The Wages of Fear (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Wages of Fear (1953) – H.-G. Clouzot

Nail-biting suspense here, although director Henri-Georges Clouzot takes his time to develop the characters and their desperate straits before really getting stuck into the action.  Yves Montand plays Mario, one of a group of expats stranded in a poverty-stricken South American village, doing odd jobs to get by, but mostly leeching off his friend Luigi (Folco Lulli) and messing around with barmaid Linda (Vera Clouzot).  When older gangster-type Jo (Charles Vanel) shows up looking to make money, he makes contact with the American oil company drilling in the area, looking for an angle.  Nothing doing, so he parks himself at the local saloon and riles up the other expats as their frustrations mount.  Then comes news that one of the oil rigs has caught on fire; the Americans need to get some nitroglycerine to the site to stop the burning. To save money, they decide not to wait for safer modes of transport and offer $2K to anyone willing to drive ordinary trucks loaded with nitro across rough terrain for 300 miles. The danger is high, but the men are desperate.  Mario, Jo, Luigi, and Bimba (Peter van Eyck) sign up and commandeer two trucks that leave at dawn, spaced 30 minutes apart.  The rest of the 156 min film is the tense journey, the obstacles along the way, the interpersonal disputes, the stoicism, the fear, the mishaps (if that word can be used for this sort of disaster).  Like many a noir or heist film, The Wages of Fear is a procedural with the characters taking stock of each new problem (for example, a huge boulder stuck in the path) and devising a solution to get beyond it. All the while, the trucks are poised to blow up with the slightest wrong move.  Grand Prix winner at the Cannes Film Festival that year (before the Palm d’Or was introduced as an award in 1955).

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) – J. Cameron

Until I rewatched The Terminator (1984) at the end of last year (and Aliens, 1986, at the start of this one), I had forgotten what a great director of action James Cameron was (having more or less tuned out after Titanic, Avatar, etc.).  So, I guess it comes as no surprise (in this rewatch) that Terminator 2 plays out like one long action sequence. This is (of course) a sequel but the original film’s sci-fi plot with its potentially confusing time-travel elements did not really take too long to explain to Amon (who missed the first one):  AI-robots send a “terminator” (Arnold S.) back in time to the kill the mother of the future leader of the revolution against the machines before he is born (and a human also comes back with him, hoping to protect Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton), but ending up fathering the future hero as well).  As T2 begins, we are advised that another terminator and another protector have come from the future – to the 90s – this time to kill John Connor (Edward Furlong) himself.  So, when Arnold appears, naked as before, seeking clothes, a gun, and a motorcycle, from the local biker bar, we think, yup, that’s the terminator.  Yet, this is not the same Arnold that we saw in 1984 at the start of his career, more of a monosyllabic tough guy (“I’ll be back” notwithstanding). Fast forward to 1991 and he’s revealed his comic side and presented a more charismatic face to the world (beyond just the brawn). So, again no surprise that Arnold plays John Connor’s protector in this film (reprogrammed by Connor himself in the future) and the true bad guy, the T-1000 liquid metal terminator model, is played by Robert Patrick. Patrick needs to kill Connor to stop the revolution but the heroic trio need to stop not only T-1000 but also Joe Morton from using the remnants of the Terminator from the first film to engineer the robots of the future who eventually take over, setting this plot into motion. But the special effects are really the star here, which is no slight on Hamilton’s buffed up Sarah, Patrick’s steely singlemindedness, Furlong’s cocky but vulnerable teen, or Schwarzeneggar’s compelling schtick (“Hasta La Vista, Baby!”).  Nevertheless, despite so many minutes given over to sheer action (and shape-shifting Patrick), by the time we get to the ending, the film has earned its emotional conclusion (which might have prevented the opportunity for a sequel, given that the future can change, but you know).  You might call this one of the sequels that tops the original but I do have a fondness for the trashy low-budgetness of the first.

Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) – S. Leone

Amon did not make it through to the bitter end (too slow, he said) which means he missed the climactic scene which reveals the mysterious motives of Charles Bronson’s “Harmonica” as he flashes back to his first meeting with Henry Fonda’s evil Frank nor the denouement which finds Harmonica and Jason Robards’ Cheyenne saying farewell for the last time, leaving Claudia Cardinale’s Jill to move forward from the Old West to the New West, as the train arrives at the station still being built in Sweetwater. Under Sergio Leone’s operatic direction, the plot moves like tectonic plates shifting each character inevitably toward this conclusion. Admittedly, it does take a while to get to this rewarding pay-off.  Who knew that this was meant to be Leone’s final Western and he had hoped to kill off Clint Eastwood, Eli Wallach, and Lee Van Cleef at the start of the film?  When Eastwood declined, he opted for Woody Strode, Al Mulock, and Jack Elam instead in what remains an amazing near silent opening scene (if not a cosmic joke on those hoping for another Good, Bad, and Ugly). That 10-minute scene tells us right from the outset that Leone planned to use the widescreen format as a huge tapestry with geometrically opposed characters as well as giant close-up heads (not to mention a short scene in Monument Valley, as an ode to John Ford, shot away from the regular set-up in Spain and Cinecittà). Also sweeping through the film is Ennio Morricone’s music, replete with themes attached to the characters, which builds on the Spaghetti Western soundtracks of the past decade – the sound is immediately recognizable and perfect for the final duel. Despite the determined pace, there are numerous iconic scenes where Leone builds suspense, such as when Cheyenne rescues Harmonica from Frank in railway exec Morton’s railcar. Sure, it might take a while for some parts of the plot to become lucid to first-time viewers but when viewed again (and again), one can see Leone’s full vision playing out in majestic harmony. An elegy for the Old West, yes, but also a damning critique of capitalism even if the film still somehow holds out hope for a new sense of community going forward. Masterful.

Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan (2020)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan (2020) – J. Temple

It doesn’t take much to pull me backwards into the ocean of nostalgia, letting its waves wash over me as I escape the present.  Better still, when I’m able to update the past and situate it in the here and now (or at least more recently than then), as you can with a good music doco.  But it’s a guilty pleasure, since I feel internal pressure to live in the present, aware of current culture (or at least those culture-makers of my own generation). With regard to Shane MacGowan, singer-songwriter of The Pogues, who it turns out was 10 years older than me (he died in November 2023 and Nick Cave sang at his funeral), I first came across him more or less contemporaneously in the 1980s.  I bought the band’s 2^nd LP, “Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash” (1985) around that time and then quickly caught up by purchasing their first, “Red Roses for Me” (1984).  Having some Irish heritage (through my mother) didn’t hurt the attraction to this punk version of traditional music from the Emerald Isle -- and MacGowan’s blend of poetry, history, and confrontation was simpatico with the English Literature, Philosophy, and Psychology classes I was taking then. In 1988, my sister and I saw The Pogues in Boston for the “If I Should Fall from Grace with God” (3^rd LP) tour – it was the summer, hot in the nosebleed seats of the Orpheum Theatre, and the show was shaggy, replete with a cover of “Honky Tonk Women” featuring Joe Strummer on guitar.  Little did I know (until I watched this film) that this was part of the year-long worldwide tour that broke MacGowan.  Indeed, the film is (not unexpectedly) a cautionary tale, charting MacGowan’s downward trajectory (a result of alcohol, drugs, and hard touring) to the point where he is captured in the film’s many on camera interviews and conversations (with various friends such as Sinn Féin’s Gerry Adams and movie star Johnny Depp) in a very sorry state, full of bile and slurred bitterness (but also fond longing and some misguided hope for the future). Personally, after the 1988 show, I began to lose interest – the band’s next album did not seem as good and I eventually sold all of their records when I moved abroad. Little did I know then that MacGowan had lost his mojo. Director Julien Temple, with many music videos and docos under his belt, uses a variety of styles and techniques (including new animation, repurposed footage from old movies, video of The Pogues, interview in pubs, etc.) to tell MacGowan’s story from childhood to the pre-Pandemic present, with most of the runtime focused on the late ‘70s to early ‘90s.  Pivotal moments include: MacGowan’s early childhood in Tipperary before moving to London at age 6; his engagement with the punk scene after seeing the Sex Pistols and forming his own band, the Nipple Erectors; his light-bulb moment when he fused Irish tradition with punk rock; and then the 1988 tour that extinguished his flame or so the story goes.  There are a few decades after that but MacGowan, although heralded by his contemporaries and followers, seems burnt out, a shell of a man, an ex-junky soon confined to a wheelchair, and now dead. After the film, I listened to some of his best songs, many of them sentimental but poetic ballads (“A Pair of Brown Eyes”, “Dirty Old Town”, “A Rainy Night in Soho”, “Fairytale of New York”, “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda”) and I fell briefly into a reverie.

Incendies (2010)

  ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Incendies (2010) – D. Villeneuve

I received this blu-ray as a gift (thanks Jen & Pete!) close to the release date back then and hadn’t watched it since – so I completely forgot the twists in the plot. I’m not quite sure whether I would have chosen this last night if I had remembered but there’s no doubt about its impact.  Director Denis Villeneuve handles the unfolding plot, which sees Canadian twins travelling back to an unnamed Middle Eastern country to find their unknown father and never-before-mentioned brother after being instructed to do so in their mother’s will, with aplomb. Although the terrain is dusty, Villeneuve dots the screen with teal blue, whether it be a bus travelling through the dangerous South in the flashbacks of the mother (Lubna Azabal) and her life during an early 1970s civil war, or the garments worn by those visited by Jeanne (Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin) or Simon (Maxim Gaudette) in the modern scenes. Based on a play by Wadji Mouawad, the film is structured like a detective story, with the twins uncovering clues about their mother and her relationships on the way to a final revelation that plays like Greek tragedy borne out of the horrors of war.  I guess Mouawad didn’t name the war-torn country so that the themes could generalize to all war-torn areas in the world, which unfortunately seem to have increased since the film was made.  As usual, it is the poor and powerless who suffer the most. Worth a rewatch (if you are ready for serious fare).

Minority Report (2002)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Minority Report (2002) – S. Spielberg

Apparently, Spielberg meant this as an homage to old films noir – or at least they are a stated influence on this film (which is a mélange of many influences). This allowed me to get over what seemed to be a flawed ending, too obvious, too slow to play out once the villain is already exposed – but, in actuality, many of the old noirs (especially those with late-breaking villains) also played out in this way. And Minority Report’s ending, when you ponder it, isn’t quite as simple as it seems because the villain’s choice really could have gone either way, cementing the fact that it was a choice (i.e. the key to the whole film). Seeing this film again (decades later) made me think I really need to read more Philip K. Dick novels, having only read A Scanner Darkly, which was great, claustrophobic and paranoid, but great.  Minority Report is also paranoid, about a future where three “pre-cog” individuals (led by Samantha Morton) lay in a milky pool in a Washington DC office building having visions of future murders, either premeditated (brown ball) or crimes of passion (red ball). This has enabled a “pre-crime” task force to apprehend murders before they actually commit their crimes.  The Year is 2054 and they chase criminals using jetpacks.   Of course, this is also a Tom Cruise action film, but don’t let that dissuade you – he’s playing a drug-addicted father of child who has been abducted (and presumably killed). So, there’s a grimness to the film that is solidified by its murky cinematography (by Janusz Kaminski) providing glimpses to a high tech but grimy future (with shadowy burnt out areas not unlike those in Escape from New York). Once the plot kicks into high gear, there are some action scenes, allowing Cruise to strut his stuff, but the vibe here is dark, not fun. Worth a relook, if it has been awhile.

Floating Weeds (1959)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Floating Weeds (1959) – Y. Ozu

After a stressful week, I was looking for a calming film and finally settled on this late colour classic from Yasujirō Ozu, which I hadn’t watched in ages. It always felt a bit different in his oeuvre from the well-known and very familiar-feeling classics (Late Spring, Tokyo Story, Early Summer, even Late Autumn which is also in colour). Perhaps this is because he had the opportunity to make this film for Daiei studios rather than his contractual home Shochiku.  Or maybe it was working with celebrated cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa (Rashomon, Yojimbo, Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff, etc.)? Also, it was his first time working with Machiko Kyô and Ganjirô Nakamura (two Daiei stars) – they play travelling actors, presenting rough and ready kabuki shows to country towns in Japan.  Nakamura was actually a very well-established kabuki actor so he pressed Ozu to change the name of the film from “The Ham Actor” because he thought that might tarnish his reputation.  He also refused to appear on stage in the film so his badness is only implicit.  The plot sees the troupe arrive in a small seaside town where Nakamura meets up with an old flame (Ozu favourite Haruko Sugimura) with whom he had an illegitimate son, now a young adult. When his latest flame (Kyô) cottons on to this, she causes trouble for the son and for Nakamura’s “Master”.  So, it’s a family drama of common people (shomingeki) just like Ozu’s other films -- and the “family” here is under stress and falls apart just as in some of his other films.  Other Ozu trademarks – static tatami-level shot-reverse shot combinations, red objects in the frame, still life “pillow shots” as punctuation, are all here.  Yet, the film (for all its sadness and conflict) feels light-hearted and often breezy, possibly due to the Nina Rota-like (Fellini-esque) music and the bright colours.  With this combination of emotions and especially the film’s ending, where life goes on, I guess we might agree it is wistful (perhaps mono no aware?). So, as an antidote to a stressful week, it worked a charm.