#221. Husbands (1970)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

In theory, I can appreciate what Husbands is going for. By presenting its themes (middle age, aimlessness, toxic camaraderie) in the ugliest and most obnoxious manner possible, the movie makes a pretty compelling case for the values of normal adulthood simply by removing them. It's a clever and poignant approach, with a ton of potential for interesting drama.

 

In practice, though, I just kinda find the whole thing tedious, irritating, and uncomfortable. Every scene seemingly goes on forever (especially the early one at the bar, where we spend upwards of ten minutes listening to these guys berate a woman for not singing well enough), the dialogue has that improv feel to it that causes most of the words to feel empty, and the characters are so insufferable that it quickly becomes difficult to care about them. 

And, yeah, I know this stuff's all probably intentional, but that doesn't make it any easier to sit through, frankly. I like the gritty cinematography, the chemistry between the three leads, and the occasional moments of introspection, but everything else continues to do very little for me.

 

Grade: C+

 

#220. Mulholland Falls (1996)

 

 

More than any other subgenre, I'm willing to forgive a little artificial silliness when it comes to neo-noirs. I don't know if that's because I find these movies a bit artificial and silly to begin with, or because it allows the presentation to be flashy and over-the-top in a way that appeals to me, but when I watch modern actors wear old-timey costumes, smoke cigarettes, and beat people up, I can't help but smile at the excess.

 

It's not always a seamless fit, though, and I'm wondering if that's the case here. Mulholland Falls has a fairly intriguing mystery, a palpable atmosphere, an appealingly grey collection of characters, and an impressive cast, but the story/tone only somewhat works for me, and I think that's because this sheen of indulgent self-awareness may not mesh super well with bleaker and more sincere subject matter. Or maybe I just found the pacing a bit too slow.

 

Whatever the case, I'd still say this one's worth seeing if you're generally a fan of L.A. crime dramas, even if it doesn't reach the level of its influences (though I suppose that's true of basically any movie that borrows from Chinatown, save Roger Rabbit), nor L.A. Confidential, which blew it out of the water and into obscurity the following year.

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. It must suck to act opposite Nick Nolte. Dude spits like a camel.

#219. The Vikings (1958)

 

 

The problem I tend to have with historical epics from the '50s and '60s is that they're usually devoid of personality, so The Vikings has an automatic leg up on the competition merely by being charismatic and boisterous and kind of pulpy. The presentation's still a little on the dry and earnest side for my liking, but there's enough exuberance and energy throughout that I was honestly surprised by how invested I was.

 

You can also really feel the communal effort with this one. The writing's got some morally compelling character dynamics, the cast (particularly Kirk Douglas and Ernest Borgnine) brings a lot of welcome flavour and intensity, the cinematography, courtesy of Jack Cardiff, is rich, beautiful, and atmospheric, and Richard Fleischer ties everything together with his textured direction. A lot of people are firing on all cylinders here.

 

So even if a handful of the slower scenes somewhat impair the pacing (the lead-up to that final battle is perhaps the worst example), and the relationship between Jamie Lee Curtis's parents is a total afterthought, the otherwise unique interplay, exciting bursts of action, and keen mix of opulence and depravity ensure that this is ultimately a higher-tier swashbuckler. 

 

Grade: A-

#218. Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)

 

 

Here's something I didn't expect to say: I think I prefer the opening half hour of this movie, before we actually meet Tarzan. Those early expedition scenes have a real sense of adventure and danger to them (in a way that really anticipates King Kong), and I feel like the energy starts to flag a bit once the title character shows up.

 

Not overly so, though. While the second act is often little more than a series of unrelated nature vignettes, it's all still gripping and exotic enough that I'm mostly fine with the change. Helps that there's a new animal in just about every scene (which goes a lot further with me than I'd like to admit), and that Tarzan and Jane have such compellingly primal chemistry with one another.

 

Of course, most of the other character/story elements are lacking at best (we never really delve into Tarzan's backstory, and the interpersonal conflicts are generally quite tepid), but I guess that stuff doesn't really matter. At least, not compared to the exotic scenery, the clever technical effects, and the spectacular stunts - like seeing Johnny Weissmuller wrestle a fucking lion.

 

Grade: B+

 

#217. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

Whenever I find myself thinking that the whole Avengers phenomenon might've been a bit overblown, I have to stop and remind myself that, when I was a kid, crossovers were only ever found in sitcoms, children's cartoons, and this haphazard curiosity.

 

That probably explains why I circled back to it more than once. I mean, it's not as though I was all that enamoured by the story or the action. Hell, even a handful of the characters went directly over my head at the time (I didn't know who Allan Quartermain or Dr. Moriarty were until years later). But I guess I simply liked the idea of seeing some literary figures team up to fight bad guys, because my memories of the movie were generally positive.

 

Now that I'm a bit older, its flaws are a lot more apparent to me (the plot never goes anywhere interesting, the character motivations are non-existent, the middle hour is a slog, and the special effects are genuinely terrible), but I still can't bring myself to hate the movie, either. Nostalgia aside, I love a good steampunk aesthetic, I doubt any movie with Sean Connery at its center could ever truly bore me, and there's something small and silly about the whole thing that I find almost refreshing in today's landscape.

 

Grade: B-

#216. Pokémon Detective Pikachu (2019)

 

 

Yeah, I was a Pokémon kid. I collected the cards, watched the show, and played the video games. For a good three or four years there, it was pretty much the center of my entertainment universe. So the prospect of a big-budget live-action Pokémon movie absolutely appeals to the inner child - and, who am I kidding, adult - in me.

 

And, honestly, I thought this one was pretty good. The plot's extremely predictable (especially if you're at all familiar with Ditto), most of the characters are cutouts, and the jokes don't have a great hit rate, but there's a sense of livable, vicarious plausibility to the whole thing that basically renders those elements moot for me. Frankly, when I'm watching these real people interact with Bulbasaurs and Mr. Mimes, I can't pretend to care about depth or nuance or whatever.

 

If you do, though, the movie wisely takes the Roger Rabbit route of attempting to balance the silly cartoon stuff with a grounded, noirish story involving the protagonist's family. Again, it's not as successful as Roger Rabbit, mostly because said story's nowhere near as interesting, but it nevertheless provides a decent amount of heart, a cool neon aesthetic, and some fantastic worldbuilding, all of which I appreciated.

 

What I didn't appreciate, though was the fact that Poliwhirl doesn't make a single appearance. What the hell, guys?

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. A lot of these Pokémon were much furrier than I was expecting. Like, in my mind, Jigglypuff's always had the texture of one of those squeaky bouncy balls that you'd find in a Toys "R" Us bin.

 

P.P.S. Loved the Angels with Filthy Souls reference, especially because it fits right in with the whole '90s nostalgia thing.

 

#215. The Heartbreak Kid (1972)

 

 

It's a testament to Charles Grodin's abilities as a comedian/actor that Lenny Cantrow isn't the single most despicable character ever put to film. I mean, maybe he still is (the guy's a spineless, inconsiderate, self-centered jerk who never learns a single thing), but Grodin has this subdued, almost endearing awkwardness about him that makes Lenny's desperate insincerity more watchable than it should be.

 

I have to also credit Elaine May, though, for not letting this guy off the hook. In just about every major scene, she locks the camera down, John Cassavetes-style, and lets the drama play out in the most sweaty, uncomfortable, claustrophobic way possible. It's the kind of subtly agonizing presentation that smacks of both emotional intelligence and a creative point of view, and it ultimately makes for an damning depiction of male self-destruction.

 

Still, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find the conflicts a bit monotonous, and the comedy only mildly funny. But I guess both of those qualms are slightly soothed by the presence of Eddie Albert, whose stern indignation largely balances much the queasiness at play. I especially love his barely-contained rage at the restaurant, as well as his baffled delivery of "There's no deceit in the cauliflower?"

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. Holy shit, does this movie need a remaster. Every version I could find made me feel like I was watching a 480p YouTube video from 2006.