The Tall Target (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Tall Target (1951) – A. Mann

Very taut and suspenseful thriller from director Anthony Mann and starring one of my favorites, Dick Powell, as a police detective intent on foiling an assassination plot against president-elect Abraham Lincoln.  The entire film takes place on a train en route from New York to Washington and then to further points south.  The talk among passengers (headed south) is virulently anti-Lincoln.  Powell is on the wrong side of politics in supporting “the tall target” and his superiors won’t back his investigation.  So, he goes it alone, tangling with both the plotters and the police who get in his way.  Ruby Dee has a good role has a slave who helps Powell (and the film does not shy away from condemning slavery). Apparently, the film is historically accurate (more or less), as Lincoln really did have to “sneak” into Washington for his inauguration.  Who knew? 

I Was Born, But… (1932)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

I Was Born, But… (1932) – Y. Ozu

A most lyrical silent film from Ozu (but not really in his typical camera-rests-on-the-tatami style). We see things from a child’s eye view, although this is a tale for adults.  Two young brothers cope with the problems of moving to a new suburb in which they are bullied by a few bigger kids, find out that their father acts the fool to get ahead with the boss, go on a (brief) hunger strike, and eventually settle in and accept the way things are.  Ozu manages to evoke a heightened reality – more real than reality (with trains whizzing through the background with startling regularity) -- which is enough to make any silent film a classic.  However, he also takes time to comment on the injustice of social class relations – and the wisdom imparted from the mouths of babes is more telling than any didactic lesson otherwise taught.  A beautiful film from a time long past.  Ozu would steal ideas for his late period film, Ohayo (Good Morning) which is nevertheless really different.

Werckmeister Harmonies (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) – B. Tarr

Unmistakably a Bela Tarr film, set in a grimy wintry Eastern European town and shot in glorious black and white.  The camera is ever-moving (in extremely long takes), following Janos Valuska as he walks through town, observing what appears to be a fascistic uprising brought about (possibly)  by the visit of a travelling whale exhibit (and a strange Prince who we never see).  The film feels set in the 19^th century, not unlike Tarr’s earlier 7-hour masterwork, Satantango, so the appearance of a tank and then a helicopter to quell the uprising is somewhat jarring and mystical (even though we saw a reel-to-reel player and other examples of technology at different points in the narrative).  The title comes from the quest of one of the characters (mentioned oh so briefly) to over-turn Werckmeister’s tuning system --although much like with Satantango’s supposed tango structure, any musical underpinnings in the film (apart from its drone-like qualities) is pretty much impossible to ferret. Tarr maintains there is no allegorical quality to any of his films, but the film nevertheless feels portentous.

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Shadow of a Doubt (1943) – A. Hitchcock

I hadn’t revisited this Hitchcock classic (in some reports, his personal favorite) for a number of years and it’s great.  With the assistance of Thornton Wilder (Our Town), Hitch contrasts a highly insulated (insular?) American small town with a darker uglier world outside.  He does this by showing the effects of the arrival of evil Uncle Charlie (the Merry Widow murderer – Joseph Cotten) on his heretofore innocent niece, Young Charlie (Teresa Wright).  As the Master of Suspense (but not surprise), Hitch is able to prolong the audience’s anxiety about Uncle Charlie and his doings, as the detectives descend on Santa Rosa (the town) and Young Charlie cottons on.  He also takes the opportunity to work in his classic themes – the banality of evil (and “wrong-doing”) and the complicity of guilt -- and to display his transgressive sense of humor (for example, Young Charlie’s father Henry Travers and neighbor Hume Cronyn read true crime magazines and plot each other’s murders). The movie is full of rhymes, starting with the two Charlies and extending to matching or doubled scenes, two suspects, two detectives, and so on.  One of Hitchcock’s most subversively wicked and fully realized films.

Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985) -- P. Schrader

I’ve only read one of Yukio Mishima’s novels (Temple of the Golden Pavillion) and it’s dark and complex.  I was familiar with the story of his ritual suicide and right-wing pro-Emperor views (as well as his reported bisexuality).  I even watched the short film he directed (Patriotism) and the film by Masamura that he starred in (Man of the Biting Wind).  As Schrader depicts him here, Mishima seems to have treated life as a sort of performance art, rigidly applying a controlled discipline to his writing (at midnight each evening), his body (excessive workouts at the gym), and his politics (leading his own private militia).  Schrader segments his film into inter-locking thirds:  the present (in “normal” color, detailing the final hours of Mishima’s life), the past (in which Ken Ogata narrates Mishima’s own autobiographical words to show key events), and scenes from several of his novels (shot on theatrical sets in garish candy colors).  The three threads come together in one final knot at the end.  Although not always enthralling (if you don’t know Mishima’s books), Schrader’s film is certainly a work of art and extends his well-known themes (e.g., Taxi Driver). Of course, there is an added layer to contemplate when one thinks of Japan as mediated through Western eyes – apparently Mishima’s family complained and the film was banned in Japan.

The One-Armed Swordsman (1967)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

The One-Armed Swordsman (1967) – C. Chang

Classic Shaw Brothers wuxia melodrama in Shawscope widescreen from 1967.  Perhaps I’m being a tiny bit generous in my rating because this is no patch on King Hu’s films from the same time period (A Touch of Zen, Come Drink with Me).  However, I was still drawn in by Jimmy Wang Yu’s portrayal of the young man adopted by the master of a famous sword-fighting school who accidentally has his arm sliced off by the master’s daughter.  Of course, he trains himself back up to fighting strength and bests the bad guys with just his left arm.  The expected romance with the arm-slicing daughter does not come off, however.  With the flavour and feel of those 1950s widescreen westerns and some beautiful color cinematography (especially that fake RED blood) and fantastic Shaw Brothers sets and costumes, this is a winner.

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – W. Anderson

During a break from conference action, I went to the latest Wes Anderson film to recharge my little grey cells. Yes, I was in the mood for whimsy. And, whereas Anderson's film certainly does take on the usual playful air -- cramming the screen with eccentric characters and set decorated to high heaven, there's also room for darkness. We're treated to a flashback (1932) within a flashback (1968) told from the vantage point of 1985 about a mythical though reality-based Eastern European country (Zubrowka) that like many others is overtaken by fascism and secret police in the 30s and neglected decay in the late 60s (we don't see too much of the 80s). Anderson uses matte paintings as background and occasionally throws in some old-school animation (the wicked sledding scene) to heighten the fairy tale aspects of the film (after all, we are being told a story). Ralph Fiennes is delightful (and displays excellent comic timing) as Gustave H. the concierge of the titular hotel and Tony Revolori (as Zero, a.k.a. Young F. Murray Abraham) keeps pace. Of course, a host of other Anderson regulars make brief appearances. The whole fanciful creation (not unlike a pasty from Mendl's) comes together as a wondrous miniature reality that deserves further scrutiny to observe the plentiful details that were surely overlooked the first time.

Le Deuxieme Souffle (1966)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Le Deuxieme Souffle (1966) – J.-P. Melville

Melville’s last black and white picture sees him refining his French updating of film noir traditions with his special focus on the honor among thieves (a.k.a. the criminal code).  Leon Ventura plays Gustave “Gu” Minda, who escapes from prison after 10 years (in a very Bressonian opening sequence) but needs to do one last job to have enough money to live comfortably when he flees the country.  The first 75 minutes is all set up for an amazing outdoor armored car heist sequence, one of Melville’s best (with his usual focus on the meticulous planned and interdependent actions involved in completing a crime). After that, a long denouement as Minda gets entrapped by knowing police Inspector Blot (played charismatically by Paul Meurisse from Les Diaboliques). That’s not a spoiler, because even from the opening titles, Melville cues viewers into the fatalistic doom-laden story about to unfold. You can’t go wrong with Melville.

The Secret in their Eyes (2009)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Secret in their Eyes (2009) – J. J. Campanella

This Argentinian film won the Best Foreign Film Oscar in 2010 (beating out Haneke’s The White Ribbon and Audiard’s A Prophet – both great).  Ricardo Darin (remembered from Nine Queens) plays a retired police court inspector now writing a novel about a perplexing rape/murder case (seen distressingly in flashback).  The film jumps back and forth between past and present, and eventually clues us in to start questioning the accuracy of “the past” being depicted (is this a novelistic treatment to provide dramatic effect, a consciously or unconsciously wishful reconstruction, or an unvarnished rendering of the facts of the case?).  Regardless, the stereotypical thriller plot keeps the viewer hooked even as it broaches topics usually eschewed such as the lasting impact of grief, vengeance, injustice and even lost love, as we age through the decades.

Eating Raoul (1982)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Eating Raoul (1982) – P. Bartel

Uproarious low budget black comedy about a straight-laced couple, Paul and Mary Bland (played adroitly with deadpan by director Paul Bartel and Warhol regular Mary Woronov), who are broke but need an enormous deposit to start up their dream restaurant (Paul and Mary’s Country Kitchen).  They are at their wits’ end and the fact that their building is over-run with swingers doesn’t make things easier – until they stumble on an ingenious plan to raise money (involving a dominatrix, swingers, a frying pan, and professional thief Raoul).  To say more would be criminal – but this is most assuredly for adults only.  Swing on this!