The Current Cinema 24.5

 The Remarkable Life of Ibelin

I never played World of Warcraft, but as someone who grew up alongside the burgeoning Internet, the idea of a faceless community turning into a curated online family is something I certainly experienced. Hours of my teenage life were spent making friends through various chat rooms and online message boards where the words (and subtle meanings expressed behind them) generated pathos and appreciation for people I never, and would never, actually meet. But the sense of fraternity was always present. Benjamin Ree's "The Remarkable Life of Ibelin" is the best film to ever document what it felt like to be a part of a very small corner of that dot-and-blip universe. Following the short life of a young disabled man and his immersion into the computer gaming world before his death, the documentary then takes an affirmative turn when his parents send an innocent message out across the web. What comes back to them is recreated in animated form as the film shows just exactly how valuable and powerful even the smallest actions can be..... whether it's in the real or virtual world.

The Order

Based on the real-life case of an FBI agent's cat-and-mouse investigation into the crimes of a white supremacist organization who've split from a larger community, Justin Kurzel's "The Order" is lean, grizzled, and bolstered by strong performances. Kurzel has always been fascinated with true crime stories (see his "Snowtown" and "Nitram"), but "The Order" is his most accomplished and clear-eyed exploration yet, complete with robbery shoot-outs and a barn-burning finale that understands the tension of logistics. Granted, Jude Law (as the agent obsessed with the policeman bringing along fresh eyed Tye Sheridan) isn't a largely complex character, but "The Order" succeeds becasue it feels like something ripped out of the no-nonsense 1970's where back story is just a marginal reason for guilt and the real complexity lies in the compulsive need to maintain law in an orderless wild west. I doubt this film will be in theaters long, so seek it out when you can.

The Current Cinema 24.4

Anora 

For all its anxiety inducing set pieces, the most masterful thing about Sean Baker's electric "Anora" is that all the controlled chaos only makes the quiet, reflective moments that much more powerful. As the title character, Mikey Madison gives a ferociously alive portrayal of a woman caught up in a spiral of very messed-up hide and seek when her newlywed Russian husband goes missing, and his very powerful family's goons push her along in their sweaty, nocturnal search. Perched between desperate vulnerability and hilarious, Three Stooges-like humor, "Anora" throttles along with the speed and emotional ingenuity that's been brewing in Baker's oeuvre for a long time now. Whether it's the wind-swept beauty of bodies hustling alongside Coney Island or the half-observed face of Madison as she slinks down in the front seat of an SUV and cries, "Anora" is Baker's masterpiece that captures the ragged beauty of both the interior and exterior.

Blitz

Steve McQueen's World War II drama "Blitz" comes at one in unexpected ways. A double story about survival and the fire borne horrors of Germany's incessant bombing of London during 1940, mother (Sairose Ronan, again brilliant) and son (newcomer Elliot Hefferman) are separated early on in the film when parents are encouraged to evacuate their children for safety. From there, the emotional weight is posited on how each one survives the blitzkrieg- mother joining the ranks of those trying to help those sheltering in the underground stations, and son hopping off the train and trying to make his way back to London. If "Blitz" doesn't completely succeed, it's in the Dickinsian tale of George that strikes a few notes of imbalance, namely his short time with a gang of corpse robbers led by the menacing Stephen Graham. At times, McQueen loses ahold of the tone, but it often recovers and becomes an excitingly lensed and movingly scored film about the things that keep people moving forward during times of crisis.

The Current Cinema 24.3

The Breaking Ice

Nana (Zhou Dongyu) is a tour guide whose dropped off the face of the earth from her family, constantly dreaming about her previous life as a figure skater before an accident injured her body. Hao Feng (Liu Haoran) is a tourist in town for a wedding who seems to be enamored with dangling his body on the edges of tall places and almost daring himself to jump. Han Xiao (Qu Chuxiao) is a friend of Nana, barely living as a delivery boy for his family's restaurant that serves most of the tourists. With beguiling ease, this trio become friends (and partly lovers) over the course of a few days, dancing in strobe-lit techno clubs and flirting with the cold exterior of their Yangi province. Directed by Anthony Chen with masterful attention to the tender vagaries of these people all suffering with some unspoken trauma, "The Breaking Ice" thankfully eschews the menage-a-trois popularity of recent dramas and mines its own path of quiet sadness and connection. There are touching moments here that would feel cheapened by the lurid appeal of simply switching partners, and Chen's narrative makes clear that each character needs to find their own way out of the (literal) wilderness and piece back together something. Like the title, these are twenty-somethings just trying to manage not to fall into the abyss. A sweeping soundtrack, snatches of images that are brilliantly composed (just watch the skating park scene as Nana watches on), and a bittersweet finale all create one of the year's best films.

Cuckoo

I love the choices Hunter Schaefer has made post-Euphoria. From answering a letter from Yorgos Lanthimos to "come out and play" in "Kinds of Kindness" to this latest role as a seventeen-year-old trapped in the clutches of a madman at an Alps resort, Schaefer shows adventurous promise. And Tilman Singer also continues to show promise. Mixing together Euro-horror vibes with a fluorescent-lit, single location shootout finale, Singer carries forward some of the doom-laden theatrics that made his previous film, "Luz" partially effective. Even if cohesive narrative storytelling it's his bag, "Cuckoo" manages to stir together some wonderfully eerie imagery in a post-modern tale of Doctor Moreau DNA scrambling.

The Eye is Watching: On Robert Siodmak's "The Spiral Staircase"

My exploration of the films of Robert Siodmak continues, and, dare I say, his best films have been the ones that aren't readily available for mass market consumption. Yes, "The Killers" (1946) and "Criss Cross" (1949) are film noir staples, but films such as his late career effort "Escape From East Berlin" (1962) and the mid 40's "Phantom Lady" (1944) have been revelatory viewings for me. And now comes "The Spiral Staircase"..... a film so boldly envisioned in its proto-giallo terrors and so confident in its visual scheme that I want to shout to the rooftops about a Siodmak retrospective that deserves to be seen by.... anyone.

In "The Spiral Staircase", someone is murdering invalid women in Northeastern town and the police are stumped. In its opening moments, we're privy to one of these murders as a woman is attacked in her upstairs room, being hunted by someone hiding in her dresser. In the perfect encapsulation of voyeurism and maniacal impulse, the killer is glimpsed by his eye (that soon encompasses the entire screen) right before her murder. It's no surprise the 'close-up eyeball' is that of Siodmak himself.... a cameo that probably made Hitchcock effusively jealous.

But after this introductory moment of terror, "The Spiral Staircase" narrows its focus on a sprawling mansion on the outskirts of town where the family who lives there- plus its servants- are stuck as a ferocious thunderstorm blows outside. The ailing matriarch (Ethel Barrymore), her sons (George Brent and Gordon Oliver) and, most innocently, the nurse's assistant Helen played wonderfully by Dorothy McGuire. The stakes are raised further as Helen is a mute woman, traumatized by experiences earlier in her life, which makes her a prime target for the killer who, as we've seen previously, stalked her towards the large mansion in a scene of masterful light and shadow staging that feels like required mise-en-scene for any horror filmmaker wanting to startle with the introduction of a monstrous serial killer.

From this humble set-up, "The Spiral Staircase" proceeds to raise red herrings, observe as a killer stalks those in the house, and becomes the obvious blueprint for decades of giallo and haunted house whodunits. The fact that Helen is mute also establishes the film as an early purveyor of the trauma-induced heroine whose screams are left to the audience.

Coming midway through Siodmak's extremely proficient 1940's output that saw him draft some of the most influential noirs and thrillers of its period, "The Spiral Staircase" continues to reveal his mastery of camera angle, lighting, and inherent joy of withholding. Siodmak is a filmmaker obviously indebted to the off-screen menace, whether it's the hands of a killer in "Phantom Lady" (1944) or the gaze of a killer who only sees the infallibility of a person in their staircase mirror reflection in this film. For the mid-40's this is heady terror, matched only by the atmospheric, metaphoric underpinnings of someone like Jacques Tourneur. And when we do find out who the killer is, "The Spiral Staircase" swings at some metaphoric allusions of its own.... putting to bed notions of generational toxicity and giving voices back to those who seem to deserve it most. 

The Current Cinema 24.2

 The Sweet East

From its opening few minutes when teenager Lillian (a vibrant Talia Ryder) sings a song into a streaky restroom mirror and then erupts on an Alice In Wonderland-like vaunt across a funky, ideologically dangerous swath of the Northeast, Sean Price Williams' "The Sweet End" had me hooked. From that jumping off point, the film follows Lillian through about seven different genres as she leaves her old life behind and becomes the ethereal memento for a wide variety of denizens of an ever-shifting environment- from activist punks to shady White Nationalist incels to a fast-talking filmmaking duo who solicit her for their movie, "The Sweet East" is erratic, jagged, and at times exhausting. But it's also extravagantly beautiful and bursting with nervous life and a central performance by Ryder that stands as one of the most beguiling of the year. She not only holds the center of an effort that has her in the clutches of so many divergent characters, she remains wholly believable. And separating itself from the pitfalls of mumblecore presentations and low-budget naval gazing (like the recent Ross Brothers film "Gasoline Rainbow"), "The Sweet East" actually has something to say about the pungent state of America today. The fact that Ryder and filmmaker Williams end on a slight barrier-breaking smile and glance at the camera, "The Sweet East" also comments that perhaps the kids might be okay.

Horizon: An American Saga

Well, as I write this, the news comes out that Chapter 2 of Kevin Costner's ambitious western epic has been pushed from its August release date due to the financial shortfalls of this first one. Regardless of audience turnout, I thoroughly enjoyed Costner's languorous, multi-storied weave of three tales about the expansion of the West. I especially enjoyed the ten-minute saunter up a hill while Costner and a short-tempered outlaw (Jamie Bower) make conversation and draw out the tension that both are headed to the exact same spot. I don't think I've ever seen that before. And while this unique first bit of narrative gamesmanship isn't replicated in the rest of the film's somewhat cliched storylines, I admire how Costner's vision of repealing the television mini-series in favor of adult entertainment in a theater plays out. And, I have to say, the thundering final few moments..... giving us glimpses and scenes that (hopefully) will be unspooled in Chapter 2..... is a sneaky way to self-market and whet the appetite for those few of us who still believe in the archetypal glories of the big screen western.

Longlegs

Oz Perkins' new film "Longlegs" succeeds wildly despite its flaws. First of all, it's muddled and somewhat miserable in its attempts to be a police procedural. Just how does FBI agent Harker (Maika Monroe) decode those letters and why is everything so heightened? Perkins also snatches pretty much every exaggerated tendency of the deranged serial killer over the years and congeals a maddening cocktail for his titular enemy. However, all of this is made clear as the film progresses, and "Longlegs" wants to comment on something more than the nuts and bolts of police vs. criminal mind. There's a reason Monroe's performance is glassy-eyed and twitchy (a role that Monroe makes look very simple behind a complex internalization), and as the first half propels into the second, the atmosphere and angular sense of dread and hazy recollection becomes all too clear... and even poignant. And while some of Perkins' discomforting ideas fall a bit flat (the emphasis on glam-rock especially), the idea that evil hides among us in clear daylight is something horror/psychological terror films have been grappling with for years, and "Longlegs" goes right for the jugular with it. Would make an awesome double feature with "It Follows" as well.

The Last Few Films I've Watched, Spring edition

1. Furiosa (2024) - I liked "Fury Road" (2015). "Furiosa" is a masterpiece. It's a film that deepens, strengthens, and expands on filmmaker George Miller's imaginatively conceived brutal wasteland of post apocalypse Australia. Stretching back to the early 80's, Miller's violent brushstrokes have always generated cathartic thrills, but with "Furiosa", the focus on certain people within the barren landscape have added a real gravitas to the barbaric modes of survival, and with Anya Taylor Joy (and to a large degree the young performance of Alyla Browne who gives an equally wordless, soulful performance), Miller's franchise has found a worthy beating heart of revenge that was built up in "Fury Road", and now is given vengeful dimension here. Pretty much breathtaking from its opening scene, "Furiosa" is also a masterclass in how to film action sequences. Crisp, fluid, and edited to a propulsive sense of rhythm that is lost in most big budget action spectacles, "Furiosa" also wins in its maximalism.

2. Hidden Agenda (1991) - Recently read Rory Carroll's excellent "There Will Be Fire" and I'm revisiting some films whose backdrop is built around The Troubles. Excellent Ken Loach film that I saw twenty years ago, and while it's narrative focuses more on a diabolical political conspiracy than the fighting troubles, it's basis in history is compelling and the way Cox and McDormand slowly involve themselves with the ordinary, weary people of the struggle is interesting. And its ending reminded me of "The French Connection"..... a character still blindly running into the abyss to find the shadows that are haunting them.

3. Marie Octobre (1959) - Part of my wanting to see as many Lino Ventura films as possible. Julien Duvivier's drama about the gathering of Resistance fighters a decade later, trying to figure out who betrayed them years ago. The Resistance eats itself.

4. Handgun (1983) - A landmark revelation for me, and one of the best films of the 1980's. Karen Young (later of "Sopranos" fame) stars as a young teacher who moves to Dallas and is sexually assaulted. Far from the rigors of a standard exploitation film, British filmmaker Tony Garnett aims (and succeeds) for far greater comments about violence and our country's insane fascination with guns. Recently released on Fun City edition blu-ray. See this film!

5. Poolman (2024) - Ugh. Chris Pine's zany noir namechecks "Chinatown" several times, and that's the most interesting than about his directorial debut. And how unconscionable that a film so enamored with saving Los Angeles history that it barely ventures off its garish soundstage sets.

6. The Beast (2023) - I typically adore Bertrand Bonello and had high expectations for "The Beast". Dare I say it's one of the more pretentious film in years.

7. I Saw the TV Glow (2023) - Trippy, adventurous film about memory and identity. Film review here at Dallas Film Now.  

8. Unfrosted (2024) - Ok, I laughed quite a few times. Probably being unfairly maligned due to Seinfeld's recent poo-poo of a comment. But, his humor is imprinted all over this minor comedy ("Vietnam. Well THAT sounds like a good idea") and there are less unmitigated disasters on the streaming services.

9. Just a Gigolo (1978) - Directed by actor David Hemmings and starring David Bowie? Sign me up. Alas, this film about the allure of fascism in post World War I Germany suffers from monotone acting and a story that never really takes off. At times, it oddly reminded me of Fassbinder's "Berlin Alexanderplatz" which would come out two years later. Strange.

10. Fireflies in the North (1984) - One of the few Hideo Gosha I hadn't seen. As usual, it looks beautiful in the service of a story that's been told a thousand times, enhanced by Gosha's expert framing of quick violence. Taking place in a frigid prison town and the conflicting tempers of several people. 

On "Evil Does Not Exist"

One of the best films of the year, Ryusuke Hamaguchi's "Evil Does Not Exist"is a tantalizing, challenging wonder. Part eco-thriller, but mostly a deliberate drama about the entrenching scale of urban growth into peaceful forestry, Hamaguchi employs his distinctive observational style to subtly shift gears between both. Imagine if Frederick Wiseman film were present in this peaceful natural village to film a board meeting about the possibilities of tourism advancement versus the quiet disdain of its townsfolk. For about twenty minutes, this is what we get, and (like Wiseman's films) it's an utterly mesmerizing act of ebb and flow emotion as the villagers raise their concerns, and the two Japanese mouthpieces deflect their concerns.

Outside of that, "Evil Does Not Exist" primarily focuses on the quiet day-to-day activities of Takumi (Hitoshi Omika) and his daughter Hana (Ryo Nishikawa). They live off the land.... he chops wood.... helps a local food establishment owner collect water for their udon noodle shop.... and Hana wanders the woods experiencing all of its natural glories. That's the lulling rhythm the film settles into, until the aforementioned Japanese company decides to build a "glamping" site nearby for upscale outdoor tourism. Dividing the film down the middle as before and after the existential ecological disaster comes upon Takumi and his fellow villagers, "Evil Does Not Exist" then dovetails into unexpected narrative sidelines as it shifts focus from the serene ways of Takumi to the corporate shells caught in the middle (Ryuki Kosaka and Ayaka Shibutani). It's in the second half that Hamaguchi lays clear the title of the film. Everyone is doing what they think is right and the only casualty is the perception of those involved. It's a master stroke of storytelling, reverting expectation and providing a broad, gentle ethos to everyone involved.

And then there's that ending. Initially shocking.... outwardly confusing, but upon introspection (which is needed for all of Hamguchi's films), it makes perfect sense. All along, the film has been establishing the worrisome encroachment of civilization on an environment that is completely natural and subsistent to simple people. The main point of contention- a septic tank for the glamping site that will surely contaminate all the water downstream- is just the least of Takumi's fears. For most of the film, daughter Hana is a virtually wordless, wide-eyed young girl wandering by herself through the woods. Without completely spoiling the shattering finale, Hamaguchi seems to be saying that no outside force should dare touch the innocence of Hana. If father Takumi can't, ultimately, stop the impending ecological disaster of big business, he can stop the metaphorical poisoning of anyone coming close to Hana. Alongside Eiko Ishibashi's mournful score, "Evil Does Not Exist" is a masterpiece of shifting storytelling, intelligent underpinnings, and shimmering cinematography that ranks as one of the best films in Hamaguchi's now renowned career.

Camera Obscura: "Goodbye Paradise"

If I were sculpting a Mount Rushmore of neo-noir sleuths, the first would be Elliot Gould's Marlowe in "The Long Goodbye". The second would be Jeff Lebowski. Obviously, I love my "detectives" to be reluctantly oblivious, slightly impaired, and wholly suited for solving the case by allowing the devious world to open up its secrets in time without doing much except sulking around. Now add Michael Stacey (Ray Barrett) and "Goodbye Paradise" to the mountain. My first exposure to this niche of film noir called 'Gold Coast noir' (and I welcome more suggestions!), "Goodbye Paradise" is a lazy beast of a film. As the alcoholic, tie-askew ex-policeman asked to find the missing daughter (Janet Scrivener) of a politician, "Goodbye Paradise" devolves into a shaggy-dog tale of new age religious cults, assassins, bully cops, and old military friends with terrifying new ideals about the social economics of New South Wales. And through it all, Barrett inhabits Stacey as a man who'd much rather be bouncing amongst karaoke bars and drinking himself silly with the prospects of being a hardboiled writer. And if his inner monologue is anything like his scrapped novel, we've all missed out on Queensland's answer to Raymond Chandler. But solve the mystery he eventually does, bedding beautiful women and being the desire of young ones along the way, while witnessing the country come apart at the seams. More than a film noir (although its allusion to other great Goodbye films and pulp novels), "Goodbye Paradise" feels like the template for so many Coen Brothers movies, that I searched long and hard for any mention of this film out of the Brothers' mouths. Alas, there are none. But despite that, filmmaker Carll Schultz (whose biggest title is the Demi Moore psychological horror film "The Seventh Sign" several years later) has crafted a film so full of dazzling energy and subtle humor, that when things do go crazy in the finale, we believe the shenanigans because Stacey the cop has fumbled through the mystery right alongside us.... and seems to be the only one keeping his sanity. Marlowe and Jeff Lebowski would be proud. The world changed, he didn't, which seems like an integral part of the sleuth in way over his head.

The Current Cinema 24.1

 Origin

In "Origin", Ava DuVernay takes a sweeping nonfiction book and not only manages to weave a heartfelt portrait of the author herself, but illuminate the thesis of the narrative with a magnificent, globe trotting  vision. From Nazi-era Germany, to the Jim Crow infested American South, to the inhumane treatment of a certain sect of people in India, "Origin" almost becomes an overwhelming viewing experience for the way it plots Isabel Wilkinson's ideas about the caste system around the world while maintaining the emotional pull of a woman (Anjanue Ellis-Taylor) whose own personal life is spiraling towards grief. Sound, score, acting.... all the components merge here in what is probably DuVernay's finest work to date. Certain moments in "Origin" hit me so hard. It's a film whose sobering outlook on the subconscious manipulation of the world by certain power groups, at times, pales in comparison to the indominable spirit of those awake enough to fight back. One of the year's best.

Perfect Days

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. That's the rhythm Wim Wenders establishes in this peaceful, warm look at a janitor (Koji Yakusho) and his day-to-day routines. Those routines soon reveal tiny fissures (a manic co-worker and a visit from a family member), but "Perfect Days" fits solidly into Wenders' body of work. There are plenty of driving scenes timed to American rock 'n' roll and, even though the film takes place entirely in the city of Tokyo (which Wenders milks for all its florid beauty and concrete magic), the whole things still feels like a road movie. A few flourishes miss the mark (such as the appearance of a male figure towards the end of the film that seems shoehorned in to emit some schmaltzy magic realism), but overall "Perfect Days" is Wenders best film in some time.

Drive Away Dolls

If there's one thing the recent split of Joel and Ethan Coen has taught us, it's that each one certainly has a distinctive worldview that meshes their films into the audacious and compelling potpourri they've been delivering for more than 30 years now. Whereas Joel seems to be the more ponderous of the duo (i.e. probably where "A Serious Man", "Barton Fink" and "Inside Llewyn Davis" comes from) Ethan bends towards the cartoonish. And based on the humor and bawdy outlook given off by his "Drive Away Dolls", I'm tempted to say "Raising Arizona" is certainly all his. Alas, I still wasn't completely taken by "Drive Away Dolls" even though the laughs are dialed up to eleven and the tone swings wildly from scene to scene. Part of the problem are the two leads, played for all the gusto by the Texwas-twanged Margaret Qualley and the prim, buttoned Geraldine Viswanathan. As the latest in a string of Coen-esque protagonists on the lam and falling into various predicaments that ranges from the horny to the horrific, they feel like paper-thin representations of comedy. Add to it a tone that never quite finds its footing and "Drive Away Dolls" may be my most least liked Coen endeavor in quite some time. I do give it props for totally upending my expectations of just what exactly is in the briefcase, though.

70's Bonanza: Martha Coolidge's "Not a Pretty Picture"

The layers in Martha Coolidge's hybrid documentary "Not a Pretty Picture" are potent. The film deals with rape- not only that of the filmmaker herself in 1962, but the actress portraying her (a wonderful Michele Manenti) at that age is also a survivor of the same trauma. We watch as the film intercuts between Coolidge's fictionalized re-telling of the event as well as the deconstruction of the emotions swirling around the actors as they rehearse. Add to the fact that this film was made and released in the mid 1970's and one soon recognizes the vibrant and raw intention of a female filmmaker examining the culture of sexual abuse as a necessary addition to the New School of American filmmaking and one that belongs in the conversation alongside so many of her male counterparts whose visions of male corrosion are widely regarded as the best of the decade. "Not a Pretty Picture" is a masterful example that expulsion of the old guard was not exclusive to Coppola, Scorsese and Cimino.

Swaying back and forth between fiction and documentary, "Not s Pretty Picture" is quite harrowing in either form. As a fictional film, the specter of dangerous seduction hovers at the edge of the frame. Young Martha (Manenti) is drawn into a double date with another girl where the two (alongside three men, including the eventual perpetrator played by James Carrington) end up in a dilapidated New York loft whose central feature is a hole in the wall that leads into another room where young Martha will eventually be victimized. If watching the act itself played out in long form isn't crushing enough, Coolidge shrewdly intercuts the various conversations, rationalizations, and conflicted attempts of the actors to contextualize their actions around her acted film. It's this debate that sets "Not a Pretty Picture" apart from other personal essay films. Coolidge doesn't shy away from the varying degrees of guilt and acceptance. Even if actor Cunningham gives some feeble attempts at his character's actions, Coolidge allows the space for everyone. It's awkward at times. Strikingly painful at others. And while not a necessarily healing experience (as the final few moments of emotion on Coolidge's face exemplify), the film definitely feels like a quiet scream of simple pronunciation about the act that Coolidge needed to explore. That alone is worth this film being seen by as many as possible.

My Favorite Films of 2023

The full list can be found here: My Favorite Films of 2023 | Dallas Film Now., which has basically transported the more professional writing I'm currently doing. I don't want to forget this humble home, however.

The Best Non 2023 Films I Saw in 2023

11. The Mind Benders (1963) - Generally regarded as one of the first true paranoid thrillers, John Frankenheimer's "The Manchurian Candidate" dealt with the brainwashing of a Korean War POW (Laurence Harvey whose steely eyed presence seemed like the perfect tonic for an empty vessel) and his subsequent mission as a presidential assassin. It holds up even better today. Released just a year later in 1963, Basil Dearden's "The Mind Benders" certainly hasn't gotten the same acclaim as Frankenheimer's effort, but it's no less terrifying. I'd even argue it's a much more insidious example of the ability of one human to crack open and infect the brain of another human. In Dearden's stratosphere, the purpose isn't world domination, but simply the nature of suggestion in wielding power over another.... which plays havoc and begins the dissolution of a happy marriage. As he did a few years prior in Dearden's taboo breaking "Victim" (1961), Dirk Bogarde is the man placed in a precarious situation fighting for his very soul. Portraying Dr. Longman, Bogarde is a scientist involved in an experiment whose opening title card suggests the entire story is ripped from the annuls of American research documents involving isolation tanks and perception reduction. And if this doesn't sound so far out today where such tactics dot the fringe landscape of psychology, things don't start so well for one doctor involved in the experiment who rightly tosses himself off a moving train in the film's opening minutes. This abrupt shift from tangential science fiction elements feels odd at first, but once "The Mind Benders" settles on Longman and his wife's shifting power dynamic, the film's kitchen sink realism (a style dominating much of British cinema during this time) feels all the more powerful in showing how disruptive progressive science can be. He's not slated to kill a presidential candidate, but the final riverside boat party seems just as violent for the way he openly courts another woman (Wendy Craig) and flagrantly challenges the tenets of marriage. Longman's brainwashing may not be the equal of murder, but "The Mind Benders" makes a strong case that its something far more damaging. 

10. Bitter Innocence (1999) - Dominik Graf's "Bitter Innocence" twists about halfway through from a corporate thriller to a sweet love story borne out of the casual indifference and sexual violence men perpetrate on women. That the love forms between a twenty-something woman (Laura Tonke) and the young teen daughter (Mareike Lindenmeyer) trying to unravel the mystery her parents have immersed themselves in should come as no shock to those who've watched just a few of Graf's films. They are mostly love stories buried within a larger framework of genre. Last year's masterwork called "Fabian: Going to the Dogs" is one of the lushest romance film in years, buttressed against the backdrop of an encroaching Nazi evil. Situated firmly in the times it was made (1999), "Bitter Innocence" follows the same pattern as love is widdled out of the complicated yuppie mindset that those in the corporate world can get away with anything if their check book is large enough. But before we get to the central relationship of Vanessa and Eva, Graf's film wanders through the thriller realm when aggressive boss Larssen (Michael Mendle) threatens to destabilize the vague pharmaceutical company Andreas (Elmar Weppar) has been conducting research within for the past few years. Andreas' fears about the wolf Larssen are confirmed when he discovers him raping Vanessa behind closed doors. Working as a waitress for a catering company providing services at a company party, Andreas doesn't report (or even lift a finger to help) the vulnerable Vanessa, instead using the act to steal a file that may secure his employment..... which is a prickly move since Vanessa sees him dodge out without coming to any sort of chivalry rescue. With the visual style of a glistening television movie (Graf has careened through an array of features, both for the big and small screens) and a sense of rhythm like that of a soap opera, the film's themes of ravishing passions and high intrigue feel right at home with that lowbrow entertainment. But Graf's swirling ambition about the youth of the world being the most morally grounded figures in a world set on financial gain and personal advancement (and I didn't even mention the affairs!) fits right at home in the subversive tactics of a filmmaker who continually buries so much in his works. I look forward to carrying through with his expansive body of work.

9. Get Back (2021) - There's a moment when we finally get the Beatles performing their modified rooftop concert as the local bobbies ascend on the band for noise complaints and Paul lets out a little "whoo" as they emerge in the doorway behind him. It's a candid moment in a 7-hour documentary stitched, polished, and restored from endless streams of audio and visual clips more than fifty years old, but it feels as vital as when it was compiled at the crescendo of Beatle Mania in 1969 and 1970. Again taking a lost relic from the past and revamping it for modern consumption, director Peter Jackson is making quite the name for himself as one of the most important film preservationists of our day. But, as he did with "They Shall Not Grow Old", "Get Back" is more than revivalism. It actually unearths sound and image from the dust heap of the past and makes it relevant. It's hard to say anything by the Beatles could be considered irrelevant (or especially the heartbreaking images of World War I), but that's the onward march of time with social media and the modern ways the younger generation consumes media and information. There's something to be said for the scratchy 16mm image, and with a documentary like "Get Back", hopefully the sound and appeal of the Beatles (and so many other relics) will never be relegated to the unkown medium abyss again. 

8. Another Man, Another Chance (1977) - Claude Lelouch's "Another Man, Another Chance" tells the parallel stories of westward expansion and immigration. Either one would be evocative on their own, but here, they wind together slowly.... beautifully... gently. Jeanne (Genevieve Bujold) and her photographer husband Francis (Francis Huster) flee 1870's France for the west. Already ensconced here as a veterinarian, but struggling to put together the pieces of a broken life, is David (James Caan). For a good portion of the film, Lelouch keeps the two stories close but separate. They exist in the same territory, but only mingle in the latter half of the film. And when they do, "Another Man, Another Chance" becomes less of a western and more of an amber hued love story borne out against the dusty terrain. It's always interesting to see how a European envisions the American West. Often more attuned to the sensibilities of survival and generational struggle than the law-and-disorder of our own representations (perhaps because the violence in European history goes back eons further than our own), Lelouch works in carefully timed, long handheld set ups and awesomely imagined natural lighting. Reminiscent of the intimate epics of Jan Troell, "Another Man, Another Chance" weaves a melodic tale of the west that feels much truer than any other attempt to reconcile the territories hard scrabbled existence.

7. Phantom Lady (1944) - Even though I admire the toughness of Robert Siodmak's perennial film noirs, "The Killers" (1946) and "Criss Cross" (1948), nothing quite prepared me for the formal, stylish greatness of "Phantom Lady". Released in 1944 and starring Ella Raines as a secretary named Kansas (certainly evoking her eternal goodness) who descends into the New York netherworld of coked-up jazz musicians and psychotic killers in the hopes of saving her boss (Alan Curtis) from a murder rap, the film is relentlessly surprising in both narrative and mise-en-scene. There are two or three camera movements that rank with the visual inventiveness of Hitchcock's best (just watch as we finally discover "the hat") and a mood imported from the inky grains of German expressionism. Everything is mixed flawlessly within a somewhat cute American studio system work. Between this film and others, Siodmak has created a large (but still somewhat undervalued) body of work. And outside of his noirs, finding them is the trick. Playing with genre as if it's shuffling cards, Siodmak never loses control of the film. When it stops down for a couple of minutes to vibrate and gyrate with a coked-up drummer, it works. When it devolves into a thriller and the doorknob to escape is just out of reach, it works. And it certainly works as a film noir where the city hisses steam at all hours and the police are hard-nosed but virtuous. Even despite its seemingly happy ending, "The Phantom Lady" hints that the savior complex of Kansas may have doomed her to a place of subservience that's well beneath her true worth.

6. Batleground (1949) - Screening William Wellman's "Battleground" today can feel slightly misleading and familiar, only because so much of this 1949 film (yes, released only 4 years after the end of the war) has been sampled, stapled , and re-imagined in numerous other war films. Its influence cannot be denied. Following an ensemble of soldiers as they march into The Battle of the Bulge and become entwined in the infamous Bastogne area, for much of its running time, "Batleground" is battle-adjacent. Focusing on the soldier's personalities as they deal with a host of issues- from horniness while garrisoned in a French town to the swift brutality of death in a foxhole- "Battleground" fills in the spaces of the usual rah-rah 'Hollywoodisms' with the banality of simple survival when fog has cut one off from the rest of the world. And when the action does occur, Wellman doesn't shy away from the explicit horribleness of war. An unrelenting ambush on a group of prowling Germans..... hand to hand combat settled just out of frame..... the crushing realization that someone is dead by their galoshes strewn against the snow..... "Battleground" explores all the horrors of war with fierce simplicity. If anyone is still searching for great war films in this land of over saturation, do yourself a favor and see "Battleground".

5. Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror (2021) - Not only a scholarly minded exploration of the complex literary and visual history of a certain type of horror film, Kier-La Janisse's "Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched" is a treasure trove of film and television clips that had me mercilessly searching the internet for more backstory on its many examples. Clocking in at over 3 hours, this is an exhaustive but fascinating treatise on what exactly drives the genre now affectionately called "folk horror" in the movies. For those who've come to the subject only recently through the works of Ari Aster or only understand its touchpoint in something like "The Wicker Man" in the early 70's, this documentary swerves through so many other examples (both heralded but largely unheralded) that it becomes clear the idea of this type of horror film has been embedded in our cultures for centuries. A must see for cinema historians and extra points for now giving me the term "hauntology" in my lexicon.

4. On Tour (2010) - I'm fascinated by the hard-scrabbled hustler on-screen. Characters like Jack Lemmon in "Save the Tiger" (1973) or Jason Miller in "The Nickel Ride". (1974).... men who feel like entropy itself is their survival. Add Mathieu Almaric to that list with his role as the manager/escort to a group of American burlesque performers traversing across France in "On Tour". The direct antecedent, of course, would be "Go Go Tales" (2007) or the king of all fast-talkers with Ben Gazzara in John Cassavetes' "Killing of a Chinese Bookie" (1976). But that's enough comparison. Almaric's directorial effort stands on its own as a slice of (hectic) life, full of unexpected grace and mascaraed beauty. And even though tragedy and bankruptcy seem forever around the corner, the majesty of the film lies in its gentle warmth and oddball humor. He's a man who juggles the needs of his burlesque troop with the impending collapse of his marriage as if he's a father-of-the-year candidate on the verge of losing everything. I've been enthralled by the varied tones of Almaric's chosen projects over the last few years. I like to imagine he took the cash from his role in a James Bond film to finance and nurture this unique, wonderful film and will continue to alternate between high profile, mainstream fare and scratched independence. 

3. A Self Made Hero (1996) - Jacques Audiard's war time masquerade about a man (Matthieu Kassovitz) who lies and steals his persona into war time France aristocracy would make for a fitting double feature with Jean Pierre Melville's "Army of Shadows" (1968). Both films apply the same fatalistic sense that imbues great crime thrillers, and it's a film that paints the Resistance during French Occupation of World War II as a carousel of death slightly postponed in order for its men and women to grasp at heroics. It's sad, infuriating, calculated, and full of Melville's memorialized relics from his past and Audiard's film shows just how punctured and fractured deceit causes during the World War. But "A Self Made Hero" is also surprisingly resonant for the way in which a man will become a chameleon to hold power (think of George Santos). It's a film that's oddly never discussed much today, given virtually no repertory screenins, and seems to be destined to the dust bins of mid 90's international films like so many others. See this one. It's a sharp deconstruction of the rise to power.... a mordant commentary on truth.... and a brilliant black comedy that details the minute ways anyone can take tidbits of the truth and screw them into a wholly believable persona.

2. Undeclared War (1990) - Ringo Lam's "Undeclared War" had me from its stunningly violent open in which a baptism ambush leads into hand grenades and helicopters. From there, it staggers into pretty much every late 80's/early 90's action film aesthetic- from the gaudy lens flares that visually accentuate Hong Kong 'actioners' of the time to the cop buddy narrative that sees two opposing worldviews combine to stop a global terrorist. Add to the mixture loads of cop swagger and "Undeclared War" is a pop masterpiece from a director known more for inspiring the skeletal outline of Quentin Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs" than for his own works. After seeing Lam's "Sky On Fire" at the 2018 Dallas International Film Festival and then lapping up the brutality of his Jean Claude Van Damme collaboration (one of his many) "In Hell" last year, I've had the enjoyment of discovering one engaging action film after another. As usual, going beyond pop culture lip sync to observe the original purveyors holds so much more value. But beyond the exploding squibs and expected violence, Lam's "Undeclared War" does something that I always find necessary in a good action film: understanding the logistics of bodies and space. There are so many well staged shootouts and roving camera techniques that continually maintain the sense of action and place, one clearly senses when they're in the hands of a master. Lam is one of the best.

1. One More Time With Feeling (2016)

One of the highlights of 2023 for me was seeing Nick Cave play an intimate, 1500 seat theater. Sitting first row of the balcony, I had a beautifully unobstructed view of the man as he played piano and romped through decades of favorites as well as obscure tunes (with the only other person on stage being Colin Greenwood providing the necessary bass tempo). Seeing Andrew Dominik's documentary a few months before couldn't prepare me for the emotional weight Cave brings to each and every song, underscoring the fragility and brutal honesty he often doles out in his songs. If Andrew Dominik's "One More Time With Feeling" had just been about the creative gymnastics behind producing and recording an album, it would have been magnificent. The fact that real life tragedy occurs and timbers everything with an air of magisterial melancholy turns the effort into an essential portrait of serene acceptance. Hovering around Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds as they record their 2016 album "Skeleton Tree", Dominik's first collaboration with the band (followed several years later by "This Much I Know to be True") tumbles through harsh confessional, observational practices, and magical representation.... often times in the same scene. Cave is always hard to turn away from (especially on stage) and here he gives us the same persona as tortured poet. But Dominik also captures something poignant in the way he interacts with his wife and the loss of their young son which pierces the mechanical process also being recorded. A unique documentary indeed. Fans of Nick Cave, Warren Ellis and the Bad Seeds will be enthralled. Everyone else will be moved by the cathartic use of creativity to exorcise sadness.

The Current Cinema 23.5

 Killers of the Flower Moon

Scorsese's latest is a corrosive epic that clearly reveals its shades of morality for everyone involved within the first third, then proceeds to deliberately track the insidious nature of violence and deluded companionship over the remaining three hours. Imagine if the walls closing in around Henry Hill in "Goodfellas" were protracted out for 180 minutes. That's the startling feeling that Scorsese manages to uphold in "Killers of the Flower Moon", but this time, the criminal activity mirrors that of the American mafia played out in the dustbowl setting on 1920's Oklahoma and the violence against the Osage Indian nation for their valuable oil land head rights. With his usual cast of heavyweights (DiCaprio and DeNiro), the biggest coup of the film goes to the steely beating heart of Lily Gladstone as "Killers of the Flower Moon" was changed from its FBI-instigated criminal investigative tone to a more Native-American centric point of view. It works wonders, no less because of the stellar, granite-faced supporting cast and a rhythmic editing style that constantly makes one gasp with horror at the nonchalant violence and overhead writhes of death encompassing the entire land. Like he's done for New York, Las Vegas, and even the bashing waters off a Japanese prisoner colony, Scorsese spiritually imbues nature with a fist of violence that's hard to shake. 

Anatomy of a Fall

Justine Triet's masterful, slow examination of a death also places on trial the ebbs and flows of a marriage.... where every charged conversation is a motive for murder and perception shifts between parties wildly. Sandra Huller is the woman on trial after her husband's body is found outside the window of their three-story, snow-capped mountain chateau. Is it suicide, murder, or a simple accident? And like the best films that work in gradual shades of morality, "Anatomy of a Fall" is less concerned with what really happened than the verbal gymnastics and hidden emotions that might have led to all this. Employing a camera that's often trying to follow what's happening just as quickly as the audience (i.e. that startling whip pan when Huller's son is announced as a witness) and brilliant performances from all involved, "Anatomy of a Fall" is two-and-a-half hours of French courtroom politics trying to decode matters of the heart. It's dry, intelligent, and ultimately so haunting.

Priscilla

Sofia Coppola's best film since "Lost in Translation", "Priscilla" is a film that continues on with the filmmaker's fascination with interiority and impressionism. It's also a drastically (and wonderfully) different experience from last year's Baz Luhrman sonic fest about Elvis Presly. As Priscilla Presly, newcomer Cailee Spaeny embodies the love interest of a rock and roll icon with her own sense of permanent dislocation in one of two scenarios- either orbiting the yes-man-good-ol-boy universe of Elvis' lavishly repercussion-free dalliances, or quietly within the controlled alienation from Elvis himself. This is made clear when Priscilla first sits down to eat with the protracted Elvis family, filmed in profile by herself, dutifully nodding to others outside the frame. There's not much room for else, and Coppola deftly alternates between these two environments, peppered with heart-stopping needle drops and a keen awareness of the objects and textures that suffocatingly surround Priscilla. In fact, the best description I can provide of "Pricilla" is a film of quiet suffocation, made all the more enervating when the finale happens. It's no secret Elvis was a victim of explosive stardom, but at least someone survives this sinkhole universe of carnivorous public consumption. And a Dolly Parton needle drop is the perfect way to frame Priscilla's flight to freedom.

The Current Cinema 23.4

 Passages

It'd be misleading to read Ira Sachs' latest effort, "Passages", through the eyes of its amorous, confused, and ultimately destructive lead character Tomas (Franz Rogowski). Oscillating between the relationship with his husband, Martin (a tremendous Ben Whishaw who deserves all the year end accolades) and his start-up affair with beautiful teacher Agathe (Adele Exarchopoulos), Tomas doesn't feel that far removed from the caddish interlopers of the French New Wave. But "Passages", ultimately, concerns itself less with Tomas and more with the two people caught up in his sexual confusion. This is a film about frank sexuality- which is terrific when it's fresh and impetuous- and all three people in this love triangle experience it. However, what lingers most vividly about the situation is the way Sachs quickly dries out the sexuality and creates a devastating portrait of those rejected and damaged from Tomas' willful carnality. Whishaw is brilliant in the way he recoils and holds in his sadness during one incredible scene. Likewise, Exarchopoulos is luminous in her stringent performance and the way she maintains a sense of individuality within yet another expression of amour fou (something she's become famous for). I suppose all the character traits were there on display in the opening scene as filmmaker Tomas berates and constantly stops a scene he's filming in order to get the right presence of someone walking down a flight of stairs. "Passages" is an exploration of the starts-and-stops we experience in a relationship as well. It's just a shame it comes at the expense of two wonderful people like Martin and Agathe, who Sachs handles with empathy and intelligence.

 

The Last Voyage of the Demeter

Typically a dumping ground for left-over gambles and small independent films that finally manage to squeeze their way onto one of the 24 screen multiplexes, August is a miserable month. Add to that at least one horror film each year in a vain attempt at counter-programming, and that's where Andre Ovredal's "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" lands. Literally ripped from the pages of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" tale, "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" actually succeeds because of its swallowing atmosphere and confident bloodletting in a confined space. The space is a ship whose unlucky cargo happens to be the prince of darkness, and the cast is a who's-who of familiar character actor faces (Liam Cunningham from "Game of Thrones", Corey Hawkin, Aisling Franciosi, and David Dastmalchian) charged with battling the creature. There are no great revolutions here. It isn't saying much. The scares are generally rote. But what "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" does have is terrific production design and a suffocating sense of foggy, inevitable bloodshed. For the August dumping ground, that's enough for me to purely enjoy this film for what it is.

 

The Unknown Country 

I love, love, love this type of wispy travelogue film that says nothing, but manages to say everything. As the woman traveling, Lily Gladstone deserves her big year, and Morrisa Maltz's "The Unknown Country" understands that the most powerful expression in cinema is not the words, but the face. Harboring a restless sense of sadness and displacement, the film follows Tana (Gladstone) as she travels from Minneapolis to her cousin's wedding on the reservation in South Dakota. From there, she heads south in search of something greater than herself. Generally keeping the viewer imbalanced on just where we are in the journey with Tana across an American landscape that's alternatively beautiful and alarming for a single woman, "The Unknown Country" also takes the time to dwell on the genuine, honest faces Tana comes across in her journey. We even get to hear these people tell a quick story of their lives, and a fiction film becomes semi-documentary... as if Maltz also wants to craft an anthropological study of the goodness buried in a world teeming with angry talk radio and the division of people- something that becomes central to Tana's long car rides that not only serve as a location marker, but also the static of a world going on carelessly around her. Ultimately, "The Unknown Country" knocks all this away and chooses to emphasize the people orbiting around Tana. Best when it settles on the sweet, proud worldview of her estranged relatives on the Indian reservation (including a knock out performance by long time character actor Richard Ray Whitman), it's enervating to watch Gladstone's performance begin to soak in their grace and carry on southward for something more. The world may still be swerving around her, but "The Unknown Country" has the grace and fragility to slow everything down and celebrate those in the moment. A wonderful film.

Franchise Fatigue

For two nights in a row, I exited a movie theater supremely disappointed in the latest incarnations of two franchises whose history has given me a memorable (and in one case classic) lineage. "Insidious: The Red Door" and "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny" pretty much broke my heart. From where both of these franchises started to the dregs of where they are now, I began to wonder if the fault lies with my old-man-screaming-at-clouds disillusion with the Hollywood project. With "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny", I could feel my heart shrinking into my chest within the first 20 minutes of an elongated action sequence that sees Jones (Harrison Ford, right digitized and de-aged) spring about Nazi castles, trains, and motorcycles as if he's trying out for the latest Marvel film. Add to the fact that director James Mangold's fifth iteration of the Indiana Jones franchise looks so murky and tactless, and it quickly became a recipe for immense dissatisfaction. Granted, I slowly warmed to the film as it went along, but with each larger set piece and a finale that dares to actually visualize the metaphysical nuances that made "Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade" so enthralling as young teen, it's an entry in a vaulted series of films that I will most assuredly never re-visit.

The hatred of Patrick Wilson's "Insidious 3: The Red Door" came more incrementally. For the first 30 minutes, the fourth installment of the James Wan/Leigh Whannell horror series establishes the anemia of its father-son relationship between Wilson and college-bound son Dalton (Ty Simpkins) as both struggle with the slow release of the pent up horrors of their past (through hypnosis) that eventually sees them both re-enter "the further" for more terrifying shenanigans. There are some creepy corner-screen movements that set the stage for something grand, however, the scares are ultimately neutered by the very bland performances and unremarkable scares. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that "Insidious: The Red Door" is content to create fan fiction (complete with shoehorned cameos by Lin Shaye, Angus Sampson and Leigh Wannell) and serve as greatest hits for a franchise that began with a shrieking sense of old school horror and a demented, go-for-broke mentality. None of that exists in the latest film.

Looking at both films and the wonderful filmic parents that spawned them, what went wrong? Granted, this is just my rhetorical question as I'm sure both films have their admirers.... although most of the accolades I've seen for "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny" range from "well, it's better than Crystal Skull" and "fun!". Ever since its premier at the Cannes Film Festival in May, Mangold's latest Indiana incarnation has mostly been met with subdued murmur. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to love both films. And since I was lukewarm on "Insidious 3" and could see the film getting further and further away from the genuine terror evoked by the first two "Insidious" efforts, I suppose my greatest frustration lies with "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny".... which also has strayed into a netherworld of CGI confusion and murkiness so far removed from the practical excitement of the first three Indiana Jones films that its tired set pieces play like a video game without physics or sensibility. Each action scene- its opening, a ride on a horse through the New York subway, a cart chase in Morocco- rely on so much wham-bam CGI green screen effects that they remove all heart and emotion from a series that once proudly succeeded on mixing true heroic characterizations with bracing, exuberant, practical adventures. I know this type of film is still hopeful in Hollywood, but both "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny" and "Insidious: The Red Door" make the case that we're getting further away from replicating (or even marginally extending) the simple joys of what made these franchises so enjoyable long ago. 

Flares and Squibs: Ringo Lam's "Undeclared War"

Ringo Lam's "Undeclared War" had me from its stunningly violent open in which a baptism ambush leads into hand grenades and helicopters. From there, it staggers into pretty much every late 80's/early 90's action film aesthetic- from the gaudy lens flares that visually accentuate Hong Kong 'actioners' of the time to the cop buddy narrative that sees two opposing worldviews combine to stop a global terrorist. Add to the mixture loads of cop swagger and "Undeclared War" is a pop masterpiece from a director known more for inspiring the skeletal outline of Quentin Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs" than for his own works. After seeing Lam's "Sky On Fire" at the 2018 Dallas International Film Festival and then lapping up the brutality of his Jean Claude Van Damme collaboration (one of his many) "In Hell" last year, I've had the enjoyment of discovering one engaging action film after another. As usual, going beyond pop culture lip sync to observe the original purveyors holds so much more value.

And the value in "Undeclared War" hits the viewer in the face immediately. After the aforementioned violent opening, the stage is set for a visiting CIA Agent Gary (Peter Liapis) to team up with a local special agent in Hong Kong, Bong (Danny Lee), after his ambassador brother is assassinated by a terrorist named Hannibal (Vernon Wells). Played to cool perfection by Wells, Hannibal seems like a baddie ejected from the "Mission Impossible" universe.... prone to quickly dispatching those who fail him and eluding everyone through a variety of disguises. He's also a pretty good hand-to-hand combat fighter as well.

But beyond the mechanics of a plot that sees Gary and Inspector Bong putting aside their personal differences (Gary from the "Lethal Weapon" school of policing and Bong from the respect-bureaucracy phase of detective work), what stands out from "Undeclared War" is the clean and precise action set pieces. From a funeral home to a large hotel conference finale, Lam maintains a focused, organized logistics of violence. We understand where everyone is. The gun shots feel real. The delineation of good guys and bad guys is pronounced. Unlike so many Hong Kong action films, Lam doesn't lose sense of the placement of bodies and the elongation of suspense. Just watch how he handles a bomb in the finale. Or the cool confidence of police guys doing their work. Like the films of Johnnie To or especially Michael Mann, Lam infuses "Undeclared War" with a keen awareness of both public and private space in an action universe. I love discovering works like this and look forward to more Lam.

 

The Current Cinema 23/3

 Sanctuary

The twisted beauty of Zachary Wigon's "Sanctuary" is that it's a film of two people, sitting in a room and talking. Well, it eventually devolves into a maddening, cerebral examination of the push-and-pull between the said two people (Christopher Abbott and Margaret Qualley), and it doesn't help matters that the relationship is based on the paid expectation of a dominatrix session. "Sanctuary" is even more jarring because anyone expecting a cheap, lurid thrill based on the word "dominatrix" will be sorely lost as the film (literally) tosses the script early on and becomes a trenchant power play where words, ideas, and threats quickly replace the commodity of sexual gratification. Abbott and Qualley (typically) excel in their high-wire roles.... he as Hal, the recently uber-rich heir to a hotel fortune and she, the paid escort who takes his wishes to end their relationship in very menacing stride. Written by Micah Bloomberg, "Sanctuary" thrills from beginning to end with its allusion that domination-as-therapy has its thorny limits. And in the heavily committed performances by Abbott and Qualley, the film could also be seen as domination-as-therapy filmmaking itself.

Past Lives

 

Celine Song's debut is a film that owes its heartfelt lineage to the films of Julio Medem, Richard Linklater, and Wong Kar Wai..... all filmmakers that certainly believe in true love, but not in the traditional way, but in how love manifests itself across the unreachable barriers put up by the universe's cosmic sense of humor. In "Past Lives", Na Young (Greta Lee) and Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) meet as kids and then spend the next 24 years hopelessly trying to rekindle what they once shared on the steps of a building, each going their own direction. Song and her actors etch so much fragility, honesty, and emotion into the vagaries of their relationship that, when the two meet again in New York for the first time as adults, their reactions are so organic and heartfelt, I felt guilty (like an interloper) for watching the film. But once that feeling passes and "Past Lives" continues to weave its magical spell of yearning (plus facing the uncomfortable but blazingly honest performance of Nora's now husband played to perfection by John Magaro) I ultimately felt grateful for the beauty of a film willing to allow us to share in all the uncomfortable silences that build up over (possibly) thousands of years between people. I can't stop thinking about this one.

The Current Cinema 23.2

Joyland

There's a scene in the middle of Saim Sadiq's ironically titled "Joyland" that sees Haider (Ali Junejo) save the lighting impaired show of trans dancer Biba (Alina Khan) by urging everyone to shine their cell phone lights towards the stage. It's a bustling moment of joy that interrupts the generational struggle of the film's many characters and establishes a quiet humanity that most films never realize. It's easy to say from that point on, the film is all tragically downhill- full of subdued emotions and some of the year's most striking cinematography- but "Joyland" is too smart to be just an international downer. The characters are too dimensional.... the emotions are too well earned.... and Sadiq understands that great truth comes from great sadness. Outside of the central relationship between Haider and Biba, "Joyland" tracks the rest of Haider's extended family as they convene in one large house together. The cultural observations typical in most Iranian films are observed but mangled. Both wife Mumtaz (Rasti Farooq) and his sister-in-law (Sarwat Gilani) are dynamic. The various sideways and byways given to the rest of the family are highly involving as well as they try to simply live in a modernized world. But "Joyland" ultimately rests on the destructive relationship of Haider and Biba as they navigate capricious times together. It all comes together in a damning finale that washes over the viewer (literally) and exemplifies the messiness of life;s choices even if we try not to hurt others.

 

The Covenant

Or "Guy Ritchie's The Covenant" to distinguish it from another film of the same name, this rah-rah war effort starts out pretty disdainfully..... full of macho swagger and the same military might that infuses most films about America's involvement in Afghanistan after September 11th. But once the film shifts gears in the second half and concerns itself with Jake Gyllenhall trying to save the translator (Dar Salim) who saved his life, "The Covenant" emits a few interesting ideas about the price (and scornful debt) of war. It's also the first film in a while to present war violence in a clear-eyed and unflinching light. Ritchie and company certainly have fun watching all those bodies spray about, but there's a ruthlessness that's undeniable. While it's a film that clearly wants to earn its stripes with middle 'merica, I forgive some of its awful gung-ho earnestness in the way it presents pretty much everyone with guilt-soaked hands.

 

The Eight Mountains

Europeans seem to do heartfelt, decades-spanning tales of friendship better than most. In Felix Van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch's "The Eight Mountains", that sentiment is again exemplified. Telling the story of two men (Luca Marinelli and Alessandro Borghi) who waver in and out of each other's lives for 40 years, "The Eight Mountains" dispenses with narrative gently and wisely. Even though some elements of the story seem a bit forced in that art-house way (especially the building of a mountainside house), the film never condescends in the way its characters ebb and flow across time. All the performances are spectacular and the cinematography is equally breathtaking, whether its exploring the snow capped vistas of a mountain range or the barely lit interiors of brick-enforced homes. But through it all, the "The Eight Mountains" captivates because of the carefully modulated central relationship between Pietro and Bruno and how-despite their best efforts- they slowly slide into becoming their fathers. "The Eight Mountains" doesn't blame anyone, but gracefully explores how life gives us immense perspective of both the exterior and interior.

 

Cinema Obscure: Dominik Graf's "Bitter Innocence"

Dominik Graf's "Bitter Innocence" twists about halfway through from a corporate thriller to a sweet love story borne out of the casual indifference and sexual violence men perpetrate on women. That the love forms between a twenty-something woman (Laura Tonke) and the young teen daughter (Mareike Lindenmeyer) trying to unravel the mystery her parents have immersed themselves in should come as no shock to those who've watched just a few of Graf's films. They are mostly love stories buried within a larger framework of genre. Last year's masterwork called "Fabian: Going to the Dogs" is one of the most lush romance films in years, buttressed against the backdrop of an encroaching Nazi evil. Situated firmly in the times it was made (1999), "Bitter Innocence" follows the same pattern as love is widdled out of the complicated yuppie mindset that those in the corporate world can get away with anything if their check book is large enough.

But before we get to the central relationship of Vanessa and Eva, Graf's film wanders through the thriller realm when aggressive boss Larssen (Michael Mendle) threatens to destabilize the vague pharmaceutical company Andreas (Elmar Weppar) has been conducting research within for the past few years. Andreas' fears about the wolf Larssen are confirmed when he discovers him raping Vanessa behind closed doors. Working as a waitress for a catering company providing services at a company party, Andreas doesn't report (or even lift a finger to help) the vulnerable Vanessa, instead using the the act to steal a file that may secure his employment..... which is a prickly move since Vanessa sees him dodge out without coming to any sort of chivalry rescue.

From there, Larssen, Andreas, his wife Monika (Andrea L'Arronge), Vanessa and young daughter Eva become embroiled in a cat-and-mouse game of who-knows-what and whose-blackmailing-who. It's about two-thirds of the way through that "Bitter Innocence" grows a moral compass in the scrappy personality of young Eva as she tries to set things right..... and falls in love with the sophisticated perfume salesman-Vanessa during the process.

With the visual style of a glistening television movie (Graf has careened through an array of features, both for the big and small screens) and a sense of rhythm like that of a soap opera, the film's themes of ravishing passions and high intrigue feel right at home with that lowbrow entertainment. But Graf's swirling ambition about the youth of the world being the most morally grounded figures in a world set on financial gain and personal advancement (and I didn't even mention the affairs!) fits right at home in the subversive tactics of a filmmaker who continually buries so much in his works. I look forward to carrying through with his expansive body of work. 

The Current Cinema 23.1

Marlowe

 

Walking the fine (but successful) line between noir pastiche and its own brutal re-imagining of young Hollywood corruption, the negative talk about Neil Jordan's "Marlowe" should be ignored at all costs. Embodying Raymond Chandler's P.I. for the umpteenth time in cinema, this time Liam Neeson gets to flex his laconic detective muscles in a terrific looking 1939 Los Angeles noir that glides its way through the underbelly of a town hellbent on movie magic and criminal debauchery. What begins as a missing person case by the elusive and wealthy Diane Kruger who elicits Marlowe's help, naturally, boils over into a cauldron of corruption. The swipes at virtually every neo-noir since "Chinatown" (including a nice in joke of having Danny Huston portray a sinewy club owner) not withstanding, Jordan and writer William Monahan craft an intricate, engaging, and satisfying cocktail of a film. And it features a terrific line from Neeson spurning the advances of the beautiful Kruger. I can't help but imagine it's an act of denial and an ethos that would've saved 50 years worth of previous private investigators from sliding deeper into their own poor choices.

 

Emily

In this second month of the new movie-going year, I doubt there will be a better scene than one portrayed in Frances O' Conner's fictionalized story about the life of Emily Bronte. In a very nineteenth century act of youthful time wasting, a group of people sit around a candlelit room and play "guess who" with a Shakespearean mask. Leave it to young provocateur Emily Bronte (Emma Mackey) to turn their innocent dalliance into a nightmarish seance where she pretends to embody her dead mother. As an example of the heightened manipulation the younger Bronte sister will continually bring to her family, it's an astonishing moment. As a precursor to the belief that no one can ever really understand her genius in mind and spirit, it's a revelation. In "Emily", filmmaker Frances O' Conner (in this her debut feature!) has molded a heartbreaking tale of the young writer as she tries to find her voice. She falls in love with a young minister (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), dabbles in narcotics with her brother (Fionn Whitehead), and desperately tries to step outside the shadow of her older sisters. Composed with an assured sense of mise-en-scene and a soundtrack that melts the wind swept images, "Emily" should be a breakout effort for all involved. 

A Good Person

I wont deride anyone calling this film overwrought and maudlin. It is. But it worked for me, and naturally, Florence Pugh and Morgan Freeman are very, very good even if Zach Braff tries to derail any real emotions with a Shins song every few minutes.

The Innocent

A bit of Jacques Audiard with a dash of Hitchcock, and even some David Mamet thrown in for good measure, and one gets Louis Garrel's fun take on the Parisian heist drama. With some good humor and wild energy playing at the margins as well, "The Innocent" hustles through so many genres, it seems Garrel thinks he may not get a chance to do this again. He will. Full of cinematography that screams out the dreamy, frosty fog at France's dawn and garish (but not obtrusive) colors (oh that flower shop!), "The Innocent" also stars Garrel at the heart of a complicated family drama when his mother (Anouk Grinberg) marries an ex-con (Roschdy Zem) who says his past is behind him.... until the curious son decides to butt into his affairs. Also along for the ride is his best friend Clemence (Noemie Merlant). How the story unfolds is hugely entertaining, at its best when we're not sure where reality meets criminal fiction and the con ensues. I'm not sure if the relationships all earn their lush finales, but "The Innocent" is fun as it goes and proves Garrel will be a staple in front and behind the camera for a long time to come.