The Netflix Files: May 20-29

It's been way too long since I've added another entry to either the "what I watched this week" or "best of the month" series. However, with summer in full swing, I figured I ought to get both of these running again while I have free time. First thing's first: what I watched this week is now going under the name The Netflix Files. Now that that's out of the way, it's time to play catch up:

Solaris (1972) dir. Andrei Tarkovsky:

Often considered something of a Russian answer to 2001: A Space Odyssey, Tarkovsky's adaptation of Stainslaw Lem's sci-fi novel deserves to stand on its own. It may be set largely in space, and feature mysterious and difficult concepts, but it couldn't be any different from Kubrick's masterpiece. Solaris uses its sci-fi trappings and setting to explore memory, grief, and loss, often offering answers as challenging as the questions it poses. It can be a difficult watch based on length alone, and it probably demands a second (and third, and fourth, and fifth, etc...) viewing, but even on a first watch, it's hard to not be impressed. There are times when the pacing can grow tiresome; a lengthy sequence involving showing a car driving on the highway goes on and on without any purpose or direction. It's magnetic to watch at first, but it doesn't take long before it falls victim to too-much-of-a-good-thing syndrome. Still, I'd be hard-pressed not to label Solaris, my first venture in Tarkovsky's filmography, something of a masterpiece in its own right, as difficult as it can be.

Grade: A-

Hour of the Wolf (1968) dir. Ingmar Bergman:

Bergman, for me, is one of those beloved auteurs who oscillates between hypnotically brilliant and frustratingly obtuse, sometimes within a single film. Hour of the Wolf is one of those entries in his canon that is both. The closest that Bergman ever ventured into horror territory, it's a consistently interesting film, one that uses small details to slowly create a sense that all is not well on the island where Johan and Alma live (Max von Sydow and Liv Ullmann). As things become more overtly disturbing and surreal, the layering of symbolism throws some bumps in the road, obscuring the point(s). Von Sydow and Ullmann give committed performances as a couple facing a potentially malevolent group of wealthy neighbors, played by an ensemble of actors committed to creating a perfectly unsettling atmosphere. Like Solaris, it probably deserves a second viewing, but unlike Tarkovsky's film, Hour of the Wolf's initial impression is equally memorable, but not nearly as satisfying.

Grade: B

Orlando (1992) dir. Sally Potter:

Gender roles is the name of the game with Sally Potter's adaptation of Virginia Woolf's time traveling short story. Considered a break-out performance for Tilda Swinton, Orlando traces the 400 year life of Orlando, a young nobleman in Queen Elizabeth's (Quentin Crisp) court. Playing Orlando as both a man and a woman, Swinton's work is both mesmerizing and more vulnerable than the ice queen roles she's known for. Aiding the film, spectacularly I might add, are the art direction and costume design, which gorgeously capture four centuries worth of clothes and castles. It's a visually ravishing journey across time, filled with lush colors and intricate designs courtesy of Oscar favorite Sandy Powell. The beautiful music only adds to this quietly mesmerizing journey. Dialogue is occasionally stiff, but Swinton's compelling work and the immaculate design help lend this odd little gem some heft, creating an impressionistic look at one person experiencing both genders.

Grade: B/B+

La Ceremonie (1996) dir. Claude Chabrol:

Considered to be Chabrol's finest work from the 90s, this domestic drama-turned thriller is the sort that slowly lures you in, only to throw you for a loop with a chilling climax. Led by stellar work from Sandrine Bonnaire and Isabelle Hupert, this tale of a soft-spoken maid and her relationship with a coarse mail woman is consistently interesting. It throws details out slowly, keeping the viewer on edge. We get the sense that something more has to happen than these two women befriending each other, but it's quite hard to tell where it will go. When the film arrives at its ending, you'll likely feel the temperature drop. Chabrol's execution is so matter-of-fact, and La Ceremonie achieves its impact because of it. Coupled with a strangely poetic ending, this domestic thriller is one you won't soon forget.

Grade: A-

What I watched this week: Missing entries

Even though I've been posting a lot of reviews lately, I've realized that I've been neglecting my "What I watched this week" series for quite some time now. As a make-up, here's a condensed set of reviews for my undocumented viewings from January, before I wrap up January with the "Best of the Month" post later today.

Cabaret (1972) dir. Bob Fosse

Notable for winning eight Oscars without taking home Best Picture (it lost to The Godfather), Bob Fosse's screen version of the acclaimed Broadway musical is a complex and entertaining look at the lives of outsiders during the rise of Nazism. In addition to Bob Fosse's fantastic direction and choreography, the film benefits from strong performances from Liza Minelli as the boisterous Sally Bowles and Joel Grey as the eerie, seedy MC (both performances and Fosse won Oscars). Other cast members don't fare so well (leading man Michael York is on the bland side), and the subplot involving Marissa Berenson's romance feels slight. Still, the film deserves praise for the way it tackles so many complicated subjects - namely sexuality - with depth and sophistication.

Grade: B+/A-

Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) dir. Woody Allen

One of Woody Allen's best-loved films, and deservingly so. While some of the prolific auteur's recent work often delves into tedium, Hannah works on all fronts, as both a comedy and drama. The entire ensemble is strong, especially Michael Caine and Dianne Wiest (both of whom won Oscars). And while some story strands feel a bit hurried in their resolution (Caine's affair with Barbara Hershey's character), this zippy film tackles potentially heavy subject matter with enough intelligence and lightness that it becomes engaging, lively, and wholly entertaining to watch. One of the best scenes involves the titular Hannah (and her sisters) discussing any number of problems over lunch, as the camera circles around them repeatedly. It's a work of masterful directing, shot composition, writing, and acting, that exemplifies Allen at his finest.

Grade: B+

The Vanishing (1988) dir. George Sluizer

What starts as a simple enough case of a missing person gradually becomes deeper and stranger as it progresses along. George Sluizer's slow-burning thriller features surprisingly strong characterization, especially when it comes to the kidnapper (Bernard Donnadieu). By gradually piecing together how/when/why Donnadieu's Raymond Lemorne kidnaps Saskia (Johanna ter Steege), the film becomes a surprising mix of mystery and character study. And even though it drags a bit in finally getting to the point of it all, it has an unsettling, wickedly poetic ending that more than makes up for it.

Grade: B+

The Sting (1973) dir. George Roy Hill

"Heist Film" and "Best Picture Winner" aren't the sort of terms that normally go together, but that's exactly what happened with George Roy Hill's 1973 crime film. Though it marks one of the major collaborations between Robert Redford and Paul Newman, the film's strongest performance actually comes from Robert Shaw as the duo's nemesis. An intimidating presence from his first scene, Shaw pretty much makes the movie, which is a little bit too long for its own good. Still, it's lively and fun, and has enough suspense and twists to make it worth the ride.

Grade: B

I am Love (2010) dir. Luca Guadagnino [3rd Viewing]

Heeeeere we go again. Well, they say the third time's the charm, and that's sort of what happened to me with this film. It's actually much more subtle than I gave it credit for in how it portrays Emma's (Tilda Swinton) feeling of being trapped, and some of the hidden nastiness of the Recchi's comes out. The photography and music also gelled together much better, and for much of the film I found the viewing experience quite thrilling. Unfortunately, the screenplay still has a handful of issues that hold it back. Even though Emma feels trapped, the film still doesn't quite justify her desire to run away. She doesn't hate the family she married into, and even if her husband can sometimes be a little stern, he's done nothing (in what we see or in what is implied) to make him a "bad guy." Worse, the chef Emma has an affair with isn't even remotely charismatic or alluring, which hurts the idea that Emma falls for him over his cooking (one last time: she's filthy rich and lives in Italy; great food is NOT in short supply). But nothing about the film is a bigger offender than the ludicrous ending. Now that so much of the film has improved for me, this part is even worse than before, because it ends on a hollow and unsatisfying note rather than a triumphant one. Even with the incredible choice of music, the close-ups become laughable. Worse, the fact that Emma runs away from her family (and civilized society as a whole, one could infer) right after her eldest son has died and the whole family is genuinely in mourning comes off as being in rather bad taste. As I mentioned in my review of Enter the Void, I am Love is a film that wants to be a thrilling pure cinema experience, but unfortunately falls short because it doesn't give the same attention to characters and writing as it does to its stunning aesthetics, thrilling as they can be.

**I've just realized that I can never talk or write about this movie without going on a rant. Sorry...

[Final] Grade: B-

Insomnia (2002) dir. Christopher Nolan

After watching Inception for what feels like the 10th time, I decided to go back to one of Christopher Nolan's earlier films, and found a pleasant surprise. Insomnia actually makes me wish that Nolan would (after The Dark Night Rises) take a break from the BIG stuff, and do something smaller like this or Memento. It's also, to me, proof that Nolan is a better director than he is a writer. Written by Hillary Seitz (and adapted from a 1997 Norwegian film of the same name), the screenplay is much less reliant on expository dialogue (some of which is beyond unnecessary in Inception), and has an overall better flow than the writing in some of Nolan's bigger productions. And, like most Nolan films, the standout isn't the performances, but rather the construction and execution of the story, which Nolan does a fantastic job of. And while the ending may hit something of a cliched note, this steadily paced thriller actually ranks as one of Nolan's best films.

Grade: B/B+

Richard III (1995) dir. Richard Loncraine

Though not quite as out-there in its imagery as Julie Taymor's Titus (1999), this 1930s set telling of the Bard's play benefits from engaging visuals, clever staging, and a magnificent performance from Ian McKellan. There's plenty of menace in McKellan's Richard, but he doesn't over do it, and even adds tiny little quirks of almost child-like glee to his character's scheming. Unfortunately, Annette Bening and Robert Downey Jr. don't fare as well, and their American(ish?) accents clash with Shakespeare's word play. Maggie Smith, on the other hand, completely sells her role in the limited time she's given, and a series of curses she bestows upon Richard to his face is so intense you can almost feel her voice dripping with poison. And when the film reaches its climax, it ends on a wickedly funny note, and uses its time period and location to brilliant effect, even if it results in some slightly stiff green-screen work. Not quite as visionary as Titus, but certainly striking and memorable for a number of good reasons.

Grade: B/B+

What I watched this week: December 13-19

The Fighter (2010) dir. David O. Russell:

Just when you thought the boxing genre had nothing else to offer, along comes David O' Russell's The Fighter, telling the true story of "Irish" Mickey Ward and his last shot at success. While Russell and crew may not turn the genre on its head, they invest enough time in the complexities of the characters that by the time the film reaches its somewhat generic climax, there's actually some tension as to whether Ward (Mark Wahlberg) will come out on top. Yet while Ward may be the main character, the film completely belongs to Christian Bale as Mickey's dodgy brother Dickey. From the opening sit-down interview scene, Bale's performance completely holds your attention, and not just because of the actor's disturbingly gaunt physique. Like the movie itself, he's a live-wire, and you'll have a hard time looking away. Rounding out the superb cast are Melissa Leo as Mickey and Dickey's mother Alice, and Amy Adams in a surprisingly believable turn as the girl who starts to lure Mickey away from his traditional outlook on boxing. In addition to the fiery performances, Wahlberg grounds the movie with his everyman appeal. In a film filled with so much shouting, Wahlberg is able to lend the film a stabilizing presence. Spanning nearly 2 hours, The Fighter ranks among the year's best when it comes to editing, never lagging for an instant despite its lack of reliance on boxing scenes to drive the story forward. Character is key here, and by giving the actors room to breathe, we're left with an ensemble of real people, as opposed to potential caricatures. And even though the film's ending may wrap up just a tad too neatly after all of the bickering and conflict, O. Russell manages to avoid sappiness. Like Wahlberg's Mickey Ward, O. Russell's film is lean and tough, but still full of heart.

Grade: B+

The Story of Adele H. (1975) dir. Francois Truffaut:

One of those classic cases of truth being stranger than fiction, Truffaut's tale of Adele Hugo's (daughter of Victor) quest for unrequited love ranks up there among the strangest of them. When Hugo, under the fake name of Ms. Lewly, arrives in Halifax in 1863, she searches for Lt. Pinson, giving a different connection (niece's boyfriend, cousin, etc...) to everyone who she asks about him. It's just the start of what turns into a truly bizarre story of deception and obsession. As the film's central focus, Isabelle Adjani commands the screen as a woman who refuses to give up on a love that she genuinely believes in, even after Pinson repeatedly rejects her and tries to avoid her. Unfortunately, the movie itself isn't up to the same level of Adjani's work. Quick glimpses into Adele's dreams/nightmares, which usually involve drowning, are horribly overwrought. The film would have been better off simply focusing on Adele writing in bed, rather than having the dream sequence partially dissolved over her. The film somehow loses intrigue even as Adele becomes increasingly unhinged and her desperation grows. By the time it reaches its conclusion in the Caribbean, Truffaut seems to have run out of steam, and this mutes the effect of what is, at its core, a fascinating tale of real-life obsession.

Grade: B-

Touch of Evil (1958) dir. Orson Welles:

It's hard to live up to an opening shot as brilliant as that in Touch of Evil, but this noir, one of the last of its kind, is up to task. Granted, certain parts have aged awkwardly given the current state of Mexico's drug/gang violence, and at times the film seems to want to become more intricate than it ought to be, but overall, this ranks as one of the greats of the noir genre, and one of the finest moments of Welles' career as a director, writer, and actor. Though I was never quite sold on Charlton Heston as the film's leading man, he's competent enough, and co-star Janet Leigh holds her own in the role of his surprisingly tough (relatively speaking) wife. But the star here is Welles on all fronts. As a director and writer he beautifully captures a sense of menace and danger in the film's border-town setting. And as an actor he creates a noir villain for the ages as Hank Quinlan, a police captain playing both sides of the bombing investigation that sets off the story proper. It's hard not to view Quinlan as some forerunner of great neo-Western villains like The Judge in McCarthy's "Blood Meridian," albeit slightly more theatrical. But the film also benefits from fantastic tech aspects, namely the striking cinematography which beautifully utilizes deep focus and low Dutch angles that add tension to even the sunniest of shots. And even though time has worn it in spots, it's hard to deny the significance and craftsmanship of this last-of-a-dying-breed story all these decades later.

Grade: A-

What I watched this week: Nov 29-Dec 5

Unfortunately only one movie this week aside from Black Swan, which I'm still recovered from. After being wowed by Apocalypse Now, I bumped another Coppola film to the top of my Netflix quenue (you're welcome), and it's the lone subject of this post.

The Conversation (1974) dir. Francis Ford Coppola:

This under-seen entry in Coppola's filmography practically defines the term "slow burner." For so much of the journey through its 1 hr. 53 min run time, it borders on uneventful. After the movie opens with a surveillance team, led by Harry Caul (Gene Hackman), tracking a couple in a San Francisco square, the incident gradually fades to the background. Coppola takes us through the less exciting parts of Harry's life, such as a drunken night of partying with coworkers, or attending a surveillance tech fair. We also get a brief but telling look at how Harry life is dominated by both his profession and his Catholic faith (complete with an extra dose of guilt), as well as his flashes of loneliness and paranoia.

Though some of the scenes could be slightly trimmed, Coppola's steady hand and Gene Hackman's increasingly layered turn help hold your attention through what feels like a somewhat uneventful story. Hackman, so many light years ahead of his (first) Oscar-winning turn in The French Connection, is at his best here. What starts as a rather simple performance gradually adds tiny detail after tiny detail, and as the character becomes more complex, the film becomes better. The other star of the film comes from the post production side: Walter Murch and Art Rochester's superb sound design, which uses a number of traditional and odd effects to really detail the scenes.

And then in the last act, when the plot finally comes back, the movie takes itself up a notch in both execution and power. And yet it does this without ever betraying the two previous acts, even with the initially jarring dream sequence. Thanks to Coppola's direction, Hackman's quietly compelling lead turn, and the superb sound that plays such a key role, The Conversation takes its place in the pantheon of great paranoia thrillers, all while avoiding genre tropes or the need to constantly artificially inflate suspense.

Grade: B+

What I watched this week: Nov 22-28

As we bring November to a close, I have two more viewings before we move into the last month of 2010. Well, technically one, since the first was seen in theaters and is from the current year. I just didn't feel like having a post titled "what I watched this week" with only one entry, hence my cheating.

Love and Other Drugs (2010) dir. Ed Zwick:

The name Ed Zwick usually calls to mind accessible action flicks with at least one key, often nominated, supporting actor. Notable examples include Glory (Oscar for Denzel Washington), The Last Samurai (nomination for Ken Watanabe), and Blood Diamond (nomination for Djimon Honsou). Which is what makes Zwick's latest effort such a strange departure: an R-rated romantic comedy. Based on Jamie Reidy's novel "Hard Sell: The Evolution of a Viagra Salesman," Drugs tells the story of up-and-coming pharmaceutical salesman Jamie Randall (Jake Gyllenhaal). While trying to push one brand of anti-depressant to a doctor (Hank Azaria), Jamie meets patient Maggie Murdock (Anne Hathaway), who has Parkinson's. After a first meeting that ends with Maggie attacking Jamie with her purse, the two begin having a relationship-free relationship, centered only on guilt-free, no-strings-attached sex.

As the film progresses of course, a real relationship begins to take place, and (a few) complications ensue. Yet for much of the film, the story remains as breezy as Jamie and Maggie's early relationship. Despite running roughly 1 hr 50 min, Love and Other Drugs flies by, and the large amount of skin-baring scenes manage to not be repetitive. The sex scenes actually manage to push the relationship, and even the plot forward (if at times just barely), and keeps the film from feeling indulgent or tacky. Gyllenhaal and Hathaway fulfill the promise showed in the much more somber Brokeback Mountain, and radiate chemistry with this significantly lighter fare. Hathaway in particular makes the most out of her character, though this is in part due to it being much meatier. Gyllenhaal is charming, though the scenes that could have yielded stronger, richer work are often simplified, watered down even. And along with the supporting cast, namely Josh Gad as Jamie's brother, the pair get a good number of well-earned laughs.

The story, despite its ending, also manages to avoid a great deal of the tedious mush that so many romantic comedies fall into. Yes, there's the inevitable brief parting-of-ways, but here it isn't contrived. It's a bit too brief and comes too late, but it's not annoying just because it delays the inevitable. Where the film runs into problems, though, is that in its quest to satisfy the obvious need to see Jake and Anne naked, the greater issues are pushed to the side. One of the film's most interesting conflicts, Maggie suffers from a disease that requires her to take a number of medications while Jamie's job is to further turn medicine into a money machine, is barely touched upon, though it is hinted at on the surface. Meanwhile, Oliver Platt is stuck in a wholly thankless role as Jamie's roadside partner; by the film's end, Platt is rendered little more than a plot device. His final scene, in which he makes a revelation to Jamie in a bar, feels weightless as a result, despite the script's attempt to make it indicative of the character's conflict about his job and his family life. Hank Azaria, who has much more screen time, fares worse. The character never changes, and is so static and blank, and this is made worse by the film's attempt to use his role to show the dark side of certain kinds of doctors.

By the time Love breezes through to its conclusion, it feels as though the film's last act should have given the material some more weight. It's satisfying, but just barely so. Hathaway and Gyllenhaal make for an extremely appealing and watchable coupling, but even their considerable charms (and bone structure) can't completely mask the weaknesses in the screenplay.

Grade: B-

Apocalypse Now (1979) dir. Francis Ford Coppola:

When you take a step back, there have actually been quite a few good or great war movies. And yet in reviews, writers always talk about these films as though they're first of their kind. This is one of those genres of storytelling where the devil really is in the details. Plenty of war films are appropriately gritty. Plenty of them pull no punches when showing us the horror and madness of war, free of action movie tropes. And plenty of them feature strong performances. Where they really make a mark for themselves has to be somewhere else, and for Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness," that comes in the final 30 minutes.

At a sprawling length of 2 hours and 40 minutes (the Redux clocks in at 3 hours), the original cut is a very strong war movie, filled with great production values, strong acting, and brutally honest depictions of violence. But, coming from the perspective of one who only saw the film for the first time a few days ago, these traits feel routine. They feel expected. And that's what makes the last half hour so dizzyingly brilliant. I had no problems with following Capt. Ben Willard (Martin Sheen) and his team as they navigated up a river to find the renegade Col. Kurtz (Marlon Brando). I was never bored, and the pacing (from a team of four editors) always kept my interest. Coppola's execution of the majority of the film is also great, especially the helicopter attack set to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries," made all the more chilling by the fact that the music is being played by on-screen characters. It's brutal but not exploitative, and it captures so much about the shades of grey that war brings out in us. The sight of a surfboard strapped to the side of a helicopter next to missiles and machine guns is hard to shake, even when its shot so matter-of-fact.

But when Willard and his team finally reach Kurtz, and the native village he has essentially become god of, the film reaches new heights. This is where Apocalypse Now puts its own stamp on the war story. Not that the outsider-becomes-worshipped-by-natives angle hasn't been used before, but here it comes loaded with so much complexity. Issues of what it means to be barbaric, in terms of different cultures and even time periods, along with man's transformation in war, all come to the surface without clashing or boiling over. And when Capt. Willard emerges from the water and mud and opens his eyes, his face covered in mud and paint, and marches toward Col. Kurtz, the film reaches mythic heights of cinematic expression. It's a towering work of construction and execution, and one that manages to distinguish itself without betraying its subject matter, which is no easy task, and just one more reason why Apocalypse Now still deserves to be regarded as a masterpiece.

Grade: A

What I watched this week: Nov 13-21

Another slow week; next week will hopefully be better with time off for Thanksgiving. Still, November is light years ahead in terms of movie viewing compared to where I was two months ago.

Jeux d'enfants (Love Me if You Dare) (2003) dir. Yann Samuell:

I have no problem with films with a wicked sense of humor, but there has to be balance. There's a thin line between darkly funny and obnoxious and irritating, and this is a film that struggles to keep itself from straying into obnoxious territory. Julien and Sophie (real-life couple Guillaume Canet and Marion Cotillard) have been friends since they were children. And ever since they've been friends, their friendship has revolved around constantly playing pranks and constantly one-upping each other. Surprisingly, when the two stars finally take on the roles (roughly 20-30 minutes in), the pranks actually become more tolerable and seem to find the weird niche vibe that writer/director Yann Samuell was going for. Unfortunately, opening shot aside, the film gets off to a horrendous start. As children, the kids are almost insufferable, especially Julien. On numerous occasions I wanted to reach through the screen and slap them both. As it is, it makes the remainder of the film somewhat awkward to adjust to. Granted, it's good to see that the characters don't just continue their games without care (Sophie in particular grows tired of them), but even so, the damage has already been done. Samuell also has a tendency to thrown in kooky animated sequences that look like bits left on the cutting room floor from Amelie (and we'll get to Jean-Pierre Jeunet in a minute). That's not to say that there aren't things to like. A scene when Julien and Sophie see each other in a bar (after a significant time apart) is particularly effective, and in its own strange way the ending works perfectly on a thematic level. Canet and Cotillard are also very strong as well, better than the film around them by a considerable margin. It's nice to see Cotillard in a girlfriend in a role that doesn't relegate her to supporting/weak status (see: Public Enemies, Inception). Not exactly a bad film, but in a ways a bit too unpleasant for its own good, and difficult to strongly recommend.

Grade: B-

A Very Long Engagement (2004) dir. Jean Pierre Jeunet:

Three years before this film, Jeunet made another film called Amelie, and though this film shares that film's leading lady, the two couldn't be any more different. Amelie was a charming and quirky Gallic romance, whereas this film is a mostly somber affair about lost love amid the horror and aftermath of World War I. Mathilde (Audrey Tatou) and Manech (Gaspard Ulliel) were lovers shortly before the start of the war. Unfortunately, Manech has yet to return, and the war has long since been over. Desperate to find him, Mathilde sets out on a quest to find out where he is, starting by investigating a group of soldiers who Manech was last seen with. The journey leads her through any number of complications, the most formidable of all being Tina Lombardi (Marion Cotillard), the lover/whore of one of the men who has gone about killing the men responsible for the man's untimely death. For the most part, Jeunet leaves his slightly overbearing quirks behind, but unfortunately, perhaps in an attempt to lighten the mood, they still creep through. There are no weird animated sequences or hyper active montages, but there are smaller things, like Mathilde's aunt's obsession with her dog's flatulence, which seems like the sort of characterization that doesn't belong here (or anywhere, for that matter). Still, even with Jeunet's quirks, he does manage to make a solid transition into such heavy material, though at times the results border on plodding. All around, the performances are very strong, especially Tatou. Cotillard has moments too, though for the first half of the film her character is used more as an emblem; she's given two spectacularly designed (albeit simple) kill sequences and that's pretty much it until her big scene with Tatou. And though Jeunet doesn't shy away from the horror of war, there's a scene near the end that is equal parts horrifying and horribly contrived. Still, the visuals, art direction, costume design, and acting mostly make up for it. At the same time, one can't help but feel that the film would have benefitted from someone more committed to the overriding grimness of the story.

Grade: B

What I watched this week: Nov 8-14

After my mostly stellar week of rentals in the first week of November, week 2 was a somewhat iffy, though by no means bad, follow-up. My recent string of French film viewings continued with two classics, both of which left curious impressions on me:

Murmur of the Heart (1971) dir. Louis Malle:

It's hard to accuse Malle of doing the same thing twice. This is my third film of his, and it couldn't be more different than the previous two: adultery thriller Elevator to the Gallows and WWII coming-of-age tale (and masterpiece) Au Revoirs Les Enfants. In Murmur of the Heart, Malle once again focuses on a young male protagonist, but one of a very different nature. Where Au Revoir's protagonist was far from grown up (both in age and experience) and loses his innocence without choice, Murmur's is desperately trying to rid himself of innocence. Laurent Chevalier, youngest son of a bourgeois family, is trying his best to lose his virginity, but various and sundry obstacles keep getting in they way, including his older brothers. While Malle's story here is less overtly eventful, he still has a skill for keeping your attention, even in a low-key manner. The scenes with the brothers ring true, as does the portrayal of young boys trying to make themselves feel like adults. The problem, though, is simply that the film is just a little too long for its own good. Boring? Not at all. In need of some trimming here and there? Yes. The film's stronger second half, focusing mostly on the boy's relationship with his loving but unfaithful mother, could have arrived sooner, and we could be spared some of the three brothers' obnoxious antics; after a while it stops being interesting. Not a bad film. Actually quite the opposite. It's a very understated and mature work, complete with a surprisingly scandalous ending, but it just doesn't feel as accomplished as the other two Malle films that I've seen.

Grade: B/B+

Le Samourai (1967) dir. Jean-Pierre Melville:

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I have no problem with slow "minimalist" movies. That said, I just couldn't get into Melville's supposed masterpiece about a usually perfect hitman (Alain Delon) who finally makes a mistake. The problem for me is that the film's dialogue is often too functional, while the quieter moments feel empty as opposed to introspective. Alain Delon's stoic gaze, while appropriate for the character, fails to communicate whatever feelings or thoughts Melville was trying to get across. And unlike Murmur of the Heart, Melville's film did cross the dreaded line into boredom, and on multiple occasions. Not that there aren't things to like. The opening that leads up to the kill that sets off the story proper is wonderfully composed and structured. Unfortunately, once Delon's Jef Costello is identified as a possible suspect, the film loses the quiet magnetism that it had before. The result leaves the plot's minimal bursts of violence without impact or tension, and the poetically designed/written ending without real poetry. An interesting work with a handful of moments, but otherwise a well-made disappointment.

Grade: B-

What I watched this week: Nov 1-7

Overall, one of the best movie-viewing weeks I've had in quite some time...

Last Year at Marienbad (1961) dir. Alain Resnais:
Considered one of the last great black and white films, Resnais' tale of past love (which might not be real...) is a bizarre, mesmerizing work. The set-up could have been simple: a man tries to convince a woman that one year ago they had an affair at a luxurious hotel. And yet, from the first frame, Resnais' film is anything but. As a block of voice-over narration is repeated ad nauseum, the camera glides through hallway after hallway of a mysterious hotel. This goes on for what feels like 10 or 15 minutes, before we see the first characters, none of whom are of major importance (on a strictly narrative level). And yet once the Man (Giorgio Albertazzi) starts speaking to the Woman (Delphine Seyrig), it only becomes more strange, more confusing, and more fascinating. Above all things, it's a masterwork of cinematography and editing.
The gorgeous gliding camera work, mixed in with appropriate wide shots and a crane shot or two (one stunner involves the camera rising up from behind a pair of statues). As far as editing, the film seems to have level upon level. In one instant you'll see the Woman in her room in a white dress, and the next instant she'll be in a black one; this may happen with a shot in between, or may simply happen consecutively. As far as trying to keep the different strands figured out (how both see it, how they imagine it, etc...) it's best to simply let the images unfold if this is your first viewing. Along with the eerie music (most of which comes from a rather dingy sounding church organ), Marienbad is a haunting, mind-bending tale featuring gorgeous production design and a script and story that will probably continue to reveal details after each viewing.

Grade: A-

Au Revoirs Les Enfants (1987) dir. Louis Malle:

Only my second Louis Malle film, this tale of boyhood relationships picked up Venice's Golden Lion, and for good reason. In the midst of World War II, Julien slowly develops a friendship with new classmate Jean Bonnet. The pair attend an all-boys Catholic boarding school, generally away from, but never complete separated, the horrors taking place in Europe. The majority of the film could have easily been mundane, but Malle's beautiful screenplay keeps things moving just enough without rushing. The relationship between the boys feels real; they don't immediately become best friends after some single incident. They get closer, and then one gets angry at the other for one reason or another, and so on. But what really carries the film, is its point of view: war and its effects through the eyes of a child. There is not an ounce of bloodshed in the story, nor any death, and there's a purpose for that. When the film reaches its final 20 minutes, it becomes agonizing and horrifying to watch. It easily ranks up there with the best sequences in cinema history, despite its total lack of flash or grandeur. It is a heartbreaker of stunning power, without ever being manipulative. To put an end to my rant, suffice it to say that this is film making of the highest order, and whether it was based entirely on Malle's childhood or not, is a beautifully human story of friendship.

Grade: A

Manhattan (1979) dir. Woody Allen:

With directors as prolific as Woody Allen, sometimes it's easy to forget the strongest works of their careers. Thankfully I made myself watch Manhattan, and I couldn't have been more pleased. This is classic Allen, all the way down to the character the famed auteur plays and the references to Bergman and Fellini, the quick bursts of laugh-out-loud hilarity, but it's also Allen at his finest. He isn't trying too hard, and it's too early in his career for him to rehash past work. I particularly love the opening sequence, in which Allen's Isaac tries to write the opening of his book describing New York City, as Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" plays majestically over the gorgeous black and white photography. The film's other strong point is the way in which Allen almost seems to be poking fun (quietly) at the film itself. It opens with grand images of skyscrapers, yet then jumps into the intimate relationships of a small group of people. In the film's best scene, Isaac and Mary (Diane Keaton) discuss their relationships in the planetarium, as objects of far greaert importance loom in the background, emphasizing how small and trivial their issues are in the grand scheme of the universe. It's just one example of a master working at the top of his game, and it's actually reinvigorated my interest in Allen's filmography, even with the beating that You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger is taking.

Grade: A-

And in repeat viewings...

I am Love (2010) dir. Luca Guadagnino:

I wasn't really fond of this when I first saw it over the summer (my review), but I remember being so shaken by this film that I've been dying to give it another look. Sadly, after seeing again, little has changed, although my general bitterness towards the film has lessened somewhat. What this film is to me is an interesting idea with simply one too many things wrong with it mucking up the works. I'd love to say that Swinton is great, but I can't. She has a few good scenes, it's true, but even though I made it my goal to really pay attention specifically to her, I just got lost in Guadagnino's relentless style, and not in a good way.The stand out for me is still Flavio Parenti as Swinton's eldest son, and he's the closest the film has to a truly interesting, worth-caring-about character (I'd say the same for the daughter, but the role is too limited despite the conflict she has). Upon looking at the film, so many of the lines, from very early on, carry strong meaning. The problem is that the dialogue carries too much meaning. Not in a blunt, beat-you-over-the-head way, but in a manner that's almost too low-key for its own good. For such stylish (and eventually over-the-top) execution, everything else is too low on the radar, making the "importance" of things like Emma's feeling of stillness/oppression feel academic to the point that they don't really register. And yes, those last five minutes are still a hilarious train wreck, and a total waste of John Adams' glorious music. Still, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I did find it a liiiiiittle bit better on the second go round, missteps and all.

Grade: C/C+

What I watched this week: July 5-11

Repulsion (1965) dir. Roman Polanski:

Polanski's first English-language film may not be the director's shining moment as far as dialogue goes, but the second half of the film demonstrates brilliantly that fear is universal. Catherine Deneuve stars as a young woman left to watch her sister's apartment while she and her boyfriend go on a vacation. While on her own, she experiences increasingly disturbing dreams that take an increasingly dark turn. After a sluggish, even tedious first half or so (did the calm before the storm need to be that long?), the film really takes off as Carole's mental state begins to deteriorate. The slightly jazzy score, often clashing with the images on screen, never outstays its welcome, always cutting off right when it starts to feel overdone. Deneuve, in a role that is silent for large stretches, turns in dazzling work, emoting almost purely through her eyes as a woman quite past the verge of a nervous breakdown. Enhanced by great in-camera effects (walls are used to fantastic effect), subtle but effective art direction, and excellent cinematography. While Polanski's film could easily be dissected in trying to figure out what makes Carole snap (I'm sure more than a few writers have used her virginity as a spring board for their theses), it also works strictly as a surface-only thriller: watch a young woman's downward spiral into madness. Though it may not be everyone's cup of tea, it's certainly an unsettling film with some images that you'll have a difficult time forgetting.

Grade: B+

The Last Picture Show (1971) dir. Peter Bogdanovich:

Essentially a slightly more character-specific, American predecessor to Fellini's Amarcord, Bogdanovich's film is a sparse, bleak, yet very rewarding film. As we see follow a group of soon-to-be-high-school-graduates in Arnene, Texas as they come of age, Bogdanovich (working off of Larry McMurtry's adaptation of his own novel) crafts a methodically paced, understated film that builds. It it the epitome of what "quietly moving" cinema should aspire to; it has enough to make you feel, but never indulges in any jarring moments of blatant heart string-tugging. Performance-wise, there's not a weak link in the group, although I do slightly question Ellen Burstyn's Best Supporting Actress nomination. The same cannot be said for her co-star, Cloris Leachman, who picked up a well-deserved Oscar for her performance as a conflicted, adulterous house-wife. Just when the film leads you to believe that it's done with her, the end brings Leachman back to powerful effect. Fellow winner Ben Johnson also turns in nice, understated work as the father of a somewhat mentally deficient boy. His monologue when he takes his son and Sonny (Timothy Bottoms) to a nearby like is a thing of magnificent, quiet beauty, much like the film around him.

Grade: A/A-

The Red Balloon (1956) dir. Albert Lamorisse:

A small exercise in charm, Lamorisse's Oscar-winning film (which clocks in at only 34 minutes), is a winning example of how to use less to create more. The plot is simple: a balloon with a life of its own follows a young boy as he walks around Paris. And thankfully, that's all the film really does with the premise. You could speculate all you wanted to about deeper meaning, but the film seems to work best as an innocent (but not naive) fairy tale with a magnificent ending.

Grade: B

What I watched this week: June 28-July 4

The Leopard (1963) dir. Luchino Visconti: I have no problem admitting it when a "classic" film doesn't go over well with me, and Visconti's acclaimed epic is one such film. Though it's an undeniably BIG, beautiful film, everything else leaves a lot to be desired. The point of film, based on the Italian novel of the same title, seems to be that the rich and powerful stay the same, regardless of what goes on in a country politics-wise. This would make for a fascinating look at Italy in the tumultuous 1860's (the Garibaldi days), but Visconti's film more than outstays its welcome. At just a smidge over three hours, by the time it's over, it makes you wonder, "so what was the point of all of that?" From a historical standpoint, a lot of sweeping events occur, but we get them only in snippets of dialogue (save for one big invasion/battle sequence in the first hour) and usually from quite a distance. We're looking at these events from the perspective of a prince, and as such, it feels like little has happened or changed. This also makes the great Nino Rota's (8 1/2, The Godfather, etc...) score seem utterly laughable in some of the film's massive pan shots of the Italian countryside. The film also seems oblivious to the irony that Prince Salina (Burt Lancaster), who gives a small speech about the difference between the stagnant nobility (the "lions" and "leopards") and the people who are always working for change (the "lambs"), comes off as a bit of a lamb himself, because he's so passive. The script also makes the mistake of keeping most of the final hour in one location, at an interminable ball sequence where nothing of great note is said or done. It's enough to make you want to quote Vicki Lawrence from The Carol Burnett Show's spoof of Gone With the Wind: "Well that's pretty, but it doesn't answer my question."

Grade: C

Lemon Tree (2009) dir. Eran Riklis: Hiam Abbass may be a potential Oscar contender for her work in the upcoming Miral, but that film won't be the first time that she's been the star of a story about tensions between Israel and Palestine. In Lemon Tree, the actress (who made her US debut in The Visitor) plays Salma Zidane, a Palestinian woman near the border who owns a field of lemon trees. When the new Israeli Defense Minister moves in next door, and the trees are deemed a potential security risk, obviously things go south. Riklis' film is a nicely told film that explores the innocent players in the Israel/Palestine conflict, without ever lurching into melodrama or hysterical political grandstanding. Abbass' Salma may be a tough, likable character, but her opponents are never painted in broad strokes so as to make the film totally lopsided (although it does still side with her). It's not a great film, but it does do a nice job of incorporating issues within its story, and shows how the innocent are affected during conflict.

Grade: B

Paris, Texas (1984) dir. Wim Wenders: A film that should probably be better remembered for its performances and cinematography than for its writing, Wim Wenders' film isn't the sort that struck me as a classic (the way it has many), but it's still a very good film, albeit in need of a better editor in spots. As the wandering Travis, Harry Dean Stanton gives a marvelous performance as a man trying to put his life back together, only without having any idea of how to do it. He's backed up (late in the game) by Natassja Kinski, with whom he shares the film's best scene; slow conversation is rarely this striking. The gorgeous cinematography, mixing landscapes and the glow of neon lights, combined with the sparse, twangy score only add to the experience. Unfortunately, Wenders' story telling doesn't always match up. I understand that Travis is supposed to be slightly "off," but it's a little much when he leaves his son sleeping out all night by a bank while he sits in his car (also asleep) across the street. Then there's Travis' son, Hunter, who in spots borders on precocious. Still, it's hard not to be taken away by the journey that Travis embarks, especially when you see what it all adds up to. Not quite the classic it's been hailed as, but strong work all the same.

Grade: B+

Secrets and Lies (1996) dir. Mike Leigh: Before he got caught up in the slice-of-life sub-genre, Mike Leigh used to make movies with some semblance of a forward-moving plot. Frankly, I miss this Mike Leigh, because Secrets and Lies outshines his more recent work quite a bit. When Hortense (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) decides to find her birth mother, she meets the lower-class Cynthia (Brenda Blethyn), and from there everything bubbles to the surface. Leigh's screenplay seems less open to improvisation here, and the film is all the better because of it; Leigh is much better when he doesn't give up too much control to his actors. That said, he still needs to work on his pacing, because at roughly 2 hours and 25 minutes, it's far too long for what it is (the big revelation of Hortense meeting her birth mother comes over an hour in). Still, the performances are uniformly strong, especially from the very likable Jean-Baptiste. Blethyn, though at times grating (any chance she gets to squawk out the word "sweetheart," she seizes) is strong and has wonderful chemistry with Jean-Baptiste. The problem, aside from the revelation, is that by the time we reach the end, too much comes up at once, and it all feels a bit misshapen, plot-wise.

Grade: B/B+

From Here to Eternity (1953) dir. Fred Zinneman: Though parts of this romantic, WWII-set Best Picture winner haven't aged well, it remains an engaging, well-acted drama. The cast is full of strong performances, especially from Montgomery Clift and Donna Reed (Reed and Frank Sinatra won the Supporting Actress/Actor awards for their performances). However, with the characters' story lines somewhat spread apart, the Burt Lancaster/Deborah Kerr romance, while benefiting from the talents of the two stars, feels rushed and underdeveloped to be truly compelling. Not to mention that any character who has emotional baggage delivers it all at once in a slightly clumsy manner. Still, after over nearly 60 years, the film remains a stirring work that has survived because of its directing and acting.

Grade: B+

What I watched this week: June 21-27

Ghost World (2001) dir. Terry Zwigoff: A perfect little slice of uncertainty and insecurity, Zwigoff's adaptation of the graphic novel of the same name finds its strength in the quiet little oddities shared among its characters. Though initially off-putting, Thora Birch is delivers a nice turn as Enid, who's something like Daria, but without the premature wisdom/smarts. Poor Scarlett Johannson, though, doesn't get nearly as much to do as Rebecca, and I was surprised that the film ended up pushing Rebecca into supporting-player status. The real winner here, however, is Steve Buscemi as the record-collecting Seymour. Buscemi earned a well deserved Golden Globe nomination for the performance, which capitalizes on the actor's inherent quirkiness, while also adding complexity to the role, allowing it to rise above being simply "another weird performance from that Buscemi guy". It's just further proof that, like in The Messenger, Buscemi is capable of much more than being That Weird Guy. As a film, Ghost World also maintains interest, even though it had all of the potential to be as lost and confused as its protagonist.

Grade: B+

Breaking Bad: Seasons 1-3 (2008-???): AMC's other hit drama, about a dying chemistry teacher who turns to cooking meth to help secure his family financially, didn't immediately grab me. Granted, it's interesting, well acted, and at times action-packed, but for the life of me I just couldn't get my self involved during season 1; it mostly felt like an obligation, with only a few moments of real interest/tension, with some black humor thrown in every now and then. That all changes in the show's current high point, season two. Though a little slow for the first few episodes, by the time it's over you won't know what hit you, especially the final minutes, which are cryptically alluded to throughout the series and left me gaping at my TV in horror. Season three goes the opposite route, starting off at the quality of season two's end, and slightly declining. The opening is mysterious, chilling, and hypnotic, introducing a pair of murderous cousins who blaze through New Mexico like the well-dressed, bald offspring of Anton Chigurh. But despite my complaints about some of the story arcs, the acting is uniformly excellent, and I can see why Bryan Cranston won the Emmy (Lead Actor - Drama) two years in a row as Walt and will likely win again for his work in the recently finished third season. Granted, it's not the second coming of acting, (I still prefer Michael C. Hall's work in Dexter) but it's hard to deny the strength of the work on display. Backing him up are Aaron Paul as his partner-in-crime Jessie Pinkman, Anna Gunn as Walt's wife, along with Dean Norris and Betsy Brandt as Walt's in-laws, and RJ Mitre as Walt's son with cerebral palsey. The only thing that has me worried now is the chilling season finale. On the one hand, it opens up possibilities for an even more epic story arc, but there are more than a few things that could leave the writers coming up with contrived ways of getting out of logistics loopholes. Series showrunner Vince Gilligan admitted to SlashFilm that the third season wasn't as planned out from the start as season 2, and it shows. That said, I'll be eagerly awaiting the show's fourth season, which should start up around March 2011.

Grades: Season 1 (B-), Season 2 (A-), Season 3 (B+)

Ran (1985) dir. Akira Kurosawa: I don't exactly have the best relationship with Kurosawa's filmography, and Ran is simply further proof of that. I mean, I appreciate the hell out of what he did in terms of developing certain story-telling techniques, but I can't quite bring myself to really love his work (save for The Hidden Fortress). Kurosawa's adaptation of "King Lear" is at times arresting, and filled with some stunning visuals and strong music, but, perhaps only the fault of history, the acting in Kurosawa's films has always struck me as too similar to Kabuki theater: an unappealing mixture equal parts guttural and shrill. Here, however, some of the characters actually do stand out, namely the King Lear figure, his Fool, and the wicked Lady Kaede. Unfortunately, the King's three sons, had it not been for their preference for different colors, aren't so easy to distinguish from each other. Still, it's probably worth any film fan or Shakespeare enthusiast's time to give it a go; it just didn't do much for me (that said, I am looking forward to renting Kurosawa's Throne of Blood, his adaptation of my favorite Shakespeare play, Macbeth).

Grade: B

What I watched this week: June 14-20

Elevator to the Gallows (1958) dir. Louis Malle: This is my first Malle film, but hopefully it won't be the last. Though at time leaning too heavily on the naiveté and/or stupidity of its characters, Malle's debut is a quietly tense little noir thriller featuring a strong performance from Jeanne Moreau, whose general lack of make-up only adds to the quiet expressiveness of her face, even she spends the first half of the film simply wandering the dreary, dark streets of Paris after dark. Malle makes great use of nighttime photography to help make the expanse of Paris seem much more confining. The film's dramatic high point arrives when Julien (Maurice Ronet) attempts to escape from an inactive elevator; the edits and shots combine to create the film's most overt "thrills." And while I won't spoil the ending, I'll say that it's great, save for one piece of information regarding the extent of punishment, which seems strange considering who did what and so on, but it's not enough to keep me from recommending this tight little noir film from anyone.

Grade: B+

The Man From Elysian Fields (2001) dir. George Hickenlooper: Though its plot centers around a man lured into becoming a high-end male escort, there is a lack of emphasis on sexual exploits. The film's focus is how Byron (Andy Garcia) balances his new job while trying to maintain a connection to his wife (Julianna Marguiles), while simultaneously becoming involved with a wealthy woman (Olivia Williams) and her successful husband (James Coburn). While the story is well told enough, it's hindered by Hickenlooper's flat direction and the often over-eager score, not to mention the overacting from Mr. Coburn. It's these elements, and the route the story takes as it moves toward its conclusion (not to mention a weak sub plot involving Mick Jagger's lover) that leaves it feeling totally pedestrian.

Grade: B-

Moonstruck (1987) dir. Norman Jewison: Romantic comedies aren't the types of films known for aging well, but Norman Jewison's triple-Oscar-winning film (written by "Doubt" playwright John Patrick Shanley) has managed to remain enjoyable 23 years since its release. Bolstered by strong performances (even from Nicholas Cage), and a strong emphasis on family dynamics, the film is still quite charming, and in spots hilarious. Cher in particular is a delight to watch as she transforms from a level-headed woman who knows exactly what she wants into someone who isn't sure of anything, without ever becoming pathetic or grating. In an age when too many romantic comedy (female) leads are portrayed as shrill and selfish, Cher's Loretta reminds us that a woman can be independent and tough while still being likable.

Grade: B

California Suite (1978) dir. Herbert Ross: The problem with vignette films is that it's rare that all of them will be hits, and such is the major hindrance of this Neil Simon adaptation. Though the first two set-ups (Alan Alda and Jane Fonda/Maggie Smith and Michael Caine) are filled with wit (perhaps even too much), and strong performances and use dialogue to chip away the characters' exteriors, the film's second half all but collapses in on itself. Walter Matthau and Elaine May's segment is occaisionally tedious, but for the most part OK. It's in the final sequence, featuring Bill Cosby and Richard Pryor, that everything goes to hell. Cosby and Pryor, two very funny men, are wasted in a scene that goes so far overboard with inflicting stunt gags on its characters (if it can break/hurt someone, it will) that it becomes as exhausting and miserable as the terrible vacation the characters are going through. That said, when it works, sparks fly, but all of the sparks get used up in roughly the film's first half, leaving it with a limp second half; that is, until the brief-but-funny ending.

Grade: B-/C+

Delirious (2006) dir. Tom Dicillo: A strange, occasionally laugh-out-loud funny film about the paparazzi and celebrity that's hindered by half-assed performances from Michael Pitt and Alison Lohman as a homeless guy-turned-paparazzo-turned-star and a pop starlet respectively. Steve Buscemi, god of all weirdness, does a good job with Les, the struggling celeb photographer, but Dicillo's film never delves deep enough into the conflict between the two, or Les' struggle with his career. It also doesn't bring anything new to the table when it comes to observations on our obsession with celebrities, nor does it present anything in a fresh way. It's a typical rags-to-riches Hollywood story with decent acting, and not much else to offer other than wonder what makes Steve Buscemi's features so oddly compelling.

Grade: C+

What I watched this week: June 6-13

After a delay last week (unfortunately the first week after I promised to start this series), I can finally get this post underway. To sum it up, these posts are meant to recap any films/TV series I've seen either on DVD or on TV, since it's easier to go through a lot of films at home than make a bunch of trips to the theater (films seen in theaters then, are left out). So, what have I been watching at home this past week (well, two weeks for this post)? Let's take a look.

The Sweet Hereafter (1997) dir. Atom Egoyan: Before Atom Egoyan was making Amanda Seyfried snog Julianne Moore (and much more), he was making delicate dramas about human relationships. In this critically acclaimed film (a rare modern picture that holds a 100% rating on RottenTomatoes), Egoyan's focus is on a small town in the aftermath of a tragedy, and the lawyer who tries to profit by launching a class-action lawsuit. Though it's compelling and well-acted, I'm not sure exactly why it merits such stupendous acclaim. It has its moments of honest insight into people's reactions to tragedy, as well as the way people relate to one another, but a subplot involving the lawyer's (Iam Holm) daughter at time feels like it's trying to break away and become its own film. Strangely, the film's most riveting scene concerns the lawyer recounting a near-miss with death. It's mesmerizing thanks to the sparse editing and Holm's delivery, but after the movie was over, it was hard to look back and the moment without thinking "so what did that really add to the main story?" The moment works as a sort of look into the lawyer when he's not a man driven by profit, but feels shoe-horned in considering the movie around it. Again, this is the sort of scene that seems to beg for its own film, rather than one that flows and/or enhances with the main narrative. That said, it's still a quietly compelling watch, particularly for the acting (Holm, Sarah Polley, Bruce Greenwood) and delicate score. It just doesn't feel like best-of-all-time material.

Grade: B

Three Colors Trilogy: Blue, White, and Red (1993-1994)

When we think of triologies these days, we tend to think of "big" films. Big budgets, big stories, big stars, and big special effects. However, Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors trilogy proves that trilogies can work equally well with experimentation, intimacy, and barely connected characters. The working premise of the three is that each film examines the symbolism of a color of the French flag, albeit with some sort of irony. Blue, the first, examines liberty, followed by White (egality), and finishing with Red (fraternity). Such a set up had all the potential to be a pretentious exercise in tedium, but instead, Kieslowski's trilogy is an intriguing, beautiful examination of several lives in the modern world. Blue is probably the least accessible of the three, and certainly the slowest, but it is anchored by a quietly stirring performance by Juliette Binoche as a grief-stricken woman who seeks to liberate herself from human relationships. The occasional musical cues, somewhat plot related, can be jarring at first, but upon closer examination serve a well thought-out purpose; I wouldn't be surprised if Blue improved the most on a second viewing. Next is White, generally considered the "weakest" of the three (hardly an insult). Something of a dark comedy, it's the story of a man who has easily the worst day in his life, only to return to his native Poland to plot emotional revenge on his ex (Julie Delpy). A much brisker picture than Blue, White does occasionally lose some narrative focus (though I suspect certain details are left out on purpose), and the ending isn't as satisfying. However, it does provide a refreshingly light perspective after Blue, albeit at the risk of depth. Thankfully Kieslowski saved the best for last. The Oscar-nominated Red, combines the best of the previous installments: Blue's psychological depth with White's crisper pacing and twisty story-telling. Irene Jacob and Jean Louis-Trintignant form the compelling center of the story of a woman who befriends a judge who likes to listen in on his neighbors' phone calls. What starts as something potentially creepy becomes an engrossing, layered film that is both tragic and hopeful, with a magnificent ending bringing it all together. Think of it as proof that not all trilogies need to bottom-out in their third chapters.

Grade(s): Blue (B+), White (B), Red (A-/A)

All That Jazz (1979) dir. Bob Fosse: Though most people remember Bob Fosse (in the film world) for Cabaret, All That Jazz is nothing to shrug off. Fosse's reinterpretation of Fellini's 8 1/2 is a striking, energetic depiction of an artist whose life enters a free-fall as he struggles with his latest project. The best thing that Fosse did with All That Jazz is make it his own. One of the chief criticisms of Nine (a film which I do like, however) is that it lacks the spark of Fellini's original, and that comes down to one reason: Rob Marshall does not have the same personal life as Fellini. The story that Fellini created in 8 1/2 is so deeply connected to the director, that in order for it to work, it can't be re-told; it must be personalized and even updated, rather than try and totally mimic. Fosse's protagonist, for instance, is a director of stage and screen, like Fosse himself, and though there are women in his life (the wife, the mistress, the muse), some have been sacrificed and replaced (out with the whore; in with the daughter). The film also owes much to the staggering performance of Roy Scheider as Joe Gideon. It's not just in his expressions, but in his movements, that Scheider is able to communicate so much, so well. And then of course, there's the choreography. From the test-performance of a nudity-laden number to the parade of performances during the surgery sequence, to the finale, each song and dance is a stunningly constructed piece of work that only enhances the story. And even though Scheider is obviously not a vocalist (he never belts any notes, or tries to), his performance during the finale is sensational, as is the film itself. It's an interpretation that Fellini himself would be proud of.

Grade: A- /A

Well, that's all for now. See you next week (by that time I will have hopefully seen The A-Team and Toy Story 3 in theaters too).