philfromno Reviews

My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002)

Torturous

[1/10 · 3 March 2003]

I find it unfathomable that this film was the breakout hit of last year. My only guess is that it drove people to the theatre who were excited that it was low on curse words and sex. Which is fine, but I wish that they could have added a bit of humor or drama.

There has been a lot of crowing about the crass stereotypes in this film, to which I can only respond "what stereotypes?" These characters are drawn so flimsily that they don't even reach the level of stereotypes. Michael Constantine, playing the supposedly charming and wacky father, is colorless except for an obsession with Greek root words and the healing powers of Windex. Are you laughing yet? I hope so, because that's all you get.

But at least Constantine has a couple of defining character traits. We learn nothing about the other characters except that they are Greek. Well, Greek and obnoxious. This movie would have us believe that Greek Americans' life revolves entirely around their ethinicity, and yet the only defining thing about being Greek is that you sit around and constantly discuss the fact that you are Greek.

For contrast, we have Corbett's parents, who embody some nightmare thumbnail sketch of Waspish stereotype. Surreally quiet and psychotically uncomfortable, they act as if they've never met a mediterranean before. The exchange of idiocies when the WASP mother tries to explain to the apparently retarded Greek mother that the cake she brought to dinner is a bundt cake is one of the more cringe inducing comedy moments here.

Another reviewer here remarked, as if it were a good thing, that the observations in this movie could be easily applied to any number of ethnic groups. I wholeheartedly agree, and add that all it would take to turn it into My Big Fat Italian (Jewish, Mexican, Puerto Rican, Armenian, Spanish, etc.) Wedding would be a quick find/replace command on the screenwriter's laptop.

When a movie's highest moment of tension comes from a wedding morning zit (a problem solved minutes later by a stick of cover up) you know you're dealing with a limp excuse for a film.

I'm not asking for The Graduate here, but frankly I can't find a thing about this movie that is worth your time or money. But, apparently, America disagrees, so this movie made over 200 million bucks and is not being turned into the sitcom it always more or less resembled. Go figure.

The Blank Generation (1976)

Worst. Documentary. Ever.

[15 February 2003]

A quick description of this would lead me to think that it's right up my alley. So many of the right words. Grainy, black and white. Cinema verite. 70s New York punk scene. Television. Voidoids.

Unfortunately, it's godawful. Bordering on unwatchable. There is an important difference between gritty realism and watching someone's home videos, and this is definitely the latter. Apparently, the film was taken silent, and then demos and other recordings were played over it. Which is pretty damn annoying, especially considering that half of the time it's a completely different song being played. Christ, for all I can tell it's a different band, as outside of a couple of bands that would become famous, these people are mostly forgotten.

And since most of these bands are so obscure, wouldn't it be nice to have some kind of title cards to introduce us? No, we (sort of) just see some band we've never heard of and a demo of their song playing in the background. Like the song, and want to know more about them. You're out of luck. If the filmmakers are still alive, maybe you can hunt them down and they'll tell you. Otherwise you're screwed.

So, in summation, this film is not entertaining, not particularly beautiful, and it can't possibly teach you anything you didn't already know. In other words, it's absolutely useless.

Josie and the Pussycats (2001)

Not for the humorless

[7/10 · 3 December 2002]

Reading the reviews posted here, I have to wonder what people walking into a movie called Josie and the Pussycats expected. I expected nothing, actually, as live action adaptations of cartoons had proved themselves to be the lowest of all film subgenres.

But the writers of Josie and the Pussycats took the unenviable task of adapting a second rate and all but forgotten Archie spin off and created a smart and witty satire on post millenial pop culture that reminds one less of the Scooby Doo movie and more of Frank Tashlin's Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? Basically reducing the entire pop marketing machine to a hideous sublminal brainwashing operation, the movie is filled with hilariously over the top product placements in a joke that seems to have gone flying over the heads of self righteous adolescents everywhere. The satire isn't always subtle (the subliminal message tacked on to the Pussycats' single, voiced by mr moviefone, includes the phrase 'there is no such place as area 51') but it is almost always pretty funny. But the film does a credible job of creating a shiny, brightly colored, and vaguely menacing pop culture fantasy world, where everyone is beautiful and every surface is selling something.

As expected, the trio is played by adorable pseudo teen hotties (Rachel Leigh Cook, Rosario Dawson, and Tara Reid), of which only Rosario Dawson rises above the passable in terms of acting. There is a fairly gratuitous cameo by Carson Daly, then Reid's fiancee, that could have been cut out, although on second thought it is kind of funny to see Daly (playing himself, no less) as a smiling, blank faced contract killer. The real stars here are the ever dependable Parker Posey and Alan Cumming, as the ruthless and grotesque record company executives, who provide most of the film's funniest scenes.

Vincent & Theo (1990)

Excellent, underrated Altman

[19 September 2002]

Altman tells the oft-told story of Vincent Van Gogh and the much less told story of his art dealer brother. The story deftly avoids tortured artist cliches and builds both characters as complex, contradictory individuals. The acting is beyond excellent. Tim Roth shows considerable restraint as Van Gogh, a character that many actors would have chosen to overact. And Rhys's Theo calm surface subtly betrays his inner torment.

Altman's camera is a star here as well, and few directors today understand the principle of movement as well as he does. The photography ranges from good to excellent, and the whole films feels like a glimpse into Vincent's world. Like most of Altman's better films, it's character rather than plot driven, so some will certainly say that it's 'boring'. If you are prone to say things like this, it's probably not for you, but anyone who is a fan of Altman's earlier films will be pleased.

Wings of Desire (1987)

Unfocused but rich and moving

[18 September 2002]

There are so many moments of stunning beauty in this film that it's impossible to resist. The plot is ultra-simple: an angel falls in love and wants to be human. So simple that Hollywood turned it into a vapid, swooning weepie. But Wenders had something else in mind here, and so his camera follows a wealth of characters, from Peter Falk (playing himself) to an elderly historian, to a French trapeze artist across a desolate looking Berlin, reading their thoughts as they speak to themselves, clumsy and eloquent, about the small details of being alive.

Of course it doesn't really jell into a narrative, but that's far beside Wenders' point here. Certainly a caveat emptor for anyone who doesn't care for slow moving art films, but rich trove of beauty awaits those who are willing to conquer this film. It has all of the usual Wenders problems, of course. For all of the thinking that these people do, our insights into their emotions is quite murky. Perhaps that is what Wenders is trying to say, but in building to a denoument that seems intended to release a highly charged emotional catharsis, this lack of clarity seems restraining. For that reason, the finale is strangely muted and a bit contrived.

Wenders directs like an impressionist composer, focusing on feeling rather than development. It's both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. It keeps this film from being the classic that it occasionally seems like, but it's worth watching more than once.

7/10

Testament of Orpheus (1960)

Art-Kitsch

[17 September 2002]

Modernist renaissance man directed quite a few groundbreaking masterpeices in his time, like the hallucinatory Beauty and the Beast and Blood of a Poet, basically setting the stage for art directors ranging from Ingmar Bergman to Jean-Luc Godard. But here, he made a film so tired and silly looking, it almost crosses the line into so-bad-it's-good.

The film basically consists of the elderly Cocteau himself, wandering through a world of people in crazy-ass costumes, and making faces that bear a striking resemblance to Bela Lugosi's horrified looks in Ed Wood's Glen or Glenda. There are also some elementary special effects (backwards film, for example) that are somewhat less than mind blowing, even by 1960 standards.

Interestingly, the incredulous person staring a people in costumes was done much better 2 years later in Herk Harvey's low budget horror film Carnival of Souls, which, unlike the Testament of Orpheus, is a must see.

Shadows (1958)

Primitive Cassavetes. Interesting, but no masterpeice

[7/10 · 17 September 2002]

1959 was a landmark in the world of film. Several great directors of the classic era were releasing career capping classics that ranked among their best. Just a look at the titles is instructive, Hitchcock's North By Northwest, Billy Wilder's Some Like It Hot, Howard Hawks' Rio Bravo, Douglas Sirk's Imitation of Life. Add a couple from the previous year, Orson Welles' Touch of Evil, Hitch's Vertigo, and Nick Ray's Wind Across the Everglades, and you've got a pretty good summing up of what was possible within the classic Hollywood style.

At the same time, two films appeared that hinted at a whole new way of making films. One was Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless, the other was John Cassavetes Shadows. The two films had certain things in common, largely improvised acting by non stars, handheld cameras, low budgets, and a certain youthful, jazzy swagger. In certain ways, though, they couldn't be farther apart. Godard was still a believer in the director as arbiter of style. He knew more about film than most Hollywood producers, and Breathless was filled with the iconography of the classic crime film. Cassavetes, on the other hand, was an actor, and a refugee from New York's underground theater scene. His first film shows him little impressed with the cinema, and a big believer in actors. Godard's film constantly references it's own artifice, whereas Shadows aims for a certain kind of naturalism.

It doesn't reach it, mainly because naturalism is a myth, particularly in cinema. But it feels powerful, kinetic but lilting like the cool jazz on the score, certainly the main inspiration for the filmmaking style on display here. It ultimately doesn't hold together, mainly because Cassavetes' actors here are amateurish beatniks, where Cassavetes style requires strong, imaginative actors. His later work with Gena Rowlands, Ben Gazarra, and Peter Falk blows this out of the water. Due to the director's technical inexperience, some bits of dialogue had to be redubbed later, which defeats the freshness of the improvisation. Still it's fascinating to watch, both for the great moments (like the scene where Leila Goldoni talks about her dissapointment with losing her virginity) and to watch a groundbreaking artist finding his way.

The Killing (1956)

Occasionally great, but overrated, like its director

[16 September 2002]

A solid noirish caper movie, this film is constantly given just a bit more credit than it warrants. This is probably due to its director, whose unimpeachable reputation among college students was fomented by strikingly photographed psychedelic juvenelia like 2001 and A Clockwork Orange. Told in an occasionally clumsy non linear manner, the Killing is considered groundbreaking and daring by anyone who's never seen Jules Dassin's Rififi (it's in French, which would explain it.)

Still, it has a lot going for it. Kubrick is a noir true beleiver, and has quite an eye for unsettling detail. Sterling Hayden was one of the 1950s most underrated actors (check him out two years earlier in Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar), and his performance here is quite effective. The film's pacing is a bit odd, and it's obvious that Kubrick was still learning to direct.

Ultimately, it's a reasonably inventive genre picture, no masterpeice of the genre like Orson Welles' "Touch of Evil" would be two years later. Kubrick made better films in the years to come, not the least of which was his next one, Paths of Glory. But he also did a lot worse. A good rental for Kubrick fans and film noir aficionados.

The Big Heat (1953)

Has Moments

[10/10 · 15 September 2002]

Overall this was a bit of a dissapointment coming from the director of Metropolis, M, Fury, and You Only Live Once. The film does have its moments. The moments of explosive violence are certainly unsettling, as is watching Ford's character sink slowly deeper into obsession. The first scene and the big shootout are both remarkable, although brief. But for the most part, Lang fails to create any genuine tension. Too well-lit for noir, the film at times feels almost stagey, something I would never say about any other Lang film that I've seen.

In fact, the whole film feels demoralized, as if Lang is simply not trying. Perhaps the weakness of the material or the meddling of the studios simply wore him down, but he also fails to elicit any good performances, even from Gloria Grahame and Lee Marvin.

Anyway, it's a decent genre film, worth watching if it's on TV, but there are much better Lang films and noirs out there.

Bicycle Thieves (1948)

Great Film, but give credit where it's due

[10/10 · 14 September 2002]

This was not the beginning of Neorealism, as some people here have stated. That would be Roberto Rosselini's Rome: Open City, which is a much better film. This one is definitely worth watching, though. It's sublimely, and subtley touching. If you like this style of filmmaking, though, you should really see Rosselini's films.

Angels with Dirty Faces (1938)

Not Bad, but flawed

[14 September 2002]

Cagney and Bogart made two gangster films together in 38 and 39. Both are legendary, but the other one, Raoul Walsh's Roaring Twenties, is the better of the two.

Director Micheal Curitz had a pair of masterpeices in his future, Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy. He manages some great moments here, and the best two are situated at the beginning and end, giving this film a reputation that it really doesn't deserve. Otherwise, it tends to get bogged down, particularly in the basketball scene. In fact, the scenes with the Dead End Kids that rather dominate this picture threaten to drown the whole enterprise in sentimental melodrama that seems out of place in a gritty gangster film.

It's worth seeing on cable, to be sure, but it's not going to blow you away. Instead, check out the aforementioned Roaring Twenties or Walsh and Cagney's other masterpeice, 1949's White Heat.

Schindler's List (1993)

Sweeping, majestic...yawn

[6/10 · 13 September 2002]

To say that you don't like Speilberg is almost unamerican, certain to get you dismissed as an arty naysayer. How could you not love Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Schindler's List?

Indeed, how could you not. They are all honed and perfected in every possible way. Anything that you might not enjoy, that might not contribute to your complete and utter passive entertainment, has been sandpapered away, leaving a smooth, coated lozenge of American moviemaking. They are perfection personified.

And while that makes these films impossible to hate, it also makes them impossible to love, at least in the way that I love movies. I want my favorite films to push back, to argue with me, and with themselves. What has been lost in the process of perfection is personality, the willingness to fail, to be boring, or slow, or stupid, or half-baked. To write a line of bad dialogue, to cut a scene too short or too long. To risk an ugly shot in search of a mind blowing one, or to move the camera and risk a shaky scene. Godard, the anti Speilberg if there ever was one, did all of these things over and over. To watch a Godard film, even a truly awful one (and there were quite a few), is thrilling. To watch a bad Speilberg film (say, 1941) is numbing and unbearable, as the lack of personality simply shines through.

And then there is Schindler's List, Speilberg's 'art' film. Visually, it makes all manner of stylistic references to everyone from Kurosawa to Bergman (two decidely risk taking filmmakers), but spiritually it's closer in spirit to Lean's Lawrence of Arabia or Doctor Zhivago, 'quality' films where even the beauty is stifling. It seems designed, much like his action blockbusters, so that there is nothing bad you can say about it. Great photography abounds, but never in a way that makes you want to sit up and notice. It's like a series of postcards from the holocaust. It's emotionally wrenching, at times, but never in a way that demands that you become uncomfortable. And it builds up to a treacly ending that rings so false that it's almost embarrassing.

So there you go. I'm sure I've made some people hate me, but so be it.

The Night of the Hunter (1955)

Incredible, eerie beauty. Screw the snickerers

[10/10 · 11 September 2002]

I get annoyed with people who mention their Mystery Science Theater style yuk fest when watching old movies, and it's especially annoying when the movie is a really great one. The expressionist photography in this stylishly over the top thriller is stunning. Two moments especially stand out, those being the central murder scene and the incredibly beautiful shot of the underwater corpse. But there are moments to remember all over. The plot works on several levels, and is quite psychologically complex, as well as being rather exaggerated in a way that cynical and stupid viewers will probably find pretty rioutous. (These people, by the way, deserve a lifetime of Kevin Smith films.)

There are serious flaws here, to be sure. Laughton's skill at photography and imagery isn't quite matched by his ability to choreograph action, and the chase scene lacks tension for that reason. In addition, the film ends on a saccharine note that rings so false it just had to have been tacked on by uncomfortable studio execs. These are minor complaints for me, though, and this still ranks above my favorites.

Amélie (2001)

Decent, but...

[4/10 · 9 September 2002]

I hated everything that I'd seen by Jeunet to this point. I thought that Delicatessen and City of Lost Children were that annoying kind of 'art' film that had more in common with music video than cinema, preferring eye popping visuals to genuine filmmaking. And Alien Resurrection, his foray into Hollywood sellout was the lowest point in a series long past its sell by date.

Amelie, when compared to these previous films, feels like a breath of fresh air. Jeunet still prefers camera tricks to camera style, quick cuts to mise-en scene, and digital effects to photography. And while the plot here shows quite a bit of invention, it relies far too much on its omniscient narrarator to inform us just how charming everyone and everything here is. But for the first time, Jeunet seems to want to put people in front of the camera instead of phantasmagoric setpeices. The photography, when it is coherent, is often stunning. The model here seems to be classic Hollywood musicals like Singing In the Rain, and Jeunet fills the screen with a stunning array of colors, and every shot simply sparkles.

Of course, I still find Jeunet's visual style rather oppressive and tiring. But this very style will probably recommend it to the college students who will make this a big hit for a few years. And it's nowhere nearly as godawful and overwrought as Oliver Stone's similarly stylized Natural Born Killers, which is what all the pretentious kids were watching when I was in school.

The Hole (1960)

Not bad, but I don't really get it

[10/10 · 9 September 2002]

Without being an annoying adolescent about it, I can't really understand why this film is so highly regarded. It seems a decent but average film, particularly when compared with the utterly remarkable French films of the 50s and early 60s, like Clouzot's "Diabolique", Bresson's "Pickpocket", Melville's "Bob le Flambeur", and Truffaut's "400 Blows". The direction is minimalistic, but not enough to transform it into a style like Bresson did. There is a certain tension, but that tension never reaches anything transcendent as in Clouzot's films.

Overall, it adds up to an above average genre film. That's not really a bad thing, as I enjoy a good genre film. It's worth watching, to be sure, but not exactly a masterpiece, in my opinion.

But, of course, it's possible that I'm just missing something here. I do that sometimes.

The Jungle Book (1967)

My fave Disney film

[8 September 2002]

I have to say, I'm not overly fond of the whole "Disney Magic" sacred cow. For every classic (Snow White, Pinnochio) there are three or four Disney features that range from mediocre (Fox and the Hound, Lion King) to godawful (the horribly annoying Winnie the Pooh, Mu Lan). But this one is completely enjoyable for me, and is one of the few movies that my daughter and I anjoy equally (one of the others, by the way, is the Marx bros. Duck Soup.)

The songs are catchy, bouncy, and clever. The story is warm without any of the treacly sentimentality that so often colors these movies. If you don't bob your head whenever you hear "I Wanna Be Like You", then there is no hope for you.

By the way, in answer to a review below dealing with racial stereotypes in this movie: I understand your point, but you should note that King Louie is played by Louis Prima, a white man. And he wasn't aping (rimshot) an African American accent. That was really the way he talked.

Imitation of Life (1959)

Fascinatingly ambiguous

[8 September 2002]

Of all the great Hollywood directors, Douglas Sirk has taken the most rehabilitation. His films in their own time were massively popular melodramas that the critics hated. And, to be sure, they're still not for every critical viewer. If you find the works of Nicholas Ray (Johnny Guitar, Rebel Without A Cause) overwrought, Sirk's films are sure to send you running for the bathroom.

Actually, Ray is a good comparison to Sirk. Both were quintessentially 50s directors that thumbed their noses at naturalism and revel in their artificiality. But where Ray's melodrama was mythic, Sirk's was fairly dripping with irony.

And this film is certainly no exception to this. At the time, much was made of the 'social criticism' in the story. I don't doubt that there was a certain degree of earnest politics here, but the situation of Susan Kohner, a white actress playing a black girl pretending to be white, is more an exercise in absurdity than anything. And the irony is everywhere. The performances are plastic personified, with Lana Turner's limitations turned into an actual style. And in the scenes where she is palying an actress, the irony threatens to jump off of the screen.

I've never seen a sentimental film taking such a harsh view of love, but all of the lovers here feel not only the need, but the right to control those that they love. It's hard to miss the parallels between the sleazy agent and the supposedly virtuous boyfriend.

The photography, as in all of Sirk's films, is simply amazing, with stunning movement and play of color. But among these beautifully shot scenes has Kohner suffering a male on female beating that is pretty brutal by 1950s standards. It's perverse, to be sure, not the least because it is followed immediately by a non sequiter scene that opens with Lana Turner saying "well, that felt good."

The people who made this film the largest moneymaker of its year certainly missed all of this, and saw a standard tearjerker. As the film rises to an excruciating emotional pitch, with an astonishing funeral scene that defines 'over the top', its viewers were expected to be pulling at their hankies. But I have to think that Sirk was laughing.

Does this mean that Sirk thought little of his target audience (which would have been, certainly, largely female? Possibly. The point has been made before that Sirk's films were parodies of 1950's American society. I'm willing to accept that, but I also have to realize that they were also made as big budget blockbusters that were supposed to make money off of these very people. This makes them just a little distasteful even as it makes them fascinating to watch. But Imitation of Life is certainly a tour de force that any fan of classic Hollywood would be advised to watch.

Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

My favorite Nick Ray film

[10/10 · 8 September 2002]

Nicholas Ray may be the most distinctive American director of the 1950s, and certainly the most deeply romantic. His career was marked by indiosyncratic stories about characters driven by deep internal conflicts, inward violence and outward sexual confusion. Rebel Without A Cause is the film where all of his themes meet, and slightly edges out Johnny Guitar and In A Lonely Place as my favorite Ray film.

Some people will certainly find the dialogue here to be rather stilted, and the performances melodramatic. I won't argue. Ray's films in general opposed 'realism' (that most unreal of artistic concepts) in favor of the mythic.

What's particularly satisfying about the film is its cohesiveness, binding together its many disparate events and characters with highly parallel themes and motifs. All of its central characters seem caught in psychosexual conflicts rife with familial gender conflict. Jim (James Dean) is caught between a weakling, effeminated father and a domineering but inneffectual mother. Judy (Natalie Wood) and her father are seperated by his uncomfortable relation to her sexuality. Plato (Sal Mineo), worst of all, is a practical orphan, who suffers all the more for his just under the surface homosexuality. (It's interesting to note here that Plato may be Hollywood's first sympathetic of a gay character.) All of them are driven by internal demons springing from these conflicts.

As usual, Ray is a remarkably sensitive photographer. And here he proves himself a master of color. There are too many beautiful scenes to mention here, but the planetarium scene (with the recorded voiceover about human loneliness) beginning of the 'chickie run' are both stunning.

The film seems divided between claustrophobic nightmares and utopian fantasies. The skewed camera angles of Jim's scenes with his parents contrast with the heavenly dream of teenage paradise in the abandoned house. The staircase motif seems to mark several of these transitions.

In any case, this is a stunning film by a consummate artist, and should certainly be viewed apart from the distorting lens of the James Dean myth. Dean, for his part, is remarkable here, although, as I stated above, the performances here are in a style far removed from what today's audiences are accustomed to.

It's quite silly to say, as several people have here, that this film's themes are 'dated'. They seem to be the constant themes of youth: idealism vs. cynicism, the turmoil of sexual awakening, the desire to fit in, and the internal violence that constantly threatens to become external. To say that these no longer apply because these kids have never heard of ecstasy or the crips is like saying that "Hamlet" no longer rings true because nobody swordfights anymore.

My one complaint about this film is with the title. Certainly quite dramatic, it sounds more like a marketing tagline than any kind of description of the goings on of this film. Jim seems less like a rebel than a young man caught in an inescapable turmoil, and his reaction to the final tragedy belies his lack of a cause. But this is a minor complaint, and I can recommend this film without reservation.

Drop Dead Gorgeous (1999)

So many things to hate in this film

[2/10 · 7 September 2002]

Where to start...Well, the misuse of the mockumentary form should be mentioned. So many of my favorite comedies, from Spinal Tap to Waiting For Guffman have used this form to hilarious effect. What the people who made this film missed, though, is that these films rely on subtlety and a certain kind of naturalism that comes from the use of improvisation (and talented actors, of course.) The comedy here is so over the top and histrionic, the acting so ridiculous, that the documentary style falls apart. It seems like the filmmaker's used this form as an excuse to have the characters speak all of the exposition directly into the camera. They certainly don't seem married to the premise, as they basically act out a standard comedy plot (minus the humor, that is) in front of the supposed documentary camera. The absurdities here include a dance scene where there are at least 7 or 8 camera angles, and plenty of private conversations. By the end, the filmmakers seem to have forgotten that they were even making a mockumentary, as the camera seems to be wherever an important plot point is occurring.

Second point. I'm not particularly offended by tasteless humor, but here they really seemed to have forgotten to actually write any jokes. It's as if it's inherently funny to show a huge retarded man-child or a girl dying from anorexia. In fact, the poor anorexic girl must have really made the director bust a gut, as they drag her out twice without writing a single joke for her.

All of the characters have their supposedly hilarious quirk, which is basically repeated every time they show up on screen ("I'm a slut", "I like sign language", "My brother's gay.")

It all grinds away to a dull and obvious conclusion and then, inexplicably, keep on going, until you fear that this desperately unfunny movie will simply never end. At only an hour and a half, it feels like it takes all day to end, but you will be thankful to see it go.

Glen or Glenda (1953)

In it's own way, what filmmaking is all about

[7/10 · 7 September 2002]

I'm sure you've heard by now that Ed Wood is the worst director in history. In a way, it is certainly true. Everything about this movie is the essence of ineptitude, from the acting to the bizarre stock footage.

But Wood's uncompromising vision shines through in every scene. Bela Lugosi's insane opening monologue, read with a background of charging buffalo, is a wonderful mini film in it's own right. From that point, the film turns into...something or other. Equal parts documentary (although filled with complete non facts) and interior drama, it peaks in a hallucinatory climax that is both silly and genuinely frightening.

Of course, Wood knew very little about directing a film. But there has never been anything like this in the history of film. Whatever you want to say about it, Glen or Glenda will still be watched years after 'quality' big budget films like Pearl Harbor and 'The Green Mile' are forgotten.

Citizen Kane (1941)

On Citizen Kane and the whole "greatest of all time" thing

[10/10 · 7 September 2002]

Let's get one thing straight. There is NO unquestioned greatest film. Opinions on the greatest films diverge widely. The people here that are offering negative reviews seem to be under the impression that Kane is the cinema's Shakespeare What you have to realize is that, while Kane invariably shows up at the top of greatest film lists, these lists are always composites, based on hundreds of different lists by different critics and reviewers.

Check out the web site of Sight and Sound, where they have the top ten lists for the past 50 years. Kane is on the top this year, just as it was in 92, 82, 72, and 62. But if you look at the individual lists, you'll find a lot of variety in people's individual choices, and you'd be surprised how many Citizen Kane doesn't even appear on. Or, when it does, how rarely it is at the top. In fact, outside of dim bulb TV talking heads reading off of a teleprompter, I don't think I have ever heard anyone say that Citizen Kane is the greatest film ever made. It just happens to show up in the most critic's lists.

And in any case, this sort of thing is cyclical. Kane didn't have this kind of respect until the 60s, and it's already starting to falter a bit. A recent poll made up of critics and afficionados in their 20s ranked Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo at the top.

In any case, Citizen Kane is not my favorite movie. It's not even my favorite Orson Welles movie (that would be Touch of Evil). When I took part in one of these polls, it didn't even make my top ten. But I can easily understand why it's so well respected, and it would probably make my top 20 or 25. All the tools of cinema are used to sublime effects here, from the expressive camera angles to the stunning interplay of shadow and light. The acting, especially be Welles, is simply stunning. And the plot is constructed artfully, non linear but always quite engaging. We get a deep sense of the characters in all of their subtleties, quite a difficult task that most filmmakers fail to accomplish even today.

I have to laugh when people complain about how Kane doesn't live up to 'today's standards.' Of course, this is just a matter of personal taste, as I enjoy the dreamlike grace of the classic films so much better than anything post '77 (ironically, the year that I was born.) And if you think that Forrest Gump or The Green Mile are the pinnacle of filmmaking, then you probably won't 'get' what's so great about Citizen Kane. Which is fine, nobody says you have to, but I have to think that you're missing out.

Clerks (1994)

P*** poor.

[2/10 · 6 September 2002]

Like the humor free dick jokes in mainstream comedy, but annoyed with all of the plot, camera movements, and competent acting? Well, Clerks is your movie.

Made with a legendary 30,000 bucks (give or take a million or two in promotion) and a complete lack of talent or insight, Clerks corrupted an entire generation of would be indie filmmakers and freshman aged audiences. The much ballyhooed writing is just simply not as clever as it thinks it is, basically amounting to a bunch of stuff that would be funny if you said it to your friends but pretty lame when delivered, without the slightest hint of inflection, into the camera. Of course, people will say that they laughed their asses off, but people will say that about "Tommy Boy", too. Outside of that, we have charmless, inept actors (are real actors that expensive? So many would do it for free, just for the exposure) and a complete lack of cinematic grace or technique. The basic shot in Clerks is a nailed to the floor camera honing in on non moving actors. Absurdly, Smith claims this was based on the Divine Comedy (the lead character is named Dante, get it?) but this structure is pretty much meaningless, and has precious little to do with the film as it stands.

This is certainly not Smith's worst film. If you think that his handling of comedy is shallow, you should see how he handles drama in the laughable "Chasing Amy". But it is his most overrated, and downright odious.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Beautiful, but put a pot of coffee on...

[6 September 2002]

...because you're gonna need it.

This film is too visually stunning to dismiss, but only the most devoted Kubrick fans (and psychedelic aficionados) will want to watch it again.

First off, the photography, as in almost every Kubrick film, is stunning. The most talked about moments occur in the final half hour, with its imaginary vistas and color tinted close ups (inspired, seemingly, by Hitchcock's far superior "Vertigo"). But check out the middle scenes, with its austere set peices of perfect circles and quietly menacing machinery. And the opening segment, with the man-apes existing in a desolate, prehistoric world that is the opposite of 'noble' nature.

If only that Kubrick could have seen fit to fill these lovely backgrounds with any kind of human warmth. The theme is a vague sort of Neitschean evolution of man into superman, but getting there is torturous and slow. (Arthur C. Clarke's concurrently written novel fleshes out the theme much more, and, since he and Kubrick collaborated on the story, anyone wanting an explanation of the story would be well advised to read the novel.) Early moments, played against the background of "Thus Sprach Zarathustra", have a monumental, symphonic feel, but most of the film is largely silent except for a rather annoying buzzing sound. In fact, since the dialogue is ultra minimal and fairly inconsequential (aside from the final moments of the computer HAL's "life"), you might want to watch it with the sound turned down and appropriate music (say, the Orb's "Orbus Terrarum") playing in the background.

One gets the feeling that Kubrick has a genuine distaste for the humans in his story, as well as for the average viewer. This makes the film that much more distasteful. Those looking for a similar, though oppositely themed and more watchable, film experience should check out Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky's "Solaris" (soon to be available on DVD) In the meantime, Kubrick has made better films, particularly the masterful and darkly hilarious "Dr. Strangelove."

Seven Samurai (1954)

Make Sure You Watch the Big Screen Version

[10/10 · 5 September 2002]

The final battle scene of this movie absolutely MUST be seen on a full screen. I say that because I saw it first on a chopped up TV screen and didn't really get it.

This isn't my pick for the best Kurosawa film. I would rate Yojimbo and Ran slightly ahead. But it is probably the best one to start with, as it introduces so many of the elements of Kurosawa's films. I may be the only person who wishes that this film was actually LONGER, as I would like to get to know several of these characters a little better. Still, that's probably not the point, as the film is intended to be epic and monumental. Yojimbo is more intimate, while Ran is more mythical and operatic. Seven Samurai is right in the middle, which, I suppose, makes it the perfect Kurosawa film for those who only intend to see one. But you definitely shouldn't stop there.

The Producers (1967)

Timeless Comedy

[7 August 2002]

In a day when Adam Sandler is called a genius, it makes you feel like a member of a special club to know about the classic comedians of the 60s. The Producers recalls a different time in hollywood comedy, when broad humor didn't mean that the audiences intelligence was insulted. When comedies weren't required to follow a formula (idiotic man-child meets girl, gets fooled by snobs/crooks, loses girl, beats snobs, gets girl). It recalls a time when comedy was the refuge of genuinely anarchic personalities.

Only Mel Brooks could think of the story, two crooks devise a plot to steal a million dollars by producing a flop play. The one that they come up with, Springtime For Hitler, shows up on the screen as a hilarious parody of the overproduced musicals of the 60s. The wildly unpredictable screenplay is, at times, almost unbearably witty. Some of the jokes are a bit dated; the hippy actor has intials that spell out LSD, the director's homosexuality is played for laughs (although the jokes are never as cruel as the gay jokes in, say, Revenge of the Nerds); but overall, the jokes still hit. Most comedy screenplays from 10 or 20 years ago have aged much more poorly.

But the films still wouldn't work nearly so well without its top notch cast. Gene Wilder proves himself to be among the finest comic actors of his generation as the manic depressive accountant. Zero Mostel, on the other hand, is hilarious as the unscrupulous producer, at times seeming like he is about to explode from greed, lust, and excitement. The supporting cast is also great, particularly Dick Shawn as LSD. You might balk at first, seeing the definitely middle aged Shawn playing a jive talking hippy, but both his flower power debut and his hipster portrayal of Hitler are riotous and dead on.

I'm sure that a lot of people, programmed to search for our standard movie formulas and stock jokes, are not going to get it. I will say you should give it a chance, no matter your age (I'm only 25, so I'm not the target audience here), and maybe you'll find something great.