#176. Faces Places (2017)

 

 

A.K.A. Visages Villages, which is much more fun to say.

 

What a delightful little documentary. You wouldn't necessarily expect a travelogue featuring two slightly self-serious artists to be so endearing, but it works thanks to the fact that they both clearly care about the subjects they're capturing, and because they bring a likeable combination of styles to the table. Agnès Varda's warmth and curiosity pairs incredibly well with JR's larger-than-life projects, and they come together to generate a sweet and often poignant look at the importance of individuals, communities, and spaces.

 

The structure does occasionally get repetitive at times, but it's generally loose and diverse enough that I'd call it far from tedious. For instance, the movie could also be considered something of an autobiography, as we similarly get to learn a lot about our filmmakers - and not just as artists, but as people. Through this intimate process of collaboration, they can share stories with one another, discuss a wide range of philosophical topics, and build an adorable bond.

 

And even if some of the more emotional moments feel heavily manufactured, they're endearing and enriching enough that I can still enjoy them for what they are.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. My expectations of Godard were pretty low, but goddamn.

 

#175. The Sentinel (1977)

 

 

This is a horror movie from the '70s, so it's predictably pretty heavy on atmosphere, which is fine by me. Michael Winner's direction isn't always as flashy as I'd like, but his slow-burn approach mostly manages to keep things creepy and foreboding, and the gory practical effects go a long way in providing some grotesque tactility. Plus, I really like the apartment building as a primary setting.

 

Unfortunately, the story's a bit of a letdown. Granted, both ghosts and Satanism generally rank quite low on my list of genre topics (mainly because I don't think either one's especially scary, and because they both tend to follow predictable and frustrating narrative beats), so it's possible that I was never gonna fall in love this one. But I also thought the mystery was kinda weak, and the religious plot just sort of felt like nonsense to me after a while.

 

There is one successful source of intrigue here, though, and that's how Winner got so many big names to sign on. I don't know if they were that hard up for work, if the script was that much better than the final result, or if blackmail was involved, but, whatever the reason, I'll admit that it's pretty fun seeing so many familiar faces. I love a good game of "Spot the Star", especially when the movie involved is only sporadically interesting.

 

Grade: B-

 

#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+

#173. Gentleman Jim (1942)

 

 

Boxing movies tend to be either dark and depressing melodramas or high-stakes underdog stories, so it's kinda refreshing to see one that's so laid-back and easygoing, while still being full of life.

 

Much of that can be credited to the lighthearted, almost screwball nature of the screenplay, as well as Raoul Walsh's sturdy-yet-dynamic direction (both the bouts and the montages have some genuine energy to them), but the key ingredient here is clearly our leading man. I'm told that this was one of Errol Flynn's favourite roles, and you can easily see why. It plays to all of his strengths: charm, wit, physicality, attractiveness. Jim's a cocky fella, but Flynn plays it off so effortlessly and charmingly that you're always in his corner.

 

As much as I liked the buoyancy of this one, though, I have to admit that I found the narrative only occasionally gripping. What few subplots there are grew kinda repetitive to me after a while (it doesn't exactly help that the conflicts and arcs are so basic), and I think the movie largely runs out of steam before we get to the final fight. Fortunately, that belt scene wraps everything up quite nicely, while also providing some necessary heart.

 

Grade: B+

 

#172. Sing Sing (2023)

 

 

The best prison dramas tend to be the most humanizing ones. The ones where we examine tragic figures and lost causes through trauma, systemic oppression, corruption, vulnerability, support, and, hopefully, rehabilitation, not only to make these characters endearing and relatable, but also to serve as a reminder that liberation can be found even in the ugliest of settings. "Bars cannot contain the soul" kinda stuff.

 

And that's why a movie like Sing Sing works: it uses a minimal plot and a grounded technical approach (tight framing, natural lighting, long takes) to allow this theme to take center stage. And it's such a tender and heartwarming theme, carried out in such a raw and original way, that I really can't ask for more. I just enjoy seeing these hardened convicts experience some catharsis via creative expression for a little while. That kind of emotional power is infectious.

 

Also, while we're on the topic of simplicity and naturalism, the casting is a stroke of genius. I knew next-to-nothing about the background of this movie, so I was genuinely taken aback when the credits started rolling, revealing that almost every supporting actor was actually playing themselves. Just a beautiful little full-circle moment.

 

Grade: A

 

#171. Tea and Sympathy (1956)

 

 

You can almost always tell when an older Hollywood movie is based on a play. Sharp writing and stagy direction aside, they tend to be a lot more socially and politically progressive.

 

Granted, you can still feel the Hays Code holding this one back from delving even deeper into some of its heavier topics, but it's nevertheless incredibly thoughtful and delicate in its outlook, especially by '50s standards. The themes of toxic masculinity and conformity hold up all too well, the forceful melodrama is generally cogent and earned, the two Kerrs (no relation) bring a necessary amount of warmth and heart, and the beautiful technicolour fits right in with the large sets and heavy emotions.

 

Sure, it's all kinda preachy and romanticized, but I think most of us prefer a little sentimentality in these kinds of movies. It gives the characters and their feelings that much more vulnerability and relatability. If you don't agree, however (and you might be right not to; some of these scenes have a bit of a Disney Channel vibe), the ending is a nice, understated little return to reality, one that's so touching that I forgive it for stepping on the even better forest scene that comes just before it.

 

Grade: A-

#170. There Goes the Neighborhood (1992)

 

A.K.A. Paydirt

 

I'm down for any movie with a Mad World-esque scavenger hunt premise, even if the results are often messy and mediocre. So while There Goes the Neighborhood is clearly both of those things, the mere fact that it's about a group of characters who collectively lose their minds over some buried treasure is enough to keep my feelings positive. 

 

The main selling point here is obviously the cast. I don't know how you manage to get Jeff Daniels, Catherine O'Hara, Hector Elizondo, Rhea Perlman, Judith Ivey, Harris Yulin, Jonathan Banks, Dabney Coleman, and Chazz Palminteri together and not score a hit out of it, but this group nevertheless makes the most of a tepid and underdeveloped script, while also keeping things appropriately chaotic.

 

Honestly, maybe too chaotic. Like a lot of zany comedies, this one commits the understandable mistake of having way too much going on at the same time. People speak over one another, everything moves a bit too quickly, and it all starts to feel like overload after a while (especially when you take into account rookie Bill Phillips's clunky and unpolished direction), to the point where very little leaves much of an impression. I had a fun time with the movie, but I can also see why nobody ever talks about it.

 

Grade: B