Week 37; Film 141 - Day for Night [1973]

For only the third time in three years, I couldn’t find a digital copy of this week’s film! I finally located a used DVD online and, after several attempts at shuffling this French film around my screening schedule, was able to watch the flick—and it was worth the effort!

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“Day for Night” (a title referring to the film-effect where night scenes are shot in daylight with a special filter/processing technique to appear dark) is a ‘movie about making a movie’. The story floats between several main players in the making of the fictional film “Je Vous Présente Paméla”, a soap opera-esque melodrama about a woman leaving her husband for her father-in-law. While making “Paméla”, Director Ferrand (played by the actual film’s director François Truffaut #meta) is frantically bounced between creative and talent crises, both real and imagined, solving problems as they arise. As the film progresses, we get some glimpse at the movie being created but spend most of our time following the personal-drama, affairs, technical challenges, creative decisions, script woes, and tragedies that burden the shoot, gradually eroding the film’s concept into the film’s eventual reality.

Like Fellini’s “8 1/2”, which I watched 2 months ago, this film chronicles the absurd nature of the creative process and the studio film system. While “8 1/2” is meaningful because it’s about trying to SAY something, “Day for Night” is meaningful because it’s about trying to DO something—just get through a full script on time and on budget! I found the film incredibly clever, funny, stylish, and raw. It was fun to see how the actors “real-life” drama intersected with the drama they were allegedly depicting in “Paméla”. It was also heartbreaking to see how resigned and pragmatic the once idealistic director had become. I imagine anybody who has tried to lead a group of people with diverse motivations and competing priorities in service of a singular vision will relate to the elation of little-wins, the frustration of compromise, and the bittersweet pride in completing a project different than the one you set out to create.

Week 36; Film 140 - Clueless [1995]

Cher Horowitz is a popular, wealthy teenager in Beverly Hills who attends high school with her best friend Dionne. Cher’s beauty, sparkly-attitude, encyclopedic understanding of social circles, and knack for ‘fixing’ people and problems makes her life easy. Conversely, Cher’s ex-step-brother Josh arrives in town and, with a nerdy, drab style and tone, becomes something of a thorn in her side. Still, Josh’s presence doesn’t discourage Cher from kindling romance between her two teachers and adopting new-girl Tai has her protege. When all of Cher’s matchmaking has her longing for a boyfriend of her own, she falls for the dapper Christian—buuuut it doesn’t work out. When the now-popular Tai shows interest in Josh, Cher reacts poorly, spurring a fight between the two friends. In that moment, Cher realizes she had latent feelings for Josh and that she was ‘clueless’ in her understanding of people and priorities. She makes strides to live a more genuine, purpose-driven life, attracting Josh’s attention, and eventually drawing them together.

Clueless succeeds at both honoring and parodying ‘90s teenage culture in an endearing story of unexpected love. I initially didn’t care for the film’s shallow, consequence-free characters and gaudy style; nothing feels quite as unfair as a rich teenager. But as the story progressed, I warmed up to the film’s excess as caricature and its one-liners and catchphrases as fun nods to a moment. I dug the great ‘90s soundtrack (I’m all about the TMMB ska in act 2) and I eventually really bought into the story. This change of heart also came from how much I adored the generally good-hearted Cher (and Alicia Silverstone’s lovable performance) and the always charming, ageless Paul Rudd as Josh. I’ve never read Jane Austin’s “Emma”, from which Clueless is loosely adapted, so I didn’t see where the film was going and enjoyed the ride. I was further thrown-off by the fact that I thought—and still think—it’s kinda weird to pair Cher with her ex-step-brother. But—*whatever*.

Week 35; Film 139 - The Cow [1969]

This 'one film a week' project initially stuck to exclusively American films but eventually, I’ve expanded out to international classics. When assembling this year’s screening list, I realized that I’ve never seen an Iranian film before. Being half-Persian and fan of film, this was a huge miss on my part. Iranian cinema has had a unique history and Iranian films occasionally garner great interest in art films circles. And so, after I couldn’t find copies of my first two choices (LOL), I settled on one of the most famous Iranian films: “The Cow” (of which a stunningly restored version was freely available on YouTube).

“The Cow” takes place in a poor, Iranian village where we meet Masht Hassan and his pregnant cow. Owning a cow is a source of social and economic stature, so Hassan shows great affection and care for the creature (more than he does the people around him, to be honest). Fearful that members of the neighboring town Bolour will steal or kill his cow, as they are allegedly known to do, Hassan locks the animal in the cowshed and heads to work. Sadly, the cow dies (unexplainably). The other villagers, fearful of how Hassan will react, try to cover up the death and explain that the cow has run off. Hassan doesn’t buy this explanation and shuns his family and friends. He has a mental breakdown, eventually believing that he *is* the cow. He eats hay and grunts, much to the worry of those around him. Villagers try to take Hassan to the hospital for treatment but tragedy strikes.

Though commissioned by the Shah, “The Cow” was soon banned/restricted for showing the world an impoverished Iran. Somewhere between Italian neorealism and famous the Persian poetry of old, the film is known for helping kick off an Iranian New Wave cinema. Apparently a hallmark of both pre and post revolutionary Iranian films, “The Cow” is a simple story steeped in murky symbolism—a technique to subvert censors in both regimes. What you get is a simple, challenging film with enough plot progression to fill a 7 minute short film and enough interpretations to fill a book. What stood out to me was how tragically bad everyone’s decision making was. Led by an indecisive chief, who takes direction from the ineffective Islam* [a man with, IMO, not so bright ideas], the village is superstitious, fearful of foreigners, and on the brink of ruin. “The Cow” tells the story of a society that doesn’t function properly and what happens when a self-sufficient man loses his economic and social keep in that environment. It’s a stark, confusing, and bitter tale that I didn’t really love, but was an interesting first step into Iranian cinema.

Week 34; Film 138 - Stand By Me [1986]

Author Gordie Lachance recounts a moment from his childhood in which he and three friends went searching for a dead body. Gordie’s parents, still mourning the passing of his star-brother Denny, at best ignore Gordie and at worst resent him. Gordie hangs out with son of a drunk, Chris Chambers, son of a traumatized veteran, Teddy, and the pudgy, fearful Vern. Vern’s brother reveals he found the dead body of local boy Ray Brower but can’t report it because authorities would learn he stole a car. Vern shares this information and the boys embark on a two-day journey to find the body, report it, and—in their minds—become heroes. Along the way, the quartet banters about the silly things they find important and faces treacherous obstacles, like leeches, a daring sprint across an active train bridge, and a run in with local hoodlum “Ace” Merrill. Gazing upon Ray Brower’s dead body, Gordie must confront dark feelings that he’d be ‘better off dead’; with the help of Chris, Gordie grows confidence in himself, his storytelling, his ability to face “Ace”, and the next, uncertain stage of life.

“Stand By Me” is about the powerful role our young friendships play in the course of our lives. I think I may have seen this flick (or at least parts of it) as a teenager and it didn’t land for me, likely because I didn’t have enough life under my feet to appreciate it. To be honest, I still don’t care for films where child actors keep yelling at each other as a shortcut to "act natural" (I’m looking at *you*, “Goonies”), but this one sort of won me over. Like “The Sandlot”, but depressing, this film lives in an interesting space where it exudes the bubble-gum ‘50s nostalgia this country is obsessed with but acknowledges the trauma of those raised in the wake of war. The boys are finally old enough to see the pain in those around them and can calculate the effect it will have on their own lives. Being 12 is sort of the “first day of the rest of your life”; the moment early nuggets begin to form of who you will grow into, for all the good, the bad, the celebratory, and the tragic. Though many of us seem to grow further from the friends who guided us through this tumultuous period, this film celebrates the adventure, happiness, and sadness of this important moment in our lives.

Week 33; Film 137 - Smokey and the Bandit [1977]

The year is 1977 and you can’t get a permit to transport Coors beer east of the Mississippi. Texan tycoon Big Enos (yes, read that out loud) has sponsored a racer and wants to celebrate his success with a taste of home. After failed attempts, Enos hires Bo “the Bandit” Darville to truck 400 cases of Coors from Texarkana, Texas to Atlanta, Georgia in 28 hours. The Bandit partners with Cledus “the Snowman” Snow to drive the truck while Bandit drives up front in a black Pontiac Trans Am to “block”—driving crazily to attract police attention away from the truck’s illegal payload. After arriving in Texarkana ahead of schedule, the boys head back east. On the way, the Bandit picks up a runaway bride named Carrie and in doing so, attracts the attention of Sheriff Buford T. Justice (whose son was meant to wed Carrie). This sets off a fun cat-and-mouse game across five southern states in which the Bandit finds adventure, community, and love.

“Smokey and the Bandit” is sort of a mindless popcorn movie with a silly premise but, I don’t care—it totally works! From mustaches, to 18-wheelers, to CB radio, to bellbottoms, to the South in general, this movie had a way of making things I don’t consider cool, seem really really cool. The car chases were exciting, the soundtrack was fun and energetic, and the frequent shots of Sally Field’s butt as she reached for things in the back-seat were beautiful and should be celebrated by everyone. The film sets up a handful of really interesting, fun characters and then just plays with them, never digging too deeply into their souls or the consequences of their actions. My favorite was probably Buford T. Justice, the bloated, arrogant, racist caricature (but maybe not) of southern law enforcement played brilliantly by Jackie Gleason. I could say there’s a message about freedom, rebellion, and the nature of justice hidden in here, but—meh. Just have fun with this one.

Week 32; Film 136 - Donnie Darko [2001]

Troubled teenager Donnie Darko is lured (sleepwalking) out of his home by the voice of a monstrous rabbit, named “Frank”, who tells Donnie the world will end in 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. The next day, as Donnie returns home, he learns a jet engine has crashed into his bedroom; no one knows where it came from. Donnie begins to see a psychiatrist, who treats his visions of Frank as hallucinations, symptomatic of paranoid schizophrenia. Donnie returns to school where he is subject to inane, oversimplified philosophies by gym teacher Kitty and a motivational speaker, Jim Cunningham. Donnie finds refuge in a new girlfriend, Gretchen, and sympathetic teachers who teach Donnie philosophies on destruction and time. I’m not really sure how to land this plot synopsis, so I’ll just say a series of convoluted events culminate in a 28-day rewind in which Donnie is in his room as the jet engine crashes, killing him. As his family mourns, everyone touched by the ‘alternate’ series of events senses something has happened.

I’m going to be honest, “Donnie Darko” is one of those films that I immediately googled “Donnie Darko explained” as credits rolled. I didn’t get it. It ends up, there’s quite an accompaniment of books, marketing materials, and a director’s cut that further clarifies a story between two universes in which a Christ-like figure is steered towards his own sacrifice to save humanity. It makes for fascinating supplementary material, but I just don’t think the film got there on its own. At least for me, I didn’t fully understand the symbolism and in-universe logic, as depicted in the film (e.g. Donnie watches an apocalyptic vortex over his house. We then see a plane tear apart. Donnie now appears in his bed as the engine crashes in—we’re apparently supposed to understand that he chose to crash the plane on himself, 28 days earlier, to save the world, or something).

That’s not to say the film is meritless. Donnie is a sympathetic, Holden Caulfield-like character, calling out the inauthentic, phony adults around him. Frank the rabbit is sufficiently iconic and creepy, and the film is plenty mysterious. There’s also an excellent cast, my favorite character being the awful Kitty Farmer. Beth Grant’s delivery of “Sometimes I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion” is seriously the best! But with high-science, art, and philosophy discussions, a plane crash immediately post 9/11, and an incoherent plot, the film is dark-fodder for young, budding critical thinkers to make sense of. Apparently, this film sits in a class with “Fight Club”, “Memento”, and “Requiem for a Dream” as the edgy, teen film combo of my generation. I both see and appreciate that, but “Darko” was probably my least favorite of the 4.

Week 31; Film 135 - The Birds [1963]

Melanie Daniels, a San Francisco socialite with a penchant for practical jokes, meets lawyer Mitch Brennar in a pet store. The two playfully argue and Mitch leaves the store without buying his sister’s birthday gift, as intended. Part-joke, part-flirtation, Melanie buys a pair of lovebirds for Mitch’s sister and drives to Bodega Bay, a small, coastal town 2 hours north, to surprise Mitch at his family home.

On the boat voyage back from the Brennar house, Melanie is attacked by a seagull. Mitch and Melanie brush off the incident as an isolated, odd event. But as bird attacks of growing size and severity continue, the Brennars and Melanie conclude that Bodega Bay is under an avian attack. They hole-up in their house, desperate for information and resources, as birds assault the cottage. When Melanie is attacked within an inch of her life, the group decides to escape, driving through thousands of amassed birds. Will they make it to safety? Are these birds somehow being controlled? By a foreign government? By a natural phenomenon? What about by the jealous school teacher? No, not her. Maybe they are linked to Mrs. Brennar’s fear? I’m not so sure. We may never know. In fact, we will never know—because it just ends there!

Despite this frustration, there’s a lot I liked about “The Birds”. I found each character compelling and really enjoyed watching and waiting for the bird attacks to begin. In fact, the act one love-triangle made for an engrossing premise and early hints at bird activity had me constantly guessing when and where bird-shit was about go down (pardon the joke). In a way, “The Birds” is the ‘zombie-movie’ formula with birds, instead of zombies. While zombies movies tend to have a clear set of in-universe rules, the unanswered questions around the bird attacks made this film sort of creepier. Finally, the disunited cafe-argument between Bodega Bay citizens about the possibility, nature, and response to the bird attacks felt far too real, especially considering our nation’s absurd, real-life response COVID-19.

But ultimately, I was disappointed by how this film just drops the ball at the end. I didn’t find the ambiguity mysterious or artistic. It was lazy, as if Hitchcock didn’t know how to land this zany premise. And parallels between the bird attacks and female-jealousy made for a particularly uncomfortable, poorly-aged metaphor. So yeah—a stylish, entertaining film that doesn’t necessarily hold up past curiosity and popcorn.

Week 30; Film 134 - Rudy [1993]

Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger, a young steelworker, has dreamed of playing football at Notre Dame since he was a kid. Rudy never had the grades, the money, the size, or the support to make it, but when his best friend (the only person to indulge his fantasy) dies in a mill accident, Rudy abandons his life to chase his dream. He enrolls in Holy Cross College, befriends teaching assistant D-Bob, and works hard to rehab his grades. Meanwhile, he does anything he can to connect with Notre Dame football, apprenticing with head groundskeeper Fortune at Notre Dame stadium. After many successive tries, and failures, Rudy is accepted into Notre Dame at the final-hour. He tries out for the football team as a walk-on, where his tenacity and drive earns him a spot on the practice squad. Still, he is cautioned that he will never make the “dress roster” and play in a game. Rudy treats each practice as the game of his life, taking major hits and earning the respect of most players. Inspired, the team rallies around him and demands that he dress for the final game. With chants of "Rudy" across the stadium, Ruettiger gets on field for the final play and is carried off the field in victory.

I think deep down, I wanted to not like this film. Especially after last year’s screening of “Field of Dreams” in which I realized ALL OF YOU ARE WRONG about sappy sports films, I approached “Rudy” with trepidation. But this is just a good, genuine story.

The plot takes its time, showing us Rudy’s failure over, and over, and over again. Hell, the first half of the film is abject, bumbling, charming failure. It was so convincing that when Rudy is finally accepted into Notre Dame, and Sean Astin took his performance down to shattered tears (I expected some lame jump-for-joy), I was hooked by the character. Even Jerry Goldsmith’s brilliant film music goes on this journey, underscoring longing and heartbreak before breaking-free in the oft-borrowed main anthem during football tryouts. Jon Favreau, Charles Dutton, and Robert Prosky are fantastic as Rudy's supporters D-Bob, Fortune, and Father Cavanaugh (respectively), and Ned Beatty's performance as Rudy's disapproving-then-reformed father was perfect. Rudy is just a good, well-paced story, with excellent music, casting, and some pretty striking cinematography (my favorite shot being Rudy’s exclusion outside the stadium wall).

I loved last week’s film “8 1⁄2” for relishing in the meaningless circus of life. But I also love this film for saying that, with enough blood, sweat, tears, mentors, allies, and influence, you can make anything happen. Deep down, I probably don’t believe fully in either but I take comfort in both.

Week 29; Film 133 - 8 1⁄2 [1963]

Famous Italian film director Guido Anselmi suffers from “director’s block”. Guido helms a science fiction film and plans to infuse it with elements of his own life experience, hoping elevate the film to some great statement on truth and life. Attempting to recover from creative stagnation, Guido retreats to a luxurious spa but is followed by the entire film production, continually prying with questions on details of the unresolved film. Dodging the cast, crew, producers, and his wife, mistress, and responsibilities, Guido slips away to fantasy versions of his past life, reflecting on his childhood, religion, and relationship with women. He begins to believe his main character, a clear proxy for himself, would be made whole by meeting an ‘Ideal Woman’ character, who he constantly fantasizes about. But when he meets Claudia, the actress he envisions for the role, she asserts that an ‘Ideal Woman’ wouldn’t connect with a protagonist so incapable of love. Guido calls off the film, finally aware he cannot cinematically explore life’s meaning. He resolves to accept his life's journey, and the people in it, simply for what and who they are, and relishes in the literal, unrefined circus of life.

Holy crap. Amazing! I will be honest, 15 minutes in I was fully prepared to hate this semi avant-garde, surrealist, black-and-white, foreign-language film. But this stylish, funny, sexy, broken, insightful, Italian film just landed with me hard. It might be one of the great film’s I’ve seen through this project.

The film lives in this really interesting duality where we are watching a director attempt to make his movie—meanwhile, concurrently, the entire film *IS* the movie he plans to make, evident in scenes where he observes screen-tests for characters we’ve met earlier in the story. It’s pretty meta, and messy, and wonderful. It speaks to both the creative process and the search for life’s meaning in nostalgia, religion, and relationships, none of which is assured. No one was ever promised happiness, or clarity, or love. Sometimes acknowledging the search is what’s meaningful. I’m not a director, or an artist, but as someone who loves to communicate ideas, this film meant a lot. I sense that anyone who yearns to use their time on this earth to understand or say something about their journey will connect.

Week 28; Film 132 - The Color Purple [1985]

Trigger warning—for like, everything.

Celie is a young African-American girl in rural Georgia. It’s the beginning of the 20th century and she’s subject to frequent rapes from her father, from which she has had two children (with both taken from her). She is essentially given away to Albert “Mister” Johnson, a widower in search for a girl to take care of his kids. The target of constant abuse from the Johnson family (and rape from Albert) Celie’s only joy is being taught to read by her sister Nettie. When Nettie flees (after a rape-attempt by Albert…yup, seriously), Celie is lost. With no confidence, self-care, or self-worth, Celie tends to her chores until a series of female friendships teach her self respect. There’s Sofia, a boisterous, proud matriarch and Shug Avery, a lovely, confident showgirl and jazz singer. Though each friendship begins on rocky grounds, they grow and begin to fortify Celie. When she learns that Albert has been hiding away letters from Nettie, Celie frees herself from his abusive grasp. Independent and kind, Celie builds a new life with the women she loves.

Though a treacherous slog of incest, rape, pedophilia, poverty, racism, and sexism, this film sticks the landing as a rather inspiring tale. The film exudes values such as self-respect, courage, the emboldening nature of reading, and surrounding yourself with the people who believe in you and love you. Steven Spielberg’s eye (yes, he directed this!) crafted an authentic feeling time and place I’ve never-before seen and Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah Winfrey, and Margaret Avery built rich and complex characters to inhabit the space. Whoopi blew me away. Like, I’m used to comedian-talkshow Whoopi. Sure, there’s Guinan, but Celie was a next-level performance, with complexity, subtlety, and raw emotion.

35 years on, modernity has brought with it new criticisms. Some critique the subdued portrayal of Celie’s homosexual awakening. This film has also been mentioned in a conversation about “who can tell black stories”, as Steven Spielberg is, well—super white. While interesting, I can’t help but reflect on Spielberg’s mastery of the medium and respect for the content. He, along with an incredibly talented cast and crew, told a story so rightfully unsavory-and-yet-inspiring that I found myself buying in to the point of tears. It’s a rough watch. I probably won’t watch again. But I’m glad I did.

Week 27; Film 131 - Network [1976]

News anchor Howard Beale, given the pink slip and distraught, concludes his broadcast by saying he plans to kill himself on TV. When his boss and longtime friend Max Schumacher allows Howard to go on air and apologize, the anchor uses the screen time to rant about life being “bullshit”. For the incidents, Howard and Max are both fired until the network’s head of programming, Diana Christensen, notices how the tirade boosted ratings. She convinces network head Frank Hackett to keep Beale on and “develop” the news show. Beale continues to have a mental breakdown and spiels: “I’M MAD AS HELL AND I’M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE”, inciting chants from angry citizens across the country. With this momentum, Christensen develops the news show into a highly produced, rage-inducing sermon from the mentally-declining Beale. With ever-high ratings, all is great until Beale uses his platform to attack the network’s parent company, the CCA. In response, changes are made until Beale’s ratings begin to evaporate. Dangerous and no longer useful to the network, network management fulfills Beale’s character arc.

When I chose “Network” to be my ‘4th of July week’ film, I already knew it was prophetic in depicting corporate-owned news media and anger-inducing punditry. But as the satire played, I was saddened by the thought that, 45 years ago, our modern reality was so far-fetched that Beale’s behavior could only be explained away in-script by a “mental breakdown”. On the contrary, I believe the pundits on air today are perfectly sane, amoral con artists that are fully aware they’re playing characters to anger their audience for profit. To me, anger, and our search to resolve our anger through belief systems (and products), played as the real theme of the film and is why this flick could be made today. Though occasionally derailed by impassioned but too self-aware, stage-play’ey monologues and an awkward romantic subplot between Max and Diana, the film mostly holds up and should be considered required-viewing for any self aware citizen.

Week 26; Film 130 - Saturday Night Fever [1977]

I don’t like disco. Hell, I don’t really like dancing, to be honest (much to the chagrin of my wife and people with beating hearts everywhere). But still, I wasn’t that far into “Saturday Night Fever” when I started to ‘get it’—both 'get’ the story and disco, which almost seemed neat by the film’s end.

“Saturday Night Fever” follows Tony Manero, a young, 19-year old Italian-American man from Brooklyn. Between his harsh family and low-paying hardware store job, Tony toughs it through his week. But when Saturday comes, he heads down to his local disco club where he, with confidence, charisma, and the hottest new moves, is the clear ‘king’ of the dance floor. Awestruck by new character Stephanie Mangano’s dancing, he convinces her to enter a dance competition with him. As they rehearse, petty gang violence, family drama, and Stephanie’s challenging, expansive worldview forces Tony to question his impression of himself and dancing. A personal tragedy pushes these feelings over the edge as he spends a night assessing what is important in life.

Beneath the story of friends grooving to impress on the dance floor (in an attempt to lure women to a backseat), is an exploration of social currency among young adults. In real life, Tony is just a malcontented middle child in a dead-end job (literally selling paint in a hardware store, a cosmetic feature in a business of construction/maintenance), while among his friends, he's a king. But he's a loser—a 'painted' loser. And when Stephanie gushes about how neat and cultured her job in Manhattan is, Tony begins to realize this. Seeing a Puerto Rican couple perform better than him and yet place second splintered these cracks further and the tragedy of Bobby C. shattered what was left. Tony hung his self-worth on the dance floor—to realize that this just wasn’t important required reflection and, in his friendship with Stephanie, atonement.

Admittedly, disco music and culture is not the only part of the film that’s aged poorly. I’m not sure why I found myself explaining away racist remarks as an honest character-choice for the era, but found the film’s comfort depicting rape as particularly cringey (it went back to that well twice, and in really gross ways). But apart from that, I found myself connecting with a story about a young man who has tied his identity and worth to something he is simultaneously surpassed at and yet learns is unimportant. It’s perhaps something many of us go through—be it in dancing, or travel, or seeming edgy/arty/woke, playing/knowing sports, or knowing everything about a hobby/movie/franchise, or even through amassing ‘roller coaster credits’.

Week 25; Film 129 - Some Like It Hot [1959]

It’s 1929 and Joe and Jerry, poor jazz musicians desperate for a gig, accidentally witness a mob massacre. On the run from 'Spats' Colombo and his gangsters, they dress as female musicians Josephine and Daphne, and join an all-women band headed to Miami. Though struggling with their new life, the two become smitten with the band's vocalist, Sugar Kane. After Sugar unwittingly confides her preferences in men to Josephine/Joe, he poses as the millionaire heir to the Shell Oil fortune to woo her with carefully curated lies. Meanwhile, Jerry (as Daphne) has caught the eye of real millionaire Osgood Fielding III, who hits on Daphne unrelentingly. Joe and Jerry dig further into their deceit when 'Spats' and gang show up in Miami. The two are recognized; chaos ensues.

While I didn't hate it, this one didn't land for me. But to start with the positives, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon were truly brilliant in their roles. The story was way tighter and more buyable than I expected it to be, thanks to the grounding yet humorous inclusion of the mob. The film also starred Marilyn Monroe and is the first film I've seen with her. I’ve never really ‘gotten’ the Marilyn Monroe icon-thing and didn’t care for her performance here. The film exists in this weird place where it admits how difficult it is to be a woman, constantly preyed on by men. Jerry, as Daphne, in particular is subject to harassment and Joe seems to empathize. Yet on the flipside, Joe pretty aggressively preys on Sugar through lies and deceit. It plays like it's meant to be cute but wasn’t. But ultimately, it's not my 'snowflake/wokeness' (depending on who you think I am) that sunk my enjoyment but the fact I never found this comedy to be particularly funny. It was clever, but unfunny.

Oh well—nobody’s perfect.

Week 24; Film 128 - Y tu mamá también [2001]

Young men Julio and Tenoch, horny and contending with a summer sans girlfriends, invite Luisa (a married bombshell 10 years older than them) to an invented beach. When Luisa learns her husband has cheated on her, she accepts the invitation and the three set off on a road trip across Mexico in search of paradise. To pass the time, they each share details of their past sexual exploits, creating a tension that either builds towards sex or infighting between the three. The trio eventually find a beautiful playa

where they swim, drink, dance, and reconcile briefly for one final tenuous but impassioned union.

I’m pretty pro-sex and even I initially found the amount of sex in this film distracting. These scenes are praised by critics for being raw and real, a far cry from the “American Pie” variety of cinema-sex in the late ‘90s. While the emotion was undoubtedly there, valiantly grounding the scenes, the premise initially felt unrealistic and pornographic. That is, until the film finished and our characters’ motivations are fully realized. This film’s ‘twist’ (not so much a true ‘twist’ as much as new information) explains the trajectory of the plot in a somber, practical way that left me thinking about the film long after the credits rolled. The revelation also connects the dots between seemingly unrelated vignettes of life in rural Mexico. In total, the story forces you to confront the beauty of life, the blessing of love, the fear that inhibits the experience of both, and the scars of death.

Week 23; Film 127 - The Great Escape [1963]

“In 1942, having expended enormous resources on recapturing escaped Allied POWs, the German armed forces move the most determined to a new, high-security prisoner-of-war camp”. Upon arrival, the POWs immediately begin their escape attempts. When they all fail, the group realizes they must be craftier and work together. Everyone has their role: Hendley (James Garner) procures items, Velinski (Charles Bronson) is an expert tunneler, Lt. Blythe forges documents, Sedgwick assembles things, and Squadron Leader Bartlett (Richard Attenborough, aka John Hammond) drafts the plans and coordinates their effort. And don’t forget Capt. Hilts, played by Steve McQueen, who often rests comfortably in solitary confinement, planning his next chance to bolt for freedom. The team works together until they stage their—great escape. *gasp* Only a compete watch-through will tell if they make it.

I liked this film. Like ‘The Magnificent 7’, ‘Oceans 11’, or ‘The Avengers’, this is one of those great team-up films. Everyone has their thing to do and, despite each being wired as every man for himself, they learn to help each other out. The film often made me chuckle and I enjoyed the climactic chase through the Bavarian countryside.** The film was undeniably “Hollywood” and yet the story was simple and sobering.

In a large way, the film reframes WWII into the conflict we celebrate it as. The two American characters (Hendley and Hilts) play the roles that America often views itself as fulfilling—the industrial supplier and the reluctant hero. And until the end, the Nazis were portrayed as uncharacteristically oafish and gentlemanly, framing the conflict as a battle of wits. Despite these tropes and an incredibly long runtime, I ultimately found myself won over by the film’s charm. Chock full of talent and somewhere between ‘The Longest Day’ and ‘The Sound of Music’, this film is one of the WWII classics.

Week 22; Film 126 - Mulholland Drive [2001]

Is there any point recapping a film where the ‘real story’ is open to so much interpretation?

Mulholland Drive begins by introducing several characters in semi-standard, semi-interesting predicaments: An aspiring, over-trusting actress arrives in Hollywood from the heartland. A damsel in distress escapes a harrowing attempt on her life with a bout of amnesia. A stuffy director fights with a shadowy studio system over a mysteriously weighty casting decision. Our two main female characters befriend each other and try to piece together the damsel’s story. One Hollywood audition and one spooky scene together, and soon they’re having sex and attending a surrealist performance art theatre. For the last 45 minutes the film absolutely spirals, attempting to connect the disparate characters and realities in a tangled mess that has the audience pondering who are the real characters? What is the real story? And what is the takeaway?

My takeaway? This film was a steaming turd.

Learning the film’s production history gave more context than its confusingly positive critical fanfare. Mulholland Drive was shot to be a TV pilot. Full of mysterious character introductions, I could see the potential for their stories to continue. But when the pilot wasn’t picked up, David Lynch cauterized the third act and called it art. The real magic trick is that audiences and major critics everywhere are so busy looking for meaning in the film’s vibrantly hollow symbols and a messy tangle of themes that they’ve convinced themselves that the film is interesting. It’s not. It‘s a slow, wooden, self-satisfying critique of the Hollywood in-crowd, or lesbian jealousy, or reality ITSELF, or WHATEVER—with so many false conclusions that the ending credits appear merciful and liberating.

Reading through all the film’s praise, I was dumbfounded. But I did agree with a quote from film theorist Ray Carney: “You wouldn't need all the emotional back-flips and narrative trap doors if you had anything to say. You wouldn't need doppelgangers and shadow-figures if your characters had souls.”

Week 21; Film 125 - M [1931]

You know, I had kind of been avoiding this film. I make a point to include international and classic films on my list for culture and diversity, but I’m not always looking forward to these ‘eat your vegetables’ screenings when the arrive. “M”, a 1931 German mystery/thriller, checked both of these boxes.

But this is why it’s worth trying new things—the film is fantastic!

“M”, for ‘Mörder’ (murderer), is basically the first movie about a serial killer. After an iconic intro where we see our killer’s silhouette against his own “wanted” poster, the film follows two investigations into the murder of several local girls. The police, without any leads, have been roughing and rounding up clients at underworld establishments while the crime bosses, frustrated to see their business evaporate and wanting to distance themselves from the evil of a child-killer, start an investigation of their own. Both investigations make progress towards a climax that demands the audience consider the nature, or illness, of evil.

It’s some deep shit! And pretty forward thinking for 1931. You can see this movie’s paws on Psycho, Dirty Harry, Silence of the Lambs—any of the serial killer greats. Director Fritz Lang (famous dude, from last year’s screening of Metropolis) was amazingly innovative with sound (his first talkie), camera angles, and how to use (or sparingly use) each to tell his story. Peter Lorre‘s performance was fantastic and the mirror/glass device combined with the chalky “M” on his coat was expert filmmaking. Despite a few lulls, this film is well researched, well made, and the worthy grandparent to the serial killer genre.

Week 20; Film 124 - American Beauty [1999]

This movie moves so effortlessly in a million directions, that I struggled to recap it—but here goes nothing...Lester Burnham lives in the burbs and provides superficially for his career-crazy wife Carolyn and disinterested daughter Jane. Charging head-first into a mid-life crisis and at risk of losing his job, he finds himself sexually reawakened by his daughter’s friend Angela Hayes (gross). Lester begins to skirt responsibility, work out, smoke pot, and generally regress while Carolyn, looking for in-work what she can’t find at home, has an affair with a business competitor. Craving any form of positive attention, Jane begins to hang out with her strange, voyeur-spy neighbor Ricky and is introduced to his hyper-conservative family and collection of moment-in-time film recordings. The Burnhams continue to spiral away from each other in a strange tale that concludes with a bullet hole in the back of Lester’s head.

I loved this movie. Like, almost unfairly, because a pretentious, metaphor-laden commentary on the fallacies of modern American culture is sort of right up my alley. There’s so much to unpack in this story, from Lester’s devolution from father to teen (and back to father), to Angela’s reliance on sexual attention in the face of personal insecurities, to Carolyn’s struggle for self-respect, to Jane’s desire for affection in a loveless family, to Ricky’s search for survival and independence in a restrictive household, to the awkward, natural beauty in the ordinary against a backdrop of artificial America. Yeah, the Kevin Spacey stuff was already uncomfortable and aged even worse, considering how things turned out. But throw in a rich color scheme, Sam Mendes’ artful direction, and a collection of stories about escaping from the prisons we are placed in (and put ourselves in), and you have one of the great 90’s films.

Week 19; Film 123 - Willow [1988]

Willow Ufgood, a dwarf from Nelwyn, finds a baby floating on a grass-raft in the creek beside his land. After the peaceful Nelwyn is attacked by a hound in search of the child, Willow embarks on an unexpected journey (of sorts) to deliver the baby to humans for protection. As his entourage quickly resigns and the outside world appears frightful, Willow frees and then gives the baby to a caged warrior named Madmartigan. Thanks to mischievous fairy-like creatures, the baby ends up back with Willow. He, Madmartigan, and the sorceress Fin Raziel must evade the evil queen’s forces and warrior-babe daughter Sorsha. Magic, bravery, and a few hijinks ensue until a climactic battle is waged for peace and prosperity—you know, the usual fantasy fare.

If “Willow” works at all, it’s thanks to Warwick Davis’s earnest performance and Val Kilmer’s swing-for-the-fences reckless bravado and silliness. I like the idea of an ‘original fantasy’ and it was fun to see a story like this resolve through innocence and humor, rather than the usual dramatics (although there was plenty of that). The film was straight up cuckoo at times, often making me chuckle, and sometimes for the wrong reasons. The final slap-and-magic showdown between two old women is...something you don’t see often. And the visual effects were both neat and distracting, with an over-reliance on gimmicks that pulled attention away from the story’s heart. I think ultimately, fantasy just isn’t my genre—but I like what “Willow” tries to do.

Week 18; Film 122 - Rashomon [1950]

A woodcutter and a priest are joined by a rough-around-the-edges commoner at Rashomon, the dilapidated southern gate of Kyoto. Shaken with disbelief, the woodcutter begins to harp on the recent murder of a samurai. In fact, it was he who discovered the samurai’s dead body on a hillside. In the ensuing trial, it was established that the samurai and his wife encountered a bandit in the hills; this bandit lured the samurai away from his wife, restrained him, and then raped the woman. Confusingly however, during the trial, both the bandit and the wife individually claim responsibility for stabbing the samurai. To add to the chaotic narrative, a spiritual-medium is consulted—and through her, the dead samurai allegedly confesses to killing himself! Among these caricatures of reality, we (the audience) are expected to decide our own version of the truth and ultimately, the nature of humanity.

For “Rashomon”, Akira Kurosawa pioneered the technique in which the same scene plays over and over from different, unreliable perspectives. This format, today known as “the Rashomon Effect” was intriguing, but played out a bit slowly for my taste. My first pass at the film was likely challenged by personal biases, such as my thoughts on ‘supernatural mediums’, inexperience with Japanese cultural norms (such as the way gender and honor is handled, particular in the wake of a rape), and bias against old films in particular. Still, the film left me pondering the “truth” in this story, and in general, for some time after my screening. This story asks the simple question “how did we get here?”, and each provided answer is designed to preserve the dignity and honor of the speaker. In the context of true-crime and justice, this dialogue is fascinating. And in the context of a country 5-years after a painful defeat in WWII, this message must have been deeply personal.