The Banal, the Blah, the Banausic:
1. The Brothers Bloom (2008) Dir. Rian Johnson - US
2. The Last of Sheila (1973) Dir. Herbert Ross – US
3. Enchanted (2007) Dir. Kevin Lima – US
4. Dead Snow (2009) Dir. Tommy Wirkola - Norway
Guilty Pleasure Cinema:
1. Je Tu Il Elle (1976) Dir. Chantal Akerman – France/Belgium
Astounding Cinema:
4. Asylum (1972) Dir. Roy Ward Baker - UK
3. Medicine For Melancholy (2008) Dir. Barry Jenkins – US
2. The Flower of My Secret (1995) Dir. Pedro Almodovar – Spain
1. Judgment at Nuremberg (1961) Dir. Stanley Kramer - US
Theatrical Screenings:
3. Cop Out (2010) Dir. Kevin Smith – US 7/10
2. 44 Inch Chest (2009) Dir. Malcolm Venville – UK 9/10
1. It Always Rains on Sunday (1947) Dir. Robert Hamer – UK 9/10
Rewatched:
1. The Brothers Bloom (2008) Dir. Rian Johnson - US
2. The Last of Sheila (1973) Dir. Herbert Ross – US
3. Enchanted (2007) Dir. Kevin Lima – US
4. Dead Snow (2009) Dir. Tommy Wirkola - Norway
Guilty Pleasure Cinema:
1. Je Tu Il Elle (1976) Dir. Chantal Akerman – France/Belgium
Astounding Cinema:
4. Asylum (1972) Dir. Roy Ward Baker - UK
3. Medicine For Melancholy (2008) Dir. Barry Jenkins – US
2. The Flower of My Secret (1995) Dir. Pedro Almodovar – Spain
1. Judgment at Nuremberg (1961) Dir. Stanley Kramer - US
Theatrical Screenings:
3. Cop Out (2010) Dir. Kevin Smith – US 7/10
2. 44 Inch Chest (2009) Dir. Malcolm Venville – UK 9/10
1. It Always Rains on Sunday (1947) Dir. Robert Hamer – UK 9/10
Rewatched:
1. Clash of the Titans (1981) Dir. Desmond Davis – US 5/10
The Brothers Bloom (2008): I was thoroughly unimpressed with director Rian Johnson’s sophomore feature. Though I wasn’t nearly as impressed with his debut, Brick (2005), as the rest of the world seemed to be, I could see why people liked it. But Johnson’s con-man caper about a pair of dull and unbelievable brothers played by Mark Ruffalo and Adrien Brody is tired and lifeless. Rachel Weisz adds some spark (but when doesn’t she?) as the target (or is she?) and Maximilian Schell (of all people) shows up as the father figure cum Fagin figure that taught the boys their trade. The film also suffers from its artsy attempt to appear as a period piece set in modern day times-----which would have worked better if Johnson had decidedly nailed an era. And why is it called The Brothers Bloom? It’s about two brothers, one whose first name is Bloom and the other whose got some other name. Bleh.
The Last of Sheila (1973): One of those notorious 70’s films that uses the secrecy of a homosexual liaison as a twist, Sheila was one of a number films denounced by Vito Russo in The Celluloid Closet. Russo points out that audiences were laughing at the gay twist at the original Cannes premiere---and I can see why. The film stars a plethora of Hollywood glamour pusses and has more twists and turns than you can shake a stick at, or care to remember. It loses steam even before the bigger reveals, and then quickly sinks into a messy jumble of shit. Strangely, playwright Steven Sondheim and everyone’s favorite sexually conflicted film persona, Anthony Perkins wrote the script, where we would get the implausible sexual orientation sideline. Starring Ian McShane, Dyan Cannon, Raquel Welch, Richard Benjamin, James Coburn, James Mason, and Joan Hackett as a group of friends invited aboard Coburn’s boat, Sheila (so named after his murdered wife, killed a year before in a hit and run) to play a murder mystery game that hits pretty close to home. It turns out that one of these Hollywood alums killed Sheila! The film has a lot of difficulties, but you can see where all involved was having a good time. Directed by Herbert Ross (of Footloose, 1984, and Steel Magnolias, 1989) the most notable area of interest is Ian McShane’s face, especially after seeing him in the 2009 release 44 Inch Chest in the same week. Time can be a cruel bitch, can’t it? Poor Ian needs to see Raquel Welch’s surgeons.
Enchanted (2007): Well, I decidedly loathed 90% of this film----but gosh darn it, Amy Adams is quite cute----if only I hadn’t seen her play a frothy princess cartoon in several screen incarnations before I saw this, maybe I would have felt more compassion. Having had friends over to watch it, I managed to offend everyone at my verbal outbursts of disdain, (which was decidedly the wrong thing to do since the hubby likes the film quite a bit) but if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s one more musical Disney heroine that only manages to cling to the nearest man written into contact for her. What are James Marsden (perfectly cast) and the dull dull dull Patrick Dempsey anyway? They’re just men that happen to come in contact with and she falls in love. But what’s decidedly weak is the film’s dramatic arc, hinging on an evil queen played by an extremely underutilized Susan Sarandon who simply doesn’t want her son to marry the dotty princess. Luckily, Amy Adams’ character is written without a brain and can’t figure out how easy it would be for her to get home to cartoon land and out of Manhattan, by simply retracing her steps, therefore unable to thwart Sarandon’s decidedly uninspired plot. It’s sad to see how watered down Grimm Bros’ derivatives have become. Where’s Millificent? Or Snow White’s evil step-ma to show that there’s only one thing you can do to keep your power---kill a bitch, and try not to make it look like you did it!
Dead Snow (2009): This Norwegian Nazi Zombie comedy made a lot of headlines at Sundance last year, and it was quite warmly reviewed. However, an obvious homage to genre films like Brain Dead (1992) and The Evil Dead (1981), the film becomes silly and irritating within minutes. One particular stand out scene doesn’t involve Nazi zombies, but rather outhouse sex. The characters are a bit tired and the plot is completely kitschy and weak, but then, this is a movie about Nazi Zombies. Luckily, there’s not enough to inspire a Hollywood remake, so this film will most likely be a Norwegian curio piece for years to come. Pretty forgettable, and uninspiring---unless you really get a kick out of watching someone pull themselves up a mountainside via their intestines, well, maybe then you’ll like it. Directed by Tommy Wirkola.
Je Tu Il Elle (1976): The works of 70’s icon, the Belgian filmmaker Chantal Akerman have recently become available, at long last in the US. Her first full length feature stars herself and Niels Arestrup (recently in notable Jacques Audiard features such as The Beat that My Heart Skipped, 2005, and A Prophet, 2009). Divided into three parts, the film follows Julie (Akerman), a young woman writing what seems to be an interminably long letter to an ex while eating only sugar out of a noisy bad for days on end while she isolates herself in her apartment. Going out into the world, she hooks up with a truck drive (Arestrup) and gives him a hand job while he talks about various things. And then, finally, she meets an ex-girlfriend (Claire Wauthion), and proceeds to eat sandwiches and then have a really long, extended sexual sequence with her. It’s easy to see that Akerman is playing with issues of identity and sexual exploration----and there’s a lot going on in her first feature…..you just might want a spoon and a bag of sugar to watch it yourself.
Asylum (1972): British director Roy Ward Baker has a rather spotty reputation in my mind, mostly because of a large number of films he directed for Hammer studios (which are either really, really bad or surprisingly good). His best film, in my mind, will always be the Bette Davis black comedy/family manner horror film, The Anniversary (1968), but I really quite liked this 1972 feature, Asylum, which is rather like four short horror films in one. A young psychiatrist shows up for a job interview to discover the doctor that called him has been committed to the hospital himself. The doctor currently in charge claims he can have the job if he can visit each of the parents and decipher which one used to the run the hospital only a brief time ago. While most of the patients and their stories are a little silly (like the one involving Peter Cushing, a Hammer staple), Asylum is all worthwhile for the segment involving a gorgeous Charlotte Rampling and Britt Ekland. While the end is a bit laughable, Asylum is a jolly good time and well worth watching.
Medicine For Melancholy (2008): The feature debut of Barry Jenkins, I have extremely high hopes for future films he may helm. Set in San Francisco (a center figure itself in the film, most notably for being one the largest city in the US with the smallest population of African Americans) the film focuses on Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins) who had a one night stand they can barely remember after having met at a party. The day after sees Jo mortified as she reluctantly has coffee with Micah, and they don’t know each other’s names. The rest of the film centers on this day they get to spend together, where we discover Jo has a (white) boyfriend she’s very much involved in, while Micah attempts to woo her. He’s annoying, outrageous (in his attempts to woo her into a relationship with him due to the fact that he’s a member of the same race) but he’s also believable, engaging and human. I really disliked that the beautiful Higgins spends the whole day with him, but you can sense the attraction and fantasy she’s playing with. The cinematography is gorgeous, seemingly black and white, but then you realize the film is mostly just desaturated, which fluctuates throughout the narrative. If I get the chance to rewatch it, I’d love to see if this fluctuates with certain topics or themes the characters are discussing. It’s not a film about race, or even interracial relationships (though Cenac’s outlook on interracial romance is infuriating, but also brilliantly, subversively hinted at being due to the fact that a white lady may have just recently broken his heart) but a film about two people making a connection, and one that’s probably not going to last more than 24 hours. A love letter and an indictment of sorts to San Francisco, the film is indeed rather touching, and just a tad melancholy---and just a pretty damn good film to boot.
The Flower of My Secret (1995): One of Almodovar’s less celebrated features it seems, I was finally moved to watching this after learning it’s loosely based on a Dorothy Parker short story. The striking Marisa Paredes (also in All About My Mother, 1999) stars as an author whose mysterious pseudonym is fantastically famous for her formulaic romance novels, but who has unfortunately become fed up with writing them, mostly due to her own crumbling marriage. While her husband is away serving time in the military, Paredes takes a job with a newspaper as a critic/columnist under her real name, and her new boss falls in love with her. The film is mostly about abandonment and even more so, female authorship. Having recently watched Alan Rudolph’s Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle (1994) it’s not difficult to see that this was borne originally out of Parker’s mind. The juxtaposition of what makes a best selling female author, what women would rather write, and what the female public might buy are all deeper thematics running throughout Almodovar’s film. When Paredes violates her contract and writes a novel that turns out to be the plot for Almodovar’s later feature, Volver (2006), and her husband returns briefly only to vocalize his wish to leave her, her life falls apart, it seems. A minor, charismatically melodramatic (but subtle for Almodovar) The Flower of My Secret is an excellent feature, and perhaps I’m over my resentment towards the overhyped and lazy Broken Embraces (2009).
Judgment at Nuremberg (1961): Director Stanley Kramer’s magnum opus tops this week’s list, mostly for it’s completely cinematic epic status. The material itself is devastating, but once in a while, some serious miscasting makes more some unintentional laughs. Based on the 1948 trial of four Nazi judges in occupied Germany, the film is a courtroom drama sensation. While I don’t believe Burt Lancaster as a Nazi judge is believable for even a second, I did quite like Judy Garland and Montgomery Clift’s turns as Jewish survivors forced to take the stand to tell their tales (both received Best Supporting Actor nods that year). Spencer Tracy stars as the residing judge over the trial (in a role that’s similar too but less sensational than his turn in Stanley Kramer’s equally excellent, Inherit the Wind, 1960) who kind of develops a thing for the magnificently beautiful Marlene Dietrich, the widow of a sentenced Nazi commander. And of course, the most sensational performance of all come from the lawyers, the hot-headed prosecutor, Richard Widmark, and Maximilian Schell in his excellent, Oscar winning role as the defense attorney. Judgment at Nuremberg may be a melodramatic epic, but it’s sensational in subject matter, scope, and meaning, and should be seen by every cinephile. And lord I love that Dietrich. She was 60 here and looked amazing.
Cop Out (2010): The biggest problem everyone’s going to have with Cop Out is the fact that Kevin Smith directed it and it’s not his own material. It’s not raunchy enough, flashy enough, and it’s completely unforgettable fluff that’s mostly an ode to the interracial cop/buddy movies from the ‘80s, a la 48 Hours (1982)---which was more prolific and heady than Smith’s update. Bruce Willis fares alright in a completely forgettable way here, but the saving grace of Cop Out is Tracy Morgan, a charged and insanely animated performer that makes you laugh because he’s funny whether or not the material is. And while it’s always nice to see Guillermo Diaz, he’s completely unbelievable and hammy as a gang lord obsessed with baseball. Seann William Scott (who is sporting gray hairs! I’m getting older!) steals nearly every scene he’s in, making every scene paired with Morgan laugh out loud funny. But as I said, it’s sadly forgettable. And oh boy, Jason Lee’s getting old, too.
44 Inch Chest (2009): While it’s received a lukewarm reception, I quite enjoyed 44 Inch Chest, from the writers of Sexy Beast (2000) and the feature debut of Malcolm Venville. A treatise on misogyny and masculinity, (which makes the title even more brilliant as the measurement literally refers to a piece of furniture but obviously references other measurements) Ray Winstone stars as Colin Diamond, whose wife Joanne Whalley (wow, looking good Joanne) has announce she’s no longer in love with him, and is leaving him for another man (who happens to be Melvil Poupaud). Flying into a rage, he beats her, and for a majority of the film, we’re unsure if she’s alive or dead. A sobbing mess, Winstone calls all his old gangster crones, played by Tom Wilkinson (who lives with his mom), Ian McShane (a reptilian gay predator), Stephen Dillane (a nitwit who does what he’s told), and the creepiest of them all, the decrepit John Hurt, named Old Man Peanut, and whose every other word happens to be ‘cunt.’ Together they kidnap and hold captive Melvil Poupaud and the rest of the film is set in a claustrophobic room where all these masculine egos decide the fate of the lover. A ghostly sequence involving Whalley clued me off to the fact that all these characters are the facets of a masculine ego---his fears, desires, hatreds and roles he plays in society. Ian McShane is brilliant as a strong, gay persona---except that he’s of course a sexual black hole, destined to be alone and have sex like wolves eat wild animals. John Hurt also shines as an extremely homophobic, misogynist while Dillane and Wilkinson are the weaker, passive facets. And there’s Wilkinson, a sobbing mess, unsure of what to do with the French lover----the mere fact that Poupaud has no dialogue only asserts that his origin speaks volumes about manhood and how it relates to the English language. I call this a brilliant film because it’s actually quite unclear as to what may or may not be real---but some of it’s obviousness and claustrophobia (read as stagey) seem to have turned many a viewer off. But it’s uncomfortable and it doesn’t shy away from topics that most American films wouldn’t dare meddle with.
It Always Rains on Sunday (1947): Luckily, I was fortunate to catch this at a local theater showing a series of British Film Noir. Director Robert Hamer’s (perhaps best known for Kind Hearts and Coronets, 1949, in which Alec Guiness plays several different characters) It Always Rains on Sunday is still unavailable on DVD in the US, making this an extra special treat to see on the big screen. Starring the beautiful, severe Googie Withers (who always struck me as a British Barbara Stanwyck) as very unhappy woman due to her unhappy children and obvious lack of passion for motherhood (hey, it’s not for everyone!). But when a lover from her past (whom she had wished to marry) escapes from prison and comes to her for help, she hides him in her bedroom. Meanwhile, the police get closer and closer, while Withers’ family members exacerbate the already extremely tense situation. The post-war London bleakness adds to the ever mounting sense of flight from the dull, bleak existence being eked out by the characters---it feels like it always rains everyday. Excellent film.
Clash of the Titans (1981): A beloved film from my youth (I was obsessed with Greek mythology as a kid, devouring Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in the second grade and any other classic text I could get my hands on) and due to the fast approaching remake to be released in April 2010, I made the hubby sit down and watch it with me. Well, it’s obviously one of those films that haven’t aged well. In fact, it’s a bit notorious for being received as an ill conceived picture at the time of its release. While the claymation Medusa will forever be ingrained in my mind from childhood, Harry Hamlin as Perseus is, well, hammy. And all the Oscar winning Gods (like Maggie Smith and Laurence Olivier) are given nothing to do but stand around in white robes (and I believe Ursula Andress gets one line of dialogue as Aphrodite, while Claire Bloom is equally unmemorable as Hera). Most annoying of all is that damn mechanical owl and an unfortunate blubbering Burgess Meredith. Hamlin in completely uncharismatic and depends mostly on his hair for his acting chops in the film. While the legendary Ray Harrhausen was a masterful special effects wizard for his time, this is sadly a film that would be a good candidate for a remake. So let’s hope Frenchman Louis Leterrier (responsible for that awful Ed Norton 2008 Incredible Hulk update, Transporter 2, 2005, and Jet Li starrer Unleashed, 2005) makes this at least a decent effort. And everyone seems to forget to mention that Desmond Davis directed the original----he mostly worked in television before and after that, if it matters.
The Last of Sheila (1973): One of those notorious 70’s films that uses the secrecy of a homosexual liaison as a twist, Sheila was one of a number films denounced by Vito Russo in The Celluloid Closet. Russo points out that audiences were laughing at the gay twist at the original Cannes premiere---and I can see why. The film stars a plethora of Hollywood glamour pusses and has more twists and turns than you can shake a stick at, or care to remember. It loses steam even before the bigger reveals, and then quickly sinks into a messy jumble of shit. Strangely, playwright Steven Sondheim and everyone’s favorite sexually conflicted film persona, Anthony Perkins wrote the script, where we would get the implausible sexual orientation sideline. Starring Ian McShane, Dyan Cannon, Raquel Welch, Richard Benjamin, James Coburn, James Mason, and Joan Hackett as a group of friends invited aboard Coburn’s boat, Sheila (so named after his murdered wife, killed a year before in a hit and run) to play a murder mystery game that hits pretty close to home. It turns out that one of these Hollywood alums killed Sheila! The film has a lot of difficulties, but you can see where all involved was having a good time. Directed by Herbert Ross (of Footloose, 1984, and Steel Magnolias, 1989) the most notable area of interest is Ian McShane’s face, especially after seeing him in the 2009 release 44 Inch Chest in the same week. Time can be a cruel bitch, can’t it? Poor Ian needs to see Raquel Welch’s surgeons.
Enchanted (2007): Well, I decidedly loathed 90% of this film----but gosh darn it, Amy Adams is quite cute----if only I hadn’t seen her play a frothy princess cartoon in several screen incarnations before I saw this, maybe I would have felt more compassion. Having had friends over to watch it, I managed to offend everyone at my verbal outbursts of disdain, (which was decidedly the wrong thing to do since the hubby likes the film quite a bit) but if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s one more musical Disney heroine that only manages to cling to the nearest man written into contact for her. What are James Marsden (perfectly cast) and the dull dull dull Patrick Dempsey anyway? They’re just men that happen to come in contact with and she falls in love. But what’s decidedly weak is the film’s dramatic arc, hinging on an evil queen played by an extremely underutilized Susan Sarandon who simply doesn’t want her son to marry the dotty princess. Luckily, Amy Adams’ character is written without a brain and can’t figure out how easy it would be for her to get home to cartoon land and out of Manhattan, by simply retracing her steps, therefore unable to thwart Sarandon’s decidedly uninspired plot. It’s sad to see how watered down Grimm Bros’ derivatives have become. Where’s Millificent? Or Snow White’s evil step-ma to show that there’s only one thing you can do to keep your power---kill a bitch, and try not to make it look like you did it!
Dead Snow (2009): This Norwegian Nazi Zombie comedy made a lot of headlines at Sundance last year, and it was quite warmly reviewed. However, an obvious homage to genre films like Brain Dead (1992) and The Evil Dead (1981), the film becomes silly and irritating within minutes. One particular stand out scene doesn’t involve Nazi zombies, but rather outhouse sex. The characters are a bit tired and the plot is completely kitschy and weak, but then, this is a movie about Nazi Zombies. Luckily, there’s not enough to inspire a Hollywood remake, so this film will most likely be a Norwegian curio piece for years to come. Pretty forgettable, and uninspiring---unless you really get a kick out of watching someone pull themselves up a mountainside via their intestines, well, maybe then you’ll like it. Directed by Tommy Wirkola.
Je Tu Il Elle (1976): The works of 70’s icon, the Belgian filmmaker Chantal Akerman have recently become available, at long last in the US. Her first full length feature stars herself and Niels Arestrup (recently in notable Jacques Audiard features such as The Beat that My Heart Skipped, 2005, and A Prophet, 2009). Divided into three parts, the film follows Julie (Akerman), a young woman writing what seems to be an interminably long letter to an ex while eating only sugar out of a noisy bad for days on end while she isolates herself in her apartment. Going out into the world, she hooks up with a truck drive (Arestrup) and gives him a hand job while he talks about various things. And then, finally, she meets an ex-girlfriend (Claire Wauthion), and proceeds to eat sandwiches and then have a really long, extended sexual sequence with her. It’s easy to see that Akerman is playing with issues of identity and sexual exploration----and there’s a lot going on in her first feature…..you just might want a spoon and a bag of sugar to watch it yourself.
Asylum (1972): British director Roy Ward Baker has a rather spotty reputation in my mind, mostly because of a large number of films he directed for Hammer studios (which are either really, really bad or surprisingly good). His best film, in my mind, will always be the Bette Davis black comedy/family manner horror film, The Anniversary (1968), but I really quite liked this 1972 feature, Asylum, which is rather like four short horror films in one. A young psychiatrist shows up for a job interview to discover the doctor that called him has been committed to the hospital himself. The doctor currently in charge claims he can have the job if he can visit each of the parents and decipher which one used to the run the hospital only a brief time ago. While most of the patients and their stories are a little silly (like the one involving Peter Cushing, a Hammer staple), Asylum is all worthwhile for the segment involving a gorgeous Charlotte Rampling and Britt Ekland. While the end is a bit laughable, Asylum is a jolly good time and well worth watching.
Medicine For Melancholy (2008): The feature debut of Barry Jenkins, I have extremely high hopes for future films he may helm. Set in San Francisco (a center figure itself in the film, most notably for being one the largest city in the US with the smallest population of African Americans) the film focuses on Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins) who had a one night stand they can barely remember after having met at a party. The day after sees Jo mortified as she reluctantly has coffee with Micah, and they don’t know each other’s names. The rest of the film centers on this day they get to spend together, where we discover Jo has a (white) boyfriend she’s very much involved in, while Micah attempts to woo her. He’s annoying, outrageous (in his attempts to woo her into a relationship with him due to the fact that he’s a member of the same race) but he’s also believable, engaging and human. I really disliked that the beautiful Higgins spends the whole day with him, but you can sense the attraction and fantasy she’s playing with. The cinematography is gorgeous, seemingly black and white, but then you realize the film is mostly just desaturated, which fluctuates throughout the narrative. If I get the chance to rewatch it, I’d love to see if this fluctuates with certain topics or themes the characters are discussing. It’s not a film about race, or even interracial relationships (though Cenac’s outlook on interracial romance is infuriating, but also brilliantly, subversively hinted at being due to the fact that a white lady may have just recently broken his heart) but a film about two people making a connection, and one that’s probably not going to last more than 24 hours. A love letter and an indictment of sorts to San Francisco, the film is indeed rather touching, and just a tad melancholy---and just a pretty damn good film to boot.
The Flower of My Secret (1995): One of Almodovar’s less celebrated features it seems, I was finally moved to watching this after learning it’s loosely based on a Dorothy Parker short story. The striking Marisa Paredes (also in All About My Mother, 1999) stars as an author whose mysterious pseudonym is fantastically famous for her formulaic romance novels, but who has unfortunately become fed up with writing them, mostly due to her own crumbling marriage. While her husband is away serving time in the military, Paredes takes a job with a newspaper as a critic/columnist under her real name, and her new boss falls in love with her. The film is mostly about abandonment and even more so, female authorship. Having recently watched Alan Rudolph’s Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle (1994) it’s not difficult to see that this was borne originally out of Parker’s mind. The juxtaposition of what makes a best selling female author, what women would rather write, and what the female public might buy are all deeper thematics running throughout Almodovar’s film. When Paredes violates her contract and writes a novel that turns out to be the plot for Almodovar’s later feature, Volver (2006), and her husband returns briefly only to vocalize his wish to leave her, her life falls apart, it seems. A minor, charismatically melodramatic (but subtle for Almodovar) The Flower of My Secret is an excellent feature, and perhaps I’m over my resentment towards the overhyped and lazy Broken Embraces (2009).
Judgment at Nuremberg (1961): Director Stanley Kramer’s magnum opus tops this week’s list, mostly for it’s completely cinematic epic status. The material itself is devastating, but once in a while, some serious miscasting makes more some unintentional laughs. Based on the 1948 trial of four Nazi judges in occupied Germany, the film is a courtroom drama sensation. While I don’t believe Burt Lancaster as a Nazi judge is believable for even a second, I did quite like Judy Garland and Montgomery Clift’s turns as Jewish survivors forced to take the stand to tell their tales (both received Best Supporting Actor nods that year). Spencer Tracy stars as the residing judge over the trial (in a role that’s similar too but less sensational than his turn in Stanley Kramer’s equally excellent, Inherit the Wind, 1960) who kind of develops a thing for the magnificently beautiful Marlene Dietrich, the widow of a sentenced Nazi commander. And of course, the most sensational performance of all come from the lawyers, the hot-headed prosecutor, Richard Widmark, and Maximilian Schell in his excellent, Oscar winning role as the defense attorney. Judgment at Nuremberg may be a melodramatic epic, but it’s sensational in subject matter, scope, and meaning, and should be seen by every cinephile. And lord I love that Dietrich. She was 60 here and looked amazing.
Cop Out (2010): The biggest problem everyone’s going to have with Cop Out is the fact that Kevin Smith directed it and it’s not his own material. It’s not raunchy enough, flashy enough, and it’s completely unforgettable fluff that’s mostly an ode to the interracial cop/buddy movies from the ‘80s, a la 48 Hours (1982)---which was more prolific and heady than Smith’s update. Bruce Willis fares alright in a completely forgettable way here, but the saving grace of Cop Out is Tracy Morgan, a charged and insanely animated performer that makes you laugh because he’s funny whether or not the material is. And while it’s always nice to see Guillermo Diaz, he’s completely unbelievable and hammy as a gang lord obsessed with baseball. Seann William Scott (who is sporting gray hairs! I’m getting older!) steals nearly every scene he’s in, making every scene paired with Morgan laugh out loud funny. But as I said, it’s sadly forgettable. And oh boy, Jason Lee’s getting old, too.
44 Inch Chest (2009): While it’s received a lukewarm reception, I quite enjoyed 44 Inch Chest, from the writers of Sexy Beast (2000) and the feature debut of Malcolm Venville. A treatise on misogyny and masculinity, (which makes the title even more brilliant as the measurement literally refers to a piece of furniture but obviously references other measurements) Ray Winstone stars as Colin Diamond, whose wife Joanne Whalley (wow, looking good Joanne) has announce she’s no longer in love with him, and is leaving him for another man (who happens to be Melvil Poupaud). Flying into a rage, he beats her, and for a majority of the film, we’re unsure if she’s alive or dead. A sobbing mess, Winstone calls all his old gangster crones, played by Tom Wilkinson (who lives with his mom), Ian McShane (a reptilian gay predator), Stephen Dillane (a nitwit who does what he’s told), and the creepiest of them all, the decrepit John Hurt, named Old Man Peanut, and whose every other word happens to be ‘cunt.’ Together they kidnap and hold captive Melvil Poupaud and the rest of the film is set in a claustrophobic room where all these masculine egos decide the fate of the lover. A ghostly sequence involving Whalley clued me off to the fact that all these characters are the facets of a masculine ego---his fears, desires, hatreds and roles he plays in society. Ian McShane is brilliant as a strong, gay persona---except that he’s of course a sexual black hole, destined to be alone and have sex like wolves eat wild animals. John Hurt also shines as an extremely homophobic, misogynist while Dillane and Wilkinson are the weaker, passive facets. And there’s Wilkinson, a sobbing mess, unsure of what to do with the French lover----the mere fact that Poupaud has no dialogue only asserts that his origin speaks volumes about manhood and how it relates to the English language. I call this a brilliant film because it’s actually quite unclear as to what may or may not be real---but some of it’s obviousness and claustrophobia (read as stagey) seem to have turned many a viewer off. But it’s uncomfortable and it doesn’t shy away from topics that most American films wouldn’t dare meddle with.
It Always Rains on Sunday (1947): Luckily, I was fortunate to catch this at a local theater showing a series of British Film Noir. Director Robert Hamer’s (perhaps best known for Kind Hearts and Coronets, 1949, in which Alec Guiness plays several different characters) It Always Rains on Sunday is still unavailable on DVD in the US, making this an extra special treat to see on the big screen. Starring the beautiful, severe Googie Withers (who always struck me as a British Barbara Stanwyck) as very unhappy woman due to her unhappy children and obvious lack of passion for motherhood (hey, it’s not for everyone!). But when a lover from her past (whom she had wished to marry) escapes from prison and comes to her for help, she hides him in her bedroom. Meanwhile, the police get closer and closer, while Withers’ family members exacerbate the already extremely tense situation. The post-war London bleakness adds to the ever mounting sense of flight from the dull, bleak existence being eked out by the characters---it feels like it always rains everyday. Excellent film.
Clash of the Titans (1981): A beloved film from my youth (I was obsessed with Greek mythology as a kid, devouring Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in the second grade and any other classic text I could get my hands on) and due to the fast approaching remake to be released in April 2010, I made the hubby sit down and watch it with me. Well, it’s obviously one of those films that haven’t aged well. In fact, it’s a bit notorious for being received as an ill conceived picture at the time of its release. While the claymation Medusa will forever be ingrained in my mind from childhood, Harry Hamlin as Perseus is, well, hammy. And all the Oscar winning Gods (like Maggie Smith and Laurence Olivier) are given nothing to do but stand around in white robes (and I believe Ursula Andress gets one line of dialogue as Aphrodite, while Claire Bloom is equally unmemorable as Hera). Most annoying of all is that damn mechanical owl and an unfortunate blubbering Burgess Meredith. Hamlin in completely uncharismatic and depends mostly on his hair for his acting chops in the film. While the legendary Ray Harrhausen was a masterful special effects wizard for his time, this is sadly a film that would be a good candidate for a remake. So let’s hope Frenchman Louis Leterrier (responsible for that awful Ed Norton 2008 Incredible Hulk update, Transporter 2, 2005, and Jet Li starrer Unleashed, 2005) makes this at least a decent effort. And everyone seems to forget to mention that Desmond Davis directed the original----he mostly worked in television before and after that, if it matters.
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