#91. Bowling for Columbine (2002)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Even putting aside his politics, Michael Moore's not for everybody. The guy can be annoying, intrusive, entitled, and, as a filmmaker, biased to the point of skewing his own facts in order to prove a point. But when he weaponizes these trollish qualities against people and corporations that deserve it, as is the case with Bowling for Columbine, it can make for a work that's as gratifying as it is insightful.

 

This documentary is a riveting and powerful look at gun violence in America, using the 1999 Columbine shooting as an entry point. Sure, a lot of this subject matter might feel kinda quaint and obvious today (we hear about a new school shooting every other week now, it seems), but that just proves Moore's point, doesn't it? It shows that, even if we never come to any hard conclusions, this was a conversation that needed - and still needs - to happen if we want to see some change.

 

And Moore's great about packaging this material in a way that's easy to digest. He uses humour to keep things entertaining (while never taking it so far as to lose the gravity of the situation), and conducts interviews with such confrontation and disdain that you get some wonderfully embarrassing first-hand insight into how full of shit most of these loudmouth gun nuts really are.

 

I'd call this one essential viewing, but chances are your middle school already showed it to you.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. As a Canadian, I'm slightly dubious of the door-locking segment, amusing as it is. With one or two exceptions, everyone I know has always locked their doors.

 

#90. Sudden Fear (1952)

 

 

The first thirty minutes or so of Sudden Fear are decent enough, if a bit dry and conventional. But once everyone's intentions come into focus, and Myra listens to that SoundScriber recording (including a skip on "I know a way," which was a fantastic touch), we abruptly swerve into thriller territory, where the movie had me hooked right through to the end.

 

Perhaps the strongest element here, along with the glossy cinematography, is our protagonist's arc. I love seeing her transformation from a woman in peril to someone who suddenly understands her predicament to a fighter who now has to figure out what to do about it, all on her own. It's immediately compelling, and made all the better by Joan Crawford's heightened vulnerability. She was born for the kinds of roles that capitalize on her wide-eyed looks of shock and anger.

 

Granted, both her performance and the movie's overall presentation are probably verging on being over-the-top, but I honestly prefer a little hyperbole in my noirs. Gives them some needed energy, y'know? And besides, the whole thing's so twisty and shadowy and emotion-heavy that the storytelling feels consistent, and therefore largely believable.

 

Bold statement, but I stand by it: this movie's as taut and entertaining as anything Hitchcock made up to this point.

 

Grade: A

 

#89. Sleepwalkers (1992)

 

 

By most accounts, this is one of the weaker Stephen King stories (I almost said "adaptations", but then I remembered that it was an original screenplay) in existence. And, yeah, I get it. Sleepwalkers is silly and dumb and not at all scary, and feels more like the kind of thing you'd catch on YTV on a Saturday night than a movie that got a wide theatrical release.

 

But, as someone who grew up loving Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, this kind of cheap, whimsical, distinctly early '90s horror works just fine for me. The concept of cat-like shapeshifters that can only be killed by actual cats is both ridiculous and really fun, and the unusually committed cast (particularly Alice Krige and Mädchen Amick) help to somewhat - somewhat - ground and legitimize this insane story.

 

Is it developed or tonally consistent? Not in the slightest (though both arguably add to the camp appeal). But it's also got a vibrant tone, a tumultuous teen romance, two cute leads, fun puppet effects, charming monster makeup, corny kills (even of the literal variety), and honest-to-god incest. So the universal derision is mostly lost on me.

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. I can't hear that Enya song without expecting Lauryn Hill to tell me that she's gonna find me and take it slowly.

 

P.P.S. Considering he has the perfect face for these effects, it's honestly kinda shocking that Ron Perlman doesn't transform in this movie.

 

#88. Spun (2002)

 

 

You can tell that Spun was made by a music video director. It's all flash, all the time. But, as someone who also loves speed, energy, and saturation, I had no problem injecting this style into my veins.

 

More than anything, the editing is the clear highlight here. Because the movie's vibe is meant to be that of a drug-fueled fever dream, it contains some of the fastest and most frenetic cutting I've ever seen. You'd think this kind of whirlwind presentation would get old or annoying after a while (and, yeah, maybe it does at times), but I think there's enough characterization and emotional range throughout that it rarely becomes a problem.

 

It also helps that the movie's as raw as it is. Despite the visual pizazz, you can't really accuse this material of being glamourized or sanitized. It's honestly downright filthy at times. And yet, the mood is never so heavy or dark that it makes me want to get off the ride entirely. Sure, there isn't much in the way of substance here, but I found the lack of plot or dramatics made for some great character work, and a fun hangout experience, even if I wouldn't want to be within ten miles of any of these people in real life.

 

Grade: A-

 

#87. The Package (1989)

 

 

For context: The Fugitive is one of my all-time favourite movies. Top ten for sure, probably top five. So when I watched this one - also directed by Andrew Davis - and found an unusual amount of overlap (right down to the use of the Hilton), I was immediately on board.

 

Like The Fugitive, The Package is taut and clever, consistently tense, brimming with chilly Chicago atmosphere, and even manages to make some room for an intriguing little mystery. These similarities probably aren't saying much for the former's originality, but both movies are so snappy and sharp and well-textured (and, of course, stylistically nostalgic to me) that they make for incredibly easy viewing.

 

Plus, it also has a number of strengths in its own right. There's an added tinge of paranoia to the story, which helps to tighten the screws and raise the stakes, and I like the relationship between Gene Hackman and Joanna Cassidy. It's somewhat rare to see a slightly older couple center this kind of thriller. And the smaller roles from Dennis Franz, Pam Grier, John Heard, and, yes, Tommy Lee Jones provide a lot of personality, even if the latter three aren't as present as I'd like.

 

Most people probably wouldn't consider this movie to be anything special, but I guess we've hit on one of those cases where I'm not most people. I thought it was suspenseful, absorbing, well-plotted, full of flavour (there's also a Christmas vibe here), and further evidence that Davis might be among my favourite action directors.

 

Grade: A

 

#86. Blood Feast (1963)

 

 

This is far and away the most amateur production I've covered so far, and it definitely shows. On a technical level, Blood Feast is a garbage can. The cinematography is point and shoot, the staging is like something out of a school play, the dialogue is horrendous, and the acting is legitimately some of the worst I've ever seen (you at home could do a better job than these people). And the result is a film that feels like porn without the sex.

 

But I guess that's to be expected, right? You don't go into a splatter movie looking for sharp writing and Oscar-worthy performances. No, you're here to see some shocking and creative kills, which this thing certainly has. Granted, these aren't the most convincing murder scenes ever filmed, but they're jarring and colourful and fleshy enough to get the job done, especially by 1963 standards.

 

Unfortunately, as you might guess, there aren't enough of them. Far too many of this movie's 67 minutes are consumed by long, boring, unbroken dialogue scenes, and they really kill the vibe. I try to be appreciative of works that genuinely push the envelope (especially when they can do so simply by being aggressively tasteless), but this is clearly an instance where the influence is far greater than the actual quality.

 

Grade: C+

 

#85. The Day of the Locust (1975)

 

 

We've seen plenty of movies about Hollywood being a cruel, disappointing facade that shatters dreams on a daily basis, but this particular take feels especially sardonic. In its best moments, The Day of the Locust is a dark, searing indictment of its setting and culture, with characters that are doomed to fail and a visual style that somehow manages to turn warm, sunny imagery into a nightmarish hellscape.

 

This "best", however, can be a little few and far between. Perhaps that was the intention, though - the movie definitely has a meandering vibe to it, alternating from one perspective to the next on a dime and including scenes that probably would've been cut from something more polished. These detours only occasionally work, and the result is a slightly sluggish middle hour, but they certainly drive home the gaudy and messy atmosphere that Schlesinger was no doubt shooting for.

 

And then we reach the climax, where the movie finally reaches the grotesque and operatic heights that it's been alluding to for the entire runtime. Celebrity worship is cleverly juxtaposed against brutal street violence, and the result is an apocalyptic riot, one that's rife with mass destruction and horrific imagery. It's excessive in a way that perfectly matches the overall tone and scale, and closes this bitter satire with an unusual sense of fulfillment.

 

Grade: B+