thing exhausted me in record time, to the point where I was worried that I might not even make it to the finish line.

 

But then, in the last third or so, I found that the movie became, if not good, then at least somewhat watchable. Both the barber scene and especially the final confrontation managed to hold my attention and not irritate me too much (such is the unsung prowess of Paul Giamatti), enough so that I felt it ended this sour experience on a relative high note. I still think the movie's pointless and incoherent and far too pleased with itself, but I can now kinda sorta understand why it has a minor following.

 

Also, yes, that car is pretty cool - both in design and as a piece of symbolism. 

 

Grade: C

 

#146. Session 9 (2001)

 

 

As the real estate saying goes: location, location, location.

 

The main character of Session 9 is the asylum that it takes place in. With its majestic exterior and creepy, run-down interior, you could film pretty much any horror story here and it would probably be effective. And I think that's why I like the fact that this movie's execution is so simple: no matter how much time we spend watching these guys walk down long, dark hallways, it always creates some palpable tension and paranoia.

 

Brad Anderson's decision to shoot the entire thing on digital video also goes a long way. This look definitely takes some getting used to, and we're not exactly in "every frame's a painting" territory here, but it nevertheless gives the movie a grounded, quasi-realistic, almost Blair Witch feel, which meshes incredibly well with both the unsettling mood and the everyday characters.

 

I'm not entirely convinced that this one fully sticks the landing (certain aspects of the ending aren't super satisfying, and the connection between the intertwining narratives feels kinda tenuous to me), but the build-up is so sinister and well-crafted that I still generally find it to be a worthy exercise in fear and dread.

 

Grade: B+

 

#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+

 

#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-