drqshadow-reviews Reviews

From Up on Poppy Hill (2011)

Ghibli Explores the Tenuous Wonders of Adolescent Romance

[9/10 · 3 May 2024]

Young love sprouts amidst efforts to save a beloved campus clubhouse in this charming, small-scale schoolyard drama from Studio Ghibli. The product of a single-parent household, Umi is a responsible teenager whose dedication to preparing family meals takes precedence over her after-school activities. That changes when she meets Shun, a similarly bright, composed boy who introduces her to bustling afternoons in the Latin Quarter, a dusty, three-story, common meeting ground for extracurriculars. Drawn together, the two nurture a spark, but something comes up before they can make anything of it. In its aftermath, they're forced to step back, reassess their feelings and try to move forward as friends when they were so close to becoming something more.

Like the very best Ghibli locales, the Latin Quarter brims with life, color and delightful peculiarity; a chaotic mess of excited kids with diverse tastes. The students' enthusiasm for the building, and for preserving it when the administration threatens to have it replaced, brings essential flavor to a film that might otherwise seem too softly-spoken. Its relief allows the simple beauty of Umi and Shun's relationship, and the poignant resolution of their individual stories, room to unfold at a more appropriate pace. A dueling narrative that serves both, short-changing neither. And, in between the heady personal drama and the energetic activities around the old building, there's sill time to explore the peaceful, everyday life around 1960s Yokohama. Rich rewards for those with the patience to soak it all in. It's a real delight.

Tom Petty Somewhere You Feel Free (2021)

Even in Times of Adversity, Tom Petty Seems at Peace

[8/10 · 3 May 2024]

Released in the fall of '94, Wildflowers came about during a period of change for Tom Petty. His first album since leaving MCA for Warner, and his first solo record since the 1989 smash hit Full Moon Fever, it introduced a new drummer (original Heartbreaker Stan Lynch left the group during recording) and tested the waters with a fresh producer. Petty was also in the early stages of separating from his wife of twenty-plus years, which led his songwriting in softer, more contemplative directions.

Armed with an exhaustive collection of candid behind-the-scenes footage, filmed and narrated by friends and family, this documentary takes us beyond the veil of a rock legend to reveal the man beneath. Fans won't be disappointed: the famously mellow, good-natured singer seems just as cool in the studio as he was on the stage. The music still holds up, too. It's been a few years since I gave this one a listen, but the old magic drifted back like memories of a good friend. Petty's one of those guys most people don't realize they love as much as they do. His greatest hits album is all killer, no filler, a dozen-and-a-half cuts that charted the course of pop/rock throughout the '70s and '80s. Wildflowers follows that same blueprint. It's rock-solid; even the deep cuts are grooves.

This record was a challenge - a lengthy writing and recording process that demanded tough answers and moved in uncomfortable directions - but the Petty we see in Somewhere You Feel Free faced it with patience and good humor. It's a privilege to eavesdrop on his constructive working relationship with longtime bandmates, to hear familiar songs emerge from rough drafts, and to catch his rapport with new producer Rick Rubin, who pushes him to expand his sound and test his limits as an artist. The world lost a little luster when Petty passed in 2017.

Footloose (1984)

Teen Rebellion and Killer Tunes From the Heart of the '80s

[7/10 · 29 April 2024]

Hip teen Kevin Bacon moves from the big city to a podunk town in the sticks, where he's shocked to learn that dancing has been forbidden. The absurd legal prohibition frustrates his fellow high schoolers, but they find other ways to act out. Particularly Ariel, the preacher's daughter, a would-be angel who rebels against her ultra-conservative upbringing by sleeping around and risking her life in a string of dumb stunts. Bacon's boundless confidence and earnest manner nets him plenty of friends around the school, and the romantic attentions of Ariel, but also waves red flags in the community. Doubly so when he speaks out at a council meeting and organizes a senior prom, complete with rock music and dancing, at a grain mill just outside city limits.

This one kept surprising me. It skips most traps of the silly, stereotypical '80s high school comedy and delivers an impressively thoughtful, level-headed take on the generational divide. Bacon's character is a smart, personable, even-tempered sort who has no trouble forming lasting friendships and possesses the self-assurance to call out his peers when they posture and front. He pushes his friends to grow and his opponents to think again, shows maturity in tough situations and, darn it, he really, really loves to dance. Intense, precise, balletic dancing. Especially when he's all charged up with adolescent rage in an abandoned warehouse. Even the hard line preacher / councilman (John Lithgow), driving force behind the city's anti-dance crusade, is afforded a layered, sympathetic back story. I wasn't prepared for so much impartiality in a music-driven PG comedy from the heart of the '80s.

While its tempo is up, Footloose is a refreshing change of pace for an era that was flush with shallow screwball sitcoms. Though it provides an easy conflict, a catchy pop soundtrack and an embarrassment of montages, just like many of those contemporaries, its cast is less clichéd and more human. Most of the third act lingers in self-pity, an excessive drag, but it rebounds in time for the big finale and hits the credits at just the right time. Much better than I expected.

Air Bud (1997)

Cheap, Dumb and Cheesy; Air Bud's Statline is Padded

[3/10 · 29 April 2024]

I mean, it's a movie about a golden retriever playing competitive basketball. My expectations were low going in. Still, even by the standards of a dumb, one-note, live-action Disney Channel daydream, Air Bud is uh, not great. Cut out the dog and you've seen this plot a thousand times before: middle school kid loses his father (a FIGHTER PILOT), moves to a new town, struggles to make friends, kicks rocks for a few weeks, befriends an affable janitor and dutifully wins the hearts and minds of the school basketball team. Bland, sappy, overplayed material. Tossed into that mix is said retriever, literally kicked to the curb by a cruel middle-aged party clown, who sees the kid as a kindred spirit and, oh yeah, also has a nasty jump shot. Cue the practice montage, the "technically there's no rule against it" referee's decision, and (eventually) the vengeful former owner looking for a slice of the pie.

The dog's fun to have around, but his schtick is just entertaining enough for a short, lighthearted clip on the evening news. The rest of the movie is as blunt and cheesy as they come; a dozen soap opera acting performances paired with a heaping dose of white bread morality. Bad slapstick around every corner. Bud hits the same shot thirty times in slightly different environs, always accompanied by delighted cheers and uplifting music. Once, he does so while wearing a jersey and cute doggy-sized sneakers. Despite its depiction on the box art, he attempts no dunks. No dunking dog! What are we even doing here?

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933)

Lang's Dazzling Technically Proficiency Masks a Thin Plot and Slow Pace

[6/10 · 29 April 2024]

For his second "talkie," pioneering filmmaker Fritz Lang crafted a sequel to one of his early silent pictures. It sees the titular villain, once a brilliant criminal mastermind, now reduced to an empty, twitching husk in an asylum bed. Although most of his capabilities have left him, Mabuse's right hand still follows orders and, provided with pen and paper, he's able to sightlessly scrawl a steady stream of evil plots from the abyss. Soon enough, a mysterious figure steps forward to assemble a posse and enact the madman's schemes, while a police inspector and a lovesick turncoat rush to crack the case before a broader anarchic manifesto can be realized.

In a purely technical sense, this film was years ahead of the curve. During his prime, Lang was one of cinema's first true masters, pushing the envelope in ways that his contemporaries hadn't even dreamed about. Mabuse is dense, dark and atmospheric, cynical like a film noir, with a dazzling capacity for grandiose scenery and an unrivaled cinematic eye. In such respects, its influence can't be denied. Decades of nascent auteurs took notes on these experiments and applied them to their own works. I appreciate it far more in that sense than I do as a narrative. At two hours and change, it's fatty and sluggish, trading essential tempo beats for a few extra moments' gaze at the scenery. In this sense, it falls into the same trap that snared many contemporaries. There isn't enough story to justify this long a telling, and the climactic home stretch feels dated and hollow.

While it's noteworthy for its cinematic innovations, the film also marked a turning point in Lang's career. During production of Testament, the Nazi party claimed national power and made an effort to recruit the director for official propaganda purposes. Lang told them he'd think about it, packed his bags, fled the country and never went back. Joseph Goebbels soon deemed the film subversive and banned it from German theaters, though he kept a copy for himself and allegedly screened it in private for certain guests.

For All Mankind (1989)

Poetic Reflections Aboard the Apollo Capsules

[7/10 · 29 April 2024]

A romantic oral history the Apollo moon missions, as told by the participating crew members. Although this phase of the space program spanned four years, ten missions and six crewed landings, the filmmakers have bundled the whole lot together in a single loose narrative, presumably to avoid covering the same subjects multiple times. Other documentaries, before and since, have addressed the scientific, societal and dramatic aspects of each excursion. This one takes a more personal angle. What did the Apollo astronauts see, hear, feel and imagine while they coasted through the cosmos at 25,000 miles an hour?

Our answers are culled from a cache of old materials - candid handheld footage, behind-the-scenes film and spoken recollections - and they reveal a refreshingly human side of the team. Now that we've erected statues and dedicated textbook chapters in their honor, it's easy to paint these guys into a corner as something more; hard-nosed, no-nonsense, tirelessly dedicated to the job and nothing else. In reality, they were snared by feelings of isolation, reflection, jealousy, elation and wonder, just like anyone. The trip to the moon is a long one, so it probably shouldn't come as such a surprise that the crew allowed themselves ample time for quiet, poetic rumination. For All Mankind is at its best while indulging such flights of fancy. Marveling at the dozens of campfires spread over the African continent after dark, each representing a unique Saharan tribe. Pondering the significance of it all whilst a stark, shrinking Earth is offset by a field of infinite darkness. Sharing a good private joke with the boys back in mission control. Enjoying the score of 2001: A Space Odyssey while screaming towards the unknown. It all serves as great imagination fuel that comforts, excites and broadens the mind.

Though it's short on duration and light on background, For All Mankind provides a wealth of intellectual brain candy and frequent insights that border on the profound. It's neat to contrast Armstrong and Aldrin's dreamy observations from the first expedition with those of Harrison Schmitt on the last, but I'd have appreciated better orientation. It can be confusing to leap straight from the famous Apollo 13 near-disaster to another flight's successful landing on the lunar surface, and that could've been avoided with a few simple captions. In the end, this well-regarded documentary contains a wonderful assortment of almost-lost footage that deserves to be preserved forever, but its presentation could've use some fine-tuning.

Amistad (1997)

Spielberg's Slavery Picture Features Great Performances, Good-Enough Production

[6/10 · 29 April 2024]

As the debate over slavery tears through early nineteenth-century America, the occupants of a small Cuban schooner find themselves caught in the political and judicial storm. When it's intercepted by a US cruiser near the east coast, the vessel carries two brow-beaten Spaniard navigators and some forty African captives. Targets and perpetrators of a violent insurrection, as it happens, and soon the subjects of an international dispute. Though most lawmen recognize that it doesn't justify such scrutiny, the ensuing court case becomes a hot-button public issue, weaving its way through the court system and threatening to set a contentious legal precedent at the onset of the Civil War.

Though he fudges a few historical details, Spielberg's big slavery epic gets the mood and the messaging right. Part self-righteous morality lesson and part wordy courtroom drama, Amistad often leans on its star-studded cast to hook the audience. In this, it chooses wisely. Where the production is often dry, fickle and melodramatic, its key performances have flavor to spare. Morgan Freeman and Matthew McConaughey, both as steady and reliable as ever, chew a lot of screen as core members of an abolitionist legal team. Anthony Hopkins transforms a short, preachy almost-cameo role as ex-president John Quincy Adams into a nuanced, impassioned, can't miss performance. But all three bow before the efforts of a virtual unknown: Djimon Hounsou, who would go on to play memorable supporting parts in Gladiator and Guardians of the Galaxy, steals this show. As de facto spokesman of the would-be slaves, Hounsou demonstrates power, bravado and charismatic magnetism, all without speaking more than three words of English. His character is the film's lifeblood, its touchstone, and Hounsou ensures the audience can't look away.

Beyond the acting, though, Amistad is just decent. It looks and feels very of-its-time, especially as serious, message-driven films went in the late '90s. Efficiently produced, steadily interesting and sufficiently meaty, it doesn't go above and beyond in any of those respects. A reasonable night's entertainment, but apart from Hounsou's blow-away performance, I won't remember it in a few months.

Braindead (1992)

Blood and Gore for its Own Sake - Dead Alive is Shallow, but Enthusiastic

[3/10 · 29 April 2024]

This schlocky, infamous dose of early '90s body horror waves its admiration for the Evil Dead films like a flag. More specifically, it sets out to emulate the campy humor, cheeky one-liners and gross-out special effects of Sam Raimi's slapstick screamers. As story goes, Dead Alive only provides the bare minimum. There's a plot, some silly gibberish about a Sumatran rat-monkey whose bite induces zombism, but it's nothing more than a vehicle from one zany, gore-drenched horror-gasm to the next. The monkey gets its claws into an old woman, she spreads the infection, her doting son takes it upon himself to clean up the mess... that's really all you need to know.

At heart, this is a fond, playful farewell for budding director Peter Jackson; his last (and bloodiest) low-budget splatter-fest before moving on to more serious material. And why not shift genres at this point? He's just left everything on the abattoir floor. Dead Alive is so morbidly droll, so wickedly juvenile, so blissfully profane, it's impossible to imagine a bridge much further. Any time it seems the hijinx cannot possibly get any more obscene, whoops, here comes something much, much worse. The unregulated mayhem is admirable, absurd hilarity at its best, but even at a breezy ninety-odd minutes, the total reliance on shock value wears thin. I cackled for an hour, but somewhere between the food processor baby and the shoulder-mounted lawnmower, I could feel my smile fade. Diminishing returns, I'm afraid.

Make no mistake: Dead Alive is bad cinema. It's crammed full of weak performances, overbearing camera angles and cut-rate soundtrack riffs (at unnecessary volume levels). And man, it's ruthlessly stupid. But stupid doesn't always equate to no fun. This is a ball while it lasts, and there's no question that Jackson and company are in on the joke, but it doesn't last forever. Not as long as the film does, anyway. Bad + entertaining is still bad.

All the King's Men (1949)

How to Build a Bureaucratic Monster

[5/10 · 29 April 2024]

When a frustrated farmer speaks his mind and cultivates a grassroots political following, he's recruited to throw his hat into a state-wide election. It's a trick, of course, a ruse by the incumbent to split votes during a contentious campaign, and the initial results are effective. On the trail, our farmer is flustered and overwhelmed, a neophyte in over his head who struggles to maintain his former vigor while remaining on-message. Eventually he figures things out - both the deception and the secrets of electoral success - and, though it's too late for that first ballot, he applies these lessons four years later with far better returns. While he may still have a lot to learn about the gig, the state's new governor doesn't need instruction on everything. Like the correlation between power and corruption.

The core of this idea is strong. There's pathos in watching a good person fall victim to the system, sacrificing ideals in favor of popular acclaim and personal rewards. Broderick Crawford is exceptional in that role, retaining shades of the simple man he once was in the grand narcissist he eventually becomes. The editing is all over the place, though, and that can make for some very difficult sailing as the plot intensifies and Crawford's actions grow more erratic. Rumor has it that director Robert Rossen's original cut was obscenely long and borderline-incoherent, leading to more drastic edits that left countless scenes and stories shredded. Lost subplots are referenced without explanation. Mid-stream conversations abruptly fade to the next scene. Minor characters are never properly introduced, only tossed into the churn. This makes for a frustrating, confusing watch and eventually robs the inevitable climax of some power. Even that crucial moment wasn't immune to the editor's knife, it seems.

I feel like this particular best picture winner was rewarded for the potential of what it could have been, more than the reality of what it is. It definitely has the bones to be something great, but the end result is an underachievement.

Sunset Blvd. (1950)

Eventually, the Parade Leaves Everyone Behind...

[8/10 · 6 March 2024]

While evading a team of repo men, a struggling writer stashes his car in the garage of what he thinks is an abandoned Beverly Hills mansion. Soon spotted by the resident, a delusional former silent film star, he agrees to step inside and spies opportunity in her desperation. She's been working on a crappy screenplay, the crux of a comeback effort, and he figures he can bleed a few months' salary out of a rewrite. She agrees, even invites him to live in the palace rent-free, but as their arrangement grows beyond mere professional courtesy, he begins to question which of them is the spider and which the fly.

A faded silent starlet herself, Gloria Swanson shines anew as Norma Desmond, the unhinged actress who thinks she's doing the studio a favor by emerging from retirement. Like a triumphant former queen back from exile, this misguided character believes she's bigger than the scene, but in truth it's Swanson's performance that's oversized. Manic and complex, her unsettling depiction plucks every note from pride to despondency, manipulating her target(s) and the audience alike. She plays well with costar William Holden, whose straight delivery lends gravitas while his inner conflict grows increasingly panicked. Although the opening scene surprisingly spoils his fate, both characters remain sharply written and unpredictable right to the inevitable climax.

Hollywood does love a film about itself, and this one was certainly blessed with an embarrassment of accolades. Nominated for nearly a dozen awards at Oscar time, its constant winks and nods to the industry could have easily felt cheap and pandering. Instead, they enrich the fabric without overshadowing the tapestry. Quick, wonderful cameos from the likes of Buster Keaton and Cecil B. DeMille reinforce crucial plot points, while the backstage pressures of life among the silver screen's less-celebrated feeds directly into the drama. A sad, sardonic glimpse at the harsh realities of the business and the avenues some stars navigate after the never-ending gala has moved on without them.

The Killer (1989)

Cutting-Edge Action Scenes and Gunsmoke for Miles

[6/10 · 6 March 2024]

Writer / director John Woo essentially invented a sub-genre with the string of hits he released in the late '80s and early '90s. Later dubbed "heroic bloodshed" films, their plots typically place a conscientious anti-hero in conflict with his superiors, pitting loyalty against a private code of honor. Essentially pure and simple action movies with an added dash of self-reflection and a jaw-dropping capacity for ammunition. This one, sandwiched in the middle of a six-year collaboration with star Chow Yun-Fat, would become the pair's international breakthrough.

In The Killer's setup, Woo pays tribute to a personal influence. Calmly infiltrating a busy night club to fulfill a contract, Yun-Fat slays the manager and fatefully encounters a beautiful lounge singer, just like in Jean-Pierre Melville's fashion-conscious 1967 gangster film, Le Samouraï. The similarities end there. In the ensuing firefight, the girl is inadvertently blinded and the killer has an epiphany, casting aside his career to atone for the collateral damage. At first, he's tracked by a persistent undercover officer, but the two soon develop a sense of mutual respect and unite against a common enemy.

Though the intention may have been for an even split between fierce, kinetic violence and soul-searching contemplation, only the former aspects are worth mentioning. Bad dialogue, ham-fisted delivery and a clunky, low-rate production may spoil the film's deeper aspirations, but hey, at least the fight scenes are lights out. Easy to see how the title character, and this film, has influenced action cinema for decades to come: he's John Wick, twenty-five years ahead of the curve. Yun-Fat is perfect in that role, always the coolest guy in the room and a fluid natural with pistols and rifles of all sizes. That said, the constant gunplay can grow tiresome, especially during the jumbo-sized final shootout, and the main characters' plot armor is outrageously thick. A fun ride, if perhaps a bit shallow. Remember to wear ear protection.

Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Kindred Spirits Bring Out the Best (and Worst) in Each Other

[7/10 · 26 February 2024]

Born without a penny to their names, nor the promise of a future worth living, a pair of depression-era twenty-somethings find motivation in one another. Emboldened by their romance and certain about their invulnerability, the pair sets off to get rich quick via a string of car thefts and brazen, bloody daylight robberies. Joined by a small trio of accomplices, tales of their exploits soon capture the public imagination in an age when many felt hopeless, crushed and discarded by the system.

This film brings us up-close and personal with the title characters and their little family, learning about their various quirks and tics between heists. Like most young adults, Bonnie and Clyde's self-confidence is both a blessing and a curse. Their opportunistic nature makes them difficult to track but also traps them in some very sticky situations. They don't intend to commit mass murder, but when the other shoe drops (and it often does), sometimes their guns are the only way out and hey, better you than me. An experienced criminal, Clyde knows the score, but Bonnie sees their cross-country escapade as a sort of childish fantasy, never truly recognizing how much danger she's in until the numbers catch up and the situation grows dire. They're just kids, playing at being adults, but the law ain't messing around.

Looking back almost sixty years later, the amount of blood and violence depicted in Bonnie and Clyde hardly seems excessive. It can be harsh and brutal at times, sure, but these doomed lovers chose a harsh, brutal life together and the film portrays that appropriately. Nobody's ever robbed a bank with cap guns and candy apples, after all, or ditched the police by blowing kisses through a window. Way back in 1967, however, this was held up as evidence of our decaying moral fabric and many contemporary reviews were outraged. What kind of cinema will our children be watching, should this awful trend towards graphic bloodshed continue? I'd hate to see their reactions to Tarantino.

The Last of the Mohicans (1992)

This Pre-Revolutionary Love Story Offers Good Action, Great Music and Sub-Par Romance

[5/10 · 26 February 2024]

Love, adventure and hand-to-hand combat at the peak of the French and Indian War. On the outskirts of the battlefield, a white man and his adopted native family scoff at the Brits' latest recruiting efforts and move to abandon their land, but happen upon an ambush on the way out of town and find themselves drawn into the conflict anyway. Now accompanied by a pair of pampered ladies and their posh one-man military escort, the small brood resumes its cautious retreat with an angry Mohawk war party in hot pursuit.

Under the guidance of emerging director Michael Mann, The Last of the Mohicans is a sleek, well-produced picture. It boasts a superb soundtrack, several big, diverse fight scenes and a powerful climax, but the plot is slow, the performances are stiff and the central romances lack a collective spark. Native brothers Uncas (Eric Schweig) and Hawkeye (Daniel Day Lewis) wear a wide assortment of grim, determined faces, which serve them well during the action sets, but their matchmaker moments with the two rescued damsels seem more convenient than romantic and I didn't buy into their oft-stressed status as star-crossed lovers. In the void of effective romance, the emotional heavy-lifting is left to a subdued and under-explored subplot about a tribe near extinction and a whole lot of whinging about honor, duty and sacrifice.

I had fond memories of watching this one back in the VHS days, but the years haven't been terribly kind. It's not bad, it's just unremarkable.

Snatch (2000)

Ritchie and Vaughn's Seedy Second Effort Puts the Spirit of the Late '90s in a Bottle

[8/10 · 26 February 2024]

Certain films innately embody the spirit and flair of a particular point in time. In Snatch's case, the essence of the late '90s is laced into its DNA. From the groovy, thumping soundtrack to the flashy, in-your-face visual motifs; the grimy criminal subject matter to the extreme sports-inspired camerawork, it boasts an impressive collection of very specific, time-sensitive pop culture calling cards. Watching this now, almost a quarter-century later, is like cracking open a time capsule. Imagine Pulp Fiction as produced by MTV.

Motivated the ultimate MacGuffin, a diamond the size of a cueball, the plot follows a number of desperate London criminals as they conspire and connive to pull one over on their rivals and reap the riches. We've got high-profile mob bosses and blue collar boxing promoters, ex-KGB agents and common street thugs, each armed with their own peculiar bag of quirks and colorful idiosyncrasies. Though most parties are unaware of the others, their paths constantly interlace and overlap, and the whole mess eventually falls together in a great dogpile during the final act's frantic, crowded, hilarious payoff sequence.

Snatch is an essentially dark comedy, stuffed with all manner of eccentric lowlifes, surprise twists and grim, ironic punchlines. It is a Guy Ritchie / Matthew Vaughn joint, after all, and following hot on the heels of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, their successful debut, it punches a number of the same buttons. Reuses many actors, too, with Jason Statham and Vinnie Jones the most recognizable of the bunch. It's newcomer Brad Pitt who steals the show, however, in his spectacular turn as an unintelligible, tattooed, caravan-dwelling boxer. His whole community is a riot, in fact, a tight group of lawless drunkards who honor no set of rules. Their unpredictability is just the fuel this film needed to bump its fire from a small blaze into a lofty inferno. Is it dated? Sure. Is it still entertaining? Yeah, that too.

All About Eve (1950)

Pointy Backstage Rivalry with Three Films' Worth of Dialogue

[7/10 · 26 February 2024]

On the brink of a midlife crisis, big-name Broadway player Margo Channing (Bette Davis) is introduced to a starstruck fan (Anne Baxter), admires the kid's enthusiasm and hires her as a live-in assistant. Margo can be a handful, a drama queen in every sense, but she's a loyal, compassionate friend and immediately shares those virtues with the new girl. And the new girl, for her part, spins the star's influence to her own benefit, proving she's not half as clueless as she seems. Though Margo catches on quickly, her friends and associates remain enchanted with the youngster and chalk their growing divide up to mere jealousy. Which isn't untrue - now on the wrong side of forty, Margo knows she's got to start losing those glamorous leading roles to someone - but the aging star's famously erratic behavior and deep-seated insecurities are the real issue. Those self-destructive tendencies do more to reverse her fortunes than any amount of conniving from the ambitious younger model. She's fighting the same uphill battle that defeated her predecessors, she knows it, and the desperation only makes things worse.

Well acted and well directed, All About Eve makes good observations about the industry and delivers big twists, but it's incredibly, distractingly wordy. While I could believe an actress or playwright might speak in this way, an onslaught of witty metaphors and rare adjectives, it's exhausting to hear it from the entire cast. Every line's a mouthful. And while that does result in some great material (Davis's famous "fasten your seatbelts," for example), it also slows the plot to a crawl. Smart and amusing but overwrought, this film uses sheer hot air to stretch ninety minutes' worth of material across two hours and change.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

A Morbidly Fascinating Hitchcock Wannabe

[4/10 · 26 January 2024]

Feuding superstars Bette Davis and Joan Crawford came together for this, their only shared screen credit, a good decade-plus past their respective peaks. In it, they play faded showbiz sisters sharing a crumbling Hollywood mansion. While the youngest (Davis) experienced child celebrity and then fell on hard times, her elder sibling (Crawford) enjoyed a successful adult movie career before an untimely auto accident rendered her paraplegic. Now, she depends on little sis to deliver her meals and interact with the world on her behalf, a weakness that the bitter, jealous former Baby Jane relishes and abuses.

There isn't much more to the story. Jane's a crazy person who's allowed years of disillusion and resentment to irreparably crack her while Blanche, the older sister, has no choice but to appease her tormentor and eat punishment. This drags on for quite a while, a cruel monotony that's only broken by occasional visits from the housekeeper. But that's not really what this show is all about. Most audience members came out to see the spectacle of Davis and Crawford's cohabitation, and on that front we get plenty of fireworks. The only thing these two despised more than each other was the thought of having their scenes stolen. There's a frosty, constant chill between the pair that extends well beyond the typical dramatic fare, like they're always on the verge of scratching each other's eyes out. That, plus Davis's preposterous makeup job (caked at least twenty layers deep) add unusual amounts of authentic, unsettling tension to a picture that would've, otherwise, been rather shallow.

Well, it's still shallow. Hammy and drawn-out, too, but at least there's something more to it than all that. A film that's more about the squabbling starlets than the story they've set out to tell, Baby Jane aims to be a dark, Hitchcockian thriller, but it hasn't got the brains to deliver. Instead, it's more akin to a mad, morbid sideshow.

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

High-Energy Science Fiction Adventure That's Better Than I Expected

[7/10 · 23 January 2024]

LucasDisney brings us the Han Solo origin story nobody really asked for, recasting several iconic roles to get the ages right and unintentionally positioning the new crew behind the eight ball because, let's face it, Harrison Ford and Billy Dee Williams are an awfully tough act to follow. This is really the breaking point of the entire picture: either you'll accept Alden Ehrenreich as the Skywalker family's favorite bootlegging scoundrel, minus about fifteen years, or you'll never be able to move past the comparison and the movie will have already lost you.

I thought I was in the second camp, avoided the film for years due to it, then found I was actually in the first. Ehrenreich doesn't look like Harrison, doesn't move like him and barely manages a halfway decent vocal approximation, but somehow, he fits the role. He carries the same charismatic magnetism, the same visible delight over adventure, excitement and ridiculously long odds. He's got more nervous energy than a sugar-crusted toddler, a witty retort for every occasion and, crucially, he's fun to watch, whether luck is on his side or, more often, not. I still think the film would've been better served by a brand new character struck by the same circumstances, but then we'd lose the little dashes of lore and history that make the third act such a rich ride.

Donald Glover, on the other hand, is unqualifiably excellent as Lando, all swagger and confidence and allure. I just wish he had more to do. As it stands, he's little more than a flashy minor supporting character who conveniently connects plot waypoints. I'm sure his role would have expanded in the planned sequels, but no extended franchise is a given - even in the Star Wars universe - and, as those follow-ups appear to be dead in the water, it's now just a missed opportunity.

Solo was better than I expected. I enjoyed it, in fact, largely because it had the balls not to take itself so darn seriously. A New Hope wasn't all grit and consequence, so why have so many of the newer films leaned so hard in that direction? I'm curious how much of this one's pervasive sense of humor can be attributed to original directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, chased from the project after five months because the Disney bosses found their work "too screwball." New captain Ron Howard toes a difficult line in maintaining that freewheeling air while also mixing in a little gravitas, but he gets carried away with sentimentality at the very end.

The China Syndrome (1979)

More Than Just Alarmist Nonsense

[7/10 · 23 January 2024]

Released less than two weeks before the disaster at Three Mile Island, The China Syndrome's depiction of near-meltdown at a Los Angeles nuclear power plant probably seemed impossibly prescient at the time. In truth, most of its plot points were drawn from other, similar near-misses and cover-ups at plants elsewhere in the nation, knowledge which lends extra credence to its firm anti-nuclear agenda. And while it could've been forgiven for taking the easy route, this is more than just a scare picture or disaster movie. Behind the alarmist terror of radiation in the American backyard lies an adept piece of roiling suspense and a pertinent philosophical debate.

The crux of the conflict falls between a TV news team, a sympathetic atomic engineer and the bigwigs who control both sides of the narrative. With hearings already underway concerning the construction of a second plant, there's a lot of money involved and none of the suits - neither the plant officials nor the network executives - want to rock the boat. This leads to great mutual consternation, as the reporters seek to blow whistles, the engineer struggles to get to the bottom of the anomalies and their bosses intend to just sweep the whole mess under the rug and move on. We all serve masters of one shape or another. The real question is: do you have the courage to do what's ethical, at the expense of a comfortable lifestyle and steady paycheck? Not everyone can answer this in the affirmative.

A bit pokey and redundant, especially during the tiresome setup scenes, The China Syndrome hits an excellent rhythm in the second act that climaxes with an intense control room showdown on live TV. Jack Lemmon shows great range as the troubled engineer whose personal sky is falling, while Jane Fonda and a young Michael Douglas lather it on rather thick as key members of the pesky, vocal, self-righteous news crew. It's preachy at times, hyperbolic at others, but the deeper messages hit their target and the closing scenes are spirited and well-realized.

1917 (2019)

A Vivid, Engaging Portrayal of Life in and Around WWI's Trenches

[8/10 · 23 January 2024]

Sometimes all it takes is a memorable setting and simple motivations to make a story work. 1917 offers a great example: stationed near the front lines of World War I, a pair of British soldiers are sent on an urgent mission to halt a friendly regiment before it advances into a trap. Intel claims the enemy has abandoned their nearest posts, part of the ruse, and since time is of the essence, the runners are sent straight through yesterday's hostile terrain to accomplish their objective. Apart from a few minor character-related subplots and side encounters, that's really all there is to it. Get from A to B, as quickly as you can, and try not to die along the way.

This bare-bones plot allows 1917 to really focus on the gruesome scenery, and unique pressures, of life amongst the harried soldiers of the western front. Rattled and terrified as they are, our couriers must learn to trust their lives to unseen information, speed run through no man's land, escape an abandoned enemy trench system without triggering any snares and come to grips with the constant, unavoidable presence of rotting corpses around every corner. Like macabre tourists, the audience ogles at these sights and, gradually, comes to understand the sense of hopeless, mutual futility that must've been so overwhelming for these young men.

Deftly stitched together and presented as one long, uninterrupted take, the film thus feels intimate to every viewer; a truly immersive experience. The seams are there if you really want to look for them, but the effect is undeniable. We're experiencing the chaos of war in real-time. This is the kind of intense, enveloping filmmaking that'll make you hold your breath without realizing. A real audio/visual showpiece, it's also got one hell of a knack for gut punches. I don't know why I waited so long - it's exactly what I was hoping it would be.

The Tale of The Princess Kaguya (2013)

Studio Ghibli Undergoes an Impressive Stylistic Shift to Suit the Story

[6/10 · 23 January 2024]

A decidedly different, folklore-inspired story from Studio Ghibli's other founder, the somewhat lesser-known Isao Takahata. The Tale of Princess Kaguya depicts a divine child, mystically delivered to a pleasant little farming family in the base of a bamboo stalk, who begins growing at a rapid pace. When the same family discovers a wealth of gold and silks in another stalk, they take the windfall as a sign that the girl should be raised amongst royalty and whisk her away from their happy, humble country life to join the pompous, self-serving world of the upper class. Which, sadly, is the last thing the girl wants from life.

Driven by its storybook visuals, lush with watercolors and restraint, this film looks like nothing else in the Ghibli catalog. Sparse but expressionistic, it's a mesmerizing alternative to the warmer, more detail-oriented portrayals of the studio's house style. That shift is a welcome one, especially when the new methods prove their flexibility during the infrequent high-energy scenes; a real testament to the artists' ability to adapt and excel while outside their comfort zones. In a storytelling sense, however, it falls short of Ghibli's better films. I felt the same way about Pom Poko, another of Takahata's directorial efforts: delightful and charming for the first hour, but then the sprawl sets in and our sense of enchantment quickly fades away.

I loved this as an artistic exercise, and was entranced by the establishing shots, but the plot didn't have enough steam to carry its goods through two-plus hours. Takahata films just can't seem to find the exit before overstaying their welcome.

Big Eyes (I) (2014)

Burton Goes Workman in This Art Scene Scandal

[5/10 · 23 January 2024]

Fresh off a divorce, highly peculiar for the era, a timid young mother throws herself into the art scene of 1950s San Francisco. There, she falls under the spell of Walter Keane, an unspectacular local painter who's been pestering critics and making "real" artists roll their eyes for years. Together, the two make a sort of magic - while she quietly produces kitschy, haunting portraits, he finds a space to hang them, drums up publicity and schmoozes with the right people. It's a wildly successful artist/manager partnership, especially when Keane hits on the idea of mass-producing the work to reach a new, lower-income audience, but success goes to his head. Just as they reach the big time, he begins taking credit for her work, and that lie soon eclipses their relationship.

Though it's directed by Tim Burton, who cites Margaret Keane as an important personal influence, Big Eyes is decidedly un-Burton in most every way. I would've expected the director to embrace the more ostentatious aspects of the atomic age, to add his own unique perspective to the creative process and the tackier side of the art scene. Instead, everything just feels run-of-the-mill and workmanlike. He tells the story adequately enough, but adds nothing that wasn't already printed in the script. Everything's so blasé, an interesting story told in a thoroughly uninteresting way.

Burton's gone straight once or twice before - notably in Ed Wood, his most traditional film and first biographical work - but there's a wide gulf between the emotional punch and subtle character moments of these two films. Even the obligatory accompanying Danny Elfman soundtrack lacks its quirky beats and unmistakable idiosyncrasies. It seems this once-vibrant creative well has run dry, its source content to keep wringing and hope for a few drips of eccentric nostalgia. Nothing so far.

Chinatown (1974)

Corruption Never Changes

[9/10 · 23 January 2024]

Roman Polanski delivers an homage to the hard-boiled noir detective movies of the 1930s. The tribute is so effective and well-polished, I half expected Humphrey Bogart to emerge from shadows and spit a grim, gravel-voiced monologue at any moment. Instead, Jack Nicholson provides his own take on the same type of role: Jake Gittes, a tenacious private detective who worms his way around the edges of a seedy murder investigation. Roped into the matter as a simple patsy, he refuses to allow the resultant smear on his reputation and doggedly pushes through a haze of lies and misdirection, finding unpleasant answers whilst dodging bald threats and thuggish violence through a mix of sharp intuition and dumb luck.

Chinatown has earned a reputation for its screenplay, allegedly one of the finest ever written. I can't argue. It's a wonderfully efficient picture; every action produces a logical consequence, even if they don't surface until much later. The smart, swerving plot keeps us guessing right to the finish, assisted by a motley cast of would-be (and already-been) crooks. Jake is a magnificent protagonist, and not just in the context of grizzled noir sleuths. Hardened and cynical from years on the job, he's insatiable in his quest for the truth, not because he seeks justice but because he can't help himself. He's just gotta know. Watching Jake work is mesmerizing, particularly where it comes to his arsenal of clever little tricks. Kicking out a brake light so it's easier to tail a lead; sticking a cheap pocket watch under the tire of a parked car to pinpoint the hour it's moved; ad-libbing a phony back-story to justify his presence on private property... clearly, he's been around the block a few times. His proficiencies both inform and delight. Seems like gritty, crime-focused films from this period were big on the nuts and bolts of the work - see Coppola's The Conversation or Mann's Thief - and I just can't get enough of it. At least, not when it's done right.

Chinatown does it right. It does most everything right, from the plot to the script to the casting to the historical context and underlying meaning. Enjoyable probably isn't the right word to describe a tale that ends on such a dark series of notes, but I certainly enjoyed the ride. They don't make 'em like this any more. Hell, they didn't make 'em like this in 1974, either.

The Godfather Part II (1974)

Coppola Delivers a Second Chapter to Rival the First

[9/10 · 23 January 2024]

Talk about a tough follow-up act. The original Godfather is one of the most celebrated, decorated, revered films ever made, and when Hollywood first inquired about a sequel, director Francis Ford Coppola balked at the thought of it. Too much pressure, with too many bad, lingering memories of creative meddling during the first production. As replacement, he suggested a budding young Martin Scorsese (not what the studio wanted to hear) before Paramount agreed to make certain concessions and limit certain bigwigs' involvement, drawing Coppola back to the table.

That return partnership resulted in another rich, character-driven epic, a second chapter to rival the first. Or rather, a captivating prologue and a fitting epilogue, all rolled up into one. Told in conjunction, the twin fables of father Vito's early-century rise to power and son Michael's desperate bid for 1950s consolidation dovetail beautifully. Cultivated by tragedy, young Vito was a rough, hardened man, but not a harsh or unfair one. He held himself to a high standard, despised those who wouldn't do the same, but also valued loyalty and community above everything. When Vito lifted himself out of the gutter, he did the same for everyone around him. He may have operated outside the law, but he was far from lawless. From this, we see how Michael learned by his father's example and drew a number of flawed conclusions. Where Vito was stern but flexible, Michael is hard to a fault. He sees disrespect everywhere, considers forgiveness akin to weakness, and slowly chips away at his own support structure until he's isolated from the things the old man valued most. If Vito lived to enrich his family, his boy's sole purpose is to maintain its name. Even if the spirit behind that moniker has withered and decayed.

Though they're only separated by forty years, the two periods represent a major change in the appearance and operation of western culture. When Vito immigrated at the turn of the century, New York was still a place of lofty dreams and ample opportunity. America hadn't quite worked out the bugs from its system, enabling hard-working nobodies like young Mr. Corleone to build empires. By the mid '50s, that had changed. In such a short period, ivory towers were built, rules changed, offices occupied. Now the game isn't about the climb, it's about absurd growth and total domination. Both generations of Corleone men embody these attitudes; one warm-hearted, the other ice-cold; one deeply concerned for his people, the other exploiting his connections to boost a brand. Vito trusts his partners to chase a mutual goal, while Michael only sees them as potential rivals. This fuels their antithetical behavior: where one builds, the other whittles away.

These rich, reverberating messages are all written, acted and filmed with incredible skill. Layers upon layers of context and meaning, loaded conversations, subtle machinations and fine details. However, by comparison to the first, this pensive, reflective story struggles to pace itself. That may be its only weakness, but it's a significant one, and the main reason I consider it a step below the original. I'm willing to forgive excessive running times in big, sweeping epics like this, when necessary. There's no good reason for this one to stretch out for as long as it does, particularly in Michael's story, which drags on forever and ever. That's where I think the dramatic character losses of the first film hurt the sequel - this plot needed a big personality like Sonny, and it has plenty to choose from in Vito's story. In Michael's case, we have to make do with Fredo.

Zatoichi on the Road (1963)

A Perfectly Entertaining Chapter, if Not a Very Consequential One

[7/10 · 5 January 2024]

Further episodic adventures through the dark corners and seedy streets of feudal Japan with the jolly, opportunistic blind samurai. In this installment, Zatoichi runs afoul of a conniving widow, escorts a wealthy heiress home from danger and, once again, gets caught up in the middle of a large-scale conflict between bickering gangs. Just another day at the office for Ichi, who's perfectly willing to go with the flow so long as he finishes the day with a full belly and a roof over his head.

After five adventures, I've begun to recognize the character's favorite, and most reliable, tricks. Joking and groveling, downplaying his own capabilities to remain incognito and catch future opponents unaware. Leaning on his expertise as a masseuse (a job which was forbidden to sighted people at the time) to access private rooms and important people, skirting the muscle of an organization to slash directly at its head. Wolfing down his food and constantly talking with his mouth full... actually, I haven't quite worked out why he does that yet. He's also prone to falling in love with the women under his protection, as is the case with this episode's distressed damsel. Or maybe that's just another of his manipulations, meant to inspire loyalty and obedience when necessary. If so, it serves to save both parties' lives when they're caught in a surprise attack and the slightest hesitation could have been lethal.

In the big picture, On the Road isn't the most meaningful of our hero's adventures. He re-treads some familiar thematic terrain, continues his transition from smaller-scale duels to big group battles, slices up the most deserving bad guys and satisfies his moral code before wandering out of town, unscathed, to darken new horizons. It's an entertaining entry, though, nicely paced and exciting, with a number of well-conceived scenes and overlapped subplots competing for his/our attention. As these Zatoichi pictures go, such attributes can't always be taken for granted.

Asteroid City (2023)

Eccentric But Hollow; Wes Anderson's Decline Continues

[4/10 · 4 January 2024]

Something's happened to Wes Anderson. Somewhere past The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, he slid into a deep, self-indulgent rut that's made his subsequent films feel like a chore. Excluding the lively Grand Budapest Hotel, a fleeting glimmer of hope, each new entry in his catalog has grown more tediously derivative than the last, a gradual recline into the echo chamber that's amplified each of his best and worst traits. Asteroid City is just the latest disappointing, star-studded example of that trend.

Make no mistake, the picture looks great. Stuffed with gaudy film techniques, quaint details, incredible color palettes and gorgeous compositions, it makes for a wonderful trailer. Enough to make us think, hey, maybe this time Anderson has finally bucked the monkey and returned to making the kind of quirky, strong-hearted epics that first made us fall in love with him! Not hardly. Three minutes of immediate, nonsensical act-within-a-screenplay-within-a-movie layering was enough to relieve me of that illusion. The rush of ensuing long, dry, same-voiced monologues only reinforced my belief that this auteur has lost his way. This script swings its dialogue like a club. No subtlety, no nuance; eventually it'll trap the audience and beat it to some degree of stunned, quivering submission.

In strictly superficial terms, Anderson's work has never been better. Oversaturated desert colors, wacky small-town eccentricities and 1950s pop culture make for a unique visual playground that matches brilliantly with his style. If he could direct his focus there, on the things that make a Wes Anderson movie look and behave the way they do, while hooking up with a well-suited editing or writing partner, I think the results would be spectacular. As it stands, I'm not sure I've got the willpower to sit through another one like this.