Week 4; Film 161 - Ed Wood [1994]

In 1980, Edward Davis Wood Jr. was posthumously awarded the title of “Worst Director of All Time”. This film is his story; a love letter to him.

Stage director Ed Wood is trying to break into the film industry. He learns that producer George Weiss is shooting a film about Christine Jorgensen (a transgender woman) and asks to direct, stating he is singularly qualified—you see, Ed enjoys cross-dressing. Coincidentally, Ed meets Bela Lugosi (the famous “Dracula” actor, now ‘washed up’ and hooked on drugs) and convinces him to play a role, giving Wood enough credibility to direct. When Weiss can’t get the rights to Jorgensen’s story, Wood writes the film about himself and “Glen or Glenda” is made. Wood then tries to independently write-direct-produce his next film, just like his hero Orson Wells. Wood assembles a ragtag bunch of characters around him to make the film. But, we watch as his vision gets continually chipped away by financiers, budget or time limitations, technical difficulties, challenges with actors, personal struggles, and Ed’s own naiveté about filmmaking. A heartbreaking story emerges about a man befriending his hero (Lugosi) at his most downtrodden, the uphill battle and pitfalls of producing art, and the way we resent and lean into the the labels and boxes that are placed around us.

Like most Tim Burton films (I'd argue), Ed Wood is not perfect, but has just enough of the right stuff for me to love it. The first of which was Martin Landau’s transcendent performance as Bela Lugosi. Between his amazing portrayal and Rick Baker’s prosthetic makeup, I was entranced and heartbroken. Howard Shore’s choice to score Lugosi with a Swan Lake motif (used in the opening titles of Dracula) lent itself to this weighty, authentic sadness (I love Elfman, but I don’t suspect he would have made that choice). The rest of the ensemble cast lovingly carried the responsibility of depicting B-Movie icons. The movie was surprisingly more grounded than previous Burton flicks but still retained a trademark dollop of style. There were ways the film dragged and Johnny Depp’s Wood began to blend with his Willie Wonka in unsettling ways, but I generally stayed engaged.

This film, made Burton at an arguably positive plateau in his career, makes a daring statement about how much credit any one person can be given regarding the failure—or success, for that matter—of a film. This is driven by a wonderful, climactic scene in which Wood meets his hero, Orson Wells, at Musso & Frank. Though Vincent D’Onofrio’s miming and Maurice LaMarche’s “The Brain” voice were imperfectly melded, the likeness was convincing enough to carry the dream-like meeting between two opposites who share a kindred spirit and struggle. Certainly, anyone who tries to tell their truth is a self-realized artist. And anyone who tries to live their truth is a self-realized person.

Week 3; Film 160 - Being There [1979]

A simple-minded, well dressed man named Chance lives in a townhouse in Washington D.C. Chance has never left this house and has learned everything he knows from watching TV or gardening. But when the old owner of the home passes away (presumably a disappointed father?), Chance is evicted from the house. Naive and lost, Chance wanders through D.C. when he is bumped by a reversing vehicle. The wealthy passenger, Eve, has access to a doctor and brings Chance home to be examined. At her estate he meets the man of the house, business mogul Ben Rand who assumes that Chance—mild-mannered, well dressed, and of few words—is a wise business man named “Chauncey Gardiner”. The absurdity ratchets up further when the President of the United States, a confidant of Rand’s, comes to visit and soaks up “Chauncey’s” advice on economic policy (which, in actuality, were just musings on gardening). As reporters and detectives try to figure out who "Chauncey Gardiner" is, the general public, upper-crust, and heads of state become more enamored with his kind-hearted wisdom.

The whole time I watched “Being There”, I couldn’t help but compare it to “Forrest Gump”. Forrest and Chance are both simple men who garner quite a bit of attention, leaving a mark on America in the process. But while “Forrest Gump” has this fairytale aura about it, “Being There” has this satirical, plain tone. It’s a comedy with few laughs, rather a growing tension from the absurdity of the premise—and it works. Peter Sellers is committed and charming as Chance (in his “least Peter Sellers performance”, as my dad says) and Shirley MacLaine keeps her confusing character afloat through charm and curiosity. I really loved the film's stylish music (a funk version of Also Sprach Zarathustra was particularly cool). That said, I agree with some critics’ opinion that the film’s two ‘sexual’ sub-plots were unnecessary and distracting.

I’ve seen the film compared to the Trump Presidency (re: a powerful, TV-obsessed idiot) but I don’t think the connection is strong. What the film does explore, however, is the unwitting manipulation of expectation and privilege. When Chance leaves his house for the first time, he walks through a ‘rough’, black neighborhood. He is the most naive person there, but he is able to climb to the highest reaches of powerful society because he is well dressed, kindly spoken, and white. He fits the mold of who he is assumed to be and that alone takes him to the furthest lengths politically, economically, and hell—romantically. It’s a reminder that the “don’t judge a book by its cover” adage applies to even those we are pleased with or impressed by.

Week 2; Film 159 - Yojimbo [1961]

A rōnin with no name arrives in a corrupt Japanese village. He learns the depressing town is controlled by two crime bosses, Ushitora and Seibei. The rōnin is a expert swordsman and cunning, but has no money. For gain, he decides to play these two crime bosses against each other by fabricating conflicts between the two. He constantly switches alliance between the two bosses, pocketing their money for information and favors. This seems fun and rather easy for him, until he learns that Ushitora tore a local family apart when he abducted mother Nui, and gave her away as a mistress. A switch was flipped in the untethered man that sent him on an unlikely crusade to rescue the family and bring peace—via tremendously violent means—to the Japanese village.

If this synopsis sounds like I copied-and-pasted last weeks recap, for “A Fistful of Dollars”, it’s because I did. Famously, Sergio Leone watched Kurosawa’s “Yojimbo” and decided it would make a great western, essentially copying the story (and creating a teensy-bit of legal drama that prevented “Fistful” from being released in America for a few years).

“Yojimbo” is at least as good as “Fistful”, and improved in many ways. The story isn’t as tight, but you get several more fully-realized characters and a lot more information about the town. I loved Toshiro Mifune’s portrayal of the wandering rōnin and Tatsuya Nakadai’s Unosuke. Unosuke (the initial version of Ramón Rojo) is a clever, pretty-faced, pistol-toting gangster and serves as the only “real” competition for our rōnin (as well as a unique historic anchor, for those of us who don’t know our Japanese history). Our rōnin was just as fun as Eastwood’s “Man”, but the decision to stop “playing” the two families and rescue a town family felt richer in “Fistful”, where there seemed to be a deeply personal, painful reason for the Man’s turn. Either way, the two films are fascinating compliments and worth a watch, together or separate.

Week 1; Film 158 - A Fistful of Dollars [1964]

Happy new year everbody! #newyearnewfilms

A Man with No Name arrives in San Miguel, a town near the Mexican-American border. He learns the depressing village is controlled by two crime families, the Baxters and the Rojos. The Man is a expert shot and cunning, but has no money. For gain, he decides to play these two families against each other by fabricating a conflict. He then lends his services to each household, pocketing their money for information and favors. This seems fun and rather easy for him, until he learns that Ramón Rojo tore a local family apart when he abducted Marisol (the mother) to live as his prisoner. Seeing a young boy crying for his mother flipped a switch in the Man and sent him on an unlikely crusade to rescue the family and bring peace to San Miguel.

*cue “The Mandalorian” Theme*

“A Fistful of Dollars” is the first film in the “Man with No Name Trilogy”. I actually started 2019 with the third film, “The Good, The Bad and the Ugly”, which I loved. While the films feature the connective tissue of Clint Eastwood's “Man with No Name” character, they seem to stand apart and three distinct stories.

The film features Sergio Leone’s distinct, highly-dramatic visual style and Ennio Morricone’s blaring score; each are clearly less-developed in this film than in the third film, but I still ate it up. I find myself both annoyed and impressed with the nature of dubbing in Spaghetti Westerns—annoyed because of the lack of synchrony and impressed that the soundtrack is built entirely in post-production, like an animated film. This lack of polish, when combined with the gruff characters and hyper-violent sequences, gives the film a punk-rock essence but still doesn’t feel like a finished product. Other than that, Eastwood’s character and the film’s story are superb and I loved both, especially the ’climactic reveal’. Then again, they’re both straight rip-offs of another film, which I will watch next week—Kurosawa’s “Yojimbo”.

Week 53; Film 157 - The General [1926]

The American Civil was has broken out and train engineer Johnnie Gray wants to enlist into the Confederate Army to impress his fiancée Anabelle Lee (can you think of more unoriginal Confederate names?). Unknown to him, he is deemed more essential as a train engineer and is rejected, bringing shame from his in-laws-to-be. Later, Union operatives steal a Confederate locomotive called "The General". They plan on destroying railroad tracks, bridges, and telegraph cables on their way back to the northern lines. Johnnie gives chase, unaware that Anabelle has been taken captive on board The General. Clumsy yet determined, he thwarts each Union attempt at sabotage through perseverance and dumb luck. In doing so, he manages to rescue Anabelle, retrieve The General, successfully avoid capture, and warn Confederates of the impending Union advance (...yay?).

"The General" sort of plays like "Speed" if Keanu was a more-serious version of an 'Inspector Cleseau' or 'Austin Powers'-like character. Though a silent film, the simple story is easy to follow and Buster Keaton's performance as Johnnie Gray was both slapstick and subtle. It's actually a very impressive action/adventure/war film (even by modern standards) with death defying stunts, enormous set pieces, amazing cinematography, and relatively large scaled army/battle sequences. It's clear that this film has inspired countless others, from "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly", to "Back to the Future III"; or from any action-chase movie to the animated "Mulan" (I'm serious...LOL).

But while the film was large and fun—and Keaton was exceedingly clever, and inventive, and brave—I didn't really melt or laugh the way I have in (forgive the comparison) Chaplin films. I actually blame a part of this on the music. The version of the film I watched featured music composed in 1987 by Carl Davis. The score played heavily, sincerely, and as straight-faced and serious as Keaton was, and never played enough to the comedy to feel fun. It also leaned into the "Dixie"/Lost Cause"/Romantic-South narrative in a way I wasn't comfortable with. Which brings me to the "woke/no-fun-at-parties" part of the review—

I respect film as a moment in history and I can enjoyed compartmentalized, relatable facets of character (like an fiancé trying to earn the respect of his partner's family or serve his community). But I'm at a point where I can’t see the Hollywood, 'two brothers" take on a rebellion to sustain slavery as romantic. So while I can see through to the slapstick, and the stunts, and the vistas, and the characters, and the cinematic advances, I never fully bought into Keaton's character as an affable protagonist. Maybe that makes me a snowflake, or a prude, or just a stick in the mud, but a dishonest portrayal of an immoral cause—for no purpose of comedy or higher commentary (see: “Blazing Saddles”)—simply dampens my personal enjoyment of a flick.

Last year, I chose to end 2020 with a film from the 1920's because I hoped to emulate the energy and moxie I hoped these new '20s would bring. It ends up I picked a complicated, two-sided film perfect for the year we had.

Week 52; Film 156 - Christmas Vacation [1989]

The Griswolds are back and dad Clark Griswold is intent on hosting the most perfect Christmas yet—but something always seems to go wrong! It starts when the family drives out to the mountains to cut down the perfect Christmas tree (but forget to bring a saw). Or when Clark sets up 25,000 Christmas lights across his house and can’t get them to work (because they’re wired to the light-switch). And then there’s the extended family—the Griswolds are hosting both sets of parents, a senile aunt and uncle, and crazy cousin Eddie—and there’s all sorts of uncomfortable family antics. *cue laugh track…?*

In terms of comedy and in terms of heart, this movie just *almost* gets there but never quite sticks the landing. Don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of moments I enjoyed or laughed at, but as a whole package, it didn’t work for me. Maybe it’s because every character was such an over-the-top, decadent caricature that the truths of the premise never fully shined through. Or the insane slapstick, like a sled that defies physics or the pain of yuppie neighbors Todd and Margo, would have even The Three Stooges encouraging restraint. Or maybe I don’t have sympathy for someone who essentially lives in a mansion and is upset they can’t afford a pool. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

And yet, there was a welcomed sincerity to moments in the film that nearly balanced it out: The notion that we set unrealistic expectations for ourselves around the holidays, the inter-generational passage of stress and wisdom, and nostalgia and the yearning to feel about Christmas as we did in childhood—every time the film dipped in this direction, I wanted more. I suppose I’m at a point where ‘seeing an unnaturally-hot woman in a department store and being so distracted by her boobs that you fumble through 8 boob-related Freudian slips’ isn’t funny to me anymore. But the premise that a dad, over-stressed from the expectations he sets for himself, gets locked in a freezing attic and begins watching old family films with a towel on his head is real, heartfelt comedy.

Week 51; Film 155 - Scrooged [1988]

It’s Christmastime and Frank Cross is the malevolent President of IBC Television. IBC is staging a ridiculous live performance of “A Christmas Carol”, complete with somersaulting Mary Lou Retton as “Tiny Tim”, the Solid Gold Dancers shaking their asses, and live feeds of different scenes from across the globe. Under pressure to deliver a successful program, Frank is particularly rude and callous with his employees, going so far as to fire executive Eliot Loudermilk on Christmas Eve for merely disagreeing with him. It’s at that point that the ghost of his old boss and mentor (straight from the grave) arrives and warns him that he will be visited by three ghosts. From here on, the plot mirrors “A Christmas Carol”, with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future arriving to remind Frank of what he desires, is missing, and fears.

While “A Christmas Carol” is an over-adapted story (and I personally am tired of it…lol), Scrooged was a particularly interesting and fun take on the tale. I think the genius of it lies in how Frank Cross’s character arc intersects with the silly live-adaptation being rehearsed for television (a wonderful commentary on the state of TV). Bill Murray is particular biting, aggressive, and funny as Frank Cross and I found myself laughing at his mean quips. But at times, it felt as though he was playing a caricature of Scrooge and I didn’t buy a few of his more dramatic moments. My favorite character was probably Carol Kane’s Ghost of Christmas Present—sort of a “Glinda the Good kicks your ass” bipolar fairy. Speaking of bipolar, I agree with a few contemporary reviews that call out a weird, inconsistent tone in the film—both mean spirited and yet trying to be profound and sincere. But still, I gave into the films silliness in Murray and Bobcat Goldthwait, the sincerity in Alfre Woodward and Karen Allen’s performances, and the freshness of an otherwise overplayed tale.

Week 50; Film 154 - Roman Holiday [1953]

Princess Ann of *mumbles in European* is visiting Rome on a state visit where Ann's royal obligations have driven her mad. She is given a sedative to calm down but before it kicks in, she secretly escapes from her country’s embassy. Plain looking, drugged, and on the streets, she happens upon reporter Joe Bradley who reluctantly gives her a safe place to stay for the night. The next day, Joe finally realizes who she is and, sensing she’s trying to get a ground-level taste of Rome, he hosts her around the city for a romantic, fun-filled day. All the meanwhile, Joe intends to write a detailed expose on the royal. But, life is life, and Joe finds himself increasingly falling in love with her. He is faced with a decision—cash in and violate the trust of a woman he will never see again or yield to his heart, his better self.

This movie is charming and works on so many levels. Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck are two of the most delightful, beautiful actors to grace any romantic comedy. As I watched, I kept thinking that Peck would have made a great Superman (after all the personal trainers were done with him); he’s kind of already playing Clark Kent in this film. And while I was initially bored with Princess Ann’s now-unoriginal “lucky bird in a gilded cage” routine, Hepburn’s unreal beauty, fish-out-of-water antics, and sense of wonder melted my heart. I felt tension in her vulnerability and reveled in her newfound power at the film’s end. And then there’s Rome. Filmed entirely in and around actual ‘50s Rome, the film has captured the city at its most endearing.

The script, co-penned by Dalton Trumbo, plays a great deal with truth, vulnerability, and the violation of trust and self. The first act meeting between Joe and Ann sort of sets up the whole plot: when a drugged, amiable, and flirtatious Ann stumbles into Joe’s world, he goes out of his way to not take advantage of her, sexually. But when he realizes who she is and begins spending the day with her, he is fully prepared to take advantage of her, financially. The whole film sort of plays as metaphor for predatory dating, with Irving (a photographer) playing wing-man to Joe as he lures Ann in. The heartbreak of knowing a magical day will end and the tension in wondering what Joe will do was the sparkling pay-off to this initially slow-burn. And the longing, closure, and tragedy of the final scene in the Palazzo Colonna was the dramatic exclamation point on an otherwise lighthearted flick.

Week 49; Film 153 - Playtime [1967]

The other week, I was having a discussion on themed roller coasters. I shared my nerdy opinion that plot/character driven “story” coasters (Expedition Everest, Incredicoaster) ultimately fall flat due to the limitations of the ride-type and that “experiential” themes, where there isn’t a driving story so much as a series of experiences (Big Thunder, Space, etc.) are better suited for the medium. Dork, I know.

I bring it up because “Playtime” is one of the few examples I’ve seen of a film that is more of an experience, than a true story. “Playtime” is a French film by Jaques Tati, a famous French mime and filmmaker. Tati is known for films that play with physical comedy, relegate dialogue to background chatter, and explore the absurdity of modern, technological society. In his films, Tati plays Monsieur Hulot, a clumsy, naive, somewhat suspicious but generally affable character who wears an overcoat, hat, and smokes a pipe. Hulot appears in “Playtime”, weaved through the film’s six distinct sequences as a thru-line; the “main”-supporting character. The film moves from the airport, to an office building, a trade exhibition, apartments, a nightclub, and finishes on the streets. During these sequences, we see Hulot and a few other regular supporting characters (an attractive American tourist—one in a gaggle of tourists—a business man, a doorman, a German salesman, and more) navigating sterile, glass, consumerist, modern environments. The movie just sort of floats through their experiences without ever really presenting main characters or a traditional, driving plot.

“Playtime” is a film that I didn’t really know what to make of, as I watched it, but it’s been sitting with me quite a bit since my screening. Part Looney Tunes gags in live action, part high-art exploration of the absurdities of modernity, the film is quite a mash-up. I giggled at scenes where stuffy-pleather chairs emit a flatulent whine when sat on or tear at patrons clothing with their spiky, modern design. Where men are lost in a sea of glass doors and windows, and women peruse travel posters for identical urban destinations (as true landmarks reflect in the windows, unnoticed). And I steeped in the amusing yet subtle-sadness in seeing rows of people watching TV from their glass-windowed apartments, appearing as small characters on their own TV shows to the outside world. I think in cinema, I ultimately prefer a main character and character arc to root for and at times found myself itching, ready for the film to move onto the next sequence—that probably says more about me and the irritable pace of my life than it does Tati’s work. But love the film’s idea that, you can put humans in lanes, rows, cubicles, parking spaces, and glass boxes but at the end of the day, after a little wine, a little music, and the unavoidable desire to connect, we still manage to emerge as human.

Week 48; Film 152 - The Joy Luck Club [1993]

1st-generation American June Woo is departing for China to meet her long lost twin sisters. Her family and friends have gathered to wish her farewell; in attendance at the bustling party is her late mother’s mahjong/gossip friends, the three other members of the “Joy Luck Club”. We learn each woman, upon immigrating to America, had a daughter and against the backdrop of this farewell party, we dive into the experiences of these four mothers and four daughters in China and in America—their trials, their loss, their misunderstandings, their love, and their hope.

Beautifully written and portrayed, “The Joy Luck Club” is about immigration and parenthood. The film is remarkable in that it tells eight complete character stories, building out each woman in empathic depth while ensuring the story moves with heart and with purpose. If made today, “The Joy Luck Club” would probably be a mini-series but the expertise of author/screenwriter Amy Tan and screenwriter Ronald Bass was lent to a story perfect for film. The movie is significant in that it portrayed eight Chinese-American characters in compelling drama—something you still don’t even see today (with 2018’s “Crazy Rich Asians” being the apparent famous exception). And the wonderful actresses who played these mothers and daughters brilliantly expressed the unique pain, lessons, and bond shared between an immigrant and their first-generation children (not fully understood by the generations before or after).

I think the film was most significant to me because I saw my and Cindy’s families in it. Cindy and I are both “first-and-a-half-generation Americans” who grew up in a multicultural setting. In a meaningful way, this film represents everything that ties our family together—everything we will never understand about our parents and grandparents; all the ways we are just like them; all the hopes and expectations that have landed on our shoulders; and all the cultural choices and heritage we transplant onto Westley. In short, this is a beautiful film about the parent-child relationship (more specifically mother-daughter), filtered through a tapestry of immigrant experiences and the rich, sometimes challenging love found in a multicultural American family.

Week 47; Film 151 - Total Recall [1990]

When buff construction worker Douglas Quaid wants to visit Mars, his wife rebuffs, so he enrolls for a procedure where memories of a trip are implanted in his brain. The procedure doesn’t take because *real memories*, perviously suppressed, are awoken and Quaid comes to realize he’s actually lived a past life on Mars, as a secret agent. As his earthen life begins to crumble around him, Quaid travels to Mars to gather the truth about his past. He meets Melina, the literal woman of his dreams, and learns of his role in a violent conflict between an industrial mining operation and rebels. Quaid is crossed, and double-crossed, and triple-crossed by everyone (including himself) and must shoot his way to the truth of what’s happening on Mars.

Like a tracker-bug lodged far up a nose, this movie has a good movie hidden inside of it—it just couldn’t be pried out the nostril. I actually get why they remade it, because the sci-fi premise and character drama made for a compelling story (although it sounds like that wasn’t great either). But the dressing, casting, effects, and other accoutrements just don’t hold up. Arnold Schwarzenegger was *particularly* wooden and Arnoldy, in a less-fun way (although his “ARGGHHHHS” are top-notch in this film). The planet’s interior “seedy Gotham meets Cafe ‘80s” setting hasn’t aged well and the exterior shots look like ‘60s Star Trek. But ultimately, the film was entertaining enough to keep my interest. Michael Ironside’s cartoon-evil character Richter was actually a fun villain and Jerry Goldsmith’s main title/dream theme was melodic and driving. So yeah—enjoyable, but better done in “Memento”, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, “Minority Report”, “The Bourne Identity”……….

Week 46; Film 150 - Cinema Paradiso [1988]

Famous Italian director Salvatore Di Vita seems ambivalent to messages from home until he learns that someone named “Alfredo” has died. We flashback to young, 8-year-old Salvatore and see his budding friendship with film projectionist Alfredo, who works at the theatre Cinema Paradiso. Salvatore’s father died in the war and Alfredo takes on something of a father-figure roll, teaching him how to run the projector and doling out life-advice straight from the movies. Now a teenager, Salvatore runs the projector and falls in love with a young woman, named Elena. As time goes on, Salvatore leaves town for military service and when he returns, nothing feels quite the same—Elena is gone, the Cinema Paradiso is run down, and the now blind Alfredo encourages him to leave and follow his dreams. He does, returning only for Alfredo’s funeral, 30 years later. As Salvatore walks through the place of his childhood, he expresses nostalgia for the past, disappointment in the present, and feels Alfredo’s love one last time in a spectacular gift that I can’t explain with justice.

“Cinema Paradiso” is a wonderful reflection on growing up, nostalgia, learning pain, and feeling love, all set against an exploration of the magic of movies. The curious, mischievous Salvatore and the quirky, wise Alfredo were a great match and seeing this friend-mentor-father relationship unfold was a joy to watch. Alfredo’s monologue on why he liked being a projectionist (despite how bad the job is) resonated with me in uncomfortable clarity. The film perfectly captured the feeling of returning to the place your were raised in and sensing all of the ways it has changed and stayed the same. It also glows with nostalgia for a past reality which may or may not have existed, from the magical, outdoor, harbor-side film screening to the impossibly beautiful Elena. Perhaps I’m overstating, but I think that any Millennial—steeped in nostalgia for our childhood and fraught by the ugliness of our modern era—will immediately connect with this film through its humor, symbolism, style, charm, and exploration of the refuge offered in movies.

Week 45; Film 149 - The Untouchables [1987]

Prohibition Agent Eliot Ness arrives in Chicago with sights set on dismantling Al Capone’s illegal liquor empire. After Ness leaves his first raid empty handed, he accepts that he can’t trust the cooperation of the rotten Chicago police department. He turns to beat-cop Jim Malone, an incorruptible veteran, to tackle the problem from a different angle and they are soon joined by accountant Oscar Wallace and expert-shot 'George Stone'. Together, the band takes out a liquor cache and begins to generate positive publicity under the moniker “The Untouchables”. Realizing they could put an end to Capone’s reign by booking him on tax evasion, the team tries to bag one of Capone’s bookkeepers. This sets off a cat and mouse game between them and Capone's goons in a tense, can't-trust-anyone, race to complete the mission or get rubbed out trying.

“The Untouchables” is a great film. It was actually not the film I planned to watch this week, but in light of Sir Sean’s passing, I moved a few things around to screen the performance that earned him his Oscar. Certainly his “Chicago Way” monologue was a standout, but I really adored the tough-love warmth his character emanated. His reassuring mentorship might place him in company with Obi Wan and Mr. Miyagi, if not for his depressing, pragmatic message that you must rise to meet evil with your own personal brand of it. Beyond Connery, the film packs in powerhouse performances and expertly ratchets up the stakes. The “Odessa Steps” homage/train station shoot-out scene was tense and beautiful, all in the same. And finally, Morricone’s score is perfect, with the “Death Theme” pairing film noir textures with real emotion and, my favorite, “The Untouchables” theme, furnishing a real sense of possibility, respite, and hope.

Week 44; Film 148 - The Texas Chain Saw Massacre [1974]

After reports of grave robbing and vandalism in local cemeteries, Sally and her paraplegic brother Franklin Hardesty travel through Texas with three friends to check on the grave of their late grandfather. When everything seems to be in order, they decide to stop by their grandfather’s old, dilapidated house. Along the way, they pick up a deranged hitch hiker, who erratically rants about the local slaughterhouse before stabbing himself and Franklin. The group forces the hitchhiker out. Shaken, they press on to the old manor where they hope to kill time. The Hardesty’s friends explore the property and journey up to a neighboring homestead. Is is here where we meet Leatherface, a massive, deranged man wearing a mask stitched together from other human faces. With brute force and his puttering chainsaw, Leatherface hunts down each of the friends. When Sally and Franklin go looking for their pals, they are plunged into a hillbilly hell full of corpses, carnage, cannibalism.

I didn’t enjoy “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” in the conventional sense, but contend that it’s genuinely scary and probably one of the better horror films that I’ve seen. Much is said about the movie’s “based on a true story” marketing, but the film never explicitly says it is. It simply takes itself really seriously, with news stories and narration that make the events feel real-enough and possible. The film so gradually takes its time, playing with the knowledge *you know* something is coming, slowly spinning out new characters and circumstances that have you asking “is that the bad guy?”, “is this where shit hits the fan”? So much tension is built that when Leatherface finally shows up, I was almost relieved and ready to get this massacre over with! Speaking of Leatherface, the chainsaw-wielding murder-giant was a far more sympathetic character than I ever imagined going in.

But more than a big-bad, macabre imagery, and jump scares, the film seems to have a lot to say. The flick expertly juxtaposes sanitized newscasts against the gruesome reality being reported; those who benefit from industrialized society vs. those left behind, off the grid; and ironically and through parody, the limits of friendship against the sanctity of the American family. And then there’s meat. The film is probably the most pro-vegetarian film I’ve ever watched, forcing the audience to consider the flawed logic in humane-slaughter and reflect on where we choose to draw the line among animals we eat and those we do not.

Week 43; Film 147 - The Fly [1986]

Scientist Seth Brundle meets journalist Ronnie Quaife at a party and invites her back to his city flat/science lab to show her his “telepods” (ladies—don’t accept that offer!). Ends up, Brundle’s invention makes teleportation possible and he can zap inanimate objects back and forth. But when trying to teleport living things—let’s just say “inside-out baboon”. After some sexy-time/pillow-talk/steak eating (oh, yeah, Ronnie falls for Seth *real* fast), Brundle has a “eureka” moment and successfully transports a second baboon. Deciding that baboon-two appears to be fine, Brundle chooses to test the machine out on himself. Unbeknownst to him, a house fly is in the pod with him as he zaps. Brundle survives the test but soon after begins developing enhanced abilities, like strength, balance, stamina, and sexy-time tricks. Convinced his telepods “purified” him, he tries to convince Ronnie to go through teleportation. However, she’s increasingly fearful of Brundle’s changes and is unwilling. Brundle eventually realizes what went wrong with the fly and spends his days researching himself, testing his abilities, and continuing his mutation into a gross half-man/half-fly thing. *cue gross scenes of a man disintegrating, vomiting acids, and...a maggot*

“The Fly” is a shock and gag horror film that flirts with having real depth but never quite gets there. I was actually pretty bored at first, as the flat characters lived somewhere between film noir and soap opera. Goldblum is wonderful and Goldblumy, but his character’s take on ‘scientist’ is probably why people don’t trust Dr. Fauci right now. And Geena Davis’s Ronnie goes from irritated and unimpressed to “you’re kinda cute” so let’s have sex *so* fast, the film had to be written by a man. As the fly-transformation began, I thought the “enhanced abilities with negative social/physical side effects” played really well as a metaphor for drug use and addiction. But the film sort of pivots from a character drama to non-stop make-up gags and premises built for shock value. And it worked! I was eating cookies and chose to stop eating cookies because of how gross it was (new diet plan???). Ultimately, “The Fly” works shockingly well for what it is but I’m not sure I’m buzzing back for a rewatch, any time soon.

Week 42; Film 146 - Poltergeist [1982]

The Freeling family live in a master-planned, SoCal-valley suburb where Mr. Freeling is a real estate developer. They’re a normal family with normal problems when one night, they awaken to see their daughter talking to the static in the TV. They brush it off as sleep-walking, but strange “disturbances” begin to occur around the house, such as objects moving or bending on their own. This comes to a head one evening—as an intense storm rages, the tree in their yard tries to devour their son and their daughter is zapped into another plane of existence. The Freezings contact Dr. Martha Lesh & team to investigate (what is determined to be a poltergeist intrusion) and retrieve their daughter. Mr. Freeling discovers that their suburb tract is built on top of a cemetery. Meanwhile, the hauntings continue, more experts are brought in, and through gory intervention, their daughter is recovered. The Freelings decide to move and abandon their haunted home when the spirits come out to socialize, one final and horrific time.

“Poltergeist” is a spooky and dark-humored film that has its DNA all over a bunch of modern horror imagery, from “Stranger Things” to “The Ring”. Famously, the flick has been tied up in a controversy over creative and directorial credit; Spielberg wrote and produced the film but contractually could not direct it (so Tobe Hooper was brought in). But the film sits in this unmistakable place between “Raiders of the Lost Arc’s” spooky visual effects and “E.T’s” suburban setting and design. Throw in the family banter, the kids, and the famous “Spielberg Shot” (panning into characters faces, wide-eyed and in awe) and you have what feels pretty much like a Spielberg film. The movie is genuinely pretty creepy and the visual effects straddle uncanny and gory. For me, the one thing lacking was a “big bad”. There is the notion of “the beast”, but in general, the film is just a series of bad events happening to a family before they give up and bounce. Still, behind the spooks and gags is the allegory that, if you disregard and disrespect the past, you’ll eventually have to answer for your sins. I find that lesson hard hitting.

Week 41; Film 145 - Carrie [1976]

Carrie White is an unpopular 16-year-old girl who was raised by her religious-fanatic mother. When Carrie gets her first period in the showers of her high school locker room, she doesn’t know what is happening to her, and is mocked mercilessly by the other girls. As punishment for their bullying, gym teacher Miss Collins places the whole class on a week-long detention. The girls react differently to the punishment—Sue Snell feels remorseful and encourages her handsome boyfriend to invite Carrie to the prom as an act of inclusion, whereas popular girl “Chris” Hargensen hatches an evil prank on Carrie. Meanwhile, the oppressed Carrie realizes that she has telekinetic powers and studies her newfound abilities. At the prom, Chris rigs the Prom Queen election in favor of Carrie and when Carrie is onstage to receive her title, Chris dumps a bucket of pig-blood all over her. This hateful act snaps Carrie into a telekinetic fit and she begins attacking everyone at the prom, locking the gym doors and burning the place down. With her new strength, Carrie is forced to confront her wretched mother, destroying the White household and leaving Sue, the lone survivor of the event, with deep trauma.

“Carrie” is a creepy, possibly-empowering(?) tale of a young woman finding her power, but is kind of a one-trick pony. With no prior knowledge of the story going in, I still knew that the prom scene was coming (it’s literally on the movie poster). It’s like watching “Psycho” for the first time and knowing about the shower scene. And yet, unlike “Psycho”, which still has two acts of story after the water twirls down the drain, “Carrie” sort of has nowhere to go after the prom scene. The poor, sympathetic Carrie is persecuted for her womanhood by students and her mother. But with womanhood comes newfound strength, embodied in her telekinesis, and she uses her growth to punish those who wronged her. I don’t know if that’s an empowering story, or a platform for Stephen King/Brian De Palma to share their take on female pettiness and vengefulness. Either way, “Carrie” was a mostly entertaining story and I give it three buckets of blood.

Week 40; Film 144 - The Creature from the Black Lagoon [1954]

A team of scientists join salty skippers aboard the “Rita” and embark on an Amazonian expedition of scientific research. Spurred by the discovery of a fossilized webbed/skeletal hand, the team hopes to find evidence of an undiscovered amphibious species—the missing link between land and sea animals. Part scientific curiosity, part bravado, they journey into the locally known Black Lagoon, a “paradise from which no one has ever returned”. As they begin their work, they are stalked by a rubbery monster, a half-fish/half-man creature, who begins to off members of the crew. The team tries to study or capture the beast but when a scientist is severely injured by the creature, the divided crew elects to return to civilization. But alas, the creature blocks the lagoon’s entrance and abducts Kay Lawrence (the film’s single female scientist?/eye-candy/damsel-in-distress/professional-screamer). The crew must work together to outwit the fishy-fiend, rescue Kay, and return to civilization to tell the tale.

Like last week’s “The Mummy”, I compliment “Creature” for refining the medium and assembling a familiar formula, but found this film to be bland and boring. The story brings a suggestion of adventure and action-hero bravado to the genre but ultimately, the characters are pretty vanilla—archetypal in the least fun way. I found I didn’t care about them or their survival. This extends to the Creature itself, (“Gill-man” as it's come to be known). Dracula, the Mummy, Kong, Frankenstein’s Monster—each has a certain driving motivation, special power, and potential for a wide-berth of destruction. But “Gill-man” is just a strong fish-dude in a very specific pond in the the Amazon. I was never convinced of his practical threat, his design hasn’t really aged well, and he lacked the metaphor that carries other monsters where they flounder. Finally, the film is chock-full with underwater photography which might have seemed innovative or interesting at the time, but was simply boring, unclear, and too long. For me, when it comes to horror, there are other fish in the lagoon.

Week 39; Film 143 - The Mummy [1932]

An ancient mummy and the cursed “Scroll of Thoth” are unearthed by an archeological expedition, headed by Sir Joseph Whemple. When Whemple’s cavalier assistant reads from the scroll, the mummy (who we learn is the ancient high priest Imhotep) quietly awakens, confiscates the scroll, and splits. Ten years pass and we find Imhotep, now covered in makeup and calling himself Ardeth Bay, happen into another archeological camp. He points the team, which includes Whemple’s son Frank, to the site of Princess Anck-su-namun’s tomb and they excavate the sarcophagus. We learn that in life, Imhotep was executed for the sacrilege of trying to bring the princess, his lover, back from the dead. More time passes and Imhotep encounters a half-Egyptian woman named Helen. Believing her to be the princess reincarnate, he hatches a plan to abduct and kill Helen to resurrect her as a mummy, so they can be together for eternity. Will the mummy succeed or will Frank and Helen’s Doctor Muller outwit the ancient fiend? Tune in to find out!

“The Mummy” is the third Universal Classic Monster talkie made and the third I’ve seen. The film shares “Frankenstein” actor Boris Karloff as the titular baddie. Karloff’s makeup gives him a chilling, old/dehydrated look but the mummy spends very little of the film in actual rags, to my disappointment. Imhotep is the most cunning and formidable monster yet, with the best established motivations. I also thought the film was more refined than “Dracula” and “Frankenstein” but despite being well made, low stakes, slow pacing, and a less creepy atmosphere temper the movie’s thrills. The film can almost be interpreted as the folly of colonial powers, screwing with local customs they they don’t understand, but ends up reading as “exotic eastern bad guy tries to seduce and kill a white woman”. The inclusion of a brown-face character adds to the film’s cringe factor. Ultimately, despite showing growth for the genre, “The Mummy” was my least favorite classic monster flick so far—I’ll stick to the fun Brendan Fraser series instead.

Week 38; Film 142 - The Rocky Horror Picture Show [1975]

Newly engaged Brad and Janet find themselves stranded with a flat tire in a ferocious storm. They walk through the rain to a nearby castle, hoping to use the manor’s phone to get help. Instead, house servant Riff Raff escorts them to a dance hall where they’re introduced to Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania”. Frank leads the couple to his lab where he brings his creation, a fit young man named Rocky, to life (á la Frankenstein’s monster). When the ensuing celebration is interrupted by Frank’s ex-lover Eddie, Frank kills Eddie and Brad and Janet are whisked away to separate bedrooms. From here, the film spirals into a funny, sexual romp with sex, cannibalism, aliens, cabaret, and a fatal laser-trident. Oh, and this is all carried through song!

It’s sort of hard to craft a review for a story so intentionally derivative and yet strangely original, especially with the subjectivity-caveat of needing to be pretty pro-sex to appreciate this one. That said, I loved the flick. I found the comedy to be hilarious, the songs to be catchy, and the design—somewhere between Frankenstein and the Hunger Games—to be alluring. The film is sexy and sexual, chock-full of innuendo, sexual iconography, partial nudity, and fully steeped in themes of sexual vulnerability, conquest, loss of virginity, voyeurism, and any-port-in-a-literal-storm undiscriminating bisexuality. All of this madness is anchored perfectly by Tim Curry’s enthralling, high-energy performance. I admit that on this first pass, I got a bit lost in plot details wrapped up in lyrics (as I tend to do with most musicals), leading to a post-watch google. I also feel like, by the end, the film kind of gives up on story and simply embraces its musical hilarity and excitement, without much meaningful resolve. But then again, both as parody and as a statement on human kind’s indulgence in unrestrained pleasure amidst its otherwise crippling insignificance, maybe that makes sense.