 Glover steals the show Director: Ron Howard Writer: Jonathan Kasdan & Lawrence Kasdan Cinematographer: Bradford Young Producer: Kathleen Kennedy, Allison Shearmur, and Simon Emanuel by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... While Alden Ehrenreich did a great job evolving Hans’ arrogant and condescending smirk and other mannerisms, his performance just didn’t match Harrison Ford’s persona; his voice, in particular, felt too high versus the calm cool that Harrison Ford took on. However, Danny Glover’s Lando more than made up for it; providing one of the greatest performances across the entire series (including the original trilogy); going so far as to exceed Billy Dee Williams. It’s Ron Howard’s expertise that allowed him to pull off a Star Wars poker game, which although I didn’t understand the rules, was directed with enough personality and suspense that it didn’t matter. Of course what they’re playing is the infamous game in which Lando loses the Millenium Falcon to Han, who we discover actually loses, creating just enough of a question to make us wonder both a) how he gets the Falcon, and b) when the next will occur. What makes the film work so well against The Force Awakens (2015), The Last Jedi (2017), and even the first half I’ve seen of Rogue One (2016) is that it’s no throwback overload, sprinkling Easter Eggs in all directions simply to appease the fans. While Hans’ name and Chewie's intro felt a bit cheap like the others, it was this scene that shifted the rush; and when you hear about the Kessel Run, you know what’s coming. L3-37 (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) is my favorite droid of the series and progressing the mythology in a way that improves the universe. In this case, we realize that the droids have been treated very much as the minority-figure/comedy relief characters; never taken all that seriously. With films like Prometheus (2012) and Ex Machina (2014) exploring cyborg sentience and the ethics of AI consciousness, Howard extends the same concerns to Solo. At first, we see the droid cockfights as kind of cool and reminiscent of Robot Wars on Discovery; then we piece together that those robots are no different than the self-awareness of L3-37 who attempts to protest the fighting. Later we discover she’s under the impression that Lando is in love with her, unsure how the relationship could work; offering just a subtle hint that she might have reciprocal feelings. It’s a testament to Howard’s skill in allowing us to empathize with the issue, made all the better as Glover paints just enough of a gray area to make us wonder if he is, indeed, attracted to L3-37. They end up on the planet Kessel in order to retrieve the coaxium shipment; located on a gorgeous practical set that rivals anything from the original trilogy. The plan goes awry, in which L3-37 leads a revolt of the droids while Chewi saves his fellow Wookies and disaster strikes; L3-37 loses her life in the process as they’re overwhelmed by the Imperial Army; forced to make Kessel Run that has piqued our interest for over thirty years and fully delivering one of the series' best uses of computer graphics in creating high suspension; accomplishing that magical feeling that cinema can occasionally provide in making us question what will happen although we know. They return to Savareen to process the coaxium before Vos returns. The pirates from the botched train heist return and we discover that they’re actually early rebels; in dire need of the coaxium to both prevent the Empire from using it to complete further mass murders and for financing their operation. In one of the series best double (or triple) crosses, we watch as Han and Beckett betray Vos, retrieving the coaxium to which Beckett again tries to pull a fast one on Han, leading Han to “shoot first” and kill him. Beckett says he made the right decision and we get another brilliant answer to a long-held mystery; defending that Han likely shot Gweedo first as a lesson learned from this very moment and putting an end to the debate. While Qi’ra’s double-crossing and conversation with Darth Maul felt unnecessary (especially given how close this film is to A New Hope (1977) where we never even learn or see any Siths). I enjoyed Qi’ra’s character and it was an otherwise appropriate ending for helping us understand Hans' bitterness and allow us to empathize with his arrogance. While it felt like just one too many double-crosses, and that the film could have easily book ended A New Hope (1977), I suppose Disney couldn’t allow a one-off origin story stop there when Marvel can create a half dozen films per character. Overall, it’s the film I’ve long been waiting for. While costing an extraordinary $275 million (which it’s looking to fail to make back), the story somehow feels small and intimate. It makes me hopeful that with the right directing/writing team the Star Wars universe can go on in an interesting direction that might restore that little kid excitement I’ve begun to lose since A Phantom Menace (1999). BELOW: Less lightsabers and more old fashioned action Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Great 80s throwback villain Director: Ron Howard Writer: Jonathan Kasdan & Lawrence Kasdan Cinematographer: Bradford Young Producer: Kathleen Kennedy, Allison Shearmur, and Simon Emanuel by Jon Cvack The Force Awakens (2015) was the final nail in the coffin for me to lose interest in Star Wars and I missed Rogue One (2016) because of it. I don’t need to rehash the reasons why other than that the film is conservative in plot and liberal in mythology, combining into a recipe for disaster that The Last Jedi further demonstrated. I had heard that Rogue One was different; providing that throwback Star Wars feel that the last five sequels had missed. As a former diehard fan I just never could muster the will to put it on. I didn’t want to experience the disappointment yet again; in which I try and tell myself it was an okay film and then days go by and the sad reality settles in. I’m not sure if this was rock bottom expectations, but I thought this was the best Star Wars sequel since the original trilogy. It accomplished what I had so long been waiting for in providing a modest story that simply exists within the universe; not trying to be anything more than the original by creating some grand existential crisis or redefining the canon. It simply involves characters from the universe existing on the fringe of what will become an extraordinary journey. Now admittedly, I found the first fifteen minutes a little rough and confusing. The images were muddy and crowded, preventing me from immersion simply because I couldn’t understand what I was seeing or where I was. It opens with Han Solo (Alden Ehrenreich) who had stolen a vial of the highly valuable coaxium, hopping into a landspeeder, then getting caught by a band of Octopus/Reptilian fish creatures who live in the sewer. Solo escapes and so begins an uninspired speeder chase which plays like a really expensive set up for a joke that’d later play when Han gets his cruiser caught between the walls in a hackneyed boat-speeding-between-two-ships-gag that has been done every which way in the world of cinema to the point of having no chance of working. Hans is joined by childhood sweetheart Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke) who also grew up in the sewers, heading to the Empire’s local Pilot Academy as the gang closes in. Han signs up, and not having the last name and being all alone, the officer prescribes him the last name Solo. Fast forward three years and we’re in the middle of a gorgeously shot battle. I’m not sure if I started tuning out by now, but I completely missed that he was kicked out of the Imperial Flight Academy for insubordination. He’s introduced with a band of criminals led by Tobias Beckett (Woody Harrelson) and his girlfriend Val (Thandie Newton). There’s some form of blackmail Han attempts (even Wikipedia doesn’t provide any details) which leads Beckett to turn Han into the Imperial Army for desertion. This then lands him in jail where he’s supposed to be eaten by a creature who we learn is Chewbacca. Han somehow knows Shyriiwook and in seconds convinces the Wookie to join up and trick the guards that Han is dead and then kills them. Between my confusion and the lack of inspired narrative, I figured it was another failure; trying so hard to integrate easter eggs that sacrifice creativity for convenience. Then Beckett saves Han and the Wookie escapes and so begins an amazing ride up through the end. With all of the world set up, we learn that Beckett, Qi-ra and their four-armed pilot Rio Durant (Jon Favreau) are after a massive shipment of coaxium, planning to heist a train and grab the car filled with the material. In a great action piece, the team attempts the mission, disrupted by a gang of Cloud Riders shows up. Qi’ra sacrifices herself and Rio is shot dead in the raid, forcing Beckett, Hans, and Chewie to abandon the payload and escape. We learn that Beckett is in debt to crime boss Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany) who’s flies around a mega-Yacht-like starship. Moments aboard, Hans comes across Qi-ra, in wonder of the coincidence and determined to reignite their relationship, discovering she is now involved with Dryden, serving as one of his top Lieutenants. Vos is your classic 80s/90s villain down to his gelled crisp blonde hair and facial scars; frightening by the very nature of his presence and willingness to kill anyone who double-crosses him. Thus, when Beckett says that they failed to secure the coaxium shipment, Vos is willing to give him one more chance with the understanding that another mistake would be fatal. She sends Qi-ra along to avoid any further mistakes. So begins the fantastic journey in which they’re led by Qi-ra to meet Lando Calrissian. It was this section that was particularly fantastic, as one trope that’s long past old is each film’s attempt to provide its own version of the Mos Eisley space cantina, in which we meet a band of peculiar-looking characters that have now all grown to look so similar that it each scene blends together. However, Ron Howard makes this scene work, foregoing some grand set piece in favor of what looks like a fully practical design; containing thick shadows that hide the imperfections rather than trying to create the most meticulous design in a computer. The robot cock-fighting was such a fantastic and simple idea, operating subtly in the background, slowly building as we’re introduced to another character and robot L3-37 who finds the cockfighting revolting; though more on that in the second part. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Not a big fan of the endless Star Wars easter eggs, but this was good Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Akira Kurosawa Writer: Keinosuke Uegusa and Akira Kurosawa Cinematography: Takao Saito Producer: Sōjirō Motoki by Jon Cvack I believe High and Low (1963) is the only other contemporary Kurosawa film I’ve seen; a film that mastered the anamorphic frame and should serve as a lesson in blocking for any filmmaker trying for the super wide. Drunken Angel doesn’t provide the same vista, but what it abandons in visuals it more than makes up for in performance, serving as a profound character study about two men struggling to survive in a postwar dystopia full of poisonous cesspools, crime, and undesirables. As Lucas was inspired by Hidden Fortress (1958) increasing C-3P0 and R2-D2, you imagine he took inspiration for Mos Eisley from Drunken Angel. Sanada (Takashi Shimura) is an alcoholic doctor who receives a visit from hoodlum Matsunaga (Toshiro Mifune) who’s been shot in the hand. Sanada resents the man, fixing him simply to earn enough money to maintain his drinking habit. Into the examination, Sanada suspects that Matsugane has tuberculosis; a common ailment the locals have been receiving from the cesspools surrounding the area. Sanada advises Matsunaga to stop boozing and sleeping with women if he wants to have any chance to survive. Having just watched Black Rain (1989) a month or so back which followed a family dealing with radiation poisoning - finding it strange that there have been so few Japanese films to explore the issue. Counter to Ozu's idyllic settings, Drunken Angel embodies the bleak spirit of postwar Japan. After Sanada fixes Matsunaga the narrative splits and we follow both men. We learn that Matsunaga’s boss Okada (Reisaburo Yamamoto) is now days away from prison. Meeting Sanada in the city’s local bar, he succumbs to the x-ray where Sanada discovers a hole developing in one of Matsunaga’s lungs. Nevertheless, he retains his lifestyle of chasing women and getting stucco in bars; his body deteriorating in the process, causing him to drink even more. When Okada’s finally released, he resents Matsunaga’s ailment, disparaging and humiliating him in front of the crew before finally kicking him out. Sanada quickly learns that one of his assistants is one of Okada’s girlfriends; once assaulting and demeaning her on a regular basis and likely to do it again. While Sanada continues to treat the innocent victims of tuberculosis, his drinking spirals out of control. Soon he gets caught in the middle of things when his female assistant runs off into hiding in order to escape Okada to which Okada then tries to use Matsunaga to find her whereabouts through Sanada. Realizing Matsunaga is nothing more than a pawn, and that Okada, his fellow hoodlums, and girlfriend care nothing for his ailment, he runs off. Bedridden and immobile, he refuses to back down, tracking down Okada in order to kill him and providing one of the greatest and most cinematic fights from the period and one of the most satisfying conclusions ever on screen. The roots of alcoholism are the city - whether on account of an indirect infection, the people, or the world in which they all exist. Like any gang member, Matsunaga appears as a byproduct of his environment; in which perhaps another, more Ozuian world he could have had aboveboard success. Instead he couldn’t escape, discovering a world that was entirely selfish; in which no cares for him at all. This stands against Sanada who wants nothing more than help to help people while knowing he’s fighting a losing battle; so long as the swamps exist the people will die an all he can do is ease their pain or try and save the fraction of those doomed. It’s a rare film that examines alcoholism through a prism of the environment. These characters numb themselves with the bottle because reality is far too difficult. As positive as Matsunaga’s final epiphany seems, I got the sense that the children too would become victims - of the bottle, of crime, or the disease. It’s a cynical and yet painfully real film, leaving you to wonder who could possibly escape such an environment; the way they couldn’t escape the bomb that dropped when they had so little, if anything, to do with the world they were fighting; now cursed to forever deal with the effects and watch those they care most about decay and die. In terms of film about the bombing of Nagasaki or Hiroshima this might be the very best. *Granted that was the exact function of them; that is, depicting normalcy in an abnormal world. An idea that Black Rain was exploring with the family attempting a peaceful return to the country BELOW: One of Kurosawa's great fight scenes Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of world cinema's greatest Director:Agnès Varda Writer: Agnès Varda Producer: Agnès Varda by Jon Cvack It was this past year that Agnes Varda came as close to entering the American Hollywood mainstream as at any point I can recall. Her latest film, Faces Places (which I haven’t yet seen), is the first to follow The Beaches of Agnes (2008), which is all the more impressive once I finished it. The first Varda film I had seen was The Gleaners and I (2000), viewed way too early in film school when I was hungry for the next Coen Bros, PTA, or Tarantino and couldn’t appreciate a relatively plotless documentary shot on cheap digital video about potatoes gleaners that led to something else I can’t remember (I also don’t think the teacher played the whole thing). It was moving onto both Cleo from 5-7 (1961; which Godard regarded as the first new wave film), Cinevardaphoto (2004), and finally revisited - and finished - The Gleaners and I that I understood the woman’s magic. Agnes Varda an artist first and a filmmaker second; and her films around a deep dive into a deeply imaginative and creative mind that sees the world differently than most. The Beaches of Varda is Varda’s attempt at biography, providing a jittery, though more or less linear reflection on the life she lived. We open at the beach where she’s hired a young crew to help her position mirrors on a beach. Like most of Varda’s work, it seems too simple to work; again, shot on the cheap digital camera. And yet of course she somehow creates absolutely beautiful images that embody the idea she’s expressing; that memories provide a similar feature as mirrors on a beach. When positioned just right they allow the beauty of things past to creep in and fill an otherwise bland frame of mind. We learn her fascinating history. She got into photography at an early age and developed a keen eye; working initially in the tourist photography trade (as so many start out in) before meeting a successful Parisian photographer who offer mentorship, allowing her work to achieve notoriety around the age of twenty. Still she lived a modest life, describing each event with a set piece; in this case how she’d have to pivot her car sixteen times back and forth in order to exit the alley told by having a 2D cardboard cut out of the VW bug which she operates by walking. Again, it’s simple and yet the effect is immediately relatable. By the age of 25 she says she had only seen about ten films total - never all that interested in the art form - but that didn’t stop her from making La Pointe Courte (1955) which kicked off the French New Wave alongside such films as The 400 Blows (1959) and Breathless (1960); again, arguably the first film from the French New Wave, and Varda as the only female director to pioneer the movement. The film led her to make Cleo from 5 to 7 which gained her international notoriety. She developed a lifelong marriage with New Wave director Jacques Demy whose The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) and The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) would be leading influences when Damien Chazelle conceived La La Land. The two would soon arrive in California; specifically Venice beach where they lived the Hollywood lifestyle. While Varda found it odd at times, they were able to conceive two kids who would follow in their artistic footsteps. To describe the episodes is to diminish the effect of Varda’s style. Like any great abstract art, to try and put words to the work often sounds facile. Ebert’s favorite moment from the film was when Agnes showed two fisherman from the time of filming (2004) a clip she shot of them back in the 60s. Ebert defined it as the most poetic moment of cinema he’d ever seen. I actually forgot the scene, but that’s what makes her work so magnificent. Each fragment is so unique that I imagine every viewer - like past shared memories - would recall differing moments. One of my favorites involved a neighbor who gave Varda some old home footage of a house her and her family moved into, showing the the grand old farmhouse in grainy 16mm. It doesn’t last more than twenty seconds or so, but the fact that Varda so loved the art of film and memory that she included it out of appreciation spoke volumes to her soul. You get the impression she cares deeply for people; wanting to take all she experiences with them and the times they shared and express it to the best of her abilities; as though knowing it was a way to solidify the memory. To shift it like a mirror and catch the ocean. In the end we learn that Jacques died only years prior and that she filmed his body both moments before and then after his death from AIDS; knowing it was an important moment to capture. It’s clear that Varda felt the end of days were near. To think she just created another critically acclaimed film at the age of 90 goes to show her power of spirit. She’s the type of filmmaker that never cared for the glitz and glamour. She wants to make art to the best of her ability and will likely continue to do so until her final days; whenever they come. BELOW: Great PBS doc on Varda Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Paul Schrader Writer: Paul Schrader Cinematographer: Alexander Dynan Producer: Jack Binder, Greg Clark, Victoria Hill, Gary Hamilton, Deepak Sikka, Christine Vachon, David Hinojosa, and Frank Murray by Jon Cvack It was while listening to Ethan Hawke talk about this film on NPR’s Fresh Air that I realized how much I love his interviews. He was discussing a couple of his latest films - his directorial debut Blaze (2018) about the life of musician Ben Foley and this film. Throughout the interview, you realize how articulate, charming, and intelligent the guy is; serving as the type of actor that’s grounded and understands his privileged position; determined to make good art whenever possible, even if that means doing a few better-paid movies along the way. Days after the interview, Reddit posted a link to Colbert’s Late Show, in which the host let Hawke tell a gripping six minute story as he explained the best acting advice he received from Mark Rylance regarding playing Hamlet opposite two of Hawke’s idols. It’s getting more into podcasts that I realize how fast interviews are on television; in which some rule I once heard said to avoid letting any one person speak for more than five or seven seconds (a principle embodied by CNN and Fox News). Hawke possesses that magical ability to connect with others; making it feel as though he’s talking straight to you. Like any great artist, he creates that peculiar sense of kindred spirit. Similar in-depth and detail as Hawke’s own views on art and the world, Schrader’s film contains an extraordinary amount of nuance. While serving the simple plot of a priest at ethical odds with an environmental extremist, Schrader's universe uses the narrative as a way to explore a range of ideas on the convergence of business, politics, and religion, and the world in which that convergence exists. Reverend Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke) oversees the First Reformed Church located in a small town in upstate New York. The opening tosses you straight into its Academy Ratio (1.37:1) which given all modern widescreen 16:9 TVs, has become a jarring look; especially in a theater where the wings of the screen contain tall black rectangles. There’s a long dolly into the church and in we go, following Toller as he entertains tourists and visitors. First Reformed has been around for nearly 250 years, serving as part of the underground railroad, now owned by the Abundant Life megachurch. Pastor Jeffers (Cedric Kyles) provides Toller a significant amount of autonomy in exchange for keeping up with the office and community politics. With the church’s 250th anniversary approaching, interest has spread statewide and he wants to ensure that everything goes as smoothly as possible. Similar in style to Travis Bickle’s voice over, though far less profane and bleak, Toller has decided to keep a journal for a single year which he will destroy on the anniversary. Toller is a former military chaplain who after supporting his son’s decision to go to enlist during the Iraq War, received notice that he had been killed in action after only six months. His wife and him were unable to repair their relationship and divorced and he later joined First Reformed. He’s visited by one of his parishioners, the pregnant Mary (Amanda Seyfried) who wants him to visit her radical environmentalist husband Michael (Philip Ettinger) who doesn’t believe Mary should have the baby. Global warming is a difficult subject; an issue that has somehow become politicized when it is about continuing the world for all life by at least trying to fix the problem. Nevertheless, as with any contentious issue, there are the tropes around those politics and there’s been no shortage of disparaging tree huggers or the way environmentally conscious discuss the issues. So many know the basic facts of global warming that there’s a risk of sounding like parody when attempting to have a conversation between two characters who discuss the problem. Schrader masters the scene, somehow finding the balance between Michael providing empirical data without it sounding trite or obvious. We hear an articulate and strong argument for why he doesn’t want to bring a baby into the world: climate change's effects are starting to strike and there’s no evidence to support that it’s getting better. It will get worse and Americans will feel the effects firsthand and in much more significant ways. In the end, the most Hawke can say is that it’s better to allow for something to exist than to not exist; to possibly fight the problem and make it better for subsequent generations. Days later, Mary calls Toller to her house, showing him a bomb vest that Michael created. Toller tells her to keep it quiet to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Hawke’s mastery is making this sound like an entirely reasonable and understandable request. Days later, Michael texts Toller to meet him in a nearby park; to which he shows up, discovering Michael had blown his head off with a shotgun. Returning to Mary, they discover the last will in testament; asking for his ashes to be scattered in a toxic waste dump. Toller honors the request and invites some choir singers from Abundant Life who sing a pro-environmental Neil Young song, attracting the attention of some political bloggers. This gets back to one of Abundant Life’s chief financiers Edward Balq (Michael Gaston) who, during a meeting about the anniversary, scolds Toller for making Michael’s death into a political statement. This sends Toller further down the rabbit hole of his own environmental investigation, which like Travis Bickle’s observations of humanity, begins to quite literally rot his body as he soon learns that his difficulty going to the bathroom is stomach cancer. The church anniversary approaches, and Toller pieces together how the church, business, and politics all intersect, as Balq and Jeffers join the mayor and governor to honor a historical church that helped to fight against the vicious foe of bondage. Now there’s another, worldwide existential problem, and the same individuals are doing nothing about it. Fully empathizing with Michael and foregoing all his prior advice, Toller dresses up in the bomb vest and aims to blow up the church; until he sees Mary arrives and opts for some Drano instead. She stops him before he drinks and the two embrace and it cuts to black - either the bomb went off, or perhaps the poison took effect, or it’s some grand declaration on the power of love negating all else (which I highly doubt). There’s a deep cynicism in the film which I think a lot of those who even casually follow up on climate change news can understand. The problem is getting worse. The debate should be between how bad it is or how far past the point of no return we are, how to solve it, and what we can do in the short term. In the era of Trump, the subject is no longer discussed; reserved for the occasional, otherwise Earth-shattering news that 15,000 scientists have penned a letter warning of “dire warning to humanity” about the effects of global warming. Although I wrote this over eighteen months ago, Australia has over 12 million acres of forest burning. Two million people have lost their homes and their citizens are calling it Hell on Earth. And still we keep going, taking one step forward as we’re driven dozens of steps back. Recent films like Chasing Corral (2017) and Chasing Ice (2012) demonstrate firsthand how rapidly the problem is accelerating and still there’s no consensus. There’s profound selfishness at play, in which most just hope to make the remainder of their own lives last, by buying that house and car and all the consumption that provides them short term joy. Even the most ardent upper-class liberals have their mansions and BMW’s out here in Los Angeles. Everyone is willing to sacrifice, but only up to a point. Schrader’s film embodies this idea - showing a man so torn by these revelations that, with maybe months to live, finds no other meaning than to destroy himself and take one less body from the world. I struggle with how I look at those who deny global warming; as it’s starting to have a direct impact on human lives and so many are willing to give up nothing. We cannot destroy life to preserve it and yet life will be destroyed by ignoring it. First Reformed demonstrates the struggle. In the end, if Toller sacrificed himself and Mary, Schrader allows us to wonder the impossible - was it worth it? I want to say no, but the film denies simple judgment. BELOW: "It doesn't come for free." Some profound thoughts on the great actor-artists of our time Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of Gerwig's best roles Director: Mike Mills Writer: Mike Mills Cinematographer: Sean Porter Producer: Anne Carey, Megan Ellison, and Youree Henley by Jon Cvac When thinking of suburban angst films, the first that come to mind are The Ice Storm (1997), American Beauty (1999), In the Bedroom (2001), and Thumbsucker; a series of films I checked out early into my cinephilia which provided that first sense of connection between the medium and my own life. All of these films were released within the same decade, seeming to roll out in rapid fashion. I can’t remember much from Thumbsucker other than the obvious and that it had an indie movie twin with The Chumscrubber (2005); the latter of which I remember nothing about, but still own on DVD. 20th Century Women is by the same director as Thumbsucker, Mike Mills, who’s Beginners (2010) went on to earn Christopher Plummer an Oscar nomination, though I forget again what it was exactly about. I’m afraid Mills might have produced a similar situation for the third time. I liked 20th Century Women, and Annette Benning gives an incredible performance; fully deserving of her Oscar nomination, but I was left wondering what the story was about exactly; other than some reflection on both a period in time and a bit of autobiography. The story follows three women and one male character: Abbie Porter (Greta Gerwig), Julie Harman (Elle Fanning), and Dorothy Fields (Annette Bening) and her teenage son Jamie (Lucas Jade Zumann). Dorothy Fields was a flapper back in the day, having Jamie when she was past forty, now divorced and running a boarding house, renting it out to both Abbie and a middle-aged carpenter-artist-hippie William (Billy Crudup) who fixes up the house in exchange for cheaper rent. Jamie is becoming hormonal, having gotten friend-zoned by the otherwise promiscuous Dorothy Fields who sleeps in his bed every night, wanting to spend as little time at home where her psychologist mother subjects her to a barrage of therapy sessions. The four narratives satellite around Dorothy’s story which is that she’s an aging woman who chain-smokes, and in a series of flashbacks explains that she’s going to die before the new Millenium from lung cancer; told through a strange voice over as the narrator rants off a bunch of historical events. Each character gets one of these wrap ups, allowing us to learn about what they’re going through - in this case, that Dorothy went to NYU and started dating a professor, got diagnosed and then beat cervical cancer, destroying her ovaries in the process and causing her to get dumped by the professor, where she then moved to Santa Barbara. I’m becoming a massive Gerwig fan, thinking back to seeing her in Hannah Takes the Stairs (2007) and how incredible it is to see how far she’s come; she somehow embodies a contradiction - appearing as someone that’s spacy and slow while constantly revealing an extraordinary amount of depth, intelligence, or creativity; creating strange eccentric characters without ever falling victim to archetype or trope. I’m certain that she will go on to provide some of the greatest roles of her generation. Abbie introduces Jamie to feminism and the many writers who embraced the cause; allowing Jamie to understand certain ideas about sex and social position. He learns about the clitoris and passes, ideas about selfish love, and passes them onto his friends and schoolmates who for some reason beat the shit out of him. In the film’s best scene, Jamie reads a passage to his mom about the writer’s existential experience of becoming an older woman and the sense of worthlessness it contains. It’s more permissible for men can enter into relationships with younger women, whether because of social constructs or evolutionary reasons, while older women become less attractive; creating a deep sense of loneliness in the process. Dorothy wondered if the passage is about her. Jamie says no, but the two know it is. I admire Mike Mills' attempt to integrate the stories of three strong female characters (and I mean strong as in complex/interesting characters not some comment on their mental or physical strength which I can’t believe I now have to start qualifying). Abbie, Dorothy, and Julie were all complex individuals, but they all seemed to be characters I’ve seen before; saved by Gerwig and Fanning’s performances, but still not all too coherent. At times he wanted to be some feminist warrior, and yet the women all seemed in service to Jamie and his discovering its principles. There was no thread to the story; abandoning plot to instead focus on a bunch of different philosophies and how they operated at this particular moment in history. I understand that it was attempting to explore a nascent period of women’s second-generation liberation, but I think it could have benefited from perhaps flipping Jamie and Julie’s characters; allowing Jamie to operate as a satellite; perhaps as a guy who’s a self-proclaimed feminist with only a cursory understanding versus Julie who’s struggling to explore her body and learn what it means to be a modern woman in a rapidly changing world. It all felt like a bunch of fragments, trying to cram far too much history into a narrative that didn’t need so much. I’s a noble effort from Mike Mills, but this is the type of story where I think a woman is much better equipped to tell it. BELOW: The dangers of learning about the vagina Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: René Clément Writer: Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bost; based upon L'Assommoir by Émile Zola Cinematographer: Robert Juillard Producer: Agnès Delahaie by Jon Cvack The first film I’d seen from Rene Clement was Forbidden Games (1952), which unfortunately is no longer distributed by Criterion. The second was Purple Noon (1960), serving as the original adaptation of what would be remade as The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999; also the better film of the two). Gervaise follows the Parisian lower classes, focused on laundrywoman Gervaise Macquart Coupeau (Maria Schell) who’s married to roofer Henri Coupeau (François Périer). When Henri experiences an accident, rendering him unable to work and mostly bedridden, he quickly turns to alcohol, developing a severe addiction. Nevertheless, Gervaise has saved up money and leases her own laundromat. Though times remain tight, it doesn’t stop Henri from using their meager profits to continue his alcoholism, increasingly erupting into violent fits of jealousy, rage, and assault. Gervaise befriends two other men who contribute to the problem; one who helped front her some money in order to keep the shop afloat, and the other strikingly similar in look to Henri. Let’s just say that the latter benefactor is a handsome and decent man, while the lookalike husband is a bit of a con artist. I’m certain that Gervaise sleeps with the latter, and does so while her husband is passed out, and I think she’s done the same with the former; though it was much more dependent upon the power of suggestion. After Henri has stolen the laundromat’s profits once again, going so far as to dig into the savings due to employees, Gervaise offers Henri an ultimatum - either quit drinking or she’d leave him. During the film’s best scene, and one of the possibly best dinner scenes of all time, Gervaise uses her remainder of savings to throw a dinner party; cooking a duck for a party of ten which could hardly feed four. Soon both men arrive, driving Henri into a jealous rage, in which we’re just waiting for him to explode. However, the added layer to the scene is watching as Gervaise exchanges glance with the benefactor, meeting him in the kitchen, a bit lit up on wine and unable to control her desire. I’ve never seen food used in such a sensual way as when they dig into the goose; the juices oozing and dripping all over their fingers as each person bites into the tender meat. Henri also provides one of the greatest alcoholics I’ve ever seen on screen; showing the many nuances of impotence. On the one hand, he's sick and requires alcohol, and it's this illness that causes the injury which/ perpetuates the problem. On the other hand, we see his beautiful wife who’s pursued by much more successful men, and in some ways empathize with his complete feeling of inadequacy, requiring him to turn even further to the bottle. It was a pleasure to see a woman as complex as Gervaise, especially from the period. Rather than painting her as the saint who sticks by her husband, we see how his actions push her away, toward flirting with and then pursuing her own desires. It’s a character that struggles for what is right and good; maintaining the honor of the love she wore versus living the life she deserves. This is a tragically underrated film. BELOW: A brilliant, moving from light slapstick comedy to horror show Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Lars von Trier Writer: Lars von Trier Cinematographer: Anthony Dod Mantle Producer: Vibeke Windeløv by Jon Cvack I happened to arrive on my waning Lars Von Trier list only weeks after the reception of the director’s latest cause célèbre The House that Jack Built (2018). Again eliciting a divisive response and numerous walkouts during its premiere. This was the filmmaker’s first return to Cannes after making the infamous Nazi comment during his Melancholia premiere after discovering he was no longer of Jewish German descent, but rather just a German, causing him to express his sympathy for Hitler’s demise, trying to get off the topic, and sarcastically referring to himself as a Nazi much to the horror of his cast. Manderlay was the second in what was suppose to be Von Trier’s “American History” trilogy. It kicked off with Dogville (2003), which while starting off strong, just couldn’t maintain its momentum for the three-hour run time; descending into some brutal and needless rape scenes while exploring a storyline in which each character possesses some degree of evil. Like Manderlay, it was shot on a soundstage with a minimalist set and cheap digital cameras, which while effective for a little while, also couldn’t keep up with the running time. Ultimately, my eyes and mind got bored filling in all the blanks. The second in the series follows Grace Mulligan (Bryce Dallas Howard) and her father Mr. Mulligan (Willem Dafoe) after they had burned down Dogville after both James Caan and Nicole Kidman opted out of the production. They arrive outside the gates of a town called Manderlay, discovering a woman trying to escape, yelling about a man who’s being whipped for stealing a bottle of wine. They enter the town to discover that, although the Civil War is 70 years past, slavery continues. Grace meets the master of the house, Mam (Lauren Bacall), and is so disgusted by the situation that she decides to stay to try and provide liberty. Shortly after, Mam dies and the Uncle Tom-like character Wilhelm (Danny Glover) takes over. Mam has left behind a book regarded as “Mam’s Law” which you can check on the Wikipedia page, but essentially describes every type of black person (not using this word) Mam had to deal with. Each of these groups contains a leader who form a type of city council, which somehow Grace starts to lead; attempting to teach the former slaves about freedom and democracy. I had to watch this movie in about four scattered chunks, as a mixture of boredom and offense played so heavily that I can’t provide much in the way of details. Grace grows frustrated while the black people remain completely helpless - they’re illiterate, struggle to learn, or even carry out the most basic democratic task. I don’t doubt that any individual kept in bondage could have severe mental damage or disabilities, but I just don’t understand what the purpose of this story was; made all the worst by von Trier’s Nazi comment. The 90s were fraught with Southern White Savior films in the 90s - A Time to Kill (1996), Mississippi Burning (1988), The Ghost of Mississippi (1996), and others all explored the idea of relatively helpless black males finally saved when a team of white lawyers came around. This isn’t to discount the work that these individuals did in assisting with Civil Rights, but it seems we’re long past due for films that focus on the black heroes from the period. Manderlay embodies this icky device as a privileged white woman comes into town, so overwhelmed by guilt that she tries to teach the helpless black people about the basic tenets of government who struggle to grasp the tiniest concept until she understands how they learn and saves the community. While she goes on to experience some cheap moral dilemma when one of her “students” (for lack of a better word) breaks the very law she created, it led to an even more offensive scene as the woman whips one of the black men; at first remorseful and then developing a strange and unsettling sense of sadistic pleasure And again, we’re forced to discover another disgusting Uncle Tom character in Wilhelm who we learn has been the one preserving Mam’s Law out of fear of what freedom would bring about. There were interesting moments which explored the perils of government and the challenges of community organization, but ultimately, it felt far too condescending. Part of me thinks that my reaction was the exact point; as in the end, we see a montage of the last 50 years of race relations, realizing that we have a long way to go. Perhaps Grace’s character reflected most of us; believing we're helping but failing to offer the revolutionary change required. Nevertheless, it's a subpar allegory more effectively explored in Get Out in which white people want to think they’re helping when really they’re perpetuating the problem. It’s films like this, and when I think of other white-oriented racial movies, that I realize that ultimately, the wrong people have been telling these stories; or at least, not enough black people have had the chance to lend their perspective. It’s why a movie like 12 Years a Slave (2013) is so effective; told from a position that understands that racism is far more complex than simply a byproduct of slavery or ignorance. It pervades our country like a virus, and unfortunately, I do not believe that white people either fully comprehend the problem the way implicit bias can have overt and systemic ramifications. BELOW: A BTS doc I didn't watch but I bet is better than the movie Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Another gross age difference from mid-century cinema Director: René Clair Writer: Robert Pirosh and Marc Connelly; Dalton Trumbo (uncredited) Cinematographer: Producer: René Clair and Preston Sturges by Jon Cvack Aside from Rene Claire’s amazing adaptation of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None (1945), this is the only other American film I can find of his. I don’t remember much from his other films, other than Under the Roofs of Paris (1930) had a cool opening shot, and that I allegedly saw A Nous la Liberta (1931) about four years ago, but can’t remember anything about it. I Married a Witch was Claire’s entrance into the rom-com, opening up during the Salem Witch trials where both Jennifer (Veronica Lake) and her father Daniel (Cecil Kellaway) are hanged from a tree. Centuries pass, taking us throughout the next 250 years of American History where - in a fusillade of narratives - we discover successful men marrying terrible women near the tree where Jennifer and Daniel died. Lightning then strikes the tree, releasing both of their spirits, where they discover Wallace Wooley (Fredric March) who’s running for governor just a day away from marrying his benefactor’s daughter Estelle Masterson (Susan Hayward). Daniel and Jennifer initially take the form of white smoke before Jennifer convinces her dad to give her a body; taking the form of Ms Veronica Lake. For those who can’t picture the woman, in this film she’s an exceptionally petite 21-year old, who looks like she could still be in high school, pursuing Wallace Wooley who was 45 years old at the time of making this. Given my recent thoughts on The Major and the Minor (1942), I’m genuinely curious if this was a more culturally acceptable position to have seventy years ago. Daniel is fully aware of the power she has over him, often wearing oversized clothes that further diminish her figure and make her look all the younger. She decides she wants to try to sabotage Wallace’s relationship to Estelle Masterson; who’s an insufferable spoiled rich kid who often scolds Wallace into doing what she wants. Her method involves both attempting to seduce Wallace and subsequently sabotaging his political career. First meeting Jennifer, Wallace is overwhelmed by her beauty; desiring her and trying his best to contain it. Jennifer’s first attempt involves sorcery where she sets a hotel on fire. The building was evacuated, but Jennifer stays inside, calling out to Wallace for help. He heads in and saves her, hailed by the city as a hero. Jennifer ends up back at Wallace’s and in his bedroom, and with the wedding only days away, Jennifer attempts every trick in the book to try and win him over. Soon Estelle catches them in an innocuous embrace and she calls the wedding off. Word gets back to the father, who pulls his money from Wallace’s candidacy and starts running attack ads about his infidelities, turning the public against him. Nevertheless, Jennifer returns to her magical ways, and on the day of the election, brainwashes everyone into voting for him. All the while, Daniel has found a body of his own - after using a whiskey bottle to mask his smoke spirit - returning as a blotto Cecil Kellaway, who’s so appalled by Jennifer’s feelings, takes away her power, causing her to get killed in a car accident, returning her to a spirit who manipulates her father to return to Veronica’s body and reunite with Wallace once and for all. It’s not a bad movie, and at only 77 minutes it’s worth checking out. The main issue is that I ultimately never understand Jennifer’s intentions until the final scene. Veronica Lake seems hellbent on seducing Wallace despite the consequences, and while it’s arguably noble in regards to Wallace having a terrible fiance and dishonorable career ambitions, the complete lack of any type of meaningful connection beyond Wallace’s lascivious attraction to Jennifer diminishes the possibility of seeing her intent as anything beyond nefarious. Added is the limpid logic of the witches. I initially thought that they were the ones who cursed the successful men throughout history with a series of cruel wives, but then Jennifer escapes the tree and wants to prevent the tradition from continuing. I assume the relationships were Daniel’s doing, and that Jennifer wanted to fix things. Even so, I don’t understand why Jennifer has to seduce Wallace by wearing oversized pajamas, rather than just attempting to establish a normal connection. Imagine if the part was played by someone less youthful, such as Joan Crawford, who’s so gleeful that she’s free and able to love that she begins courting a politician, showing him the potential mistakes he’s about to make in both love and career, and establishing love from there. Like most films from this era, I understand that love is all too often immediate, but this felt much more superficial and cheap; taking Claire’s fascinating style in a cheap direction. BELOW: Joe Dante (Gremlins, The Burbs, etc.) on the flick Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Shohei Imamura
Writer: Ibuse Masuji (story); Toshiro Ishido Cinematographer: Takashi Kawamata Producer: Hisa Iino by Jon Cvack I experienced a strange coincidence in finishing David M. Kennedy’s "Freedom From Fear" (1999), part of The Oxford History of the United States (a series I heavily recommend) which provides a gripping account of the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. A little known fact is that while those two events killed over 50,000 people, American forces would kill over ten times that many by numerous bombing runs that would create firestorms, burning so hot they suck the oxygen out of the air and suffocates people to death (see the bombing of Dresden). Not to be confused with Ridley Scott’s Michael Douglas neo-noir action film Black Rain which came out the same year, Black Rain is about the first year and change following the bombing of Hiroshima. It opens up moments after, shot in black and white, as the city is now on fire and countless numbers of charred bodies surround the streets. Ozu’s influence is immediately discernible, utilizing locked down wides; the camera positioned low to the ground, allowing the action to play out while our eye wanders. Unfortunately, eyes also pose the biggest problem for the opening scenes, as aside from the cheap charred corpse props, the designer also decided to use what look like plastic eyeballs you could buy at the dollar store during Halloween. Somehow it avoids becoming a distraction due to how powerful the rest of the images are - of bodies floating down a river, flesh peeling off the skin, and a brilliant moment when a husband and wife meet a man deep in the forest, far outside the city, who admits his child and wife burned to death, and the father has no idea what to say in response. Aside from a few other flashback, the horror doesn’t last long and we move into the meat of the story, which follows a father Shigematsu Shizuma (Kazuo Kitamura) and his wife Shigeko (Etsuko Ichihara); survivors of the bombing who care for their niece Kasuko (Yoshiko Tanaka). Shigematsu and Shigeko have now abandoned the city, now living in the countryside where they hope to start a successful rice farm. One of the most striking resemblances to Ozu is the diverse range of supplemental characters; including a neighbor Yuichi (Keisuke Ishida) who struggles with severe PTSD, in which any time he hears a motor he puts on his straw hat and grabs his broom, acting like an armed soldier, demanding drivers abandon their automobiles. The greater comparison is the story of a family trying to find Kasuko a suitor. Unfortunately, many members of the family and community are starting to experience the effects or radiation poisoning; including Kasuko, who struggles to hide the truth from her potential husbands. After an older man dies from what appears to be stomach cancer, the others accept their plight. For as much as they wanted to return to a normal and regular life, the event has stuck with them; none are sure who’ll suffer next, though they’re all aware of its inevitability. Watching Kasuko attempt to find a partner who knows that she perhaps can’t have children, and at worst, might die soon is as heartbreaking as any Ozu film. There’s no one film about the bombing of Hiroshima or Nagasaki that captures the terror and tragedy of what occurred (I’m talking per the likes of what Saving Private Ryan (1998) did for WWII or 12 Years a Slave (2013) did for its subject). Having seen only the tip of the iceberg of post-war Japanese cinema, I’m left wondering how others expressed the environment. To imagine a city in which 50,000 people were slaughtered instantly by one of man’s worst inventions is difficult to reconcile. So many films appear to be about trying to maintain normalcy; with just the slightest elements of tradition, culture, or family off center, attempting to be corrected. To think of an entire generation that suffered such a tragedy, in which the vast majority of deaths were innocent civilians, all sacrificed as a warning - arguably even an experiment in modern warfare - seems like something which could take centuries to recover from. It’s a testament to the country that they had the strength to move forward; to overcome the pains for generations after as the consequence spread through its country’s blood. It’s a filmmaker like Imamura who allows us to both remember and understand. *Which coincidentally isn’t even rated high enough on Netflix for me to usually check out BELOW: All the videos I'm finding are from the Michael Douglas film so you'll just have to rent it Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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