His Bowtie is Really a Camera

THE SNOWMAN (1982) dir. D. JOHNSON

2009-12-13T22:19:00.000-08:00

This obsoletes hundreds of shoddy holiday cash-ins made since. Howard Blake’s orchestrations are melodious and heartbreaking, as is the uncompromising confrontation with mortality (good luck passing that in the States). Makes Zemeckis' über-glitzy motion capture adaptation of Polar Express, by Briggs’ contemporary color penciller Chris van Allsburg, unforgivable.

IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS (1994) dir. J. CARPENTER

2009-10-25T16:01:00.000-07:00

Carpenter’s love letter to Lovecraft—even slurpy Cthulhu cameos. Sam Neill has your worst Groundhog Day in a town where Happy Gilmore’s nana keeps gramps anklecuffed. Predictably, the meta-efforts here mostly come off as camp. And a headscratch: how’d they get Charlton Heston to co-star in such sacrilege?

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND (1977) dir. S. SPIELBERG

2009-08-19T10:15:00.000-07:00

Perfect vinegar to the acid of terrifying invasion movies, trading allegorical communists for hippies: these aliens communicate through crafts (and solfege with François Truffaut), love kids and laser light shows, and practice curiosity instead of landmark detonation, holding an extraterrestrial Woodstock at Devil’s Peak in Wyoming. Way far out, man.

(500) DAYS OF SUMMER (2009) dir. M. WEBB

2009-08-19T09:57:00.000-07:00

Like Moon, this movie bathed in blog hype, but, for all its dance number/split screen/yo-yo narrative “originality,” was completely typical (but sure to be fawned over by lovelorn, headstrong undergrads). Not sure that empathy ensures likeability. Also, a realization: Deschanel has the figure of an eight-year old in a swimsuit.

G.I. JOE: THE RISE OF THE COBRA (2009) dir. S. SOMMERS

2009-08-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

What we have here is a successful adaptation: the source material, in this case, is a video game based on a comic book based on a cartoon based on an action figure line. Cinematic precursors be damned—the five-second, dime-turning flashbacks are insane. And the Paris chase scene ain’t Ronin.

JULIE & JULIA (2009) dir. N. EPHRON

2009-08-19T09:38:00.001-07:00

Much like The Devil Wears Prada, here’s a movie less about relationships and romance than its central fetish—food. Luckily, Dan Akroyd’s classic exsanguinating Child bit isn’t the funniest moment of the film. Streep is a confection, and Jane Lynch a sweet surprise. (Plus, was anyone expecting so much lustiness?)

JOHNNY MNEMONIC (1995) dir. R. LONGO

2009-08-19T09:21:00.000-07:00

Though 320 gigabytes might struggle to overheat some Macbooks, Johnny’s head might explode from it. (Is a nosebleed information leakage? Ew.) The neurophysical manipulation of the Internet—yes, capitalized—is fun, but the film’s alt-everything works like a duct-taped first-gen iPod. Only regret: a Henry Rollins/Ice-T buddy pic didn’t result.

HANCOCK (2008) dir. P. BERG

2009-07-31T09:11:00.001-07:00

Not often does a summer superhero blockbuster blindside you with classical mythology. Ideas should be shaking hands here, but don’t. How interesting would a satire of caped crusader celebrity status be mashed up with living Grecian gods? Very. The movie’s humans (Bateman and Jae Head) offer up the best performances.

WESTWORLD (1973) dir. M. CRICHTON

2009-07-29T15:28:00.001-07:00

The movie’s only 88 minutes long, but wastes time with gratuitous slo-mo (Million Dollar Man is to blame), ho-hum subplots and a fetish for its own technology (we were still saying “robut” in ’73?). Soundtrack's a trainwreck. Thankfully Crichton’s work would eventually fall in to better hands than his own.

DEATH TO THE TINMAN (2007) dir. R. TINTORI

2009-07-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

The influences are obvious, yes: Maddin, Lynch, the Andersons, both Wes and P.T. (Hey, this is a film school thesis, after all.) The narrator does his best Ricky Jay over twelve minutes that feel more like montage than narrative. Creaky acting occasionally results in some charm—Marvin Illman’s engineer especially.

SID AND NANCY (1987) dir. A. COX

2009-07-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

What a bratty, flatulent movie. While it may not glorify heroin addiction, it sure gilds the titular duo as statuettes of some histrionic romantic anarchy. Ugh. The sound mix is a bird-flipping mess of constant volume adjustment. Moments of visual audacity can’t ameliorate this accidental Punch and Judy black comedy.

WENDY AND LUCY (2008) dir. K. REICHARDT

2009-07-22T10:33:00.000-07:00

As dedicated a page-to-projector translation attempt as Watchmen. Reichardt studiously retains the commas and breaks of another Jonathan Raymond short story. Not happenin’. Celluloid reveals several problems: prose pacing plods cinematically, film and fiction lyricism are different beasts, and animals always win our sympathy onscreen. Sleepy cinéma-vérité for sensitive localvores.

WIZARD PEOPLE, DEAR READERS (2004) by B. NEELY

2009-07-21T08:24:00.001-07:00

PHOTO FROM PASTEMAG.COM

An overdub of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by comedian/comix artist Brad Neely that minces names, confuses genders, botches plot details, and giddily hypes the HP mythos. Neely’s crackpot storyteller (I assume the character is assumed) squeezes out what sounds like extemporaneous narration, as verbose as it is.

MOON (2009) dir. D. JONES

2009-07-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

Perhaps if this film didn't borrow so heavily from its genre's pinnacles (Alien's lived-in dinginess, obsessive signage, shadowy Japanese syndicate; Solaris' shaken reality within isolation; 2001’s confrontation with self, purpose, and coldly-vocalized AI) I wouldn’t expect terror, existentialism, and scrupulousness. Alas, I did. Rockwell’s performance barely bounds the crater-sized plotholes.

McCABE AND MRS. MILLER (1971) dir. R. ALTMAN

2009-07-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

Looks handmade, built of cedar. As the town is constructed (growing with every shot), Altman deconstructs the Western: heroes are dopey, dependent; the one gunfight, prolonged and dead silent; tumbleweeds are traded for snow. Even Carradine’s Cowboy is a pacifist. (Kubrick, an admirer, let McCabe's conclusion influence The Shining, surely.)

WAITING FOR GUFFMAN (1996) dir. C. GUEST

2009-07-18T11:15:00.001-07:00

What needs mocking more than abysmal Midwestern community theatre? Almost can’t call it satire—it’s so intricately, lovingly wrought. Later films, like Drop Dead Gorgeous, forgot that Guffman’s hilarity comes from the characters’ unbearable humanity. The DVD’s “Bulging River” number is bloated but worth watching. Corky hits a high C!

THE BROTHERS BLOOM (2008) dir. R. JOHNSON

2009-07-13T22:51:00.000-07:00

Nitro-boosting its first half with charm and whimsy, Bloom hopes to coast to its destination. Unfortunately, it relents to twists that befuddle in intent and familiarity that risks discrediting the rest of the film’s inventiveness, which, at best, feels auteured by a precocious cinema savant, made with crayon and ketchup.

KRULL (1983) dir. P. YATES

2009-07-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

Top-notch empty calorie fantasy. A spit-thin plot sponsors grand locations, regal to surreal art direction, and a James Horner score that covers countless bases. Ken Marshall's Errol Flynn resemblance is strong; boyish, faintly bearded, buckling swash. David Battley (of Wonka popularity) provides unexpected compassion. Lysette Anthony’s hair is astonishingly curltastic.

PUBLIC ENEMIES (2009) dir. M. MANN

2009-07-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

The determination of Mann mimics that of the dogged G-men, and results in flustered pacing that occasionally damns continuity. But my, those beautiful gunfights. Peter Gerety as Dillinger’s barnburning lawyer Louis Piquett, and Stephen Graham, splendidly Cagney-esque as sociopath Baby Face Nelson, stand out. (Really, whatta cast, even with Stephen Dorff!)

KRAMER VS. KRAMER (1979) dir. R. BENTON

2009-07-08T06:46:00.001-07:00

Precedes the yuppie family crisis tear-jerkers the 80s perfected; many scenes feel stock now because they became stock later. Streep seems leashed here before her career supernova, but Hoffman’s about as human as you could ask. Addendum: why have I never acknowledged Mark Mothersbaugh’s blatant Vivaldi concerto rip-offs until now?

CLASH OF THE TITANS (1981) dir. D. DAVIS

2009-07-05T20:21:00.001-07:00

The last great film magician, Ray Harryhausen performs countless illusions in this stop-motion swan song: floods, flying horses, sea beasts, scorpions, invisibility. A reminder that 80s filmmakers gleefully traumatized children (while throwing some T&A their way, too). The kraken finale pales in comparison to Perseus’ match with Medusa.

SILENT RUNNING (1971) dir. D. TRUMBULL

2009-07-05T10:41:00.000-07:00

Special effects whiz Trumbull had a million dollars plus final cut rights. It shows—big ideas on shoestrings, and pacing as ponderous as a space freighter. Bruce Dern goes from temperamental hippy gardener to ecoterrorist, becomes besties with cute mute robots. The “twist” is forehead-slappingly dopey. And ugh, Joan Baez.

THE MAN WHO LAUGHS (1928) dir. P. LENI

2009-07-03T14:38:00.000-07:00

Apart from Veidt's surgically-enhanced grimace and the inherent creepiness of clowns after dark, this “super-production” forgets the horrific aspirations of its first fifteen minutes (stone statues as bedroom decor, an Iron Maiden) in exchange for court intrigue and swashbuckling silliness. One highlight: Olga Baclanova’s queasy eroticism. Scene-stealing.

THE INTERNATIONAL (2009) dir. T. TYKWER

2009-03-08T10:36:00.000-07:00

Clive Owen, rumpled and unshaven as always, vows to take down a corrupt bank (how timely). All the globe-jumping of a Bourne film without the steely purpose. The pièce de résistance, a Guggenheim shootout, is like a mashup of Heat, Suspiria, and Cremaster 3. The rest feels overwritten, overcomplicated.

REVOLUTIONARY ROAD (2008) dir. S. MENDES

2009-02-07T20:44:00.001-08:00

Even without reading Yates’ book, something still seems abridged—perhaps the possibility of an ensemble showcase. The center ring is DiCaprio/Winslet sturm und drang, which teeters between powerful and histrionic (with Leo raging and grinning like vintage Nicholson). Makes Mad Men (the easy comparison) look cool under the collar.

THE BRIDGE (2005) DIR. E. STEEL

2009-02-07T15:01:00.001-08:00

A sad abundance of bridge jumpers makes the film a broad study of depression that depresses you. Directorial (and consequentially audience) distance resembles the camera’s—miles off, and disquietingly calm. Family participation and thwarted attempts work to dismiss criticism of snuff, but the movie still remains both sober and sensational.

TROPIC THUNDER (2008) dir. B. STILLER

2009-02-01T15:26:00.001-08:00

Reminiscent of Adaptation. in its satirical metanarrative of Hollywood gimmickry, bombast, and triteness, but, unlike that film, wants to both savor and spit out its critical target. As a result, the movie gets sloppy in its objective, and occasionally can't resolve what it wants—gross-out gags or Method parody.

PREMONITIONS FOLLOWING AN EVIL DEED (1966) dir. D. LYNCH

2009-02-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

It would take more time to watch this contribution to Lumière er compagnie than to read this review, but not much. The use of antique Cinematographe technology, and the restriction of three cuts, 52 seconds, and no synchronized sound, weather and compress Lynch's twisted sensibilities, and suit Lynch's microfiction well.

THE AMPUTEE (1974) dir. D. LYNCH

2009-01-31T20:17:00.000-08:00

Highlights trademark characteristics which, until this point, Lynch hadn't demonstrated. His fascination with video, an appreciation of the soap operatic, and its juxtaposition with the gruesomely humorous all pitch in to making this four minutes a deliciously goofy rehearsal. (Always hard to keep your eyes off a gushing amputation wound.)

THE GRANDMOTHER (1970) dir. D. LYNCH

2009-01-31T19:51:00.000-08:00

An evocative and visceral 30 minutes that operate primarily on subconscious levels, without dialogue, full of demented animation and nocturnal live-action elements. Effectively expands Lynch's preoccupations (the terror of the domestic, nightmarish visuals) within a mythic space. Like the best fables, frightening, timeless, smothered in sleep and ether. Portends Eraserhead.

THE ALPHABET (1968) dir. D. LYNCH

2009-01-31T19:39:00.003-08:00

Mixing twisted Electric Company-style animation with live-action footage that makes The Ring look like Lolcats, Lynch uproots our 26 letters, rendering them terrifyingly alien, menacingly familiar. In the process, the seeds for his iconoclastic style are sown. Lynch painted his bedroom black for this film. An apt metaphor.

SIX FIGURES GETTING SICK (1966) dir. D. LYNCH

2009-01-31T19:33:00.000-08:00

Lynch's first "film," made solely to see one of his paintings move. Effectively monotonous, even when cut off (the installation looped indefinitely, projected on a sculpted screen of plaster Lynch facsimiles in contorted facial expressions). Lynch never intended to continue with film after this. Film had other plans for Lynch.

MAN ON WIRE (2008) dir. J. MARSH

2009-01-27T20:46:00.000-08:00

An ambitious document of an astonishing feat. Narrated like an acrobatic French Ocean's Eleven, with too many near-snafus to believe. Yet everyone concurs the facts, including the enthusiastic Philippe Petit, who revels in exuberant egotism. Copious footage, photography, and reenactments (that actually work!). Satie's "Gymnopedies" makes the climax transcendent.

FAHRENHEIT 451 (1966) dir. F. TRUFFAUT

2009-01-26T17:21:00.000-08:00

At once splendid and blown. For 1966, the future is rendered confidently (aided by British post-war prefab, flatscreens, and a monorail), and the ending, while tongue-in-cheek, is sincerely poetic. Still, Werner and Christie's chemistry couldn't make toast burn, much less books, and plot holes remain wittingly gaping.

THE TIME MACHINE (1960) dir. G. PAL

2009-01-25T19:48:00.000-08:00

Classic movies that deal with the future always feel more old-fashioned for it. This hasn't aged well. I'm not willing to buy that English-speaking, tunic-wearing Aryan bimbos will be all that's left in the Great Britain of 802,701 CE. Who's doing their fabulous hair? The underground-dwelling Morlocks?

THE WRESTLER (2008) dir. D. ARONOFSKY

2009-01-25T11:39:00.000-08:00

A brutal harkening-back to the character studies of the Seventies. Mickey Rourke's method attack on Randy "The Ram" Robinson doesn't showboat—the magnetism comes sheerly from an absolute naturalism. Aronofsky takes the cue and keeps things simple (a first, and hopefully not a last). And Marisa Tomei strips! Yes.

LE GRANDE ILLUSION (1937) dir. JEAN RENOIR

2009-01-25T11:29:00.000-08:00

My first film in my Criterion Spine Number project (being as it's #1) and a wonderful kickoff. Jean Gabin's natural charm balances with a blue-collar gruffness that captivates (forget Steve McQueen in The Great Escape). Carette's optimistic vaudevillian rises to the top of a superb supporting cast of POWs.

BURN AFTER READING (2008) dir. E. & J. COEN

2009-01-25T11:16:00.000-08:00

Silliness. And I mean that critically. Lots of talent, squandered on what seemed to be a glib farce, apathetic political thriller parody, and quick cash-in after the triumph that was No Country for Old Men. Frances McDormand was the bright spot. Like accidental bleach on a grey tee shirt.

JOY DIVISION (2007) dir. G. GEE

2009-01-19T21:05:00.000-08:00

I watched Joy Division because, past a cursory "suicide and singles" knowledge, I knew nothing of the Manchester post-punk band. Now I do. A slick style and heavy song play kept the proceedings illustrative and not wholly elegaic (I'm sure they left that to Control, the Ian Curtis biopic.)