#209. Thirteen (2003)

 

 

I think the fact that Thirteen was co-written by an actual teenager mostly sums up everything that works about it for me, as well as everything that doesn't.

 

On the positive side, it all certainly has the ring of ugly truth to it. I haven't been thirteen years old in almost two decades, and, even when I was, I spent most of that time playing GameCube. But when I watched this movie, I, too, was taken back to that period of angst, isolation, and conformity (drugs and sex didn't really factor in, but you probably could've guessed that), simply because it's inescapable at that age. And the presentation's so raw that it's easy to see why it hit a nerve with so many people.

 

I'd be lying, though, if I said that I didn't also find the whole thing a bit... much? I dunno, maybe I just feel this way because I'm now in my 30s, but the endless barrage of misery, rebellion, and yelling grew a bit tedious and excessive to me after a while, in a Degrassi kinda way. And the shaky cinematography and gritty filter didn't exactly help matters.

 

Still, I guess that over-the-top messiness is part of the idea. And even if it's not necessarily my thing, I can definitely appreciate the bravery and honesty on display, as well as the powerhouse performances from Holly Hunter (who absolutely deserved her nomination) and Evan Rachel Wood. 

 

Grade: B

 

#208. The Ninth Gate (1999)

 

 

This is one of those instances where the journey is far more interesting than the destination. I was really into the intrigue-heavy opening hour, with its eerie premise, cozy sets and settings (libraries, trains, hotel rooms), patient - often bordering on slow - pacing, and subtle menace. The whole thing's very sinister and atmospheric, and yet it also possesses a loose, almost silly tone that keeps the material light and playful.

 

For the most part, I think the movie balances this strange combination of moods reasonably well. But the same can't quite be said for the third act, which regrettably crosses over into "downright ridiculous" territory. There's admittedly some charm to that (for instance, hearing Frank Langella repeatedly yell "Mumbo Jumbo!" almost makes the entire portion worth it), but the forced theatrics, terrible fire effects, and largely unsatisfying final scene end things on a bit of a sour note for me.

 

Still, the majority of the adventure kept me invested, thanks especially to Johnny Depp's focused performance and Roman Polanski's assured direction. And even if I wasn't entirely satisfied with some of the later results, the ambience, buildup, and ambition ensured that I was always curious to see where it was all heading.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. I'm no expert on the matter, but shouldn't dealers wear gloves when handling old books? Or, at the very least, not blow cigarette smoke all over them?

 

#207. An American Werewolf in London (1981)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 2

 

There aren't a ton of horror-comedies that manage to succeed as both horror and comedy, but American Werewolf is one of the few that walks that difficult line nearly perfectly. And I think that's because John Landis never really allows the genres to get in the way of each other. As much the scares tend to come with playful nods to werewolf tropes (lycantropes?), they're also played straight enough that none of the intended intensity is lost.

 

But it's not just the balance of tones that makes this movie great. It's also the murky, fog-shrouded atmospheres, the simple-yet-effective locations (I'm a sucker for a spooky subway station scene), the fantastic music choices (why include just one version of "Blue Moon" when you can have three?), and, of course, those killer makeup effects. We're all aware that the transformation scene is iconic, but I'm also a huge fan of Jack's rotting flesh - particularly that little piece of skin that dangles from his neck.

 

Plus, there's something kind of lax and awkward about the movie that I find mildly endearing. Even if it makes the result a bit imperfect (some of the timing choices, like the ending, still don't fully work for me), it keeps things from getting too smug or clever for its own good, which ensures that the homage/contemporary equilibrium is just as sturdy as the horror/comedy one.

 

Grade: A

 

#206. A Boy and His Dog (1975)

 

 

2024 came and went and we still don't have a means of telepathically communicating with our pets. Why is the future never as cool as we expect it to be?

 

Ah well. At least we're not (yet) living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. A Boy and His Dog has something of a proto-Mad Max aesthetic, with its desolate settings, ugly ethics, distinct hierarchies, and extremely cynical outlook, but the difference is that this is also a comedy featuring an intelligent, sarcastic dog. It's a bizarre combination of tones, and they don't always completely gel with one another, but I have to respect how bold and offbeat and weirdly charming it all is, in a "What if Disney made really fucked up movies?" kinda way.

 

And while the presentation is generally on the dry and slow side, and the bickering banter between Vic and Blood gets a tad one-note after a while (though the dynamic never stops being unique, or adorable), there's also just enough variety that I wouldn't call the movie bland or tedious, either. A lot of that has to do with the extra-dystopian Downunder stuff in the third act, which includes contrary scenery, whiteface makeup, android enforcers, and an artificial insemination plot. It's still not as dynamic or as unsettling as I'd like, but it shook things up in a way that I appreciated.

 

Grade: B

 

#205. Scarlet Street (1945)

 

 

I know film noirs are generally quite dark by nature, but this one's downright mean-spirited. Fritz Lang takes us to one of the many ugly corners of New York, and populates it with characters that are despicable, irksome, or pathetic (or some combination of the three), which results in one of those seedy little yarns where you're waiting for, and secretly kind of hoping for, everything to go south.

 

These bleaker elements consistently appealed to me (particularly in the final twenty minutes, which get deliciously psychological), but I do think they might've worked even better if the overall movie had a bit less congestion to it. At various points, especially in the second half, we're still being introduced to new subplots and characters, and they tend to detract more than they add, hurting the overall flow of the story for me.

 

But I suppose that kind of bizarre ambition is part of Lang's appeal, right? Like, all this mayhem going on fits pretty well with his heightened styles and tones, so he mostly gets away with it. Plus, it helps that Edward G. Robinson's here to ground everything with his naive, sad sack performance, where he generates just enough sympathy for the arc to sock you in the mouth four or five times.

 

Grade: B+

 

#204. Cleopatra (1934)

 

 

This is another one of those romantic dramas from the '30s that I find works best when it's at its most comedic. Maybe that speaks to the fact that I simply prefer a lighter tone when it comes to older films, but I think it's also because the kinkier, campier qualities are such a perfect match for Cecil B. DeMille's grand spectacle and opulent sets/costumes.

 

It's also a pretty great fit for Claudette Colbert, whose playful assertiveness keeps everything more affable and charming than the script probably deserves. And even if she doesn't have a ton of chemistry with either of the male leads (though that's mainly because both men are going for stoicism, which is so overwrought that it undercuts the possibility of any real sizzle), her strongest moments are typically the ones where she effortlessly toys with them.

 

As for the drama, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't all a little tonally rigid and structurally abridged for my liking (which results in such uneven pacing that it makes the movie somehow feel both slightly too long and far too short), but the scale is doing enough heavy lifting that you can still generally grasp the intended weight. It's just that these conflicts kinda pale in comparison to, say, a pre-Code sex scene that comes complete with swelling music, opaque curtains, and dancing performers.

 

Grade: B+

 

#203. Sinners (2025)

 

Hey, I actually managed to crank out all ten nominees in time. Kinda came down to the wire there, but still.

 

Anyway, I intentionally saved Sinners for last because it appears to be right up there with One Battle After Another as one of the front-runners for taking home the prize. I personally preferred the latter by a fairly decent margin, but I can certainly still see the broad appeal here. This thing's dripping with sex, style, tension, and atmosphere, and it does a great job of laying a compelling and character-heavy foundation before pulling the rug out from under you.

 

That's not to say that I think the movie's flawless, though. I wasn't blown away by the action and horror elements, the structuring gets extremely messy at times (particularly in the last twenty minutes, which are rushed and disorganized in a way that I didn't care for), and the metaphors are so on-the-nose that they're practically similes. But I'm sure these complaints are largely a product of the hype; after all, they're relatively minor compared to the powerful imagery, charismatic characters, electrifying music, and amusing combination of genres.

 

Plus, that one-take scene where we see all the different musical eras of multiple cultures through one song is the kind of ambitious creativity that can turn a pretty good movie into an instant classic.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. And now, my ranking of the nominees:

 

10. Hamnet

9. Train Dreams

8. F1

7. Frankenstein

6. Sinners

5. The Secret Agent

4. Bugonia

3. Sentimental Value

2. Marty Supreme

1. One Battle After Another

 

Honestly, though, this is a really strong group from top to bottom. I don't think there's a single entrant that's not at least somewhat worthy of recognition.