#211. Project A (1983)

 

 

Okay, I can see that these Hong Kong martial arts movies are going to take some getting used to.

 

Like, obviously I knew better than to expect seamless dubbing, but I wasn't quite as prepared for the borderline-amateur technical aspects (for instance, there are almost zero establishing shots here, so each scene just kind of awkwardly crashes into the next one), bizarre tonal shifts, and weirdly dense plotting. I don't even know if these defects are specific to Project A or if they're simply par for the course with this subgenre, but, either way, it made it really hard for me to get wrapped up in the story, to the point where I was starting to zone out in between all the action.

 

But I guess the action is why we're here, and it doesn't disappoint. Every single fight scene is a striking display of creativity, athleticism, timing, and certifiable recklessness not seen since the days of Buster Keaton, and they consistently took my breath away. In particular, the back-to-back bicycle and clock tower sequences are just spectacular, even if they result in the movie peaking far too early.

 

Now, is the action good (and plentiful) enough to make everything else worth sitting through? It's a pretty close call in my opinion, but I'll go with a tepid "yes". Even when the movie's at its least accessible, you can always tell that Jackie Chan is trying his absolute hardest to entertain, and I admire that level of effort.

 

Grade: B-

 

#210. BUtterfield 8 (1960)

 

 

Another movie from the early '60s that clearly wanted to be riskier than it was actually allowed to be, BUtterfield 8 (that capital U will never not look like a typo to me) is only kept afloat thanks to the Oscar-winning turn from Elizabeth Taylor. This isn't exactly her best work, but she brings a great mix of grace and vulgarity to the role, with enough subtle complexities beneath the surface to keep her character compelling.

 

Otherwise, though, I can't find too many reasons to recommend this one. The presentation's pretty turgid, the dialogue's mostly soapy and artificial, the character dynamics aren't very interesting, the tone is dour in a way that feels tedious and mean-spirited, and the other performances are so unnoteworthy that they all but fade into the background. The production design's visually appealing, I guess, and I enjoyed some of the quieter moments (like the opening scene), but the bulk of it generally left me waiting for something interesting to finally happen.

 

The upside, though, is that it eventually does. Whether or not this direction works is another thing entirely (it certainly doesn't land on an emotional level), but I really have no choice but to respect how audacious it is, especially relative to everything that came before.

 

Grade: C+

 

#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+