I_Ailurophile Reviews

Rollercoaster (1977)

A far stronger, more suspenseful thriller than the premise would suggest

[9/10 · 6 June 2024]

I forget how I came across this film in the first place (reading about amusement parks, I presume), but the premise piqued my interest enough for me to seek it out. There are some classic, superb thrillers that saw release in the 70s, and a couple I'd readily identify as favorites (Coppola's 'The conversation,' and Richard Lester's 'Juggernaut') aren't even among the most famous or commonly named. Disaster flicks, too. Whatever the end product here ended up being, I admit I had fairly high expectations based on past experience with some contemporaries. Thankfully, whatever our individual opinions may be, I think 'Rollercoaster' quickly begins to show itself to be a quality feature that holds up very well. The opening scene is smartly executed to build tension, giving the proceedings a strong start; Timothy Bottoms is wonderfully smarmy and creepy as the unnamed antagonist, and 43-year old George Segal plays protagonist Harry with a hard-nosed disposition that's backhandedly endearing, recalling the prototypical leads in film noir. With composer extraordinaire Lalo Schifrin's penetrating score lending terrific atmosphere throughout, I'm happy to say that this is a thriller that meaningfully keeps us invested as the plot develops - and I rather believe it stands shoulder to shoulder with its 70s kin.

As with some other like-minded titles, ultimately it doesn't really matter what the villain's motivations are. The value in the picture rests in the stakes facing the power players and the unknowing innocents, and the "cat and mouse" game between opposing forces - the wily capabilities of the antagonist, and the protagonist's efforts to stop them. I really have to give a lot of credit to everyone who had a creative hand in this, because what sounds from the outset like a bit of a novelty proves itself to be perfectly earnest, genuinely suspenseful, and very highly satisfying. Producer Jennings Lang, director James Goldstone, and the writing team of Richard Levinson and William Link with Sanford Sheldon and Tommy Cook give us a firmly compelling story fleshed out with stupendously smart characters (and an extra cunning, cold villain), sharp dialogue, and vivid and engrossing scene writing. No few bits here are kind of ingenious if you ask me, even on paper, and every contributor who helped to realize that screenplay did an outstanding job. Edward A. Biery and Richard M. Sprague's editing is particularly keen, and likewise some of David M. Walsh's cinematography. I appreciate the locations this had access to to shoot, and the production design is splendid. Those stunts and effects that are employed are excellent, and I repeat that Schifrin's music adds a lot to the viewing experience; a cameo by rock band Sparks is a swell bonus.

While Bottoms and Segal unquestionably have the most presence among the cast, and deservedly so, all others appearing in 'Rollercoaster' most assuredly do their part to lend weight to the title, down to the smallest supporting parts. Among others, it's noteworthy that this is an early role for Helen Hunt, and while Henry Fonda arguably boasts the most name recognition, Richard Widmark gives a commanding performance as severe Agent Hoyt. And kudos to Goldstone: from the very beginning through to the very end, this is a film that's solidly absorbing, and I felt myself drawn in more here than I have with many, many other films. I've noted in passing some blurbs that made reference to Alfred Hitchcock, and truthfully, I think that comparison is earned; the time after watching is spent actively relaxing nerves that have been wound tight for two hours. Everything here is great, honestly, and as Goldstone serves up shrewd direction to tie all the pieces together, I can't help but be impressed. Not every flick that's labeled as a "thriller" brings the desired feelings to bear, but this one most certainly does, and I could hardly be more pleased. Why, it succeeds in this regard with less violence than some of its brethren, relying instead on the strength of all other facets, and in my mind that only speaks even more highly to the sum total. When all is said and done 'Rollercoaster' is surprisingly, gratifyingly enjoyable and impactful, and surely anyone with a taste for the genre will find much to love here. I might stop short of saying it's an absolute must-see, but if you do have the opportunity to watch then I'm glad to give it my enthusiastic recommendation!

The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail (1945)

An outwardly small, simple film is nevertheless as rich and satisfying as ever in Kurosawa's hands

[10/10 · 6 June 2024]

It's a bit strange to dig into Kurosawa Akira's lesser-known features. There's never any doubting his skills as a filmmaker, but it feels like we're seeing a different side of him away from the spotlight of his mastery. This is particularly true in the case of 'The men who tread on the tiger's tail': while there are certainly elements common to his later works, including the period setting and the comedic element represented primarily in Enomoto Ken'ichi's porter - a commoner amongst samurai - in other ways this very much looks and feels quite different from the preponderance of Kurosawa's oeuvre. It is a decidedly smaller piece, both in length (one hour) and scope, being limited to a small setting and a very select few characters. With heavy emphasis on dialogue and conversation within that small space, the nature of this flick's origin as a play is readily evident; however much the filmmaker may have changed some facets of the source material with his adaptation, and the historical record, one can easily imagine the drama playing out on a stage. Factor in some decidedly simpler instances of editing and cinematography, and song, and this title arguably comes off as the most common of Kurosawa's body of work.

None of this is any reflection on the quality of the film, though. On the contrary: it bears some sensibilities rather unique from the likes of 'Ikiru,' 'Ran,' or 'Rashomon,' but we can also see the same reliable skill, intelligence, and care poured into these sixty minutes. Goto Toshio's editing and Ito Takeo's cinematography are generally just as sharp and smart as one would assume of Kurosawa, with some extra brilliant moments here and there; Kurosawa's direction is as fastidious and impeccable as ever, including some excellent shot composition. The production design, art direction, and especially the costume design, hair, and makeup are lovely and handily transport us to this past era in Japan's history, a credit to all operating behind the scenes. The performances of the cast broadly, and Okochi Denjiro specifically as foremost Benkei, are steady and nuanced, capably bearing all the gravity of the scenario despite the miniature runtime and even as Enomoto stands in contrast with his boisterous, nervous energy - a splendid, essential complement after its own fashion. Above all, 'The men who tread on the tiger's tail' is ample demonstration that pictures have no need of grandiose effects, epic lengths, or complex plots to be raptly compelling, to carry stark tension and suspense, or to thoroughly entertain. Every inch of the screenplay is marvelously shrewd, with the dialogue, characterizations, scene writing, and overall plot all carefully and directly feeding into the rich tableau and the power it carries even over so abbreviated a length.

By the strength of the writing alone this movie stands head, shoulders, knees, and toes above countless others that are more famous, or which were bigger box office successes. With the tremendously high value of all other facets considered, the viewing experience is much more than first meets the eye. In fact, if at first one is not so impressed by the saga as it presents, as the minutes tick by it becomes more and more striking, and one discerns more and more the kinship it shares with 'Yojimbo,' 'Seven samurai,' or 'Kagemusha.' Frankly I believe this only affirms once more how truly great a filmmaker Kurosawa was, that he can make so monumental a mark no matter the size or span of a piece; I treasure three-hour 'Red Beard,' and this one hour jaunt also unexpectedly yet firmly shoulders a quality and weight of storytelling and film-making well beyond how it may seem from the outside looking in. This should maybe not be so surprising after all given the man's enduring reputation, and still one is astonished again and again by just how completely Kurosawa proves himself. Suffice to say that whether one is an especial fan of the legend or just looking for something good to watch, 'The men who tread on the tiger's tail remains an outstanding classic, and at that one which is surely underappreciated. It may not be as visible as some of its brethren, but it would be a sore mistake to pass up the opportunity to watch something so enjoyable and satisfying, and I'm happy to give this feature my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Message from Space (1978)

Often imitative, & second-tier at best, but still suitably fun and well made

[7/10 · 5 June 2024]

You know, not too long ago I rewatched the original 'Star Wars' for the first time in a long time, and it struck me that for as excellent as it truly is, it was kind of a concatenation of fortunate circumstances that made George Lucas' creation the premier sci-fi franchise of cinema. There were a lot of similar features made in the 70s and 80s, and there's a universe where it wasn't 'Star Wars' but Peter Yates' 'Krull' of 1983 that developed into a major multimedia phenomenon. There is also conceivably a universe where Fukasaku Kinji's 'Message from space' was instead the space opera to enchant global audiences. Granted, the latter possibility is surely less likely in the grand scheme of things; the production values aren't so uniformly hearty, the storytelling isn't entirely as earnest, and it really does feel like much of this picture distinctly borrows ideas from its 1977 superior. This flick carries itself with a very different vibe, and no matter one's opinion I don't think there's much arguing that it's more of a fun-loving romp, and at that one which is second tier at best. Still, if you're open to all the wide possibilities of the genre and the medium, for the most part this is fairly well made, and ultimately pretty enjoyable.

I would be curious to know when exactly 'Message from space' entered production, because the comparisons one can draw to 'Star Wars' are substantial. Morioka Kenichiro's score has one theme that more closely echoes surfer bops of the 60s, but the bulk of it - whimsical, dramatic, sweeping, stirring, and/or dynamic - pointedly recalls John Williams' work of the prior year. Between the original story of Fukasaku, Ishinomori Shotaro, and Noda Masahiro, and Matusda Hiro's screenplay, no few of the character archetypes, relationships, and settings, and broad strokes of the scene writing and certainly the plot, echo their counterparts in a famous galaxy far, far away. And even some conceptions in the visuals share a measure of kinship, not least with regards to spaceships and practical effects. Still, for whatever parity there is between this picture and Lucas', there's no possible mistaking one for the other. The sets, costume design, hair and makeup, and miniatures, props, and weapons take their cues not just from other sci-fi fare, but also from historical Japanese culture (chiefly samurai), fantasy, and more, seemingly including contemporary American features of a nature very far removed. Though some creative choices are more curious than others, all such facets really do look great, if not downright gorgeous, with welcome detail. The post-production visuals range from basically on par with 'Star Wars' to perhaps notably inferior, especially some rear projection, but they're not bad, and in the very least I've seen much worse. For the most part I really do like Morioka's music as it adds swell flavor, and the sound effects are actually rather terrific.

Some sparing instances of Fukasaku's direction seem a smidgen heavy-handed in terms of the tone imparted; in fairness, it's also possible that the difficulty instead lies with an actor's interpretation of a scene. Excepting such examples, however, by and large the man's direction is solid (if less refined than what he has demonstrated elsewhere), and likewise, the cast gives appreciable, committed performances appropriate for the material. And while the narrative is filled with some familiar elements - including a gargantuan mobile fortress for the villain, a very particular final target for the heroes along a very particular route, and a reference to the heroes receiving medals - there is definitely more than enough here for the title to stand out as its own creation. Some of the dialogue could be stronger, sure, and maybe the character writing, too, but the scene writing is more sure-footed, and the overall narrative is just fine in imparting the tale of select individuals chosen by fate (mystical space seeds) to save the people of Jillucia and rise against the evil Gavanas Empire. 'Message from space' comes off with a tenor and a set of production values somewhere on the spectrum between 'Star Wars' and the like-minded films of Roger Corman, but that doesn't mean it's specifically bad any more than it means it's pure mimicry. This knows what it is and doesn't pretend to be anything it's not, and some small odds and ends are unexpectedly sharp.

No matter one's impetus for watching there's no reason to go out of one's way for it, and I can understand how it won't meet with especial favor from all comers. Nonetheless, it's a movie that only wants to have a good time, and if you're receptive to works of such a variety, I don't think it's nearly so bad as its reputation suggests. I had mixed expectations when I sat to watch and I was pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable this turned out to be; warts, imitations, and all, I for one quite like 'Message from space,' and as far as I'm concerned it earns a casual recommendation.

Sidewalks of New York (1931)

Okay, but saddled with issues that diminish its lasting value

[5/10 · 5 June 2024]

For all the success that much of the film industry enjoyed in the silent era, there were no few instances of fortunes changing upon the advent of the talkie. Even screen legend Buster Keaton diminished in the sound era, to say nothing of his stated regret of signing with MGM. One way or another, I think it's only reasonable to sit for 'Sidewalks of New York' with a measure of trepidation; how might it hold up decades later? The good news is that this is enjoyable, and it certainly earns laughs at no few points. The bad news is that it also bears major flaws that severely weigh it down, and it's direly uneven. I don't outright dislike this, but I also don't think the movie comes anywhere near to the likes of 'Go west,' 'The navigator,' or 'The General,' even strictly in terms of the comedy - and frankly, that's the least of the title's problems.

Unlike Keaton's prior works, or the best of other comedic icons, there's a considerable mean streak in the writing here as characters are extra curt and even cruel to one another. With that in mind, I'm not so impressed with the direction of Zion Myers and Jules White, for it seems heavy-handed at points, turning that mean streak into shrill, grating, moody outbursts that feel ill-fitting for a Keaton feature. On that note, I guess overall the child actors are just fine, including prominent Norman Phillips Jr., but under Myers and White's direction they frequently do not fare so well; the result rather demonstrates the conventional wisdom attributed to W. C. Fields to "never work with children or animals." Weirdly, in other instances the direction just comes across as weak and middling, dampening the humor. Myers and White are technically capable, but the tone simply feels wrong.

Equally troubling if not more so, the plot is built more for serious crime drama than for a cheeky romp, exemplified in a scene to come just after the halfway mark and broadly defining much of the latter half. In fact, the picture quite comes off as an inelegant smash-up of (a) a dramatic script of risky juvenile delinquency, and mixing with criminal elements, with (b) tidbits of classic Keaton ballyhoo - and sadly, nothing about the combination is really strong enough to earn substantial favor. To that end, elsewhere some bits seem to strain terribly to achieve the desired effect, even if they're setting up something better to come later. 'Sidewalks of New York' could have been a crime drama, or could it have been a comedic Keaton vehicle, but even if we suppose that this was an attempt at something a little different for the star, the effort to blend the two halves didn't fully pan out. No matter how good it may be at large, this 1931 film does not count among Keaton's top credits.

It's not that the sum total is specifically bad, but the weave here of comedy and drama is all too tenuous, with each part dragging down the other. Such critiques are regrettable, for at its best there really is a lot to like in these short seventy-four minutes. Though not every odd and end lands as intended, we are nevertheless greeted with delightful gags, situational humor, physical comedy, sharp dialogue, and general silliness and shenanigans. Keaton is as reliable as ever as an actor, especially when it comes to sacrificing his body for comedy, and co-stars Anita Page and Cliff Edwards ably keep up. There are aspects of the writing that are primed for delicious frivolity or engrossing drama, however sorrily flat they are when swirled together, and all those behind the scenes turned in excellent work. From the stunts and effects, to sets and costume design, to Leonard Smith's cinematography, more than not the movie is well made, even if it sometimes comes across that those involved were still working out the kinks of the new sound paradigm.

It's so unfortunate, then, that the end product turned out the way it did. I think various folks share the responsibility here, between the directors, the writers, and producer Lawrence Weingarten - not for lack of trying, but they took a swing and missed. For all that this does well, it plainly struggles in the ways that matter most, and the lasting entertainment value is significantly reduced. To one degree or another 'Sidewalks of New York' remains worth checking out, but if you're looking for a joyful blast of comedy like Keaton was known for, it's best recommended that you stick with his silent masterpieces, and if you're looking for a crime flick, you have plenty of other options. Do watch if you have the opportunity, but don't go out of your way for it, and save it as something light and more passively amusing.

Breaking & Exiting (2018)

Some splendid bright spots; some tiresome genre convention

[5/10 · 4 June 2024]

I like Peter Facinelli as an actor, and it's noteworthy that this is his first full-length feature as a director. I like Jordan Danger - I loved her in 'Eureka' - and in addition to starring, this notably marks her first go at screenwriting. And hey, a small role for Colin Ferguson! These were my points of interest in watching 'Breaking and exiting,' even as I noted poor reception; I've watched other movies that were regarded poorly and greatly enjoyed them, so maybe my opinion here would similarly be a step up. That was my hope. Unfortunately, burglar Harry is our protagonist, not depressed Daisy, and Harry is almost perfectly unlikable; he is written with a sense of humor, but of the sort that says not "you're a funny guy" but "you're obnoxious, and not as clever as you think you are." It's not until Daisy is specifically introduced, after twenty-five minutes and one-third of the runtime have elapsed, that this film earns its first laugh; only after there is another character to offset Harry's repugnance does the comedy begin to manifest, however softly. It's not that 'Breaking and exiting' is utterly terrible or lacks redeeming qualities, as a zero percent score on Rotten Tomatoes currently suggests as of these paragraphs. It's that the problems with this picture are rather identifiable, and I genuinely regret that my criticisms are chiefly directed at a first-time writer whom I otherwise quite appreciate.

In fairness, there is a lot to like here. The acting is splendid; I continue to adore adept Danger as an actor, and for as awful as Harry is, Milo Gibson plays him with energy, and ultimately range, that's admirable. Facinelli's direction is nothing special, but it's solid, and I hope he continues to grow in his skills. This is well made in most regards, including the hair and makeup, costume design, production design, and Christopher Hamilton's crisp cinematography. Some of the music is bland, overdone, and/or chintzy, but there are some small nice touches in the mix, too, that lend welcome flavor. And there are some promising bits in Danger's script. Many titles have explored a criminal getting more than they bargained for, to great success, with Francis Palluau's delightful 'Bienvenue chez les Rozes' being a prime example. The essence of the meet-cute is a minor joy given the circumstances under which Harry and Daisy encounter one another, and furthermore, there's some wonderfully morbid wit amidst the dialogue that wryly plays with Daisy's mental state and stated intentions. Daisy is actually a very relatable and well-written character, for that matter, and I recognize definite personal touches in Danger's writing, and familiarity with the underlying subject matter. And all told I do think the screenplay reflects developing skill and intelligence as a writer, for there is real humor scattered throughout that earns the desired reaction, and discernible earnestness lies at the heart of the story. As select production stills greet us during the end credits, we get a firm sense of the hard work that went into the project, and the warm camaraderie that all shared.

The issue is that despite everything 'Breaking and exiting' has going for it, and despite the more offbeat notions, at the end of the day it's mostly just a formulaic romantic comedy. It could have been a black comedy. When adjoined with the darker, more atypical premise, some choice lines and the most conventional, bare-faced ideas provide wisps that could have been shaped into an underhanded parody of the genre - and why not, with the central couple-to-be being a thoroughly unlikable burglar and distinctly troubled young woman? The turns to come in the last couple scenes add nice little sparks to help cement a fine finish. There is a lot to like here, and it had much potential. So it's kind of tiresome and aggravating when we get abundant scenes, dialogue, and broad character writing that could be copied and pasted into or from any of countless romantic comedies that have preceded this one in the past ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years. I'm not entirely sold on Daisy's shift, though maybe that says more about me than it does about her or Danger; Harry's rapid character growth is even less convincing, as it effectively boils down to a variant of the dubious trope of a villain having a change of heart when they see "love" or "goodness" for the first time. When the tale again becomes more dramatic in the back end the writing and direction feels a smidgen heavy-handed; that first noted turn in the penultimate scene is nevertheless accompanied by some more Very Common tidbits, and the last turn in the final moments comes too late for anything meaningful to be done with it. I like this title. I want to like it more than I do.

I can very honestly say that I look forward to seeing Danger progress in her career; I hope to see her in more as an actor, and may she grow as a writer with this as a modest start along that track. The same goes for Facinelli as a director, and I wish nothing but the best for the participants at large. I'm just somewhat sad that for all the advantages 'Breaking and exiting' can claim, at length it walks a tried and true path, only to the beat of a slightly different drum. I don't believe the utmost denigration this has received from critics is warranted; I'm of the mind that its difficulties and its high points balance each other out, for better and for worse, and the sum total is sort of middling and so-so. I'm glad for those who get more out of it, and I can understand how it will meet still less favorably among others. For my part I'm glad that I sat to watch, but I won't be dwelling much on 'Breaking and exiting' hereafter, and I just hope that at some point in the future I will have more glowing words to share about all involved.

Fantasy Island (2010– )

Painfully vapid and inept, a bewildering TV show that deserves to be forgotten

[1/10 · 4 June 2024]

Hot on the heels of Camillo Teti's flummoxing 'Titanic: The legend goes on,' it wasn't enough for Orlando Corradi to create his own animated Titanic flick, 'The legend of the Titanic,' for he added terrible insult to grievous injury a few years later with the bewildering 'In search of the Titanic.' And still this was apparently not enough, for here comes Corradi following up his dubious full-length films with a television series that continues the saga. I thought I knew and was prepared for how awful 2010's 'Fantasy Island' was going to be, but either I blocked out my memories of the preceding movies to spare myself the pain, or everything about them that was already so questionable managed to get even worse in the intervening six years. Let's not pull punches: this one season of Italian children's TV is so ghastly that I'm fairly certain I could feel the cells in my body dying as I watched, and specifically for that reason.

I was prepared to say that there are a couple facets of this series that aren't completely rotten. Yet within even only the first two episodes I changed my mind, and the fact of the matter is that I believe the one thing in these several episodes that deserves any steady modicum of respect is the music. It tends to be repetitive and bland, exactly the type of themes that would be commissioned for a generic, low-grade animated adventure series, but in the very least it doesn't make my ears bleed - and at its best it's actually pretty swell. Unfortunately, this is the most consistently kind I can be in speaking of 'Fantasy Island.' Granted, it's also the case that the painted backgrounds commonly bear some nice detail, and some of the computer-generated imagery of some other environments, especially those underwater. On the other hand, some settings are oddly bereft of any detail or texture. There are also too many instances when these backgrounds and environments, particularly the CGI, are utilized in a manner that gauchely emphasizes the artificiality. And not least as these often clash with the active animated elements. If the best that can be said of the visuals is so-so representation of the setting, something is horribly wrong.

Beyond these aspects the series only ever gets worse. Characters and other active animated elements are usually realized with unnatural movement that is unsettling in and of itself, and somehow the fact that it is so rapid and fluid makes it more nightmarish. Nevermind that non-human characters are anthropomorphized; just wait until you get a glimpse of non-human characters, including those with fins, being given human limbs, and mouth animation straight out of Cronenbergian body horror. Why, even the designs of some human characters are decidedly unnerving. Some bits of the animation are just confusing or nonsensical as they present, including semi-regular head-bobbing that recalls the idle animations of videogames; no few other odds and ends make me cringe with a severe reaction that exists somewhere on the spectrum between astonishment and disgust. There are times when the animation is so hideous that one is perhaps reminded of the ironically godawful work seen in some modern adult animation, like on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim programming block, where part of the joke is in the outward witlessness of the visuals.

I trust that the dialogue of the English dub corresponds as closely as possible to the original Italian script, but one way or another the dialogue is mostly just horrid, simple, and dull - and like the rest of the writing including the humor, mostly senseless, and insulting to the intelligence of even the youngest viewers. The character writing reliably raises a quizzical eyebrow, as roundly atrocious for new characters as for those who return from the pictures. The scene writing is a garbled, baffling mess, and often self-contradicting. I suppose one might argue that there is at least some semblance of cohesiveness to the narrative at some times, yet all told the show does such a poor job of communicating that narrative in terms of pacing, tone, sequencing, or plot development that one should well be equally dismissive of the story. That's where the storytelling isn't bizarrely unsophisticated to a degree far exceeding the norm of any children's fare; the "plot" is often so light and fluffy that it seems too much to say there is any substance here. Even the first episode, a clip show recapping 'The legend of the Titanic' and 'In search of the Titanic,' overflows with stunningly bad writing in its fragments of new material, and as each subsequent episode briefly recounts the events of the prior, these recaps are also surprisingly clumsy. Accentuating these points: within the last few episodes 'Fantasy Island' finally stops twiddling its thumbs and tries to give us some meaningful plot, but that plot as it presents is barely coherent, and the sheer ineptitude of the writers could not be more evident - especially in the last episode, which bunglingly trips over itself trying to wrap up the narrative.

The English dub is excruciating with regards to both the voice acting, including more wild tonal discrepancy, and in how the vocal tracks are synchronized with the visual cues. Or rather, too often not remotely synchronized; in the worst examples, the animation unmistakably shows a character speaking, but there is no audio at all, or vice versa. In a spirit of generosity that is probably not deserved, maybe we could say that the dubbing is not concretely the fault of Corradi or 'Fantasy Island' in and of themselves. Yet especially seeing as how the dub retains the original Italian theme song, even as the responsibility for this component seemingly lies with Miami-based studio "The Kitchen," I think it surely is another severe mark against the whole; surely Corradi was the one who for some reason approved this dub. Furthermore, just as the animation often includes that strange head bobbing, very frequently there are awkward long pauses and weak pacing in the voice acting and direction that hang too long, then for longer still - the functional equivalent of what in radio is called "dead air." I'm unsure whether this is more or less preferable to some voice acting so foul as to inspire mocking laughter (as in, if you don't laugh, you'll cry).

I guess I can't say I wasn't entertained every now and again. Against all odds there are very scarce, very scattered good story ideas here; in the latter half of the show, the episodes "Encounter with the wolves" and "Jeffrey's confession" can claim the most (and maybe only) earnest, solid writing of the whole shebang. But outside such exceptions, the entertainment this has to offer comes only in the form of a convergence of all those aspects that are so egregious as to totally confound. This includes small moments like the sudden unnerving appearance of Tentacolino, or an unintentionally funny exchange of dialogue. This includes the befuddling "logic" that allows a beat or scene to transpire, or that a beat or scene insinuates in turn; or outrageous writing that takes the concept of "movie magic" - a far-fetched beat to advance the plot in the most gawky manner possible - to stupefying new extremes. Though the music is decent enough, there are also hilarious examples where the music is exercised in a manner that again produces absurd tonal issues. Elsewhere the show unflinchingly mimics scenes from James Cameron's 'Titanic,' and one instance was so breathtaking that I had to pause for several minutes to collect myself. If this is the prevailing sort of value 'Fantasy Island' has to offer, that's not much of a point in its favor.

In every manner that matters, including even the editing, this series is just woefully dreadful. We get the impression of pure laziness, outright incompetence, and a wholesale lack of intelligence on the part of many if not most who were involved, if not all. Every time you think it can't get any worse, it does. I'm genuinely perplexed that Corradi was ever able to get this produced in the first place. At its best there's nothing here that we can't get elsewhere in animation, and even that seems too kind. The series regularly seems to have trouble so much as making up its mind what mood it wants to impart, as the voice acting, character animation, and writing - and music - fly off in different directions while also otherwise being shoddy; there is suggested violence that is stunningly brutal, and some moments are a half-step away from being appropriate for horror. If all this has been too long-winded, however, then let me speak plainly: there is no good reason to watch 'Fantasy Island.' If you, like me, are both curious and masochistic, and are the sort of person who would watch 'The legend of the Titanic' and 'In search of the Titanic,' then there's a rancid sort of logic that extends to also watching 'Fantasy Island.' Be that as it may, this is actually somehow worse than the movies, and one's time is emphatically best spent elsewhere. I cannot recommend this to anyone. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Dersu Uzala (1975)

A tremendously captivating, fulfilling film; a must-see treasure

[10/10 · 4 June 2024]

It's hard not to fall in love with this film right away. Even the very first glimpses we get of the remote filming locations, the same territory where the real figures trod some seventy years before, are incredibly beautiful; whether one spends a lot of time outdoors or is trapped in a modern life away from natural splendor, we're immediately drawn into the experience and wish we could step through these forests, hills, lakes, and river valleys ourselves. There is a soft vitality in the cinematography of Nakai Asakazu, Yuri Gantman, and Fyodor Dobronravov that makes all the images to greet us even easier on the eyes on a fundamental level, and the same surely goes for the color processing of studio Mosfilm. Together with Kurosawa Akira's impeccable shot composition and otherwise vision as a filmmaker, there are countless shots all throughout these 2.5 hours that would look right at home framed on a wall, or collected in a coffee table art book. This is to say nothing of the terrific production design and art direction, costume design, hair, makeup, stunts, effects, and sound design; everyone operating behind the scenes turned in outstanding contributions, rich with fine detail, that are beyond all reproach. While Isaak Shvarts' score is relatively sparing in its dispensation it smoothly feeds into all this quietly stirring resplendence, and the saga to unfold. The result from these facets alone is that 'Dersu Uzala' is tremendously absorbing, satisfying, and rewarding, a total gem.

That's only part of the movie, however, and in other capacities that are just as integral the picture dazzles and endears itself to us just as quickly. While it's hard to pick a favorite among Kurosawa's many iconic works, 'Red Beard' stands out to me with the full-hearted warmth it carries in its portrait of humanity at a modest rural clinic. In relating the tales of the clinic staff and of its patients, Kurosawa shows us not just compassion and empathy, but the ideal of the community that humans can foster and maintain when we're at our best. To my absolute pleasure, this feature of ten years later buzzes with similar feelings of warmth and gentle wonder, for 'Dersu Uzala' wastes no time in developing those themes and ideas that are its true substance. It is biographical, yes, telling of one man's life, and we get significant drama and adventure as a vast wilderness is explored and mapped, with all the risks that follow therefrom. Just as importantly, though, it is an examination of a man who is completely in tune with his environment, and who carries with him the wisdom of the natural world; of budding respect for nature, and its power and majesty; of the close bonds of camaraderie that can grow between two people from very different backgrounds; and of bittersweet remembrance, and loss: of those dear to us, of our place in a cold, changing world, and of our own strength and faculties over time. The narrative in and of itself is marvelously engrossing and downright captivating in tracing the journey of Vladimir Arsenyev and the titular figure, and Kurosawa and co-writer Yuri Nagibin are to be further congratulated for robust characterizations, hearty dialogue, and utterly vibrant scene writing to propel that narrative. But in adapting Arsenyev's memoir Kurosawa and Nagibin delved deeply into that meaningful core in the process of also relating that stupendous story, and the viewing experience very swiftly becomes all the more fulfilling even through to the ending that is more downbeat.

One can readily discern how much hard work went into the production, and how arduous the project must have been, not least given the far-flung locations, difficult terrain, and severe weather conditions. In recognizing this the title once again becomes even more potent and impactful. The same holds true as touches of humor, moments of suspense, and notes of tragedy round out the full-hearted drama and the adventurous tenor. The same holds true as we watch the magnificent performances of all on hand, and above all stars Yury Solomin and Maxim Munzuk - they all but disappear into their roles with exceptional range, nuance, emotional depth, physicality, and personality. Every greatly moving feeling that is infused throughout the length is brought to bear through the acting just as much as through all else, and between Solomin and Munzuk I don't know who I treasure more. Let's be frank: is there anything about this film that is less than perfect? I, for one, really do not think so. The landscapes are so gorgeous that Kurosawa often makes us feel like we're not seeing Earth but otherworldly sights built in a studio for a fantasy flick; the utmost earnestness of the portrayal of humanity keeps us firmly grounded and inspired, hoping we can carry that spirit with us as we return to the real world once the entire runtime has elapsed. Every last element of the project is flush with unyielding skill, intelligence, and care, and it is once again confirmed that Kurosawa was one of the greatest filmmakers to ever live. I would unreservedly name 'Dersu Uzala' as counting among the man's best pictures, and to the same point, almost certainly among the best pictures ever made.

No, in general it's not as visible or as celebrated as the likes of 'Ikiru,' 'Seven samurai,' 'Rashomon,' or 'Kagemusha.' And I think that's a darn shame. I could scarcely be happier with just how superb this is, and I can't recommend it highly enough. As far as I'm concerned this is another stellar, must-see classic in a landmark career, and 'Dersu Uzala' is well worth seeking out however you must go about it.

Paprika (2006)

Brilliant and stunning, a vivid treasure

[10/10 · 3 June 2024]

Let's not beat around the bush: this is a truly dazzling, absolutely brilliant film. It's derived from Tsutsui Yasutaka's novel, certainly, yet there's a big difference between even the most vivid print medium and an audiovisual interpretation, and the conscious mind can only extrapolate so far from the spoken or written word alone. There's really nothing quite like cinema for bringing visions to life, and rarely is this more true than for those stories that have ever in any way explored dreams, and/or broken or uncertain realities: 'Little Nemo,' 'A nightmare on Elm Street,' 'Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse,' 'Inception,' Quentin Dupieux's 'Réalité,' 'The lathe of heaven,' Kon Satoshi's own 'Perfect blue,' and so on. Moreover, for all the splendor that practical effects or computer-generated imagery can produce - or even just sharp direction, cinematography, and editing - pure, classic animation is still unparalleled in achieving sheer wonder. Amazingly, as the last picture in an all-too brief career, Kon's 'Paprika' may have them all beat. From the very beginning to the very end this is incredibly creative and has us wholly ensorcelled, and I ponder if even the nearest points of comparison can actually stack up.

A trippy, action-packed opening scene bleeds into a credits sequence which is itself marvelously vibrant and fun, and as the plot picks up from there it wastes no time and keeps us firmly engaged. What follows in short order is a fast-moving, fabulously fluid, mind-bending journey that smashes together ideas and genres and vibes, but does so in a manner that against all odds feels perfectly organic and cohesive - not unlike how the disorder and disparate elements of a dream make perfect sense to the unconscious mind. Thus do we get swirls of science fiction, nightmarish horror, psychological thriller, neo-noir, romance, and drama, all wrapped up in wild, intoxicating concoctions of both storytelling and visuals that reflect pure, unbridled imagination, and for which the word "surreal" seems woefully insufficient. All this is further complemented and reinforced by composer Hirasawa Susumu, whose original music is really just as entrancing as the wide array of sights to greet us. From driving upbeat pop, to more conventional dramatic chords, to unnerving soundscapes that bolster the dark, warped atmosphere, Hirasawa's contributions are much like the writing and the visuals: infectious, whimsical, and bewitching. I'm not likely to forget 'Paprika' any time soon, and the music is a big part of that.

To read a plot synopsis one may well be mystified, yet Kon and co-writer Minakami Seishi adapted Tsutsui's novel in such a fashion that we are readily immersed in the world, and are able to keep up no matter gnarled the internal conception of reality may become. The feature is quite the ride in following the tale of havoc being wrought through dreams and fantastical technology, but tremendously smart and strong scene writing, and equally steady, mindful narrative writing and plot development, keep the material cogent, terrifically absorbing and entertaining, and deeply satisfying. The nearest I may come to offering criticism is that there are a couple odds and ends (Konakawa's story thread, and the ending provided for Dr. Chiba) that arguably aren't woven in as thoroughly, or which are too neat and clean as they present. I'm unfamiliar with the novel, and I can only assume this is a matter of beats that Kon elected not to flesh out so as to remain focused on the core plot; that's the sense I get, anyway. The incidence isn't nearly so severe as to specifically detract from the viewing experience, however, and for as superbly thrilling, engrossing, and enjoyable as 'Paprika' is otherwise, I almost feel bad speaking ill of it to any infinitesimal degree.

Given its pointedly oddball nature, some jolting imagery, and violent and sexual content, I can understand how this won't appeal to all comers. Be that as it may, I cannot overstate how excellent the movie is, and ninety minutes fly past all too quickly. With writing, visuals, and music that are all equally rich and enticing, and fine contributions from all others involved to bring the project to fruition, this 2006 anime is nothing less than a treasure. It's a modern classic, really, and whether one is particularly keen on animation or stories of a more far-flung tenor, or just looking for something good to watch, it would be a sorry mistake to pass this up. As far as I'm concerned 'Paprika' is altogether great, and I'm happy to give it my very high and hearty recommendation!

The Lathe of Heaven (1980 TV Movie)

A solid, compelling TV movie sci-fi adaptation

[8/10 · 1 June 2024]

For all the grandeur and whimsy that studios can deliver with multi-million dollar extravagance, it seems sometimes as if filmmakers have forgotten what actually makes viewers flock to cinema. Movies can be entertaining, thought-provoking, thrilling, or impactful with even the most limited resources; all that is necessary is earnest effort and care, and as such even amateur filmmakers can do great things. On a reported budget of well under one million dollars, largely making use of location filming, and even while betraying its more modest nature as a feature made for television, filmmakers David Loxton and Fred Barzyk churned out a work of science fiction that is compelling and disturbing. The effects are modest, and the tone, pacing, and direction at large do reflect the boundaries in which this operated, but even as much is suggested rather than seen - well, that is the ideal, isn't it? We neither want nor need to have every last detail specifically visualized for us as an audience, not any more than we want or need a series of sequels to explore the origin story of every iconic character. When the first major calamitous event transpires in this adaptation of Ursula K. Le Guin's novel, we don't need a montage of blood, gore, and death; a symbolic rendering is more than sufficient, and ultimately may be more effective. 'The lathe of heaven' may not be a total revelation, but nearly forty-five years later it continues to stand tall with a power that all the most grandiose genre flicks of subsequent years can scarcely touch.

Dreams have been the playground for storytellers since humans first began passing down myths and legends, but even as they have provided the foundation for many dazzling sci-fi or fantasy films, there remain relatively few that completely wrap themselves up in the unreal as this does. To much the same point, relatively few films toy as completely and relentlessly as this does with its internal sense of reality. At its most extreme this can make for a challenging viewing experience, yet with strong scene writing and a firm, cohesive narrative - a credit to Le Guin, yes, but surely also to screenwriters Roger Swaybill and Diane English - the proceedings remain grounded, and highly engaging. True, in addition to dabbling with conflicting philosophies, there are very familiar root thoughts in the tale of the responsibility that comes with power, and the unintended ramifications that well-meaning desires can produce. I would also say that while by and large Swaybill and English did a fine job of adapting Le Guin's book to the necessarily condensed format of a different medium, maintaining the spirit of her prose if not the letter, in the back end especially it seems as if additional material therefrom is being added in a manner that makes the audiovisual representation a tad more unwieldy. Shrewdly reduced and streamlined as this TV movie is in imparting a story of reality-altering dreams, part of me wonders if it might not have been reduced a smidgen more to tighten the narrative as it presents.

All this is kind of just splitting hairs, however, because when all is said and done there's not much arguing that 'The lathe of heaven' is a terrific feature that holds up splendidly. The locations used for various settings here are gorgeous and all but otherworldly, yet still remain suitably little known such that unless one otherwise has reason to recognize them (e.g., living in the greater Dallas-Fort Worth region) our suspension of disbelief is easily maintained. All those behind the scenes turned in splendid work to bring this yarn to vivid life, from production design and art direction, to costume design, hair, and makeup, and I rather wonder just how much of the budget actually went to the vanity artists. Those effects that are employed are swell just as they are while ably lending to the experience, and the sharp contributions of cinematographer Robbie Greenberg and editor Dick Bartlett only further bolsters the presentation. Above all, between Swaybill and English's screenplay and Loxton and Barzyk's direction, some facets of the plot are realized in a gratifyingly smart fashion that circumvents any concerns for the budgetary limitations of the production. Factor in excellent, steady performances from Bruce Davison, Kevin Conway, and Margaret Avery, and the result is really quite well done all told. Yes, it has some moments that are weaker by comparison, yet in a medium that isn't generally known for as high a level of quality as its Silver Screen brethren, the fact in variably remains that this title is roundly solid.

Unless one has particular impetus to watch I don't know that I'd go so far as to say this is a must-see; it isn't necessarily a perfect adaptation of Le Guin's novel, and even if one is especially invested in fare that plays with dreams and reality, the doing here may not be its utmost selling point. 'The lathe of heaven' nevertheless stands admirably tall as a minor classic of science fiction, with ideas bigger than the scope of this one production, and it's well worth checking out if one has the opportunity.

Cabin Boy (1994)

Some good ideas are sunk by low-brow comedy that earns no laughs

[2/10 · 31 May 2024]

From the time this was released the only thing I heard about it was bad word of mouth. I was not the person then that I am today, so I immediately put out of my mind any notion of watching. Fast forward thirty years and I figure it's time that I saw it for myself: How bad could it be? Is that reputation really deserved? There are some noteworthy people involved, and filmmaker Adam Resnick and star and co-writer Chris Elliott both got notice for their work with David Letterman; that has to count for something, right? Unfortunately, no sooner than it begins does 'Cabin boy' begin to show its nature, and the fact of the matter is that at all times this movie is either hopelessly dull, utterly obnoxious, or so utterly obnoxious that it becomes hopelessly dull. I suppose there was potential in the concept, which basically boils down to the classic "fish out of water" comedic scenario, but Resnick and Elliott somehow fashioned a screenplay around that scenario that strips away all its humor. At best this flick is a dud, and at worst it's actively aggravating.

With sufficient wit and mindful tact, most all the elements herein have produced fine success elsewhere. No such intelligence or care was employed in these eighty minutes, however, and so the closest the film comes to earning a laugh (and still failing to do so) was within the earliest scenes with a cameo by Letterman. As it stands the picture is flush with a rotten mean streak even outside the presenting strains of classism, sexism, sexual harassment, ableism, fatphobia, homophobia, and other ugly odds and ends; whether swarthy or smarmy, characters are wholly unlikable, and are given tiresome dialogue, while the intended humor is further characterized by oafish boorishness and juvenile puerility, buffoonish raucousness for its own sake, satirical elements bereft of the requisite cleverness, childish gross-out gags and sheer tawdry cartoonishness, and jokes that are broadly too empty-headed to curry any favor. In other titles some animated, committed performances might feed into the comedy, but it is first necessary that the comedy can otherwise stand on its own legs. The same goes for bare-faced, low-grade "effects," plainspoken inauthenticity, and overall production values that hover somewhere between "live television" and "unsophisticated, simple-minded live-action children's TV." More than not the "comedy" is so crude that it's really more fitting for a kids' movie, yet the "comedy" is also too adult for young viewers.

I suppose the production design and art direction are admirable, and the practical effects; the costume design, hair, and makeup are swell. The lighting is unexpectedly nice, too. I think there are actually some really great ideas in the script with the blend of fantasy and comedy in a setting that's sort of modern but also sort of generic with seeming anachronisms, and I could see the root ideas being appropriate even for the more fanciful side of silent cinema (e.g., Max Linder's 'The Three Must-Get-Theres'). Truthfully, the overarching vibe that the feature carries rather reminds of the animation or live-action fare seen on Cartoon Network's famous Adult Swim programming block: works in which low, humble production values and unfunny jokes are a deliberate backhanded move, part and parcel of an ironic sense of humor. With that in mind, in some measure maybe 'Cabin boy' was just ahead of its time, not least as it puts some recognizable stars (above all Melora Walters and Russ Tamblyn) in ridiculous scenes that by all reason should be insulting or even offensive. Even if we generously take this view, however, it still remains that the sum total is too emptily crass, vulgar, and unclever, and in all earnestness, I didn't laugh once. That is the one thing we typically demand of comedies, and this fails to meet that low bar.

I don't believe this film to be wholly rotten; I see the potential it had, and what it does do well. I regret to say, though, that "what it does do well" is not comedy of the kind that will appeal to any but the most base of viewers, or members of the audience who are actually too young to be sitting for it. The production is a mixed bag of bits that haven't aged well, bits that are too low-brow, and ingenuity the world hadn't quite accepted, all executed in a manner too soft to have any impact anyway. Alas. There are far worse things you could watch, but it turns out that this picture's poor reception was pretty much right on target. I think I'm glad for those who get more out of it than I did, but having now seen it for myself, I won't ever have a need to see 'Cabin boy' again.

Harakiri (1962)

An exquisite, essential, masterpiece of a classic; an absolute must-see treasure

[10/10 · 30 May 2024]

It's gently paced, and by and large carries itself with a tone that's even softer. While we do get everything we expect out of a jidaigeki film, and still more particularly of samurai films, the preponderance of the length is defined by quiet, reserved scenes of dialogue, with the predominant focus being squarely on the meticulous, careful nuance of the acting, cinematography, and direction. Beyond even all this, the tale on hand is one of utmost despairing tragedy, the sort that should make any thinking, feeling person blanche in horror, yet on account of the precise, supremely mindful approach taken to the storytelling and film-making, the picture is less likely to evoke the emotions one would assume. Yet none of this is accidental. 'Harakiri' was shaped with only the very highest degree of skill and intelligence, an indefatigable purposefulness that meets or exceeds all points of comparison, and any possible expectations. The patient, thoughtful viewer is rewarded with an exquisite masterpiece that in my opinion meets or exceeds any standard one might carry in mind for cinema. This is without question one of the greatest movies ever made, putting to shame the vast majority of anything that has ever been generously granted such a label.

'Harakiri' is perfect. Every note in the increasingly sparing original score of Takemitsu Toru is deployed with an ingenuity that complements, reinforces, and amplifies the hushed yet spellbinding drama that unfolds. Impeccable sound design makes even soft footfalls inspire as the brilliant, fastidious choices that they are amidst the craftsmanship. Rarely has an editor deserved praise more than Sagara Hisashi, for rarely have I so plainly been able to recognize the finesse and artistry that film editing might boast in the hands of a wizard. Miyajima Yoshio's cinematography is rich, crisp, and vivid, smartly visualizing every detail for us in a manner that both accentuates the drama and bolsters the artistry that overflows in the vision of filmmaker Kobayashi Masaki. To date I can't claim to be familiar enough with Kobayashi to speak directly to any point of comparison, yet in watching this feature I'm pointedly reminded of Kurosawa Akira, a man known for his perfectionism - be it true or not, I detect the same level of painstaking diligence in Kobayashi's work here, and that is only the highest of compliments. All this is to say nothing of those facets that more commonly earn praise, like the gorgeous sets and filming locations, lovely costume design, hair and makeup, and props and weapons, and vibrant choreography, stunts, and effects. Yet incredibly, flawless as these facets are, they just aren't the first to catch one's attention.

Given the overall tenor of this title one could be forgiven for not being immediately swept away by the acting, itself mostly understated and restrained. Like all else here, however, there is stupendous subtlety in the performances that belies the searing drama of the saga and the fervency of the underlying emotions. All involved - not least Iwashita Shima, Mikuni Rentaro, Ishihama Akira, and especially star Nakadai Tatsuya - are to be congratulated for momentously strong portrayals that bring their characters to such stark life in the realization of so gripping a tale. And with all this firmly in mind, it is a tremendous credit to Kobayashi, to producer Hosoya Tatsuo, and to every contributor, above all Hashimoto Shinobu in adapting Takiguchi Yasuhiko's novel, that the story here is so incredibly powerful and impactful. I sat to watch with no foreknowledge save for the film's reputation, and I am altogether stunned. The low-key tack adopted throughout most of these 133 minutes allows the dialogue, scene writing, and narrative to speak entirely for themselves, slowly laying the groundwork and stirring the pot while building to a terrible crescendo quite unlike any other. The premise seems simple as down-and-out ronin Tsugumo approaches the Iyi clan with a request to commit harakiri, and first explains the course of events that led him to this juncture. What unfolds instead, through intermittent cuts to flashback and to the active plot, is a deeply absorbing and compelling story that through to the end only becomes more dour and dispiriting.

Moreover, through the framework of that story, Kobayashi and Hashimoto latch onto bigger ideas and themes that reverberate like a thunderclap and which remain infuriatingly relevant to our modern world. 'Harakiri' is, at its core, a fiery, strident, cleverly devised manifesto. This is nothing if not a vehement condemnation of the adoption of symbols by movements, subcultures, and broader societies, and of the dogmatic codes that zealously cling to those symbols while not just forsaking reason, compassion, and humanity, but also the very values and principles that such symbols and codes are purported to represent and ensure. In some measure I'm reminded of Abel Gance's 1919 epic anti-war classic 'J'accuse': this may specifically target the practices and code of honor of the samurai, but Kobayashi's ferocious statement applies just as equally to any society that puts some emblem on a pedestal - a flag, a ribbon, an ideal - and whether in word or on paper enshrines a system (codes, laws) that emptily prioritizes such emblems and uses it as a shield, a thin veil, to mask horrid, harmful, iniquitous behavior. That the picture does all this while also demonstrating expert craftsmanship, telling a riveting story, and embracing magnificent artistry, can only mean that the end result is a treasure with precious, precious few works that can call it kin.

This has been on my list to watch for a long time, and I anticipated enjoying it, but I am completely taken aback by what has actually greeted me. I'm aghast that it's taken me so long to see it; I'm almost heartbroken and offended that it's not widely held in much higher regard, and more routinely recognized. As far as I'm concerned the sum total is in every way a piece of cinema beyond all reproach, with fantastically shrewd notions at every turn. Even the climax and the ending defy our assumptions: we get action violence, but tactfully dispensed and cut such that it is as artistic as it is exciting; Tsugumo is a virtuous protagonist, and a fierce warrior, but he is not a "one-man army" who will tirelessly cut down all his foes; there is a patient deliberateness in the climax that flies in the face of the hard-charging bombast that characterizes much modern fare; the flick concludes with a denouement that bucks the norms and standards of much of cinema, further cementing the central themes while resolving the plot in a fashion that is at once both satisfying and upsetting. What here is less than superlative? In my estimation the answer is "nothing." For various reasons this may not readily appeal to all comers, and strictly speaking we all have different personal preferences where movies are concerned. Be that as it may, there is no doubt in my mind that this is one of the very best features in all of cinema, and it would be an awful mistake to pass up an opportunity to watch. 'Harakiri' is a truly essential classic that's well worth seeking out however one must, and I'm happy to give it my very, very highest, heartiest, most enthusiastic recommendation!

Doughboys (1930)

Overall solidly enjoyable, if not without distinct faults and points meriting discussion

[8/10 · 29 May 2024]

On the one hand, by one means or another many in the film industry who enjoyed tremendous success in the silent era saw their fortunes change upon the advent of talkies, and even icon Buster Keaton was not immune. On the other hand, 'Doughboys' has been remarked as one of Keaton's great successes, and was accordingly regarded by the man himself as the best movie he made within what he otherwise came to recognize as an ill-advised contract with MGM. How does this 1930 picture hold up more than ninety years later? It doesn't take long for us to find out, and I'm very happy to say that this really is just as reliably fun as we would expect of the star at his legendary best. Pretty much right from the start we get healthy doses of clever situational humor, robust gags and physical comedy, witty dialogue, and outright silliness, not to mention exaggerated characterizations and animated performances. With Keaton adopting a slight variation of the soft-spoken, well-meaning dope that he played so well in the likes of 'The Navigator' and 'Go west,' and all others deftly playing opposite, the result is terrifically fun!

Granted, no few points are deserving of criticism, or at least hearty discussion. In a manner not uncommon to other early sound titles, there are times when the tone, pacing, and direction generally are extra soft within a scene - giving the impression that filmmaker Edward Sedgwick, the cast, and the crew were still figuring out how comedy worked with sound. In such instances the energy and humor are dampened to some small extent, and strictly speaking the audio is sometimes a tad muddled. Conversely, we get early examples of the unsophisticated dullness of "noise and raucousness for its own sake" as intended humor, taking advantage of new sound technology in the least meaningful way. There's also something to be said for glorifying the military, making light of the abusiveness of drill sergeants and the rigid discipline of the military, and cheerfully toying with a dark period in world history; there's a backwards, morbid levity in lampooning "The Lost Generation." Just as modern superhero flicks can and should be scrutinized for their unthinking elevation of the military, it's worth critically analyzing such matters even (especially) in comedy.

Dissect the feature as we may, however, 'Doughboys' has no aim but to entertain, and it does so most stupendously. The stunts herein are perhaps fewer and more modest than those Keaton is famous for, but they are absolutely a joy just as they are. Him and haw as we may about the particulars, this really does carry marvelous, vibrant electricity about it, and the supporting cast are just as splendid in embracing that spirit, including Sally Eilers and Edward Brophy,among others. The writing team deliver fantastic scene writing and dialogue within the framework of a narrative that ably weaves together wartime drama and the classic comedic scenarios of a dim-witted protagonist stumbling into one quandary after another, including romance and enlistment. And all those operating underappreciated behind the scenes turn in outstanding contributions across the board: stunts, effects, action sequences, and choreography; highly detailed sets, and sharp costume design, hair, and makeup; and even some smart lighting, cinematography, and editing. To whatever degree the title faced some difficulties with new techniques and technology, much more than not Sedgwick's direction is as excellent as we should suppose of so esteemed a filmmaker, tying all the odds and ends together with keen, mindful vision.

And hey, say what one will about how cinema regularly treats war and the military, there are also points herein that shrewdly poke fun at "military intelligence" and the most daft aspects of warfare and allegiances. I think it's also true that, not least given some issues with pacing and comedic timing, a mere eighty minutes still feel a smidgen longer than they should. No matter how much we find fault with one element or another, though, I don't think there's much disputing how funny and enjoyable 'Doughboys' is at large. The viewing experience may be a tad uneven, but overall this is a pleasure, and we can hardly ask for more. I'd stop short of saying the film is a must-see like some of Keaton's other works, yet whether one is specifically a fan or just looking for something good to watch, I'm happy to give 'Doughboys' my solid recommendation.

I Live in Fear (1955)

Softly but definitively impactful; an underappreciated gem

[9/10 · 27 May 2024]

It isn't necessarily outwardly impressive, and compared to those titles that Kurosawa Akira is best known for, this drama centered tightly on one family seems rather common at first blush. Yet however it might appear from the outside looking in there is meaningful, deeply impactful substance within, and in its own way the picture is just as striking as anything else the man has made. His period pieces tend to get all the glory, yet in the contemporary tale of one family, and the elderly patriarch desperately fearful of the atom bomb, Kurosawa gives us a different sort of movie that ultimately hits just as hard, if not more so. Despite myself I sat with some mixed expectations, but I should have known better, and 'I live in fear' is another outstanding classic from one of the world's greatest filmmakers.

As if one should ever harbor doubts about Kurosawa in any manner, this film is generally well made in every capacity. The sets and costume design may not be the sort to wholly capture the imagination, nor the cinematography or selectively employed music, but every facet is ably crafted and serves the whole well. While the utmost perfectionism and fastidiousness the filmmaker is known for isn't necessarily on full display as it would be in later works (e.g., building a whole town for 'Red Beard'), one can rest assured that his direction remains as reliably terrific as ever. Given the nature of the feature, here that predominantly means guiding the cast in their performances, and it's safe to say that all involved are fantastic. Some actors may stand out more than others, including Negishi Akemi as young mistress Asako, Miyoshi Eiko with her reserved acting as Toyo, and likewise Shimura Takashi with his soft-spoken portrayal of Dr. Harada. Of any player participating, though, it's impossible not to take note of icon Mifune Toshiro, starring as beleaguered Nakajima Kiichi. For a figure of Japanese cinema who is usually so instantly recognizable, 35-year old Mifune is completely unrecognizable as he disappears into this role. That's partly a credit to the hair and makeup artists, certainly, yet Mifune deftly shifts his physicality into the hunched posture and hobbled gait of an old man, and if one didn't have the benefit of outside context we wouldn't know it was him. Be that as it may, Mifune's impassioned delivery and personality remain intact, and for all that there is to appreciate in these 100-odd minutes, he is foremost.

Not to count out anyone else who helped bring 'I live in fear' to fruition, but even more than Mifune's disappearing act it's easily the screenplay that ultimately holds the most power here. The basic premise is fairly straightforward, and within the concept of anxiety in the Atomic Age leaves plenty of room for a broader tableau to start to take shape. The flick specifically speaks to the recent horrors inflicted upon Japan at the conclusion of World War II, the emergence of nuclear weapons, and the all too reasonable apprehension of annihilation. To whatever extent these thoughts may be universal, however, the narrative as it presents draws upon a wider array of ideas that absolutely broaches the modern human experience. The story is one of conflict within a family, with court mediators standing in for the larger community or society that may play a part in facilitating discussion or resolving such conflict. There are questions at play of when fear and anxiety crosses over into concerning or harmful behavior, or mental illness; the agency and rights an individual may have under such circumstances, their responsibility to others, and the agency and rights of those around them; and what role society can or should play to manage, in any degree or fashion, the difficulties of such scenarios. As such notions remain despairingly relevant seventy years on, if not always with the same details, the question also lingers of just what an appropriate response is to a world that has gone mad. While 'I live in fear' lacks the spectacle of 'Kagemusha' or 'Ran,' as the core comes into focus it is just as strongly absorbing, and at length, just as worthy.

Typical verbiage such as "enjoyable," "satisfying," or even "rewarding" carry too positive a connotation to apply to a picture of this tenor, not least as the course of events quietly comes to a head in the last act. The sum total definitely leaves a lasting mark, however, and while this isn't as famous as Kurosawa's many other masterpieces, it unmistakably belongs among that same lofty company. I can understand how it won't appeal to all comers, and it rather goes without saying that it's downbeat and depressing, yet for those who are receptive to the material, 'I live in fear' continues to stand as a title of consequence, and it's very much worth seeking out on its own merits. Kurosawa again proves that his legendary reputation is completely deserved, and I'm glad to give 'I live in fear' my high and hearty recommendation.

The Leopard (1963)

An excellent, softly compelling classic

[8/10 · 27 May 2024]

From a standpoint purely of its visual presentation, this is a stunningly beautiful film. For that we have many and much to thank, from the exceptional filming locations, to the grand production design and art direction, not to mention exquisite costume design, hair, makeup, and even lighting. Between Luchino Visconti's impeccable vision as director, and Giuseppe Rotunno's smart, vibrant cinematography, most every shot and scene to greet us is orchestrated with an artistry and finesse that is deeply pleasing. Factor in the glorious mid-century Technicolor, a contemporary process that routinely captures the imagination more than modern film-making techniques often do, and 'The leopard' is flush with beautiful aesthetics that make these three hours go down very easily. Superb, nuanced acting, and judicious employment of splendid stunts and effects as the narrative requires, are just excellent bonuses, and likewise Nino Rota's lovely original music. Whatever else is true of this picture, the viewing experience is smooth and flavorful to behold.

With all that gorgeous splendor well in mind, there remains the question of the storytelling. I fully recognize the high esteem in which Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's novel has been held, and to much the same extent Visconti's cinematic adaptation, and I understand why. I also believe there is a certain variety of historical drama that loses its power when the audience who sits for it is not steeped in the same culture, heritage, and history, and this is perhaps even more true where gentle pacing and a soft tone define the plot and its development. There is strong value in the saga of Italy at a time of much sociopolitical upheaval, with focus on the ruling class who may occasionally demonstrate wisdom and meaningful rumination, and who at least as often show themselves to be, in one fashion or another, a disparate assemblage of despicable toads. The extent of that value may vary considerably from one viewer to the next, and it is surely those who are somehow personally invested in Italy and its history who will get the most out of this celebrated classic.

I appreciate 'The leopard.' I am also just aware that, at least for me, its pointedly muted approach to the material, and to the themes and bigger ideas on hand, reduce the weight and impact thereof, even as they remain sadly germane to our world of 160 years later. Don Corbera is a figure whose stature, prominence, and relevance are slowly fading in the light of the new society that is emerging with its own decadence and corrupting influence, and at its core the tale is bittersweet if not altogether wryly sorrowful. I feel, however, that this does not especially come to bear until the ballroom sequence that dominates much of the last hour, and even as Burt Lancaster quietly shines in this last portion with an utterly phenomenal, understated performance of nuanced emotional depth, I find myself wanting that the whole had been navigated with an equal level of adroit focus and mindfulness. All told I greatly admire this feature, and it's just that it doesn't completely hold the same significance for me as it clearly and reasonably has for many others. For the ardor of its craftsmanship alone this remains upstanding and well worth checking out, and I see the marvelous substance that lies at the heart of the story; I just wish that said substance were more plainly tangible to me. Yet if I at all sound unenthusiastic, please don't mistake that tenor in my words for a lack of respect, honor, or fondness: him and haw as we may about the particulars, 'The leopard' is a movie whose reputation is well deserved, and I'm glad to give it my firm recommendation.

Murder on the Orient Express (1974)

Solidly enjoyable, though individual experiences may somewhat vary

[8/10 · 26 May 2024]

I mean no disrespect to other actors when I say that David Suchet is so closely associated with Hercules Poirot that it's hard to imagine other stars in the role. Even Peter Ustinov had a notably different interpretation in the several films where he played the Belgian; what about Albert Finney? What about that otherwise enormous cast of very recognizable names and faces? And just how would Sidney Lumet's adaptation of Agatha Christie's novel stack up in general, regardless of possible comparison to all the others out in the world? Thankfully we don't need to concern ourselves too much with these questions, for while it is possible to do wrong by Christie (see 1988's 'Appointment with death,' or rather, maybe don't), it's relatively hard to do so, and with her writing as reliable foundation we can trust in this 'Murder on the Orient Express' being a firmly enjoyable murder mystery.

Granted, "reliable foundation" and "firmly enjoyable" do not mean "perfect," or in the very least, there may be various odds and ends with which one may take issue based on personal preference and/or comparison to other iterations of Poirot. For my own tastes, I'm not particularly fond of Finney's portrayal of the famous detective. As a character he is a man with a brilliant mind, with tastes and behaviors ranging from refined, to idiosyncratic, to peculiar. Suchet played him with a wry disposition, a certain lack of sociability, and a temperament that became more severe upon provocation; Ustinov lent him a more congenial or even jovial flair. Finney, meanwhile - whole and committed as his performance is - rather makes Poirot come off just as, well, an offensive little goblin. There, I said it. Maybe Finney's Poirot is closer to Christie's than Suchet's, I cannot pretend to know to a certainty, but I do know that Finney's Poirot comes off as an investigator more suited for what I know of Monty Python than for what I know of Christie. As Christie accordingly took exception to Finney's mustache in this 1974 movie, maybe she would have agreed.

Other matters nag at me, too, like part of Richard Rodney Bennett's score. While at large it is fine complement for the proceedings, the buoyant theme employed while the train is in motion suggests that Julie Andrews is about to swoop in with an umbrella and break into song; the tone clashes. Especially given Finney's interpretation of Poirot, the zeal of the Belgian's assertions feel out of character to me as the script attributes five deaths to the villain. Perhaps this is a reflection of the values of Christie's time, of philosophy, and in turn of semantics, but my own count is rather different, and with that disparity the manner in which these thoughts are treated here rubs me the wrong way. Further, I would suggest that while overall the writing is solid - how could it not be, as Paul Dehn adapted Christie's novel? - the fact is that generally speaking, I just don't feel that this picture makes a major impression. It's well done at large, certainly, yet it was only with the very, very last scene that I found myself sitting upright, wishing to congratulate Lumet for the insight that produced this moment. True, other titles can't claim even one such moment, but this doesn't change the fact that I don't find 'Murder on the Orient Express' to be as completely absorbing as one might commonly hope of cinema.

But maybe I'm nitpicking. Lumet, Dehn, the cast, and the crew have given us an ably entertaining murder mystery, with characters that are broadly well-written and a protagonist whose keen intellect allows him to piece together the truth from only scattered, disparate scraps. The story is compelling and capably assembled, the many esteemed actors on hand give commendable performances, and some particulars aside, Lumet's direction is excellent. All those operating behind the scenes turned in terrific work, not least the costume design, to bring this sordid tale to life; I quite appreciate Geoffrey Unsworth's cinematography and Anne V. Coates' editing, as well. We can discuss the value of specific elements, and how much we think they do or do not fit as they present, but the very least that can be said is that the feature is very good. The exact level of esteem with which one is inclined to regard this will vary, and for my part I'm not especially enthusiastic, but it remains well worth checking out. Whether one has a special impetus to watch or is just looking for a good time, 'Murder on the Orient Express' holds up fairly well, with the caveat that some bits and bobs won't necessarily meet with the same favor.

Madame Web (2024)

Too much poor writing and too many poor creative decisions sap away its potential

[3/10 · 25 May 2024]

Ever the age-old question when a new release quickly flounders and earns a poor reputation: how bad could it be? After a certain point it's not enough to read about such works, and we have to see them for ourselves. While this was the first full-length feature for director S. J. Clarkson, she has enjoyed a full career in television. Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless' screenplay for 2016's 'Gods of Egypt' notably had its issues, though it wasn't the biggest problem in that film, and anyway I remember enjoying their work on 'The last witch hunter.' Whatever one thinks of other movies they've been in, there are some fairly respected actors here. And on the one hand, while Sony's live-action superhero fare has been met with mixed reception, it's not like they're totally incompetent - after all, they've churned out two of the best superhero flicks ever made in 'Into the Spider-Verse' and 'Across the Spider-Verse.' All this is to say that at least based on its building blocks, 'Madame Web' probably had chances that were just about even. Unfortunately, once we sit to watch, in no time the viewing experience becomes rather laborious, and with a runtime of nearly two hours, one thing we have to be thankful for is that this isn't longer like too many of its kin.

I suppose it's possible that if someone is an especial fan of comic book movies then this might meet with more favor in their eyes. By the same token, I pretty well tired of action blockbusters a few years ago, and just completely gave up on the "Marvel Cinematic Universe" in 2018, so maybe I'm more prone to harsh judgment of a like-minded title. In absolute fairness, I see the potential that this had. While it's flush with superhero flavors, the core narrative is a thriller about precognitive visions and the protection of three young people who will important in the future; other pieces have played in this space to swell success. Some intended humor actually does earn a laugh. Clarkson's direction is technically competent, I find no fault with the actors in and of themselves, and this is well made from the standpoint of all those contributions from behind the scenes: stunts, effects, computer-generated imagery, costume design, hair, makeup, cinematography, editing, sound, Johan Söderqvist's original score, and so on and so on. All this is well and good, so what is it that troubles 'Madame Web?' However skilled the participants may be in and of themselves, their efforts here were guided by questionable creative choices, and above all, this film is woefully heavy-handed, and in no time becomes all too exhausting.

I am someone who loves watching pictures. I'll watch almost anything, and it's how I spend the majority of my free time. Too often this picture feels like a personal attack on me as a cinephile; I intermittently had to pause for several minutes to collect myself just because I felt overwhelmed by the presentation. From the opening scene onward, far more than not the writing is gawkily forthright and unsubtle, and oppressively emphatic - in its exposition, dialogue, scene writing, characterizations, the plot and its development, contemporary references and allusions to the early 2000s setting, nods to broader comic book lore, and too much of the humor (that is, those bits that don't land). I don't know where the culpability lies between Sazama, Sharpless, Clarkson, and co-writer Claire Parker, but the incidence is all too notable. That same gawky, forthright, unsubtle, oppressive, emphatic tack is subsequently applied to or infects a great deal of other facets throughout the runtime: the soundtrack, the acting, Clarkson's orchestration of scenes as director, Mauro Fiore's cinematography, Leigh Folsom Boyd's editing, the CGI, action sequences, the manner in which Cassie's visions are employed, the more fantastical costume designs, and more. Even in some quieter moments, like a "confrontation" early in the latter half between Cassie and Ezekiel, 'Madame Web' is a lot to take in and try to process, and not in a good way.

It's not wholly rotten. More than not I think the root story is fine and interesting. There are some nice touches here and there, kernels of welcome earnestness, and some admirable themes and bigger ideas. While the entirety does force the actors into some small corners, in the best moments where their abilities shine through I think the cast go a long way in making the feature palatable. The more judicious and mindful instances of editing and CGI are excellent, even where Cassie's visions are concerned, and likewise the other odds and ends; the filming locations and sets are generally splendid. Reading about the production I find myself pleased with the consideration and hard work that accordingly went into it in various ways, and I appreciate the sentiment, indicated in early press releases from Sony, that the endeavor would be a slightly different type of superhero flick, more of a "suspense-driven thriller." Even with loads of action that tenor truly is brought to bear in my opinion, a refreshing change of pace from the overbearing popcorn flicks of Marvel and DC, and I'd even go so far as to say that 'Madame Web' is surely stronger in its second half; it seems apparent that there comes a point where more care was taken, and my favor is restored to some degree. I see what the title genuinely does well.

I don't think this is absolutely awful. I think the harder it tries, and the more grandiose it tries to be, especially at the climax, the more it stumbles. The more it steps away from the "suspense-driven thriller" and toward "superhero action blockbuster," the more it struggles; the more it layers on the sentimentality (not least in the denouement), the more it raises a skeptical eyebrow. There is, in fact, a decent amount of value here, yet through to the end it remains true that wide swaths of the viewing experience are sadly gawky, forthright, unsubtle, oppressive, and emphatic. Listen, I love The Cranberries, but the use of their song over the end credits literally made me cringe. 'Madame Web' is a rickety roller coaster from desperately heavy-handed for a preponderance of the first hour, to more reserved and thoughtful in a fair stretch of the second half, and regrettably, back to desperately heavy-handed in its last few scenes. Had all gone well with this production, and had it been uniformly approached in the same measured fashion, I think I would have very much liked this, and maybe even looked forward to future stories with these characters. As it stands, I want to like the result more than I do, but I'm having difficulty mustering further kind feelings. I'm glad for those who get more out of it than I do; for those who engage honestly with it, and step away disliking it even more, I understand. When all is said and done I can't bring myself to hate 'Madame Web' - I'm just sorry that everyone involved took a swing, made some miscalculations, and missed, with disastrous consequences. My best wishes for all who had a hand in this, and may they bounce back and/or redeem themselves in due course.

The Third Man (1949)

A superb, enduring classic

[9/10 · 24 May 2024]

I must say, I find myself surprised. This film carries an extremely high reputation, and moreover carries the very high favor and recommendation of people I know, and while I sat to watch with no foreknowledge, it's not what I had supposed it might be sights unseen. Anton Karas' music, greeting us from the outset, is utterly brilliant and ultimately marvelously effective, yet couldn't be further from the norm for crime thriller or film noir with its softly melodic and often upbeat chords. Except where they are specifically employed to artistic ends to bolster the shot composition I don't necessarily think much of those famous, proliferate, dramatic Dutch angles - I can easily envisage a parody, and it's not too far removed - yet with that said, at large this is plainly stupendous in how it was shot. Between the stunning filming locations, exquisite use of lighting and shadow, Robert Krasker's fantastically smart cinematography, and Carol Reed's truly impeccable direction, wide swaths of 'The third man' could be picked out frame by frame and either hung on a wall or slapped inside a coffee table book, for it is crafted with a masterful sense of artistry that at its best is altogether breath-taking. And I freely admit I spent pretty much the first half of these 104 minutes rather unconvinced: even as shady suggestions pervaded each scene, at first the story of Holly's amateur investigation wasn't gelling in an especially hardy or compelling manner, and the seeming introduction of an obligatory romantic element only met with a tired sigh as a trope I often find decidedly thin.

Yet when the narrative does shift around the halfway mark, or shortly thereafter, the plot kicks into high gear and the increasingly becomes intensely absorbing. One important midway scene of exposition puts (most of) the first half into perspective, and from thereon the picture plainly dazzles in every capacity as the story heads toward its conclusion. Emotional beats hit harder, some ingenious subtlety shines through at select points, and just as Orson Welles once again affirms the presence and nuance he wielded as an actor, other core cast members Joseph Cotten, Alida Valli, and even Trevor Howard and Bernard Lee more readily impress with their performances. That romantic element is ultimately treated in a manner that is immensely satisfying, to the point that I wish other filmmakers could be so smart about it in their own works. Well made in general, with terrific contributions from all those behind the scenes, the lofty esteem in which the feature is held is firmly validated, and any discussion of 'The third man' becomes not one about its indisputable level of quality but personal perspectives on relative strengths and weaknesses - whatever that means, on an individual level, for something operating on this level. It's also important to observe how casually but definitively the movie speaks to post-war Vienna as celebrated writer Graham Greene very organically weaves glimpses of the period into the story and its characters, just as Reed and Krasker give us eyefuls of the city in the wake of the destructiveness of a few years before. And on a tangential note, it's very much worth observing that Welles' role is one that is readily, perfectly identifiable in 2024, which means that in addition to being altogether excellent the whole production continues to be horrifyingly relevant.

Those who had recommended this to me, or who have spoken of it in grand terms, do not jest. I think there are interesting points to raise of what is extra sharp here or perhaps not so sharp, but this is completely separate from the incontrovertible fact of how superb the title is when all is said and done. Others have written far more about 'The third man,' and more eloquently, but allow me as a layperson but an avid cinephile to confirm that this is continues to stand tall as an outstanding, greatly satisfying classic, and anyone who enjoys watching films owes it to themselves to watch at least once. That's really all there is to it.

Appointment with Death (1988)

Questionable creative decisions diminish its lasting value

[5/10 · 24 May 2024]

I admit I'm not as familiar with Agatha Christie as I would like to be, and where the inimitable Hercules Poirot is concerned it's David Suchet I know best. Christie's writing is generally so smart and vibrant, however, that I think it would be hard to do wrong by the Belgian, and other portrayals have plenty of their own merit. Peter Ustinov's Poirot, debuting in 1978's 'Death on the Nile,' is a less stringent and more jovial interpretation, and the screenwriting that serves as his vehicle has been solidly reliable on its own. Granted, given my lack of knowledge about the source material I can't remark on the faithfulness of this film to the 1938 novel. But with that in mind, even before getting to the heart of the feature something troubles me about this 1988 release. Beyond the horrid attitudes of no few of the characters I recognize a strong undercurrent of racism in how Arabs are depicted, treated, and spoken of in the picture, suggesting stereotypes and denigration. I don't know if this is present in Christie's novel also or if it is a product chiefly of the screenplay of filmmaker Michael Winner and co-writers Anthony Shaffer and Peter Buckman; what I do know is that this movie - which speaks in passing to the disastrous meddling of the British Empire in the Middle East, and to the forthcoming division of Palestine according to dubious Zionist ideations - was filmed in Israel, possibly in part in occupied territory, and during the last months of the Golan-Globus period of Cannon Films. In my mind all this raises vexing questions about the production.

Of course such matters do not reflect the core substance of 'Appointment with death,' yet unfortunately, my opinion is that the core substance is actually a more severe stumbling block for the flick. I've seen enough other adaptations of Christie to trust in her stories; all the actors in this star-studded cast have more than proven themselves elsewhere; of a few other works I've seen directed by Winner, I especially enjoyed 1977 horror classic 'The sentinel.' Be that as it may, I don't find the writing fully convincing. Poirot is a man with an impeccably keen mind, and in all Christie's tales of the detective it is not wholly unbelievable that a man of his intellect would commonly be able to piece together the thin scraps of mystery that point him to a murderer. Here, however, whether the responsibility belongs to Christie or - as I presume - to the writing team of Winner, Shaffer, and Buckman, I think the narrative that allows Poirot to assemble his case is too thin to hold water. It seems to me that the mustachioed maestro is entrusted in this script with superhuman perception and deductive abilities, not to mention the utmost favor of Lady Luck, to be able to identify the culprit as he inevitably does in the third act. It feels less that we can proclaim, in awe, "Wow, this man is smart!" and more that this slice of cinema requires its hero to resolve the plot in the manner to which we are accustomed, and in turn performs some magic to allow that to happen. The connective threads between all the varied pieces just feel weak to me.

But that's not all. We know the prototypical narrative arc for a murder mystery. We're introduced to the cast of characters, we discover their motivations and learn how they might all be suspects, and following the fatal event, an investigator will conduct interviews, build or allay suspicion, and possibly find additional murders taking place before the perpetrator is unveiled. In this feature it's striking that we're nearly halfway through before the anticipated murder is committed. Thereafter, as Poirot goes about exercising his "little grey cells," there comes a point when I realized the pacing of each scene, of the plot development, and of the sequencing had quietly, irritatingly accelerated, and somehow seemed to be accelerating further. During as much as 20-30 minutes of the runtime, I had to simply pause to collect myself for a couple minutes at several points, and at others actually rewind a tad because scenes and dialogue were flying past so quickly, all before things slowed down again to a digestible pace for the last small stretch.

And as if all this weren't quarrelsome enough, to be perfectly frank I have a big problem with Winner's direction in 'Appointment with death.' It's Winner's hand that forces the considerable dubious pacing in the latter half. It's Winner's direction that reduces Sir John Gielgud's already small supporting part to effectively a nominal inclusion. It's the filmmaker's guidance that realizes the screenplay with moments for almost every cast member of delivery, expression, movement, or otherwise execution that again and again raise a skeptical eyebrow. While Christie's novels already contain a fair bit of humor, under Winner's oversight there are some odds and ends that seem outright parodical - clashing with the otherwise tone and the nature of the material, exceeding the bounds of the normal touches of levity, and plainly losing my favor as the earnestness of the picture is diminished. Even Ustinov's performance as Poirot sometimes seems curiously cartoonish, and these strange choices persist through to the final scene that, especially with the closing theme from composer Pino Donaggio, feels less like the denouement of a Christie murder mystery and more like the the last scene from an episode of a family-friendly 90s sitcom like 'Step by step.'

The plot as it presents seems flimsy, and the writing at large questionable in some capacities, but I recognize value in the root story. I know what the cast is capable of, and Winner when he's at his best. I'm not so sure about the circumstances of the production in and of itself, but in terms of serving the story the filming locations are terrific. Those operating behind the scenes turned in splendid work in every regard. All told I do like this movie. I'm just sad to find it decidedly disappointing, with various creative decisions made that weigh heavily against the lasting value it can claim. All in all 'Appointment with death' is enjoyable in some measure, but I doubt that its most admirable qualities are the ones I'm apt to recall when I think back on it even a few days from now. I'm glad for those who get more out of this flick than I do. It's not nearly the best representation of either Poirot or Christie, though, and no matter what your impetus is for watching, there are surely better ways to spend your time.

Yellowbeard (1983)

It's disappointing, middling, and unexciting, but I don't really know why.

[5/10 · 23 May 2024]

Everything I read or heard about this film prior to watching suggested to me that it was going to be a messy hodgepodge. Light comparison to 'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world' didn't help, as I didn't care much for that feature; the fact that two stars have spoken of it in retrospect with verbiage like "one of the worst screenplays they'd read" and "the best times can be on the worst movies" was further strong warning. And then we sit to watch, and to be frank our doubts are rather swiftly validated. It's not that 'Yellowbeard' is outright bad overall - though it is very much outright bad at no few specific points, not least with appalling, frequent jokes about sexual assault. In fact, despite specific exceptions I rather see a great deal of wit throughout much of the screenplay credited to 'Monty Python' alumnus Graham Chapman with associates Bernard McKenna, David Sherlock, and Peter Cook. I recognize in this title that same rich sense of humor common to other works that the writers, and members of the extraordinary cast, have been a part of, and which themselves were fantastic. Despite its faults, it's not that I didn't enjoy 'Yellowbeard.' It's that in almost 100 minutes, even with all the advantages it had and the welcome, familiar strains of cleverness, I laughed only once. And under such circumstances, it's difficult to muster any enthusiasm.

What went wrong? Why did this picture fail where others have succeeded even as they boasted much the same qualities? There are the specific bad jokes, definitely, both the tawdry sort I mentioned and others, but many other bits - though coming up short in terms of earning laughs - are apt fun. The gratuitous nudity seen in El Nebuloso's fortress is a little tiresome, but this isn't remarkable in any way. Chapman's performance in the titular role tends to rely a bit too much on chewing of scenery and empty bluster, but on the other hand, all the many others on hand are generally just swell. There is arguably imbalance in the screenplay between heavy, busy plot and less emphatic, more natural manifestations of humor; then again, this isn't truly any different from the tenor adopted in some other fare that is regarded well. Mel Damski''s direction maybe seems too light and soft for its own good, sapping some vitality from the proceedings; then again, his approach is also not truly any different from that of others in similar fare, whether of comedy or adventure or both, that is regarded well. Meanwhile, this is well made in every capacity, including excellent stunts and effects; superb sets, costume design, hair, makeup, music, cinematography, and editing. All the ingredients are here for what should be a good time, and with some exceptions, all the ingredients here are quite suitable.

So why did I not laugh except at a single joke more than eighty minutes in? Why did all the other best bits elicit no reaction bigger than a small smile? Why does the intended comedy routinely fall desperately flat? Why does the action-adventure not excite? Why did 'Yellowbeard,' overflowing with esteemed luminaries among its contributors, stumble among both critics and viewers? The truth is that I really don't know. I watch these ninety-seven minutes and I see the marvelous potential it had; I see what it did genuinely do well. By all reason this flick should have been wonderfully entertaining - and instead it's no more than passably amusing. In light of such bizarre, inexplicable deficiency, I almost wonder if it's too generous to use terms like "middling" and "so-so." While it has distinct problems, I don't dislike this movie; I'm disappointed that it leaves me so non-plussed, and I'm flummoxed that I'm unable to identify more concrete flaws to explain its troubles. No doubt there are many folks out there who get far more from 'Yellowbeard' and think it's tremendously funny, as it should be, and I am sincerely happy for them. I wish I could say the same for myself. As it stands, this film is an okay way to spend one's time, but it should have been a terrific one, and there lies the issue. And with so many other features we could be watching instead, the reasons we have to tarry with this one are sadly few. Seek it out if you like, and it's best suggested for those who are major fans of the participants, but keep your expectations firmly in check and save it for an extra lazy day.

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (1990)

A smart, clever, & atypical sort of comedy

[9/10 · 23 May 2024]

I can say with a high degree of certainty that had I watched this years ago, after it had first been recommended to me, I probably would have hated it. The concept sounds delightful as a reimagining of 'Hamlet' from the perspective of two minor characters, and this is technically what we get. The concept also sounds like the setup for an outright farce, yet while 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead' does provide hearty doses of comedy, it is of a wry, dry, backhanded variety that is smarter, subtler, and less likely to appeal to the average viewer. In the spirit of what we would anticipate of a more highbrow stage play, where this originated in the hands of filmmaker Tom Stoppard, strictly speaking the humor relies far less on gags, situational humor, or exaggerated characters and animated performances (though we do get some of all these) than it does on absurdist twists on rhetoric, existential philosophizing, and boundaries of reality within an ostensibly historical and straightforward narrative universe; and the reactions of two unexpectedly shrewd yet still quite idle-minded figures on the sidelines as we see what they are up to when the plot of 'Hamlet' does not call for their presence.

The resulting picture is marvelously fun, and Stoppard is to be congratulated for an ingenious inversion both of our assumptions and of so timeless and classic a play. That remarkably intelligent, somewhat underhanded style of comedy is definitely the sort that would have completely gone over my head when I was younger, and it is exactly why those viewers who are receptive to the approach will find the movie (and I'm sure Stoppard's play in turn) to be a resounding success. Having had no foreknowledge this is not what I anticipated sights unseen, but I am all so glad to have been confounded. The writing is tremendously, astonishingly sharp in all capacities, as true of the characters and dialogue as of the scene writing and overall plot, and from the opening scene, to the Guildenstern and Rosencrantz's "entrance" to the castle; from the play within a play that foretells the remainder of 'Hamlet,' to the expanded, whimsical role of the unnamed leader of the theater troupe; from the periodic faithful insertions of Shakespeare, and all the way through to the end. As director Stoppard maintains a reserved, understated tone to allow that writing to speak entirely for itself - even Stanley Myers' flavorful score is sparing, with that same intent - and with his guidance the cast adopt a tenor in their acting that is impeccably steady along those same lines of warped earnestness. While it's just as true of all those in supporting parts, which is to say those roles that in 'Hamlet' itself are foremost, Tim Roth, Gary Oldman, and even Richard Dreyfuss are all a joy unto themselves in helping to bring this quirky tableau to fruition.

Yes, 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead' is idiosyncratic and unorthodox both in and of itself and in its treatment of the root tragedy, but it is superbly well made with a level of careful precision and fastidious care beyond what we may sometimes presume elsewhere. While Stoppard's writing is the thrumming core of the film the whole is excellent in all other regards, including terrific filming locations, exceptional production design and art direction, and fine consideration for costume design, hair, and makeup. Nicolas Gaster's editing is extra keen, an atypical highlight, and even the lighting is similarly adept at many junctures, let alone Peter Biziou's warm cinematography. Those stunts and effects that are employed, while few, are fantastic. Really, the title is just a pleasure all around, easy on both the eyes and ears. It may be the type of comedy that is quietly clever and intellectually stimulating more than that which outwardly inspires big laughs, but in its own sly way rest assured that this modern classic is indeed very funny. That all in all it can be both is obliquely exemplified by (a) its bookend use of Pink Floyd's "Seamus" and (b) the fact that one gets the firm impression we'd take more from it upon repeated viewings, and this makes the sum total even more satisfying.

Suffice to say that 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead' will not appeal to all comers, nor will it meet with equal favor from all. Yet it really is a wonderfully rich experience with few points of comparison. If you're receptive to all the wide variety that cinema has to offer (and the stage, for that matter), this is a brilliant picture that is not to be missed. I'd stop short of saying it completely demands viewership, but if you have the opportunity to watch this is well worth checking out!

The Singing Ringing Tree (1957)

A rich, joyful, underappreciated treasure

[10/10 · 23 May 2024]

It remains true even in 2024 that film-making techniques, technology, and sensibilities of the mid-twentieth century can at times shine more luminously than some modern titles do, even with all their advantages. Give me that glorious mid-century color processing, be it Technicolor, Eastmancolor, or the Agfacolor we see here, that allows the visuals to pop out in all their vibrant hues, over the realistic but often somewhat drab processing of more recent years. Give me those incredibly detailed hand-crafted sets and hand-painted backdrops any day over the most state-of-the-art computer-generated imagery that invariably looks dated over time. Some instances among the sets, costume design, hair, and makeup are a smidgen less remarkable than others, like the throne room, yet in general we can see the tremendous care that went into every odd and end, and the most beauteous examples - which by all means represent the lion's share - are nothing less than resplendent. To all this add original music that is at once fanciful, playful, and gratifyingly varied, crisp sound design, smart cinematography, and smooth, fluid editing, and even recognizing the relatively unsophisticated nature of this children's fairy tale, 'Das singende, klingende Bäumchen,' or 'The signing, ringing tree,' is a wonderful delight!

The story is simple with only the requisite minimum of characters, character writing, or otherwise rounding detail, yet this is the norm for a work of The Brothers Grimm or their literary brethren. That ethos, and the modest family-friendly tenor, are reflected in some facets including and not limited to the special makeup and non-human representations of characters, some practical effects, or the straightforward plot development. Yet for any viewer familiar with pictures of this variety, none of this is a surprise, and such qualities are in fact marvelously endearing. No matter how much we may deign to scrutinize this or that, the skill, intelligence, and care that went into the feature is plainly evident, from the screenplay with its strong scene writing, to Francesco Stefani's mindful direction, to the committed and spirited acting of Christel Bodenstein, Eckart Dux, and Richard Krüger, among others. Whether one's point of reference are similar flights of fancy from the United States, Soviet Union, Czechoslovakia, France, Mexico, or anywhere else, the kinship this shares with its contemporaries is obvious, welcome, and greatly satisfying, and 'Das singende, klingende Bäumchen' is a refreshing change of pace from more adult-oriented fare - and ultimately, truly no less entertaining.

The movie overflows with imagination and heart to match the hard work that went into it, and I could scarcely be more pleased with how enjoyable it is. If one really wants to find points to criticize one could do so; I'll suggest that when the princess meets an undesirable turn of events around halfway through, the change isn't remotely so drastic as the narrative would portend. At that point we're splitting hairs, however, and with a well-rounded plot that comes full circle in the back end, and some lovely, admirable themes in the tale to top it all off of humility, compassion, and empathy, the sum total is really just a joyful treasure when all is said and done. Being fond of some kindred fair I anticipated that I would like this flick, and still I'm all so happy with how richly absorbing, heartwarming, and fun it is, and at length, earnestly rewarding. I can understand how such fare won't appeal to all comers, yet I have a difficult time believing that anyone could watch and not have a good time in at least some measure. I, for one, quite adore 'Das singende, klingende Bäumchen,' and I'm glad to give it my high, hearty, enthusiastic recommendation to one and all!

The Singing Forest (2003)

Nothing can prepare you for how bewildering this movie is.

[2/10 · 22 May 2024]

I read the synopsis and was flabbergasted. Despite the film's extremely poor reputation my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to watch for myself. I was immediately taken aback by choices that were made in the first few minutes before the opening credits even finished flashing on-screen: a poem credited to the movie's protagonist (?); a short scene with a dubious introductory voiceover that also shows us in crystal-clear terms the low production values on hand; a montage behind the opening credits of historic photos from the Holocaust (excuse me?) and like images recreated for this production. And the very next scene lobs exposition at us with all the gracefulness of a hippopotamus on roller skates.

I had low expectations for 'The singing forest' and still I am plainly stunned. Please understand, on a situational basis I can forgive low production values including a fuzzy image, and muddled audio that's overwhelmed by ambient noise. I can even forgive the reflection of inexperience and/or low skill in other elements if the effort otherwise reflects earnest care and hard work. Filmmakers work with what they have, and I've seen some amateur horror flicks that were truly outstanding despite their outward shortcomings. Such deficiencies do sometimes make a viewing experience difficult, however, and beyond this, of far, far more concern is the fundamental construction of this feature. Even if we graciously, magnanimously look past what feels like a dire lack of skill or experience, this is painfully rough from the very start, and watching is a continuous journey of profound skepticism and persistent exclamations, as a viewer, of "wait, what?"

The cast, in no small part consisting of crew members pulling double duty, illustrate significant general inability. They do try to act, bless them. Some performers, like Erin Leigh Price, arguably come off better than others, but that's only saying so much; the more a scene requires of an actor, the worse they come off. In fairness, it's not necessarily their fault, because filmmaker Jorge Ameer illustrates direction for which the words like "amateur," "novice," and "greenhorn" are kind; for as unsteady, uncertain, unconfident, blunt, and overall meager as Ameer's direction is, one would never guess that he had been working in the medium for several years by this point. Much the same verbiage can be applied to the bare-faced cinematography, the curt and often perplexing editing, the wildly imbalanced sound in which soundtrack selections are grating on the ears, and more.

But the script. Oh, the script. The picture at large is flummoxing, yet for all those ways in which the picture struggles, Ameer's writing above all is astonishing in its ineptitude and woeful lack of credibility. The chief terms to use for the screenplay are "egregiously flimsy," "grossly heavy-handed," "all-around dubious," and "simply terrible." This goes for the quizzical dialogue, the bizarre scene writing, the empty characterizations, absolutely for the peculiar narrative broadly, the odd sequencing, and for all achingly gauche instances of plot development. Inasmuch as anything about the craftsmanship here could be called "crucial," there is a crucial plot point to come at about the 48-minute mark that left me repeatedly screaming in disbelief - and considering how confounding the screenplay is at pretty much all times, that's saying a lot. No matter what aspect of the writing we look to the "substance" is excruciatingly thin; it's one matter to read a plot synopsis, but the reality of how the story presents to us is, incredibly, much worse. Strictly speaking there are dramatic beats that, approached judiciously, should have emotional impact, but under any of the described circumstances, that just wasn't going to happen.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but it remains true that I've seen worse titles. I've seen the bottom of the barrel, and this isn't it. 'The singing forest' is so deeply questionable that it borders on problematic, but there is a faint sliver of sincerity that grounds the production despite all its many, many, breathtaking flaws and weaknesses. Still, for the level on which this operates, that doesn't get us very far. I'm gobsmacked; I know inevitably that I'm going to discuss this flick with other people, and when I do I don't know how I can meaningfully communicate just how bewildering it is. Save for the utmost curiosity of the avid cinephile I can't fathom any reason why another person might watch this, so the word "recommendation" never enters into the equation. All I can say is that if you do come across 'The singing forest,' and you're open to all the wide possibilities of cinema no matter how far-fetched or faulty, strap in and prepare as much as you can for one of the most baffling viewing experiences you're ever going to have.

Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls (2023)

A wonderfully fun horror-comedy, a terrific credit to all involved

[9/10 · 22 May 2024]

Andrew Bowser is nothing if not someone who loves horror, and the strange and curious; one way or another most everything he's done is steeped in these elements. That love saturates all corners of his latest full-length feature, in ways both earnest and frivolous, and while the filmmaker draws upon recognizable influences and familiar tropes, 'Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls' is unquestionably a creation all its own. Just as importantly, while in most every regard this movie touches upon odds and ends we've seen before, Bowser's marvelously creative mind shapes them into a delightfully fun horror-comedy that stands decidedly tall on its own merits. True, there may be points where the sense of humor Bowser deploys is a tad too overt or cartoonish for its own good, somewhat clashing with the broader tone as parody takes over. Far more than not, however, this is wonderfully strong and entertaining, even more than I could have hoped!

I would love to learn more about the production, for it's readily evident to me that Bowser had the benefit of a considerable budget, and more resources, beyond what has been at his disposal before. The picture is characterized from top to bottom with obvious skill, intelligence, and care, and one can plainly see just how much fun everyone had while making it. The filming locations are terrific, and the art direction and prop work are fantastic. The costume design, hair, and makeup reflect even more how this allowed everyone to let their imagination run wild - and to my absolute pleasure, this holds true even more for the practical effects, special makeup, manufactured creatures, and otherwise tangible creations that greet us at many turns. Yes, there is computer-generated imagery here, too, but it is employed sparingly and judiciously, looks great in the first place, and comes off all the better for the relative infrequency with which it is employed. However, in a time when the medium overflows with green screens and post-production falsehood, I am thrilled that Bowser cares so much about his craft that he committed resources to fabricating material goods in a shop, Especially with these welcome additions, the result is a steady stream of visuals that are outstanding, and which will still look outstanding after the latest multi-million dollar, digitally-defined blockbuster becomes dated and passé.

Bowser wears his inspirations on his sleeve in his writing just as much as in the overall look and feel, with touches of Ivan Reitman, Tim Burton, and especially Stuart Gordon, among others. The man is no copycat, however, and this is just his way of telling us how much he loves these filmmakers; in turn, 'Onyx the Fortuitous' is a title of, by, and for horror-comedy fans. So we get a story filled with the occult, devil worship, rituals, prophecy, and the hero's arc that could just as easily be twisted into an earnest genre flick like many others as five enthusiastic devotees are chosen to visit Bartok the Great. We get characters overflowing with fabulous personality, even for those who end up making an exit sooner rather than later, and Bowser makes the title character the center of the comedy as Onyx is marked with cheeky nervous tics and joyfully grandiose mannerisms. The dialogue deftly meets the film's needs both fiendish and farcical with the keen wit of a filmmaker who has spent years soaking in genre cinema, while the scene writing is stupendously flavorful in feeding us a wide variety. Situational humor, gags, sharp quips and repartee, absurd character moments, and outright spoofs adjoin more sinister visions of dark dealings, monstrosities, and violence, all with garnishes of (slightly) more sincere exposition and character development. The whole shebang really is a blast even on paper, and Bowser illustrates his experience and excellence as a director in molding all these aspects into a tale that nimbly balances the outrageous and the ominous in a manner to make it all land just right.

And still we're not done, for while Bowser's stewardship as both writer and director is super, and everyone behind the scenes turns in incredible contributions, the cast are just as brilliant. In fact, while I place trust in the filmmaker, it was a few names in the cast that specifically drew me in to 'Onyx the Fortuitous,' and I couldn't be happier with the incidence. Of everyone here I'm most familiar with horror icon Jeffrey Combs, equally renowned Barbara Crampton (however small a part she may have), and underappreciated Olivia Taylor Dudley (best known for 'The Vatican tapes' and her long history with 5secondfilms), all co-starring alongside Bowser; that Ralph Ineson has a small role is just a swell bonus. Yet I'm so pleased with the other actors here that I immediately want to find more of their work, including Arden Myrin, Terrence Carson, Melanie Chandra, and definitely Rivkah Reyes. Just as was so even with the crew who whipped up the visual splendor, it's readily apparent how much the players were enjoying themselves with a feature that lets them unreservedly embrace the mix of horror and comedy and the big personalities of their characters. A major portion of what makes the viewing experience such a joy is just watching the actors let loose, and once we factor in their unmistakable capabilities and all other facets of the production, there's really no going wrong here.

Rounded out with fine complementary music, and otherwise meeting the high standards of modern production values in all regards, I can't overstate how rich and funny the picture is, and just a superb time all around. I assumed I would like it, but from top to bottom it far exceeded my expectations in every capacity. With tremendous writing, wholly solid direction, exceptional craftsmanship (not least on a higher but still relatively modest budget), and spirited, unassailable acting, this silly little romp very dexterously checks off all the boxes for both sides of its approach to the material and frankly altogether impresses. By all means, the sum total may not appeal to all comers, but I find it hard to fathom that most folks could sit for this and not walk away with lots of laughs and smiles; surely the subjective quality here is a question of splitting hairs. Suffice to say that I'm oh so glad with how engaging, fun, and satisfying this movie is, and I'm thrilled to give 'Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls' my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

By Jeeves (2001 TV Movie)

An excellent TV film of a solid production of a show that is a lightly enjoyable mixed bag

[7/10 · 22 May 2024]

I've very much enjoyed anything I've read from P. G. Wodehouse, and I adore the television series 'Jeeves and Wooster' of the early 90s that brought these ridiculous characters to hilarious, vibrant life. Incredibly, it was only a matter of weeks ago that I learned there was once a musical based on Wodehouse's esteemed work - or perhaps, not so incredibly, for once we begin reading about the whole matter it becomes clear that 'By Jeeves,' formerly just 'Jeeves,' does not count among Andrew Lloyd Webber's best successes. The fact that the original musical closed swiftly in 1975, and was scrapped in no small part upon being revisited twenty-one years later, does not speak well to the whole endeavor, even if the retooled show was received more positively. Fast forward a few years more and for better or for worse, audiences don't need to shell out big bucks for seats in the orchestra, balcony, or gallery to judge 'By Jeeves' for ourselves, as a 2001 Canadian production received the treatment of a professional recording. So with all this firmly in mind, how does the musical actually hold up?

It doesn't take long as we watch before we can begin to form an impression, and the good news is that far more than not, to my delight, there is actually a lot to like here. Granted, much of the strength in this comes from Wodehouse's own ingenuity, for the characters are his, and the dynamics between them, the dialogue, the scenes, and the narrative all draw from the source material in measures both very direct and slightly indirect. It's no small matter to adapt such foundations into another medium, though, and writer Alan Ayckbourn is to be roundly congratulated for shaping classic satirical brilliance into something both unmistakably kith and kin with Wodehouse canon, and shrewdly original. We're treated to characterizations and dialogue that are both perfectly recognizable and perfectly absurd, and a jumbled scenario that faithfully pulls from the stories of Jeeves and Wooster we know and love: the congenial but addle-minded wastrel, his supremely intelligent, loyal, and sardonic valet, and a retinue of Wooster's friends and acquaintances who rely on him for trading identities and property, resolving romantic quandaries, promoting their hare-brained schemes, and otherwise dutifully helping friends in need - lest he refuse or fail and in turn get implicated in even more trouble. Wodehouse is alive and well in these 140 minutes, and this is absolutely to Ayckbourn's credit.

Between his book and lyrics and moreover his direction, there is further brilliance in the musical that we owe to Ayckbourn. It's noteworthy that the production plays fast and loose with the fourth wall as characters sometimes directly address the audience, and divisions between actor and role are sometimes diminished. The plot is presented largely as a "story within a story" as Wooster relates a past series of events, further freely exposing the artificiality, and that bare-faced contrivance is cemented with some cues, props, or bits that speak to the premise of a shoestring, jury-rigged staging of an evening of entertainment within and for a small community. All this is to say that broadly speaking, on paper and in execution, the concept of 'By Jeeves' is very smart and fun, and Ayckbourn's direction ensures that buzzing energy courses through the proceedings with fast-paced movement to and fro, lively performances, and some extra clever sequences - including the last scene of Act I - that would actually be rather difficult to represent on television, and maybe impossible with the written word. Not to be outdone, the cast in this iteration is altogether wonderful, embracing the madcap spirit of the affair with electric fervor and welcome fidelity to the parts they have taken on. Some players may stand out above others with how superbly they inhabit these established figures, including John Scherer (Wooster), Martin Jarvis (Jeeves), James Kall (Gussie), and Rebecca Watson (Madeline), yet from one to the next the production demands robust expression and physicality, and substantial range, and all involved are plainly excellent with the skills they bring to the table.

Though a tad beside the point, it's also worth observing that the effort to professionally film the production was not wasted. Sometimes a show on the stage is recorded for posterity and the result is in some manner a poor representation as the stage direction, the set, the camerawork, the editing, or even the audience presence may hamper the viewing experience. That is not the case here, and wherever the credit belongs between filmmaker Nick Morris, co-editor Dave Gardener, and camera operator Rick McVicar, I believe this is surely as fine a film or TV presentation of the revamped 1996 musical as we're going to get. Kudos to McVicar in particular, for his editing is often just as bright and fleet-footed as the actors' contributions. Yet despite all these many great advantages, not all is well with 'By Jeeves,' and it falls short of perfect. Where does it go wrong? Well, with all due respect to Ayckbourn, part of the problem stems from the root story. We get all the elements of Wodehouse's tales of Jeeves and Wooster that we know and love, this is true, yet this is an instance where the doing feels overburdened; in his effort to port the beloved comedy stylings to the stage, we get ALL the familiar elements, and we could have done with a few less. If the notions common to Jeeves and Wooster could be summarized as a list of, say, twenty items, that doesn't mean that a single Jeeves and Wooster story must or should include all twenty items, but that's effectively how the production comes across. With that in mind, I shudder to think what the original 1975 show must have looked like with twice as many characters.

Being thusly overburdened in its writing - which again further includes the framing, and dalliances with the fourth wall - there are instances when something seems inelegantly and inorganically smashed into the whole, and gawky in turn, instead of being naturally, carefully woven in. There are also instances of aspects being shortchanged in the script, whether that means being unconvincingly mentioned for only the first time in the second act, tossed in too heedlessly for its own good to ensure inclusion in some manner, or just not receiving all due treatment that would wrap up said aspect in the entirety of Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster. And with all this having been said, I'm sorry to say that the most severe flaw with 'By Jeeves' might be the music. It's one thing to say that a musical lacks any numbers that are specifically notable or memorable; it's another thing altogether to say that no matter how enjoyable tunes might be in and of themselves, they feel ill-fitting, weakly integrated with the rest of the material, and downright superfluous. Kind of emphasizing the point, the second act gives us a love duet between Harold and Stiffy, "Half a moment," which is lovely and comes closest, of any song here, to the tenor we commonly anticipate of Webber. It also sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the more raucous tone of all the other songs, and the outwardly comedic nature of the musical itself. Curiously, "Half a moment" is then followed with another number ("It's a pig!") which very simply raises a skeptical eyebrow of disfavor. To be frank, I think 'By Jeeves' would have been better had it been devised purely as a play, with no more than light musical accompaniment as may befit select moments.

Through to the end with its bizarre medley there were creative choices made in this musical that range from "less than ideal" to "perplexing"; I think the first act is surely stronger than the second, and the plot wraps up in a fashion that feels a smidgen sloppy and abrupt. An early line that caught my ear ("I'm still not certain this is going to work, Jeeves") turned out to be all too prescient in terms of Webber's inclination to turn such classic humor into a musical. Still, the only aim here was to provide a good time and honor Wodehouse while introducing him to a new audience. Regrettably imperfect as 'By Jeeves' is, it nevertheless ably achieves that goal; for all its foibles, I enjoyed watching. It's possible that someone who is an especial fan of Wodehouse, Webber, or another person involved may have extra impetus to check it out; on the other hand, it's also possible that even utmost devotees won't be fully satisfied, and this doesn't necessarily demand viewership for anyone. All the same, this 2001 feature is a terrific TV movie, documenting a solid production, of a show that is a mixed bag, but generally swell. If you're looking for something light and uninvolved to pass a lazy day, this will neatly do the trick. Don't go out of your way for 'By Jeeves,' but if you happen to come across it then it's good enough to warrant a look.

Be My Wife (1921)

A splendid comedy classic

[8/10 · 21 May 2024]

Max Linder may not be as famous as other iconic silent stars, but he was really just as reliable as Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd. It's not even necessarily a question of quantifying how funny one was compared to another - their best works are very consistent and highly enjoyable, lighthearted with just the right touch of earnestness to the story to help the film stick. Linder's 'Be my wife' of 1921 fits very neatly among that terrific company, giving us one swell bit after another amidst a gently amusing and solid narrative of romance. Right from the start this is simply a joy, and anyone who appreciates older cinema is guaranteed to have a great time!

It's fair to say the actual plot is rather light as Linder's protagonist works to win the heart of sweet Mary despite opposition from both her protective aunt and rival Archie. Within that framework, however, the legend treats us to one fantastic scene and gag after another, an indisputable treasure trove of wit, silliness, and vibrant energy. To that end, as Linder writes, directs, and produces this romp in addition to starring, his full creative control means we can be assured that the brilliant humor of the picture shines through at all possible times. In some scenes more than others there are a lot of moving parts, yet the filmmaker deftly ties them all together into a stupendously fun whole.

Commanding the lead role himself Linder naturally stands out most with a wild performance of gleefully exaggerated expression, self-sacrificing physicality, and selective instances of more controlled, nuanced restraint to provide contrast and a sense of dynamics. We would expect no less, of course, given the stature that he ultimately enjoys alongside his contemporaries. To my delight, though, his co-stars in supporting parts all have their own opportunity to share in the frivolities, with Alta Allen, Lincoln Stedman, and even Caroline Rankin, among still others, all getting in on the ridiculousness at one time or another. Moreover, my commendations to the dog trainer for the production, because "Pal" also has his own delightful moments in the spotlight.

Strictly speaking 'Be my wife' may not be a title to change the mind of anyone who has a harder time engaging with silent fare. While it's all in the name of joyful comedy, the acting isn't specifically of the variety that modern viewers are accustomed to; it is perhaps splitting hairs to say that the plot development is a tad gawky at points, but not untrue. Tiresomely, at one point the script reaches for a fat joke that has not aged well, and in a reflection of the time in which it was made, there are sparing instances of language that today we recognize as racist. Still, scrutinize the feature as we may, this wants only to entertain, and far, far more than not it handily succeeds in that goal. Linder may earn the most credit here with the multiple hats he wears, and his co-stars just behind, but all others involved turned in work that was just as outstanding. The sets are superb, with the design of Madame Coralie's being particularly ingenious, and the stunts and effects that are employed are a blast. Even the costume design, hair, and makeup are not just notably sharp but have their own parts to play in the tableau. To whatever extent the flick has its faults, by and large it's marvelously funny, and holds up much better than not.

It has its weaknesses, and it also has unmistakable strengths. On the balance, though, this movie really is just grand, an enduring comedy classic whose value well outweighs any drawbacks. One should be aware of its most distinct flaws, and broadly it won't appeal to all comers, yet if one is receptive to the silent era and its style of film-making, there's not much going wrong with 'Be my wife.' I assumed I would enjoy it and I most certainly did, and I'm pleased to give this my high recommendation!