 Might look familiar Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writer: Thornton Wilder, Sally Benson, and Alma Reville; story by Gordon McDonell Cinematographer: Joseph A. Valentine Producer: Jack H. Skirball by Jon Cvack After Saboteur (1942), I headed into the next of Hitchcock’s 1940s contributions, and again haven’t watched this since first receiving the Masterpiece Collection. Shadow of a Doubt is a bit different from most of Hitchcock’s storyline, in this case being about an murderous uncle who tries to hide out in a small American town. “Uncle” Charles Oakley (Joseph Cotten) arrives by train in Santa Rosa, California, where his niece Charlotte “Charlie” Newton waits for him; the train covers her in a thick dark shadow as it pulls in and Uncle Charlie gets off. They head back home where we meet the rest of the Newton family, including Charlie’s sister and Charlotte’s mom Emma Newton (Patricia Collinge) who absolutely adores her brother, Charlotte’s dad and true crime lover Joseph Newton (Henry Travers), and her younger erudite sister Ann (Edna May Wonacott). Together they all welcome them into their home, hoping that Uncle Charlie might agree to settle down nearby. Suspicions are raised when a pair of news photographers visit the Newton home for a magazine story, who Charlotte later discovers are a couple of undercover detectives on the hunt for a killer; with one of the detectives Jack Graham (Macdonald Carey) soon falling for her after she discovers his occupation. He reveals that they’re in town looking for the “Merry Widow Murderer” who killed a wealthy widow in San Francisco. It’s when Uncle Charlie gives Charlotte a beautiful and expensive emerald ring with strange initials in the band that Charlotte later pieces together the story when visiting a local library that contains one the news clipping about the murder, discovering that the victim had the same initials. Throughout the film the oblivious father Joseph and his friend and fellow true crime connoisseur Herbie Hawkins (Hume Cronyn) try to piece together the perfect murder as a type of dark hobby; sharing all of the latest literature. Their schemes come to loggerheads shortly after Charlotte pieces together the story as Herbie offers wild poison mushrooms which Joseph dispels immediately. Charlotte erupts at dinner and Uncle Charlie immediately understands; attempting to tell her he’s only one of two suspects, and the cops have it all wrong. He’ll leave later that night if she stays quiet. She agrees until Jack reveals that witnesses have positively identified him in the photos they took, and soon Uncle Charlie tries to kill her with what appears to be an accidental death. First by cutting the wooden staircase out back, causing her to fall, and later locking her in the garage where he left the car running with no keys in the ignition (strange to think this was ever a possibility in automobiles). She’s rescued at the last minute. The next day, Uncle Charlie announces he’s leaving for San Francisco with the rich widow Mrs. Potter who has taken a particular liking to him. Seeing him off, Charlotte and her siblings board the train. When Charlotte is left alone with him he attempts to push her off the train, and in a scene that puts thrills above the murder, after a tense struggle, Uncle Charlie is about to push her off, deciding to wait for the train to pick up speed. Charlotte breaks free and flips things around, tossing him off and onto a speeding train roaring from the other direction. Aside from Jack, she doesn’t tell anyone about the details; having committed the perfect murder which her dad sure would surely care about. This is a story that would get repeated throughout the 90s with films such as Domestic Disturbance (2001), The Good Son (1993), Fear (1996), and Sleeping with the Enemy (1991), with the main character discovering a dark truth about a friend or relative, struggling to get anyone to believe them. The hardest thing to pull off with these films is keeping the logic above water; allowing the other characters to maintain their doubts and remain oblivious. The closer the story can come to the line the better; as it’s that narrow escape, whether through death or information, that creates a sense of thrill. Shadow of a Doubt does a great job in creating characters that would honor this premise. Emma is so adoring of her brother that both her love and inevitable heartbreak and blind devotion prevent her from ever piecing together the details. Herbie and Joseph succeed by the irony in obsessing over the perfect murder, failing to ever see what’s going on right in front of them; made all the juicier by having them never discover how close they were. The town and its upper social echelons are oblivious to the tragedy due to Uncle Charlie’s alleged generosity; overlooking his suspicious wealth and charm by personally benefiting from it. It’s a film that’s third place Hitchcock; good but not great, as although there’s a particular thrill with watching a devastating secret slowly be uncovered, it’s the climatic sequence that prevents it from ever achieving a higher place. I’m not sure why Hitchcock engaged in such a thrilling sequence for the climax before allowing Charlotte to gain the upper hand. Uncle Charlie wanted to ensure her death, but the fight seems so determined to push Charlotte off that having him then pause, for Charlotte to then flip things around and kill him seems like it could have benefited from the reverse. The fight to Charlotte being thrown off could have happened quicker, when Charlotte then gains the upper hand, struggling to push Uncle Charlie off as the other train approached. The ending is deliciously Hitchcock, as it wasn’t even until I wrote this out that I realized Charlotte accomplished what her dad and Herbie were obsessing over. It’s a great film with stellar performances all around, taking place in that idyllic small American town which seems uninterested in anything beyond their borders. The kind of place that would now be conservative, where today's toxic politics would now infect. Then again, that might make for an interesting update to an unexplored story as of late. BELOW: Classic Hitch Creep Like what you read? 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 A master class in creating sexual tension in even the most thrilling moments Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writer: Peter Viertel, Joan Harrison, and Dorothy Parker Cinematographer: Joseph A. Valentine Producer: Frank Lloyd and Jack H. Skirball by Jon Cvack Saboteur stems from the possibly apocryphal story of five year old Hitchcock whose father sent him to the police for acting up, in which the officers then placed him in a prison and told him, “This is what we do to naughty boys.” Allegedly it had such an impact on Hitchcock that he’d obsess over the idea of the wrongfully accused long into his career. The film is about a munitions plant worker Barry Kane (Robert Cummings) during WWII (it was released in 1942) who, when breaking for lunch with his friend Mason (Virgil Summers), bumps into an abrasive and unfamiliar man Fry (Norman Lloyd) who drops a letter which they pick up. They head off to the cafeteria when a fire alarm breaks out in the factory and the workers race to put it out. Fry hands Barry a fire extinguisher filled with gasoline, who then hands it to Mason as he runs inside to save the factory and dies in a pool of flames. Barry attempts to tell the cops about the man Fry, but when the authorities can’t find anyone with the name on the roster, they suspect Barry is the saboteur. Barry goes on the run, deciding to check out the address he saw on Fry’s letter which he hopes could provide some answers. He hitches a ride with a truck driver (Murray Alper) in which the nameless character provides the film’s best scene, as the driver rants about his personal life, specifically his wife’s love of hats, completely unaware of Barry’s predicament. Soon they end up at a stateline police roadblock, positioned over a bridge. He escapes by jumping into the water beyond, hiding behind some boulders as the officers close in. The driver shouts that he saw the man in the other direction, risking his career - and all those hats for his wife. It’s interesting to note that Robert Cummings was often a comedy/western actor with few serious or memorable roles before this film. Combined with his Handsome Everyman face, the actor exudes innocence, allowing us to buy why so many people seem willing to help him; something an A-list leading man would’ve failed to convey. He works his way to a cattle ranch where he meets a charming older man Charles Tobin (Otto Kruger) who’s playing with his granddaughter in the pool. He warmly welcomes Barry into his home where Barry then finds a letter indicating that Fry had gone to Soda City. Charles returns with a gun, and Barry attempts to use the granddaughter as leverage, though not before Charles’ cronies capture, handcuff, and take him away back to the police. Barry jumps out of the car, heading deep into the woods where he ends up at a cabin where an old blind man (Vaughan Glaser) resides, once again welcoming Barry into his home. Moments later, the blind man’s ad model niece Patricia "Pat" Martin (Priscilla Lane) arrives, immediately sees the handcuffs, which the blind man then admits he knew of all along; operating out of the presumed innocence of another man; trusting that Barry is a kind and good man in trouble. He implores Pat to take Barry to his blacksmith friend, which she does reluctantly. She then flips Barry’s cuffed hands over the steering wheel and vows to instead take him to the police; providing a classic Hitchcockian sexual tension as the two argue inches from each other’s face. Barry soon attempts to gain control of the car, causing it crash, though he uses the engine’s fan blade to cut the cuffs and the two continue on into the desert where they board a passing carnival caravan, finding themselves in the sleeping compartment of the troupe’s best performers - including siamese twins (Jean Romer; Laura Mason), a fat woman Titania (Marie LeDeaux), a midget named Major (Billy Curtis), and their gaunt leader Bones (Pedro de Cordoba); in which Major demands they kick the free riders off their car before getting them into trouble; fortunately saved by Bones and the others who vote to keep them in the car and get them to Soda City. They arrive at Boulder Dam (which is large enough for you to think is the Hoover Dam) where the other saboteurs have planted an explosive, wired up to the detonator in a small hut with a hole cut through the door in order to spy on the place with a telescope. This is another great sequence as what looks like an ordinary cabin is uncovered to be the control center for their next sabotage; first by showing some of the machine, then finding the hole on the door, before finally getting the telescope and looking out to see what it all adds up to. It’s Hitchcock operating at top level in piquing and exciting our interest in discovering where the story goes alongside the characters. Barry hides Martin in the back as Barry convinces the others that he’s there to assist with their next mission, which once again, they agree to. However, moments before they leave, they hear a noise in the back and just before finding Martin, she dips below an escape entrance; which would be absolutely absurd if not for the rest of the mysterious cabin. Barry returns to New York where the next target is a U.S. Navy battleship due to launch to sea in just a few days. Barry was so good at the act that Martin heads to the authorities to inform them of the plot, who then enters into the cat and mouse game for Barry while Martin finds herself within a corrupted police system, in which it’s impossible to trust just about anyone. It’s writing this out that I realize that Hitchcock has achieved the rare and miraculous; in which words do nothing to justify what he accomplishes, in which nearly every scene is a thrill to watch. Only at the party does it take a breath, allowing the plot’s details to get spelled out before descending back into a thrilling final act as Fry and Barry end up at the top of the Statue of Liberty. To list things out is an injustice to the story and like Truffaut and other scholars, to capture screenshots to show the sequence fails to capture what Hitchcock accomplishes within each and every frame. Even with a topic of domestic terrorism, Hitchcock avoids politics, instead opting to immerse the viewer with the experience of an ordinary person placed within extraordinary circumstances. His films are an experience, in which the only assessment to be made is to explain the feeling one gets from his films. From the truck drive to the carnival caravan to allowing the battleship to explode, it all adds up into a film that provides both thrills and escape. The greatest thing you could ask from the pinnacle of cinema. The movies aren’t about any grand ideas or universal truths so much as an experience; a type of thrill ride in which questions lead to answers which lead to more questions, and becomes all the more exciting in each subsequent scene. BELOW: Norman Lloyd talking about the Statue of Liberty scene since the real thing ain't on the YouTube Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Sexy and thrilling with that Truffaut touch Director: François Truffaut Writer: Jean-Louis Richard and François Truffaut Cinematographer: Raoul Coutard Producer: Marcel Berbert, António da Cunha Telles, and François Truffaut by Jon Cvack Previous to this I watched The Man Who Loved Women (1977), finding it a poorly aged misogynistic film with little going for it. The Soft Skin’s synopsis was another film following another middle aged man who’s drawn to a young beautiful woman. Yet instead of a shitty man on the conquest for as many partners as possible, The Soft Skin provided a David Lean/Woody Allen hybrid-like exploration of desire and the meaning of love, or even meaning. Counter to the last half dozen or so movies I’ve seen from Truffaut (mostly the Antoine Doinel series and a few others), this was an exceptionally crafted film; with gorgeous and meticulous photography that paid attention to the smallest details and moments. The story is that of an esteemed writer Pierre Lachenay (Jean Desailly) who while flying to Lisbon meets a stewardess, Nicole (Françoise Dorléac). Pierre is enamored and after giving a talk at a conference, comes across Nicole in the elevator. The two get out on the same floor and he discovers her room number and calls her later that night for a drink. After an initial rejection, she calls him back, they go to the bar, and have sex. Pierre flies back home where his wife Franca Lachenay (Nelly Benedetti) greets him with their daughter. Franca clearly loves Pierre, and while since having a kid they’ve yet to have a trip alone, she enjoys the life they have. The odd thing is that Franca is so much more beautiful than Nicole; confident, sexy, and curvy. While I’d like to think in certain moments, Truffaut and DP Raoul Coutard failed to properly light her in scenes, given how well crafted the film is, it seems more deliberate that in certain moment she looks a bit rugose and tired, with heavy bags under her eyes, as though worn from travel or the search for someone to love and love her; then shifting in a complete 180, suddenly beautiful and vibrant. Another great subtle detail is Franca who first says they haven’t been alone in four years, later shifting that number to five years, making you wonder if it might have been only a few years, or even one, and that their downfall was more recent than either would lead on. Pierre meets Nicole aboard his next day flight back to Paris where she gives him a matchbook with her phone number written across the top. We see Pierre stuff it into his pocket, and provides brilliant tension throughout the next third of the film as we wonder if, or when, Franca will discover the note. Pierre soon calls Nicole and the two begin seeing each other near the airport at night whenever Nicole flies in. From my recollection, it seems as though, at this moment, Truffaut shot Nicole much softer, allowing her full beauty to flourish and making us understand Pierre’s obsession. Pierre gets invited to present a screening in Reims of a documentary about the famous French author André Gide (not a real documentary, but a real person). He invites Nicole, but when he’s bombarded with fellow intectuals and fans, Pierre knows he can’t be seen with her; dropping her off at the room and telling her to buy some tickets from the theater as he doesn’t have any extras. He attends the screening, and having just happened to have watched Saboteur (1942) just before this, bears a striking resemblance to Hitchcock’s movie theater scene at Radio City Music Hall. Pierre gives a speech, hoping to then dip out and join with Nicole, but gets stopped by an obnoxious colleague who demands they get a drink. Intercut is a restless Nicole who soon tires of the wait, heads out, where she then finds Pierre in the bar. They catch eyes, and while the friend speaks, we - through Pierre’s POV - watch as Nicole then approaches other men on the street, making Pierre crazed with jealousy. He excuses himself and leaves, saying that he wants to go back home to Paris. The colleague agrees, requesting a ride, leaving Pierre only seconds to go visit Nicole, where he apologizes before the two drive off, leaving the colleague all alone. The pair spend the night and the next day Pierre calls Franca who announces her suspicions (though never having found the match book). Nicole and Pierre take pictures of each other, wandering around in the idyllic woods. Pierre then returns home the next day and so begins one of the all time great Cheating-Spouse-Confrontation scenes I can recall; as the two struggle between retaining what they’ve developed, and what they love. It’s during this scene that we see a photograph in the foreground of a shot; of Nicole and Pierre holding a pair of hunting rifles. Pierre leaves and sleeps at his office. The next day, Franca calls him and says she’s getting a divorce. Pierre calls Nicole who says she can’t see him as her father’s visiting. When Pierre heads over regardless, he finds another middle-aged man walking down the steps. He returns home and Franca and him have another epic fight as Franca doesn’t want to let Pierre go, knowing that she needs to, and Pierre doesn’t want to risk losing his family, should Nicole fail to work out. The two end up making love one last time. After which, in a devastating moment, Pierre prepares to leave, Franca asks if he’s coming back and Pierre says it could never work out; as though he wanted to test her sexuality one last time before making his final decision. Franca spirals into a depression, while Pierre attempts to start his life with Nicole. As with any film of the sort (Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) first comes to mind), Pierre notices Nicole’s first flaw as she talks loud in the restaurant, offending Nicole once again. They return to her apartment and she ends things; as we learn that Pierre is likely far from the first and soon to be the last man Nicole wants to explore, and we see that her life of travel is far more about adventure than settling down. After Franca finds some photos from their time together in Reims, she heads home, enters a closet, and grabs the hunting rifle and finds Pierre in a cafe where she shoots him dead. It was while watching the Criterion Special Features (provided on a stunning BluRay print), that I noticed a peculiar documentary about Truffaut’s interview with Hitchcock for his book Truffaut/Hitchcock. It’s a thirty minute behind the scenes documentary portraying the way the interview came about, what was discussed, and Truffaut’s passion for Hitchcock. It was either in this or in the video essay that The Soft Skin was compared to Hitchcock. It didn’t go into many of the details, but it was while writing this that I grasped the comparison and how masterful this story is. Rather than focusing on the wrongfully accused or confused identity plot, it was applying suspense to a story of infidelity; capturing the thrill of lust and secrecy and demonstrating the terrifying consequences of its pursuit. It’s very much a moral tale, of choosing the darker path in the quest for greater pleasure.* The note, the photographs of Nicole and Pierre, the photo of Franca and Pierre, the friend who disrupts Pierre’s plan to ditch the conference, to the matchbook that contains the number. All of these elements add up to provide tension to the story. For some reason I never added them up to the consequence, and yet it’s the perfect ending; making you want to revisit the film and look for all the subtle details which foreshadow its conclusion. It’s not Truffaut’s attempt to take all he learned from Hitchcock and merge it with his own style. It’s one of his best films. BELOW: Not much on YouTube so here's the trailer 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 those films where I don't remember much Director: Steve McQueen Writer: Gillian Flynn and Steve McQueen; based Widows by Lynda La Plante Cinematographer: Sean Bobbitt Producer: Steve McQueen, Iain Canning, Emile Sherman, and Arnon Milchan by Jon Cvack It’s a movie like this that makes me grasp my Chicago roots. Before anyone raises the fact that writer Gillian Flynn lives in Chicago, she wasn’t born and raised there, and so I feel more comfortable saying that this movie feels like no one has any understanding of the City. I imagine most people from beyond Chicago might enjoy it, but as with any topic, when the storytellers fail on basic elements, it’s next to impossible to enjoy the story, as a cursory understanding combined with top class craftsmanship feels false. It’s for this reason that I feel like I can’t remove this fact from the story and provide an objective understanding. For those wondering what I mean, although this story takes place on the Southside, no one in the film has a Southside accent. This is one of the best and most unique accents in the country; a hybrid between Fargo and Sopranos-lite. Colin Farrell attempts one, but swings too far East to make it believable. If people don’t know what I’m talking about, watch the Blues Brothers, and yes, while not as extreme, most people on the Southside do talk like this. Beyond Farrell, no one else even attempts this accent, and it was a glaringly obvious problem from the first seconds. Secondly is how the city is captured, which makes it look far more glitzy than it actually is. The story utilizes the Fireside Bowl, which is essentially Chicago’s KBGB’s, both in its original allure and its latter and current ubiquitous Kohl’s t-shirt local tourist destination. Everyone who lives there knows what it is, but no one goes there because it’s mostly for people who don’t live in the city. It’s like if someone wanted to use the Whiskey GoGo in Hollywood as some shady bar. There were simply hundreds of other really cool places they could have used. It did an okay job at demonstrating gentrification, but completely downplayed how severe the problem is; in which entire black neighborhoods are being destroyed, while the suburbs expand up and the city expands down, squeezing the impoverished black population in both directions, leaving them nowhere else to go. I kept trying to consider the film as applied to some no name city and it definitely provided some great moments. Viola Davis steals the show and Daniel Kaluuya shows some terrifying range. Even Robert Duvall’s handful of scenes make the film worth watching alone. The heist is a bit fast for what’s the bread and butter for any film from the genre, but exciting enough. Individually all the parts work well, but it just felt dishonest. Even more surprising was that Richard Roeper thought it was the best film of 2018. BELOW: Burt Reynold's remake Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The original meme Director: François Truffaut Writer: Michel Fermaud, Suzanne Schiffman, and François Truffaut Cinematographer: Néstor Almendros Producer: Marcel Berbert by Jon Cvack It was after finishing Truffaut’s most popular work - The 400 Blows (1959), Shoot the Piano Player (1960), Jules and Jim (1962), and Day and Night (1973), Small Change (1976) - and then moving onto his other work that I started to realize that he an obsessive interest in shitty men cheating on their wives or partners with young and beautiful women. After The 400 Blows and Antoine and Colette (1962), the rest of the series follows an increasingly self-centered man who compulsively cheats on the women around him. With two of his films left available on Netflix, I saw that sure enough The Man Who Loved Women and The Soft Skin (1964) once again explored the topic. Yet while the latter film offers a gripping and expertly crafted story on desire, The Man Who Loved Women falls victim to the era; sensationalizing a serial philanderer. The story follows a middle aged sex addict Bertrand Morane (Charles Denner) who obsesses over sleeping with as many women as possible. In pure Truffaut fashion, he has a bizarre job where he tests large boat and airplane models in pools and wind tunnels, which operates at the precipice of distraction. We listen as he explains how much Bertrand loves women’s legs, and watch as he, with ease, convinces nearly all of the beautiful women he approaches to sleep with him. The achievements inspire him to start typing out a book on his pursuits, allowing him to reflect on all his conquests. He remembers a middled shop owner Hélène (Geneviève Fontanel) who while exploring the relationship, later confesses that she only sleeps with men thirty years or younger. He then learns that a Doctor’s exhibitionist wife he once met, Delphine Grezel (Nelly Borgeaud), is getting out of prison, reflecting on all the risky places they elected to have sex and how an attempt to murder her husband landed her in jail. Eventually, Bertrand gets gonorrhea, and struggles with having to stop having sex for a few weeks until it cures. He soon finishes the manuscript and submits it off to publishers, cautioned that publishing is very much a matter of who you know and only the most talented writers could ever get their books released. Sure enough it gains the attention of one Paris’s top publishers, making its way to the editor’s desk where three men decide it’s too risque to publish, but sure enough a woman Geneviève Bigey (Brigitte Fossey) vouches for it, believing that it demonstrates the complexity of a man. The two then start seeing each other. Bertrand gets a bit nervous about the book, attempts to cancel it when remembering he left an old girlfriend out. Geneviève prevents the revision, and the books released, titled “The Man Who Loved Women”. However, Bertand still can’t control his obsession, soon chasing girls into a busy street where he gets hit, later dying in the hospital while pursuing a nurse. It’s never mentioned or suggested that Bertrand is a sex addict, and given its 1977 release and a USA remake of the same name with Burt Reynolds in 1982, it seems like another film where the humor has failed to age, completely shifting into a relatively disgusting story that’s not funny enough to even consider a comedy anymore. Truffaut seemed to throw in Geneviève the editor as even he couldn’t accept how gross a scene is with four old male editors drooling over a middle aged man’s manuscript about all the women he’s slept with. It leaves me wondering about the story’s purpose. There are still about half a dozen Truffaut films I haven’t seen which aren’t available - The Story of Adele H. (1975), Two English Girls (1971), The Wild Child (1970), Confidentially Yours (1983), and Mississippi Mermaid (1969) - all of which I assume Criterion will release over the next few years. About half of these deal with a man cheating on his partner with another woman. To think that he’s not even remembered for most of these films makes me wonder what he was possibly searching for. Only engaged, but never married until he was almost fifty years old (four years after this movie), it makes me wonder how autobiographical these stories are, or whether he was simply struggling with the fantasy and used film to express the imaginings. Yet there’s something deeply personal about how he sees these men, and if pressed, it feels like these films are very much taken from real life. Even saying that makes me feel guilty, as there’s far more to an artist than their personal life. Tragic enough, Truffaut would die three years after getting married. The story simply feels voyeuristic at times, as though I’m getting far too intimate a look at another person. It’s worth checking out if you’re working through Truffaut. It’s fairly well made, but I’m unsure when I’d ever return to it. BELOW: Burt Reynold's remake Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The perfect plan Director: Chris Smith Writer: Chris Smith Cinematographer: Jake Burghart, Cory Fraiman-Lott, Henry Zaballos Producer: Danny Gabai, Mick Purzycki, and Chris Smith by Jon Cvack This is the latest Netflix production to spread like wildfire, as it seemed like within only two weeks, over half the people I know had seen the film, having ranted about how bonkers the failed event was. For those unfamiliar with the story, Fyre was a multi-day island retreat music festival put on through a partnership between entertainer Ja-Rule and venture capitalist Billy McFarland. The genesis of their relationship went back to when Billy McFarland wanted to book JaRule for a private event and discovered how hard it was. Eventually the two got in touch and decided to create a service that would allow [wealthy] people to hire entertainers for their events via website. Fyre is the name of that service and the festival was meant to showcase its purpose. In order to gain awareness, JaRule and McFarland hired ten of the world’s hottest models - both physically and on social media. They also hired a production crew, who quickly discovered that there was little vision behind the commercial other than to shoot supermodels in bikinis riding on jet skis and drinking on Yachts next to a beautiful deserted island. They hired a social media marketing company to find and pay other influencers to sell the idea; most using a solid burnt orange image as they pitched the event. From the early stages, the film raises an interesting question about transparency. I’ve worked alongside influencers long enough to understand their power. Most recently Jake Paul promoted a foreign website that allows user (mostly under 18 teenage men) to buy mysterious packages, not knowing what’s inside, on the gamble that it’ll be either worth what or less then they paid or more expensive; and if they don’t like what they receive, they can then sell it back for fractions of its value. I’m not sure what happened legally, but many people complained to YouTube that Paul was essentially promoting online gambling to a largely non-adult audience. What’s glaringly obvious to most adults is that Jake Paul is clearly hurting for sponsorships and willing to exploit his impressionable audience for personal profit. But for that impressionable audience, they very likely see a person they admire tell them how cool something is to buy. The film raises a similar question - at what point are influencers with tens of millions of followers responsible for informing those followers that they’re being paid to say or promote a particular thing? While it seems entirely obvious to me and others, I think we forget that many look to these individuals for what is worth attention or not. Saying that they’re attending a festival and getting others to buy tickets, all while they have no idea how or what the festival actually is, seems irresponsible. Then again, if they’re being paid up front to promote the event, why should they have expected it to go any less than perfect? With the event confirmed and thousands of tickets sold, McFarland hires a COO to manage the logistics, coordinating between the various event planners of which he has no experience doing - from those managing and paying for the bands; to those in charge of finding housing, assembling tents, organizing food and toilets; to those who have to assemble the stages and manage the social media. Nearly all of whom saw the looming disaster from the very beginning. Not that there was all that much time to prepare; requiring only months for what could have easily taken years to execute. Along the way, we watch as Murphy’s Law chugs full speed ahead. The original island, owned by Pablo Escobar, didn’t want their name known to the attendees, and therefore the agreement was rescinded. They eventually land on a Bahaman Island that is not at all abandoned, where the only place to station the hundreds of thousands of people is the early stages of a housing development. Worse, one of the island’s largest holidays takes place on the same weekend of the festival, further limiting accommodations. By this point, there’s a strange sadism that creeps in as you’re waiting to see how bad things will get for the attendees. The private planes and first class tickets are gone. A hard rain the previous night destroyed most of the tents and beds. Blink-182 and other artists have quit, and they still don’t know where they’re going to put most of the people. Fortunately, McFarland and Ja-Rule understood how serious the problem was and canceled the rest of the flights. Unfortunately, the hundreds or so early attendees were stuck with nothing but cheese sandwiches and limited water. It was this section that I was a bit dubious about how bad things were, as you can’t help but think that for at least some people, they probably made the most of it. What’s shown is terrible, but there was never violence, injury, or all that much anger per the likes Woodstock ‘99. Instead it’s annoyance - that they’re money was wasted, and what they were promised wasn’t delivered. Given the issues, it seems like this could have been far worse; as in people getting seriously hurt or even dying, given how incompetent the operation was. The fact that everyone survived should be appreciated. Ja-Rule would later go on camera to say that the festival “...wasn’t fraud, it was false advertising.” Since then while McFarland is now serving six years in prison, Ja-Rule has moved on; as of writing this, he’s announced that he wants to try a Fyre Festival 2.0. You wonder if a disaster festival in and of itself could be a festival; essentially the anti-Burning Man where people scrounge for toilet paper, tequila, and shelter. I would like to think this is just a sarcastic idea, and yet I have no idea. My friend said the film made him scared for our generation. Another friend shared pictures of people abandoning their cars and sleeping in mud during Woodstock ‘99. The difference between the two is that Woodstock assembled some of the greatest musicians in the world while the audience, without phones, got high and listened. Fyre Festival was about money and prestige; from the founders to the influencers to the attendees and bands - it never seemed like it was about something special, so much as something unique and exclusive. To attend Fyre would allow you to go say that you attended Fyre. It was Fyre’s disaster that’s now allowed people to talk about the experience. I remember when no one was on their phone at concerts. At a Mogwai show and during one of their more intricate song and light shows, everyone pulled out their cells. No matter where I looked there were bright screens obstructing my view. More and more need to share their every moment of existence. For some I’m sure there’s a buzz off showing people how great of a life you’re living; that is, the modern humble brag. For others, it’s about expressing how you feel through the image. I’m not sure what would have been captured at Fyre Festival, but for the same reasons I’ve never seen footage from Coachella or Burning Man, I’m sure it’s just not that interesting. It’s about being there, and the footage is an attempt to demonstrate your presence, in the process removing you from being within the moment. The Fyre Festival was like climate change; a correction for a self-obsession that has gone too far in one direction and the dangers of its radical pursuit. If the story accomplishes nothing else, hopefully some people keep the phones down for a bit longer. BELOW: Cuisine of the highest order Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  This is like the only screenshot I can find. Too bad Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda Writer: Hirokazu Kore-eda Cinematographer: Kondo Ryuto Producer: Matsuzaki Kaoru, Yose Akihiko, Taguchi Hijiri by Jon Cvack Shoplifters is one of the four Best Foreign Films nominees, including Cold War (2018), Roma (2018) (which will - and did - win and begs the question of what is a “foreign” film; shouldn’t it be non-American produced film, as then it begs the question as to why there aren’t more foreign Best Picture films and how it’s another symptom of systemic bigotry; [this was written before Parasite (2019) and seems to be further proving the point), Capernaum (2018; which won the Grand Jury Prize at Cannes), and Never Look Away (2018; which at 188 minutes, I probably won’t see until it’s released on video). I’m surprised I haven’t heard of Shoplifter’s director Hirokazu Kore-eda who’s made four other well-rated films that I’ll be checking out soon. Shoplifters sounds your generic art house plot being about a family of direly poor shoplifters who take in an adolescent girl living on the Tokyo streets. A middle aged man and day laborer Osamu (Lily Franky), recently sprained an ankle which takes him out of work. His wife Nobuyo (Sakura Ando) works at an industrial laundry service. Their alleged grandmother Hatsue Shibata (Kirin Kiki) is retired and living off a pension which she’s happy to share with the others. A girl we think is Nobuyo’s sister, Aki (Mayu Matsuoka), works at a peep show where she masturbates in front of men for money. And Osamu’s alleged son and Aki’s actual brother Shota (Kairi Jō) simply helps Osamu steal. That is until they meet Yuri (Miyu Sasaki), a girl not even five years old crying behind a dumpster, hungry and alone; having run from her abusive parents. The family take her into their two room, junk-filled shack reluctantly and with absolutely gorgeous set design, the rickety place somehow feels intimate and welcoming. Throughout each scene, it is rearranged so that even after two hours, I’d wager that no single shot in this two room house is the same. A magnificent feat in and of itself, let for the rest of the story. At first, Aki and Noboyu are reluctant. Shota doesn’t like that his thieving duo has now recruited a new member; and so it’s mostly Hatsue’s grandmotherly expertise that sways them all over, as she attempts to feed the girl chicken broth cabbage; providing one of the first moments of making what should be a disgusting food look absolutely delicious (an accomplishment of equal success throughout the rest of the film). At Osamu’s urging, Shota soon welcomes Yuri into the group and teaches her their methods; which as we learned from the opening scene, involve one person diverting or blocking the attention of the clerk while the other takes what they need. As Yuri becomes increasingly comfortable, Yuri’s kidnapping makes national headlines. Not wanting to go back, the family knows they can’t hand her over, opting to instead change her name to Lin. All the while we learn more about the family and the details of what they do and what it’s like; all caught with Kondo Ryuto’s stunning photography; capable of making even the most banal or visually insignificant moments pop off the screen. Ozu’s influence is heavy in this film; though somehow advancing and progressing the style rather than a simple imitation. The camera is often locked down or provided the slightest move, typically waist high to the character; allowing us to soak in the design and fully immerse ourselves within the character. Similar to my thoughts on Satja Ray’s Aparajito (1956) and Mahanagar (1963) - and especially in today’s rising xenophobic political environment - I wish most people could watch these films simply to understand how similar all of humanity is; especially when it comes to family. We see Nobuyo, Aki, and Hantse bicker and fight, each having their own interests and personalities, occasionally hopeless, but otherwise content. We watch as Shota fixes in his abandoned car fort, gets jealous of his new sister, while Osamu does his best to be a good father. Combined with the photography and design, I soon forgot all of their faults and obstacles. In a brilliant scene, they gather outside during a holiday for the fireworks, but living where they do, they can’t see them, only listen. Nobuyo cuddles Yuri, hoping she’ll accept her new name and that they all can protect her from her parents. In another scene, they go to the beach and Osamu catches Shota looking at Nobuyo’s chest. Later they play in the ocean and Osamu attempts to talk to Shota about it, providing one of the most endearing scenes of the film; perfectly capturing the universal awkwardness of sex and attraction. Shota soon becomes frustrated and embarrassed by Osamu’s thieving; especially for corrupting a child as young as Lin. Soon it comes to a head when Lin first attempts to steal and Shota steals the store’s attention by blatantly running out with some oranges. He’s chased, cornered, and then jumps off a bridge in a gorgeous shot. Later Hatsu dies, but they decide to bury her beneath the house In order to keep collecting her pension. From there the film takes a fairly big nose dive, as each of the character’s get interrogated and in a convoluted mess, the viewer pieces together how they’re all related. Even after looking up the synopsis I’m still confused. I think Osamu and Nobuyo killed Hante’s abusive husband for living a double life and now live with Hatsue’s and her granddaughter Aki. Wikipedia says differently, in that Osamu and Nobuyo killed Nobuyo’s abusive husband, and that Hatsue was guilting her husband’s other family for money and that Aki was their daughter. I’ve gone through half a dozen websites and no one either specifies what happened, or it’s skipped over entirely. For a story who’s iceberg simplicity worked for the first three quarters, it felt as though this demand to piece together details - especially from an interrogation, rather than images - made this just too hard to follow. And if it wasn’t for Sakura Ando’s performance in closing out these sequences, it might have derailed the entire film. It recovers a bit, but ultimately the film took a wrong step, leaving me with more questions than answers; pulling me out of its intimacy and into having to think and therefore bounce back and forth between the story and my thoughts throughout the last half hour. I’m sure another viewing or two would do the trick, and the film will elevate once I grasp the details. And yet even still, with all that in mind, it’s still one of the best films I’ve seen all year. Whatever comes to happen, the moments before have been burnt into my mind; of the meticulous compositions and uses of light and a blue, yet warm palette; of the moments between the characters and how true and real it all felt. I’m excited to see the rest of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s work, as he truly seems to be a modern Ozu. BELOW: Couldn't find much beyond the trailer, so here ya go Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Couldn't find much better so here's a bland picture against a wall Director: Mia Hansen-Løve Writer: Mia Hansen-Løve Cinematographer: Pascal Auffray Producer: Oliver Damian, Philippe Martin, and David Thion by Jon Cvack I keep wanting to start a page about Netflix spoiling movies by providing synopses that often extend more than halfway through the film, in this case - spoiler - telling me that the main character commits suicide, which I don’t think I would’ve anticipated for at least the first quarter of the movie. This is the second movie I’ve watched from the French filmmaker Mia Hansen-Løve (a woman filmmaker in case any others wouldn’t guess with). The reason I even mention it is because the first film I saw, Goodbyife, First Love (2011), felt a bit creepy to tell. As mentioned in my thoughts on If Beale Street Could Talk (2018), it just goes to show the importance of having stories told from particular perspectives; allowing us to dive into a long unfamiliar worldview. It also makes the Father of My Children all the more interesting. The plot follows a successful film producer Grégoire Canvel (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing; a man) whose lavish life begins to crumble as he discovers his production company is near bankrupt. We meet his wife Sylvia Canvel (Chiara Caselli) and two girls, Clémence (Alice de Lencquesaing; who’d be in Goodbyife, First Love) and her sister Billie. They have a loving and affectionate relationship, taking weekend trips up to their second home in the country. With two movies in production, including a 19th century period piece, and another Korean film a few weeks out from production, Grégoire learns from his lawyer that the company is in serious financial trouble. With few films bringing in the returns required to pay off over four million Euros in debt, and with his present catalogue already mortgaged, the best he could do is sell the company for only a quarter of what he owes. Mia Hansen-Løve does an exquisite job of building the world of a film producer, and capturing the spirit of independent production. It’s a small operation, employing less than ten people, and yet always filled with people coming in for meetings; including a young writer/director who Grégoire invited in to collaborate on a project and gets caught in the whirlwind of his collapse. Soon the ailing finances smother Grégoire, and knowing there’s no way out, he kills himself by shooting himself in the head on a random sidewalk in the middle of the street. The family is later notified and so begins the second half of the story, as Sylvia attempts to rescue the business while consoling her daughters. It’s here that the film takes a bit of a dip, as while I never hoped it’d enter into melodrama, there’s a peculiar distance the family has from what just happened. We never see them or even get a suggestion of their grief, whether the wife or the daughters. Sylvia tries to make deals that buy time or at least preserve the company’s existence, and the older daughter Clémence starts going out with the young filmmaker, who without a signed contract, can’t make his film. We never hear all that much from Belle. Later Clémence discovers that her father had lived a double life, having another son with a different woman. In the end, the company is sold, and the finances appear cleared out, and I was left wondering what to feel for Sylvia and her daughters. What I assume had to be denial, came across as indifference; leaving me to wonder if they were all just putting on an act in the earliest scenes as they demonstrated their love. And yet that seems too cynical. It’s as though the story didn’t know what to do with the characters once their father was gone. BELOW: Couldn't find much beyond the trailer, so here ya go 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 the prettier films of the year Director: Paweł Pawlikowski Writer: Paweł Pawlikowski, Janusz Głowacki, and Piotr Borkowski Cinematographer: Łukasz Żal Producer: Tanya Seghatchian and Ewa Puszczyńska by Jon Cvack Cold War is the art house version of A Star is Born (2018), taking place in post-WWII Poland where a musician and conductor Wiktor Warski (Tomasz Kot) searches for talent in the rural countryside where hundreds gather to audition for a Soviet funded choral ensemble. He comes across singer Zuzanna “Zula” Lichoń (Joanna Kulig) and the two quickly fall in love. The pair gain a bit of success, though behind the Iron Curtain, they’re forced to continue their propagandistic mission. Wiktor craves the freedom of the west and when Zula gets caught up with some satellite oligarchy, Wiktor heads across the border alone. Years later, Zula joins him and the two perform at a local jazz club, later meeting the upper echelons of West Berlin society, and soon Zula takes interest in a successful music producer. Later the pair separate, leading Zula back to Poland, and for Wiktor to pursue her once again. He’s caught, and having escaped, is thrown into a labor camp for a five year sentence, though possibly for life if you’re open to the ending being a possible fantasy. The pair end up at an abandoned church near where they first met, take some pills, and in a beautiful closing shot, die one of the most peaceful suicides to ever graze the screen. Not having seen Ida (2013), I had no idea what to expect with Pawel Pawlikowski’s style. I read the American Cinematographer article a few days after reading this, discovering that Pawlikowski engaged in a bunch of long one takes. I do remember the one in the bar when Zula gets lit up, but beyond that I wouldn’t have assumed it to be the particular style; accomplishing the rare feat in creating a narrative so engaging that I completely lost track of all things technical. Pawel says the film was inspired by his parents’ own tumultuous relationship, including moving from country to country. The metaphor is easy enough to extend from there. We’re in a period of grand division in which we want walls to divide us. According to the latest FiveThirtyEight podcast (as of this writing on Feb 4, 2019) a recent poll showed democrats rejecting compromise is on the rise. On Political Gabfest (Jan 30, 2019) the trio had a guest on who did a New Yorker piece of Mitch McConnell, who has taken limited government to the extreme in that most big legislation is passed by liberals, therefore he decided not pass anything and instead act as a pipeline for conservative justices who could then dismantle the current - and future - big liberal laws bit by bit. My first reaction was that it’s nefarious and disgusting, and yet then I consider that he’s doing what he fully believes; and therefore his limited government philosophy makes sense to him. Cold War shows that profound passion for another; where no matter how awful or selfish they are, your love is able to look beyond all that. More and more I consider what the world would look like if everyone - liberal and conservative - tried to assume the best intentions of the other, or to better yet try and understand why they are the way they are and what they care about. From there I imagine the bridge between. It’s intensely sentimental, and yet could solve so many of the problems we have right now. It’s the conclusion suicide that challenges the ideas. A few people have mentioned that it seems only crisis and tragedy can bring the country together. Another podcast (I forgot which) had mentioned another 9/11 event is what seems required - not at all hoping for it, so much as mentioning that nowadays it seems that only something of that scale could ever bridge the divide.I’ve thought about it for a while and struggle to think of anything else. Other than some grand space race of sorts, I can’t imagine anything else resolving the issue. Pawlikowski seems to have the same view. BELOW: Polish Jazz Oner 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 the best color palettes of the year Director: Barry Jenkins Writer: Barry Jenkins; based on If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin Cinematographer: James Laxton Producer: Adele Romanski, Sara Murphy, Barry Jenkins, Dede Gardner, and Jeremy Kleiner by Jon Cvack It was 2016’s I Am Not Your Negro that brought James Baldwin to my attention, leading me to go down a few YouTube K-holes and discover a fascinating set of sound bites and interviews with the man. To find an author that’s able to communicate their grander vision and philosophy have lately been some of my favorite discoveries; Albert Camus, Richard Ford, and David Foster Wallace are some of the first that come to mind. James Baldwin is now another. Barry Jenkins embodies the spirit of why certain stories should be told from a black perspective. It wasn’t just a perfect pairing of a James Baldwin novel and director, but a way in which Jenkins photographed and directed the characters. Each person feels like a complete and full human being, in a world that I think we rarely see. Like any great filmmaker, Jenkins has been able to show me a side of life and cinema that I’ve yet to see before. Combined with Baldwin’s book is an adaptation I’m confident is every bit as engaging as the book. If Beale Street Could Talk opens with a long jib shot, featuring a couple, Clementine "Tish" Rivers (KiKi Layne) and Alonzo “Fonny” Hunt (Stephan James), walking along a bridge in autumn New York; the fall leaves popping off the screen and matching their yellow and blue clothing. The scene is heavily sentimental, as though you're watching a musical and waiting for the first song and dance number. The pair hold hands and then kiss and we soon discover that this was the moment which would lead to conception. Tish and Alonzo will later be pregnant, and not too long after, Fonny will be rounded up in a spurious rape charge by a cop he once pissed off. The film is non-linear, leaving you to piece together where the story is in the timeline, making Jenkin’s transition out of the mawkish first thirty minutes all the more impressive. To be honest, I found myself almost getting bored - and I believe that was the point, as the story wasn’t all that unique. Instead of the squabbles we typically see about victims of injustice, Tish and Fonny came from relatively loving environments; a racist system keeping them from the middle class, though both homes are close to the front of the lines. It seemed like the point was to show the connection between all of humankind; that in-laws fail to get along, that bad things happen to good people, and that love of family is often the most important thing. Things warm up when the two families meet to learn of the pregnancy, as Ronny’s Christian mother, Mrs. Hunt (Aunjanue Ellis), fails to hold back her disdain for the Rivers; in which a scene appearing to continue the intro’s lightheartedness quickly descends into assault, as Tish’s dad Frank (Michael Beach) smacks Mrs. Hunt across the mouth as she continues to castigate the Rivers, while her daughters operate as the chorus. It’s the type of intense scene I’ve seen in other books from the period; in which instead of some grand set piece, it’s about grand emotion amongst significant differences. What Steinbeck explored in From East to Eden or Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet; two young people in love and the foil of their families. Tish’s mom, Sharon (Regina King), provides the most powerful intro as she accepts the reality of the situation while preserving the family’s honor; showing early on just how far she’s willing to go. Equally formidable is Tish’s father Joseph (Colman Domingo), who again plays with the viewer’s expectations. Expecting a Troy Maxson, we discover that the father, while concerned, is proud of his daughter for making up her own mind, and willing to do whatever it takes to help the baby. Tish works during the day at a perfume counter, providing a brilliant and heartbreaking scene where Tish breaks down how each type of customer chooses to smell the perfume, in which most older white men force her to spray herself, grab her hand, and smell her wrist for just a bit too long, and she knows there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s a power dynamic I’ve rarely seen; in which exerting power is symbolized down to the very point of the marketplace. Fonny works as a wood sculptor in a grimy basement, creating beautiful works of art. While the two search for an apartment, and face endless discrimination, they finally secure a place from a young Jewish man who simply wants to rent to people who truly love one another; providing the film’s most melodramatic scene that I suspect works better in the book. Later, Tish and Fonny get groceries and Tish is harassed by a middle aged white man, leading Fonny to toss him out of the store and attract the attention of Police Officer Bell (Ed Skrein; who played Daario Naharis on Game of Thrones [you have to look this up if you don’t remember/don’t know who I’m talking about as it’s quite an amazing transformation]). Bell ignores the man and instead accosts Fonny, going so far as to nearly arrest him, saved at the last minute by the bodega owner. While never proven, the episode leads to the arrest of Fonny, as Officer Bell convinced a local Puerto Rican woman Victoria Rogers (Emily Rios) to accuse Fonny of a violent rape charge and get him arrested. Victoria has gone missing and after paying a lawyer who hires a private detective - depleting the Rivers’ of their entire life savings - Tish’s mom Sharon heads to Puerto Rico to try and convince Victoria to return and tell the truth; discovering Victoria has had a complete mental breakdown since the attack and will never return to the states. With no options left, Fonny is forced to take a plea deal while Victoria has the child at home, with the help mother acting as midwife, as without specifying, it’s clear that there’s just no money left for a hospital. Years later, Tish and their child continue to visit. They still love each other, and while there’s a hint of hope come the conclusion, the complete inequity remains; as much as they might one day crawl out of the injustice, the fact they had to be there at all is the true tragedy. I’m not sure where I read or heard it, but someone mentioned that James Baldwin’s greatest skill was combining politics within an accessible story. As mentioned before, for the Italian neorealist film Bitter Rice (1949), filmmaker Giuseppe De Santis deliberately chose to combine a melodramatic story with a socialist philosophy in order to provide an accessible story that could enlighten the audience. James Baldwin and Barry Jenkins achieve the same, providing a vivid and finely detailed story that most viewers could relate to while placing it within a strongly political context. I think most viewers would find little separating their own families from the Rivers (or possibly the Hunts), and it’s that relation and empathy which empowers the story’s meaning. If love is universal and we can all agree on its beauty, then we all must do all we can to eradicate hate, and focus on the individual persons rather than overall people. One day hopefully we can all agree that in this story, Mrs. Hunt and Officer Belle are the only two deplorable characters in the entire story. BELOW: Thoughts on race in America from Mr. James Baldwin 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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