When rating a film I ask myself these three questions: What is the director’s goal or purpose? How does the director try to achieve it? Is the director successful? Hence a big box office hit may get a “5” while a Eurosleaze sexploitation flick gets a “7”. My rating system in a nutshell:
10 = Brilliant!
9 = Exceptional
8 = Very Good
7 = Good
6 = Average
5 = Forgettable
4 = Bad
3 = Dismal
2 = Dog Barf
1 = Beyond Awful
~ ~ ~ ~
The Workshop (UK 2007) (1): Hungry for spiritual guidance, British filmmaker Jamie Morgan attends a California workshop run by fellow ex-pat Paul Lowe, a place of “healing” where clients doff their duds in order to confront their demons and express their true selves. Eye roll. More New Age psychobabble as Lowe’s charismatic guru convinces a group of emotionally stunted and intellectually naïve acolytes that cheating on your spouse equals freedom, group grope sessions equal intimacy, and becoming an irresponsible self-absorbed prick is a journey to self-discovery. But beneath the staged catharses and childish exhibitionism (look at my tits! look at my tits!) it's the same old recycled Transcendental crap from the '60s complete with touchy-feely sessions and "sound wave therapy". When some members began talking about their encounters with UFO aliens it was game over for me. The only thing missing was the Kool-Aid.
Fill the Void (Israel 2012) (8): As a Hassidic jew living in an orthodox section of Tel Aviv, eighteen-year old Shira (Hadas Yaron, amazing) must balance faith and family with a desire to forge her own way in life—starting with a husband of her choosing. But when her older sister dies in childbirth and her grieving brother-in-law Yochay (an intense Yiftach Klein) decides to take their son to Belgium where a new bride awaits him Shira’s mother, desperate to keep the family intact, pleads with Shira to take her sister’s place and marry Yochay instead. Now caught between obeying her heart and honouring her mother’s wishes Shira is faced with a monumental decision, a decision made even thornier when the older Yochay weighs in…. Writer/director Rama Burshtein’s beautifully minimalist drama does what few movies have ever managed to do, namely immerse audiences in the cloaked world of ultra-orthodox judaism with its anachronistic rituals and strict social observances. Being orthodox herself, Burshtein brings an air of authenticity to Shira’s home: the thousand little segregations between men and women, the crushing rules and unexpected freedoms, and above all the sights and sounds (and singing!) as ancient rites co-exist with pragmatic day-to-day interactions and passions are tempered by tradition and a bit of uncommon sense. Shira is not entirely a victim nor is Yochay a bad guy—quite the opposite in fact as Burshtein casts both in a sympathetic light which balances the naïve young woman’s misgivings against the older man’s own emotional vulnerability—an alcohol-fuelled breakdown is almost pitiable. Tragic in a way, but not without compassion (and a drop of chaste eroticism) right up to that ambiguous ending which leaves you doubting whether or not the right choice was made after all. Raza Israeli co-stars as Shira’s no-nonsense maiden aunt, with Hila Feldman as the sister no one wants and Irit Sheleg as the mother who sees her world falling apart.
Let the Wrong One In (Ireland 2021) (7): Writer/director Conor McMahon has produced an Irish vampire comedy so silly it’s actually quite charming, funny even. Minimum wage earner Matt (Karl Rice) is used to having his estranged brother Deco (Eoin Duffy) show up on mom’s doorstep trying to beg, borrow, or steal anything that will help him support his drug-addled lifestyle. But when the scatterbrained Deco comes sporting a set of fangs and a thirst for blood Matt knows something is amiss. Thanks to a bachelorette party gone horribly wrong Dublin is beset with hordes of the undead who just want to party down and tear the occasional throat out…and with Deco literally climbing the walls and staring hungrily at his neck Matt must make a monumental decision: either help his brother or stake him through the heart. Chockfull of juvenile humour (along with copious amounts of gore) McMahon does for vampires what Edgar Wright did for zombies in 2004’s Shaun of the Dead…namely turn them into sitcom fodder. And for the most part it works with decent special effects to boost those silly sight gags and generous dollops of Irish wit to smooth over the drier moments such as a series of slapstick interactions with a persistent vampire hunter (Anthony Head) which drag on a bit too long. Horror spoofs may be a one-note joke, but McMahon still manages to deliver an entertaining punchline—just be sure to stay through the closing credits (LOL!). David Pearse co-stars as a belligerent neighbour who should have minded his own business and Hilda Fay plays Matt and Deco’s chain-smoking foul-mouthed mother who finds herself the guest of honour at the wrong party.
Child 44 (Czech/USA 2015) (8): in 1953 Moscow the horribly mutilated body of a young child is found near a set of railroad tracks. His parents claim he was murdered but in Stalinist Russia homicide does not officially exist as it is strictly a “western sickness” so despite all evidence to the contrary the death is ultimately ruled accidental. Unable to accept this official verdict, army police officer Leo Demidov (Tom Hardy) begins his own investigation unaware that his inquiries will have serious consequences for both his career and his marriage. And then the number of dead children begins to rise… Filmed in and around Prague with an international cast of stars, director Daniel Espinosa’s adaptation of Tom Rob Smith’s novel is a highly visual melding of Soviet-era chic and smoggy industrial landscapes wherein everyone’s neighbour is a potential informant, the constabulary wields unquestioned power, and anyone deemed to be an enemy of the motherland simply disappears. But those expecting a straightforward communist-style policier will be sorely disappointed for the actual detective portion of the film is perfunctory at best involving a few too many holes and stretches. However, when taken as a character study of one man’s growing disillusionment with a system he had always regarded as above reproach it becomes a fascinating tale of love, loyalty, and honour in a society where truth is treated as a capital offence and individualism falls victim to terrorized conformity. With Demidov seemingly the only character concerned about the killings—his contemporaries being more worried about the effects of a serial killer on their own tenuous positions—Espinosa paints a very dark picture indeed, one that will take his protagonist from the halls of power to a decrepit gulag and back again for a finale brimming with irony and just a touch of human warmth. Gary Oldman co-stars as a career general forced to face an uncomfortable truth, Vincent Cassel is a major unable to face the truth, Joel Kinnaman plays a fellow officer determined to bury the truth, and Noomi Rapace stars as Demidov’s wife who reveals a few torturous truths of her own.
Bachelor Mother (USA 1939) (8): Thanks to a huge misunderstanding at a county foundling home, a recently unemployed store clerk (Ginger Rogers) is mistaken for a single mother and saddled with a new baby—and trying to correct the oversight only makes matters worse. But when her former employer takes pity on her and rehires her she finds that having a baby isn’t entirely that bad, especially after the owner’s dashing son (David Niven) begins taking a personal interest in her welfare… A wonderfully lighthearted screwball comedy featuring great performances all around—Rogers and Niven work well together—and enough madcap nonsense to keep you smiling courtesy of Felix Jackson’s Oscar-nominated screenplay. Highlight include a New Year’s Eve party that unleashes one of the funniest comeback lines to come out of Hollywood, and a climactic confrontation featuring multiple “fathers”, a doting “grandfather”, and one very bewildered “mother”. Great fun!
Roman’s Circuit (Chile 2011) (4): A prominent neuroscientist doing research into how our brains process, store, and occasionally misfile memories literally gets caught up in his own after a series of events blur the boundary between past and present, real and imagined. As he “remembers” things which may or may not have happened (are they even his recollections?) the impact on the present begins to snowball with his career taking different trajectories along with the people in his life. An interesting premise lost in reams of indecipherable techno-jargon and a host of lifeless performances especially Cristián Carvajal as the scientist whose performance consists mainly of brooding stares. Nice visual touches however—a seashore “memory” shows up in the unlikeliest of places and a visit to a Roman amphitheater offers a fitting metaphor for the film’s central enigma as its concentric seating arrangement forms circles within circles—but a few puzzling references to Pinochet suggest a political edge which never really materializes.
Skinamarink (Canada 2022) (5): Five-year old Kaylee and her little brother Kevin find themselves alone in their great big house late one night. Mom and dad are nowhere to be found and the house itself is suddenly all wrong: stuff begins to vanish (starting with the windows), light switches flick on and off, the TV won’t stay quiet, and something is banging on the walls. Wandering from room to room the children try to make sense out of what is happening…and that’s when the voices start. Shot in grainy ultra low resolution like an antique VHS tape, writer/director Kyle Edward Ball’s pint-sized creeper leaves most of its chills to the viewers’ imagination, the movie’s fuzzy static merely suggesting what might be lurking in the corners while off-kilter framing (were the kids filming this themselves?) gives us a succession of mundane images—a stack of lego bricks, a corner of bare ceiling, a patch of carpet, tip-toeing feet—which only gradually assume an air of menace. But what exactly are we watching? A straight-up haunted house story with poltergeists flinging toys about and sticking furniture on the walls? A wholly subjective juvenile nightmare from a little boy who can’t wake up? Or, as I tend to believe, an attempt to recreate those small terrors we all experienced as children wherein monsters under the bed and bogeymen in the closet resolved into everyday items once the lights came on and every innocent nighttime noise suddenly became a ghost? Ball isn’t about to offer any pat answers however choosing instead to confound any attempts at separating what is real and what is a child’s overactive imagination. It certainly looks like that chair is hanging from the ceiling all by itself and that demonic voice lurking just beyond the light definitely sounds solid enough. In this world it is not what may be hiding in the darkness which sparks terror but rather the darkness itself. Unfortunately what could have been a unique short film runs on for far too long causing those enigmatic images to become repetitive and frankly boring. Add to that an overuse of arty affectations and self-conscious gimmicks (you can only focus on table lamps and wainscotting so many times) and you have a recipe for something unique which ultimately fails to materialize. There are a few effective scenes however as when Kevin makes an ill-advised visit to mom and dad’s room and then attempts to make a 911 call, and a truly unsettling sequence involving a half-formed face hovering just above the bed.
Of Human Bondage (USA 1934) (7): Bette Davis’ powerhouse performance runs roughshod over Leslie Howard’s milquetoast doormat in what is arguably the best of three motion picture adaptations based on W. Somerset Maugham’s tragic tale of amour fou. She plays egotistical London waitress Mildred, a bleached blonde siren who finds herself being pursued by lovesick medical student Philip (Howard). Keeping him perpetually at arm’s length yet using him shamelessly, Mildred’s cold-hearted selfishness threatens to destroy both their lives—until karma finally steps in. Released just before the Hays Office began enforcing its puritanical censorship laws, this two-hanky weeper scandalized audiences with allusions to loose living, illicit sex, and the horrifying wages of sin as Davis’ pouting harpy devolves into a crumbling skank while Howard’s burning martyr wrings his hands helplessly. The melodramatic flourishes may hearken back to the Silent Film era but Davis’ scathing voice was made for talkies and her depiction of a shallow and pitifully naive woman orchestrating her own fall is surely one of early cinema’s saddest performances.
The Creator (USA 2023) (5): In a future America global war has been declared on Artificial Intelligence after a cyber mishap leads to Los Angeles being nuked. Meanwhile, across the Pacific in the loosely connected states of “New Asia”, robots and humans have been co-existing peacefully for years. Now, with superior firepower doled from a mighty flying fortress dubbed NOMAD, the Americans have gained the upper hand but a mysterious human scientist nicknamed “The Creator” has developed a most unusual weapon which may just turn the tide… Writer/director Gareth Edwards’ “Good Apps vs Bad Guys” sci-fi epic definitely earned its Oscar nominations for Best Sound and Visual Effects with grungy futuristic settings and high-tech hardware reminiscent of the Star Wars and Blade Runner franchises. Impossible skyscrapers soar above streets teeming with androids and fantastical wheeled vehicles; NOMAD bathes jungle landscapes in blue neon grid patterns, dispensing incendiary missiles and armoured battalions with equal zeal; and flaming explosions are rendered in a deep tooth-rattling bass. Likewise, the make-up department seemed to have a grand old time envisioning what A.I. powered robots might look like (basically like us but with a whirring hamster tunnel where the back of their heads should be). But it never really amounts to very much thanks to a pedestrian script which once more has imperialistic Yankee dogs doling out death on a population of gentle, inoffensive mechanical souls who just want to love one another and tend to their rice paddies (the robots are freaking Buddhists for crying out loud). All comparisons to Viet Nam aside, it’s an old premise that has grown stale in the retelling and Edwards further undermines it with shallow sentimentality and enough plot holes to drive a battalion of cyber tanks through—those convenient “near escapes” and “hidden vulnerabilities” grow tired awfully quickly. Cloying and intellectually insulting, it left me wanting to thrash my smug computer with its own keyboard. John David Washington plays an American army operative who changes his mind when love enters the equation (oh sigh!); Allison Janney plays his commander (basically a bitch with a bone to pick); and newcomer Madeline Yuna Voyles shamelessly tugs at your heart as the “secret weapon”.
Róise & Frank (Ireland 2022) (5): When grieving widow Róise, becomes convinced that a stray mutt is actually the reincarnation of her late husband Frank, people—including her own son—begin looking at her strangely. But it isn’t long before the scruffy pooch wins over everyone’s heart—except for one cold-hearted bastard who could very well spell trouble. Filmed among the green fields of Waterford, writer/directors Rachael Moriarty and Peter Murphy’s feature is notable for being presented entirely in the Irish language…and that’s about it. Bogged down with Disney-style treacle and warm fuzzy moments this is just so much Gaelic schmaltz from the lonely little ginger-haired schoolboy whom “Frank” inspires to be his very best self (yay!) to the widow herself who goes from laying in bed most of the day to putting on make-up (yay!). A generic heart-tugger for those so inclined and I will admit the dog was cute…he just needs to get a better agent.
Red Light (USA 1949) (5): It would appear director Roy Del Ruth couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to make a murderous Film Noir or an inspirational faith-based epic so he decided to do both resulting in a feature so corny, so drenched in sugary sentiment that it’s actually entertaining…at least to a point. When his beloved brother is murdered businessman John Torno (a wooden performance from George Raft) vows to get even with the killer despite warnings from the local PD not to take the law into his own hands. Meanwhile the man who arranged the murder (Raymond Burr, perpetually scowling) is also taking steps to cover his tracks. Sounds like standard Noir fare especially with the introduction of requisite blonde dame Carla North (Virginia Mayo) who’s hired by Torno to aid in his investigation. But then Ruth starts piling on the religious claptrap as Torno experiences a crisis of faith (his brother was a priest) leading to scene after scene of candlelit naves, a stained glass window, and scripture quotes while an orchestra and screeching choir try to squeeze in as many variations of Schubert’s “Ave Maria” as they can in eighty minutes. Will Torno take “Thou Shalt Not Kill” to heart before it’s too late? Will the virginal Carla melt his vengeful heart? Will any prayers be answered? It’s only fitting that a missing bible may hold a crucial clue while an admittedly well shot finale features an invisible walk-on cameo by God. I’m just surprised that the Pope wasn’t credited as a technical advisor. Harry Morgan (M*A*S*H) camps it up shamelessly as the hired gun; William Frawley (I Love Lucy) is an unhelpful hotel clerk, and character actor Gene Lockhart's role as Torno’s faithful assistant gives the film its most suspenseful moments.
High Plains Drifter (USA 1973) (7): In order to protect themselves from a trio of outlaws intent on destroying their town, the cowardly citizens of a small mining outpost hire a gunslinging stranger (Clint Eastwood, who also directed). But nothing is quite as simple as it appears for the outlaws have a reason for exacting revenge, the frightened townsfolk are guarding a dark and terrible secret, and the stranger is carrying a grudge or two of his own. With its simple clapboard sets and austere locations (basically rocks, dirt, and a flat lake), one could almost regard this as a deconstructed western especially given its eclectic music score and host of generic characters ranging from neurotic barber and solemn undertaker to ineffectual sheriff, crooked mayor, and frigid matron. It’s an eccentric morality play of sorts rife with violence (including a contentious rape) and just a suggestion of the supernatural—as the stranger tries to galvanize the locals into some semblance of a militia he insists they rename the town “Hell” and literally paint it red for reasons not immediately made clear. And when that final shootout comes all hell does indeed break loose, but not quite in the way expected. Certainly unconventional—even avant-garde—for its time, Eastwood doesn’t quite hit the high notes of Sergio Leone’s quasi-mythical oaters but he did shake things up enough to gain the ire of veteran screen cowboy John Wayne who condemned the movie’s brutality and Old West revisionism. Verna Bloom co-stars as a conflicted housewife and she’s joined by Dark Shadows’ Mitchell Ryan as an underhanded businessman, Geoffrey Lewis as the outlaw leader, and former Wizard of Oz Munchkin Billy Curtis as the town’s diminutive mouse who ends up roaring.
Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (USA 2011) (4): Evil genius Professor Moriarty (Jared Harris) has launched a diabolical plan to destabilize Europe and the only people standing in his way are celebrated London sleuth Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) and his loyal sidekick Dr. Watson (Jude Law). In this crash bang follow-up to 2009’s highly entertaining blockbuster, director Guy Ritchie relies far too much on pyrotechnics and ridiculous Kung-Fu moves and far too little on actual reality resulting in a lot of flash that tries to look cool with wacky camerawork and slo-mo intrusions but instead stretches all credibility past the point of breaking. Downey’s Holmes, so irritatingly likeable in the first film, is now just plain irritating—a hyper-manic Mary Sue able to get out of any scrape (including death?!) with whatever happens to be in his pocket at the time while unravelling mystery after mystery with nothing more than a bit of cigarette ash here or a whiff of cologne there. The fact he was able to subdue hired assassins while nursing a busted arm almost made me turn the damn DVD player off. By contrast, Law is somewhat more believable although his character also winds up pulling far too many rabbits out of his backside at just the right moment. Credit to the art department and special effects team however for their dreamlike evocation of a 19th century brick and cobblestone London bathed in gas lamps and soot, or that train ride through the alps which was wonderful to look at even if the action sequence on board left me rolling my eyes. At least Harris brings a certain sexiness to his arch villain (I really wanted Moriarty to win) while Stephen Fry adds a bit of levity playing Holmes’ bigger and far less obnoxious brother. As a final word, fantasy action movies of this type require audiences to indulge the director by suspending their disbelief a little in order to fully enjoy the comic book action—I have no problem with that—but with A Game of Shadows it would appear Ritchie was counting on his audience being completely brain dead.
Sworn Virgin (Italy 2015) (7): In the highly patriarchal north of Albania where misogynistic traditions proscribe women from engaging in any activities not directly related to motherhood and housewife duties, some women opt to become burmesha (sworn virgins)—essentially giving up their sexual and social identities to live as celibate men thereby acquiring the same freedoms as men. In director Laura Bispuri’s adaptation of Elvira Dones’ novel, two stepsisters living in a remote mountain village must make an agonizing decision as they approach adulthood: consign themselves to a life which will be dictated by the demands of their fathers and future husbands (who also have the option to kill them if they bring shame to the family)—or escape. Lila (Flonja Kodheli) chooses to flee to Italy with her lover and start a new life. Hana (Alba Rohrwacher) opts to remain behind and become a burmesha: cutting her hair short, binding her breasts, and changing her name to Mark. Several years later a dissatisfied “Mark” travels to Italy to reunite with the married Lila, now mother to a rather headstrong teenaged daughter, and in so doing begins to seriously reconsider the decision she made so long ago… For all its clumsy editing and low-budget constraints Bispuri’s small drama certainly tackles some large topics as it examines themes of repression and identity. Rohrwacher does a very good job as the conflicted Hana/Mark, her flat affect and dispirited posture gradually thawing amidst the bustle of cosmopolitan Milan—at one point a gaggle of giggling models sweep by her in a swirl of designer threads and clicking heels while billboards and storefront windows proudly display the female body in all its forms. An impromptu sexual liaison looms like a piece of forbidden fruit, a tiny pair of stud earrings signal defiance, and a smear of mascara marks the beginning of a very personal liberation. But Bispuri does not rely on mere fashion and make-up to trace Hana’s evolution for the biggest sea change will ultimately come from within, a point beautifully mirrored by Lila’s daughter who is aspiring to be on a synchronized swim team—above the water her routine seems smooth and calm while an underwater camera shows the real strain and chaos at play. One particular scene of Hana regarding her uncovered breasts in the mirror, as if for the first time, practically summed up the entire movie in one fleeting take. Sometimes it is the quiet films which shout the loudest.
The Americanization of Emily (USA 1964) (7): Set in the weeks leading up to D-Day, director Arthur Hiller’s vicious satire on both the military mindset and the glorification of war ruffled a few feathers while earning Oscar nominations for cinematography and art direction. Arrogant, opinionated, and a self-confessed coward, rakish naval officer Charles Madison (James Garner) has managed to avoid combat duty by becoming a glorified gofer to a mentally unstable admiral (Melvyn Douglas) stationed in London. Now living high on bootlegged luxuries and loose women his good life comes under scrutiny after he falls for Emily Barham (Julie Andrews) the somewhat prim and proper war widow assigned to be his chauffeur. But as animosity quickly—rather too quickly—flips into passion they must revisit their beliefs. And then Charles finds himself an unwilling participant in the storming of Omaha Beach (for the sake of PR, the admiral wants D-Day’s first casualty to be a sailor) and that’s when Paddy Chayefsky’s script abruptly switches from satire to all-out farce… As a romantic screwball comedy the film fails on all levels: Garner’s character is too full of himself and Andrews’ petulant dormouse is too flimsily drawn to make those kisses rise above lukewarm. But Charles’ cutting remarks about war and warfare hit close to home as he finds fault not so much in the generals and ministers who draw up the battle plans but rather in the brave idealists who take up arms and follow those plans—for the noblest of reasons of course. It’s a contentious stance to say the least, his praising of cowardice as a means to end hostilities, for how do we properly honour those who died on the battlefield without honouring the battlefield itself? Deeply cynical and occasionally one-sided as Charles disparages Europeans even as he wallows in Capitalist spoils (oh those seductive Hershey bars!) while failing to mention the role his country’s isolationist policies played prior to Pearl Harbor. On the other hand, the film’s greatest vitriol is aimed squarely at the American Brass who ultimately come across as bickering, rank-conscious schemers. Co-stars include James Coburn and William Windom as rival gofers, Keenan Wynn as a crusty old sailor, and Joyce Grenfell as Emily’s delicate mother—a grieving war widow herself—who receives a cruel lecture on sentimentality when Charles comes for tea. Based on the novel by William Bradford Huie.
A Ghost Story (USA 2017) (9): Writer/director David Lowery has accomplished an amazing thing. With only a few dozen lines of dialogue and a homemade Halloween costume (literally, a white sheet with two black eyeholes) he has fashioned a deeply moving cinematic treatise on the interrelationship between the dead and the living, between grief and resolution, and between eternity and the blink of an eye—and he does so with such quiet poetry that those few lines of dialogue, as vital as they are to understanding the story’s arc, almost seem superfluous. After his untimely death, “C” (Casey Affleck) returns home to his grieving wife “M” (Rooney Mara) as a draped specter. Unable to be seen or heard (although occasionally able to make his presence known) and with no sense of earthbound time, “C” evolves from lonely phantom to frustrated poltergeist to wandering soul on his way toward a destination he can’t quite grasp—and in so doing provides us with a most unique metaphor for our own search for meaning. What forms does immortality take in a universe whose own existence is ultimately finite? How do we move forward regardless of which side of the grave we find ourselves on? And when our corporeal realities are stripped away, what remains? Graced by powerful performances, a sublime score, and just a few grandiose visual effects to mark the passage of time, Lowery’s long takes and heavy silences may not have produced the chiller audiences were expecting but it is certainly one of the most haunted films I’ve seen in some time.
My Name is Sara (USA 2019) (8): During WWII, as the Nazis march toward Russia, a young Polish girl flees the Jewish ghetto in which she’s been imprisoned, eventually finding employment on a small Ukrainian farmstead. Assuming a Christian friend’s identity, “Sara” settles into the daily routine of rural life but her safety is far from guaranteed however for both the farmer’s wife and some of the local townspeople are not entirely convinced she’s telling the truth. Based on an actual story, director Steven Oritt’s small tale of survival avoids the big screen trappings of “Hollywood Holocaust Movies” and instead focuses on one terrified yet determined young woman whose trials come to represent a greater struggle. Treated like a lowly servant (or worse) by her unwitting benefactors and subjected, along with them, to the almost daily humiliations wrought by thieving German officers and marauding bands of Russian partisans, Sara inures herself to a world where mercy is a luxury, horrors become a daily occurrence, and even an innocent dream can lead to betrayal. Filmed on location in Poland with a largely eastern European cast who casually flip between Polish, Russian, and English, cinematographer Marian Prokop takes the aesthetics of Socialist Realism with its vistas of golden fields of grain tended by stalwart peasants and guts it with scenes of mud and violence and backbreaking toil—after the Nazis steal his horse the farmer is forced to plough with his remaining cow, when that animal dies he is forced to wear the yoke himself. And in the meantime the war inches closer and closer to their front door. Perfectly cast in the lead role, Zuzanna Surowy’s haunted eyes and mousy demeanour hint at a spirit bristling with suppressed rage—her whispered confession to a sympathetic Orthodox priest reveals a hitherto unseen hardness while an incident involving a sickle is both a silent scream of defiance and a firm middle finger aimed at Moscow. As the farmer, Eryk Lubos’ hulking frame and grizzled face speak of pain that goes far deeper than the occasional pummelling while whispers of a past indiscretion suggest he is far from innocent himself. And Michalina Olszanska is excellent as his restless wife who, like Sara, was forced into a life not of her choosing and is now rebelling in the only way she can. For all its low key drama this is a gripping story of unhappy people thrown together by fate and circumstance where the only choices available are the lesser of multiple evils. And sometimes not even that.
Kill Your Darlings (USA 2013) (7): In the summer of 1944 troubled Columbia University student Lucien Carr (Dane DeHaan) stabbed his longtime stalker-slash-lover David Kammerer (Michael C. Hall) to death in what he claimed was an act of self defense after the much older Kammerer began making threatening moves against him. But it’s what followed the killing that became a source of historical debate, and some urban legends, for Carr’s actions ended up implicating three of his closest friends—future “Beat Generation” icons Allen Ginsberg (Daniel Radcliffe), William Burroughs (Ben Foster), and Jack Kerouac (Jack Huston). Writer/director John Krokidas’ highly fictionalized account, set firmly within the the stuffy confines of American academia, offers both a possible explanation for what led up to that horrendous act and a critical examination of a nascent counter-cultural movement led by a group of visionary yet slightly naïve students whose bold new ideas were marked by avant-garde writings, a bit of public mischief, and experimentation with sexuality and drugs. Radcliffe plays the confused and closeted Ginsberg with total conviction, his idealism contrasting sharply with the tired cynicism of Foster’s privileged Burroughs and Huston’s manic nomad Kerouac. Hall, for his part, is equal parts pathetic romantic and creepy Svengali as a man so obsessed with the youthful object of his desire that he is willing to sacrifice everything to keep him. And DeHaan’s Carr is an erratic mess of conflicting id impulses—a user whose delicate features attract attention while his passions run hot and cold. This is probably not how it played out, exactly, but Krokidas’ intelligent script and convincing period touches combine with an able cast of young actors to produce a compelling drama involving men who would go on to influence a generation. Jennifer Jason Leigh co-stars as Ginsberg’s mother, a woman whose struggles with mental illness had a profound influence on her son.
Kong: Skull Island (USA 2017) (9): In 1973, as the Viet Nam war comes to a close, a group of American soldiers accept one last assignment—provide support to a group of scientists eager to map out a newly discovered island in the south Pacific. But a routine mission turns into a deadly struggle when they find the mysterious island inhabited by very large—and very angry—beasts like man-eating birds, ten-storey spiders, and (ta-DAA!!) one rather truculent gorilla the size of a skyscraper. With gleeful nods to Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, director Jordan Vogt-Roberts’ hyper-stylish monster movie is a kick ass ride of big screen special effects set to a grand orchestral score seasoned with rock anthems from the likes of Bowie, Jefferson Airplane, and Black Sabbath. Receiving a well-deserved Oscar nomination for special effects, Vogt-Robert’s team create a nightmare isle overrun by titanic creatures where innocent meadows can conceal death traps and bones the size of oil tankers litter the landscape. And it’s all presented in ground-rumbling stereo sound. The sterling cast features Samuel L. Jackson playing an unhinged army officer, John Goodman as a researcher with a secret agenda, Academy award winner Brie Larson channeling Fay Wray, and John C. Reilly taking Marlon Brando’s Colonel Kurtz character from Apocalypse and turning it on its ear. You’ll grab your seats as army helicopters fly through a thunderstorm from Hell! You’ll jump as slathering monstrosities suddenly appear from above and below! And you’ll cheer as everyone’s favourite ape proves time and again why he’s the king of this particular jungle. Truly the type of ridiculously entertaining nonsense for which the term “Summer Blockbuster” was coined. Just be sure to stay through the closing credits for Vogt-Roberts ends his flick with a heartwarming home movie followed by a great big salute to Toho Studios.
The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (USA 1953) (5): After a nuclear bomb test in the arctic releases it from its icy tomb, an ancient dinosaur takes to the sea leaving a swath of death and destruction in its wake. It eventually arrives in New York City where the Big Apple proves to be a very tasty target indeed… Supposedly one of the inspirations behind Toho Studios’ Godzilla released just one year later, this American creature feature combines shaky stop-motion monster effects with clumsy rear projection and detailed miniatures to give a mostly unconvincing impression of a rampaging reptile wreaking havoc as it crushes toy cars and levels cardboard buildings. Swiss heartthrob Paul Hubschmid plays the scientist tasked with destroying the beast, Paula Raymond plays his love interest who just happens to have a PhD to go with her party dress and heels, and an almost unrecognizable Lee Van Cleef plays a tough-as-nails army officer. B-movie icon Ray Harryhausen’s animation effects are not much better than King Kong’s spastic moves from twenty years earlier however, and an underwater sequence is so obviously filmed in an aquarium with a toy diving bell hanging from a string that it’s actually pretty funny. Nice ending however with a scale model amusement park setting the scene for one helluva Cretaceous swan song.
