Five Frames

 

Part 1: On with the show, this is it

 

#239. Something Wild (1986)

 

 

For roughly the first forty-five minutes of this movie, I was having a decent enough time. I liked the rom-com premise, the charming chemistry between Jeff Daniels and Melanie Griffith, and the impulsive spirit, but the experience as a whole wasn't exactly rocking my world, either, and there were moments where I found myself thinking that both the script and the jokes were starting to wear a bit thin.

 

Then Ray Liotta showed up.

 

The second this dude appears on screen, everything shifts. The mood immediately becomes dark and dangerous, the stakes increase exponentially, and I suddenly found myself far more invested in the plot. Even if this change is only here to add some fresh conflict, I was thrilled to go along with it, and I think the fact that Liotta pulled it off while still fitting the manic tone really speaks to his abilities as an actor. 

 

It also, of course, speaks to Jonathan Demme's abilities as a filmmaker. His fearless approach is so consistently energetic and eccentric that I think the moods blend pretty seamlessly. Plus, I'm just a sucker for sudden-yet-smooth left turns in general, and I like my comedies on the darker side to begin with, so I guess it was an easy sell in my case. Makes the journey that much quirkier, that much scarier, and, ultimately, that much more romantic.

 

Grade: A

#238. The War of the Worlds (1953)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Let's start with the positive: this is probably the most visually stunning sci-fi movie to come out of the '50s. The use of Technicolor brings a lot of beauty and legitimacy to the concept, and it causes these already impressive effects (the ships, the creatures, the death rays, and the explosions all look amazing) to pop that much more.

 

Unfortunately, as predictable as this may sound, the human stuff is where the movie continues to lose me. While the sheer volume of destruction is enough to provide some adequate stakes, and the tight nature of the script mostly keeps things from getting too draggy, the characters are simply vacuums of personality (which isn't exactly helped by the performances), and it quickly causes me to disengage with what should be a fun story.

 

Similarly, the resolution's a total letdown (I can still recall laughing out loud the first time I saw it), but it mostly gels with the hokiness at play, while also wrapping things up fairly tidily, so I won't complain about that one. Instead, I'll say that, despite the bulk of this thing being a bit silly and dated for my liking, I can at least respect how influential the technical and genre components have proven to be.

 

Grade: B-

 

#237. Kwaidan (1964)

 

 

A.K.A. Ghost Stories

 

About halfway through this movie, I was convinced that I was going to give it an A+. Like, just the concept of a horror anthology made out of four folklore tales was enough to immediately win my affection, and then both "The Black Hair" and "The Woman of the Snow" absolutely floored me with their slow-yet-mesmerizing pace, eerie moods, and heightened, artificial backdrops.

 

Unfortunately, the final two stories bring it from "all-time masterpiece" to merely "extremely great" for me. I thought "Hoichi the Earless" lacked the colour and rhythm of the first two, and "In a Cup of Tea" lacked the weight. They're both decent segments in their own right, but I think it might've been a wise choice to subtract twenty minutes from the former and add twenty minutes to the latter.

 

Regardless, though, it's quite the accomplishment. Between the subject matter, the style, the scarce dialogue, and the slightly off-kilter movements, the whole thing feels like a weird dream. And the scope and imagery are just wonderful. Maybe I'll eventually come around to those last two stories, but, even if I don't, I can already tell that the first two are going to be more than enough to bring me back.

 

Grade: A

 

#236. Nickelodeon (1976)

 

 

Even when he's making a slapstick comedy like Nickelodeon, there's something about Peter Bogdanovich's style that I find strangely lifeless. The staging and stunts are solid, but there's not much visual flair to speak of (though I do concede that monochrome look helps), the story quickly runs out of steam, the attempts at sentimentality don't work at all, and the whole thing just comes off quaint and insignificant as a result.

 

I'm similarly not especially crazy about the comedy, but, funnily enough, it's for the exact opposite reason. There's simply too much excess. These hijinks never give you a chance to breathe, and there's rarely any room to react to anything. Combine that with the overbearing sound design that accompanies every single pratfall (like, maybe there's a reason why this subgenre worked best in the silent era), and it feels like sensory overload at times.

 

And, look, it's easy to appreciate Bogdanovich's obvious enthusiasm for the material. I like the desert setting, the period detail, and the way it captures the "innocence" of the era (Birth of a Nation looks a tad more respectable when you remove all the Klan stuff). But when everything else is bloated and/or bland, I just don't think it translates to a very wistful or even interesting product.

 

Grade: C+

#235. La Bête Humaine (1938)

 

 

A.K.A. The Human Beast and Judas Was a Woman

 

It's funny: for a movie that literally includes "Human" in the title, La Bête Humaine seems to be equally fascinated by train mechanics. But that's certainly not a complaint; trains are among my favourite movie settings/objects, and they'd be even more common if I had my way. So Jean Renoir definitely got off on the right foot with me by making the entire opening a near-wordless train sequence.

 

After that, we largely settle into a proto-noir (or Re-noir, if you will) story of plotting and guilt, the kind where every major character is a horrible person and where most of them end up even worse than they started. Some elements are a bit underdeveloped for my liking (like Lantier's homicidal outbursts, or Roubaud's descent into jealousy), but the tone makes up for that, with atmosphere so bleak and foreboding that it feels almost profound for 1938.

 

Otherwise, I think the strongest element here is the central relationship between Lantier and Séverine, precisely because the two have such little chemistry. It adds to Lantier's sense of isolation, it raises the question of whether Séverine was actually into him or simply using him (which is kept open-ended by Simone Simon's wonderfully vague performance), and it amplifies the shades of pessimism and fatalism throughout.

 

Grade: A-

 

#234. Frost/Nixon (2008)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Man, remember when American presidents could actually face the consequences of their actions? What a wild concept.

 

For the most part, Frost/Nixon is a safe and unadventurous historical drama (what else would you expect with Ron Howard behind the camera?), but the execution's smooth and direct enough that I find the whole thing really compelling. It just builds and builds in a way that feels both suspenseful and effortless, and it's not long before I'm gripped by a bunch of interviews that have already taken place.

 

Helps, too, that the movie humanizes these two people to the degree that it does. Nixon is correctly presented as a lying criminal, but there's a self-loathing loneliness to this depiction that gives the man some unexpected depth (and I like that Frank Langella does his own interpretation, rather than just an impression). And despite Frost coming off like a vapid playboy, you can sense his frustrations and inner turmoil at all times, and it lends that much more weight to the stakes of the story.

 

I don't know if I'm completely sold on the faux-documentary style (in my opinion, it detracts from the overall simplicity), and a few of the more sensational moments don't quite convince, but I think this is an otherwise impressive dramatization, with a strong central conflict, a good sense of rhythm, and a likeable team dynamic.

 

Grade: A-