Lola Montés (1955)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Lola Montés (1955) – M. Ophuls

After the film flopped upon release, you can see why the producers wanted to cut up its flashback order to try to make it more chronological – which may have made it not unlike other widescreen colour (this time Eastmancolor) films of the 1950s.  But that would have removed some of director Max Ophuls’ clever/genius moves, as it is the contrast between the circus framing device (where she is on display toward the end of her short life, still selling herself to get by, ordered about by ringmaster Peter Ustinov) and the recalled memories of the flashbacks (more truthful or more self-deceptive is hard to say) that highlight the themes of the film.  Ophuls has used the real life story of “Lola Montez” (born Eliza Gilbert) who travelled the world as a dancer but became famous for her affairs with famous men (Franz Liszt and the King of Bavaria Ludwig I, both portrayed here, the latter by Anton Walbrook) and then played them up to commercial success (including a scandalous tour of Australia in the 1850s and a speaking tour of the US, neither in the movie, but not a circus). Her life allows Ophuls to consider his longstanding interest in sex and its social functions along with the power it grants women who otherwise had little in those days but to take this theme all the way to its final stop in degradation, shame, and humiliation (but who is really to blame?).  All of this is managed in the most glamourous of styles with expensive sets and art decoration (perhaps treating French sex symbol Martine Carol as Lola as just another prop) and Ophuls’ famous gliding camera.

 

Les Enfants du Paradis (1945)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Les Enfants du Paradis (1945) – M. Carné

Filmed during the Nazi Occupation of France but released shortly after liberation, the movie became a symbol of French Resistance/Independence (this, even though some of its participants were later accused of collaboration). This is often called one of the greatest French films of all time and the masterpiece of the director-writer team of Marcel Carné and Jacque Prevert (who also made earlier poetic realist classics such as Le Jour Se Leve, 1939, with Jean Gabin, not featured here).  Due to Nazi-imposed regulations prohibiting films longer than 90 minutes, the film is divided into two separate halves, released separately but shown together. The first “The Boulevard of Crime” introduces us to the Parisian theatre district of 1828 and the many important characters:  Garance (played by Arletty), the much sought after beauty who has seen it all; Baptiste Debureau (Jean-Louis Barrault), the pantomime artist who falls for Garance; Frédérick Lemaître (Pierre Brasseur), the charismatic and flamboyant wannabe actor; and Pierre-François Lacenaire (Marcel Herrand), the philosopher-criminal resigned to his own fate. Late in this half we also meet Édouard comte de Montray (Louis Salou), another suitor for Garance (they all are, whether seriously or not), wealthy beyond reason. The melodramatic plot leaves us hanging as Garance is arrested as an accomplice for an attempted murder arranged by Lecenaire – but may have an out.  The second film, “The Man in White”, opens six years later.  The characters have all improved their lots, with Baptiste and Lemaître especially famous.  Life has moved on without Garance, who has disappeared.  When she does return to Paris, the plot mechanics move inexorably in a seemingly pre-ordained direction and end abruptly with the conclusions left for viewers to imagine. The film is justly famous, partly for its amazing sets (by Alexandre Trauner) and mise-en-scene, but also for its portrayal of the many varieties of theatrical performance, from base to lofty, that lend the film its main theme – the thin line between art and life, acting and reality.  There may or may not be metaphors here related to the plight of France in WWII but the film allows for many interpretations. In addition to the impressive acting on display, that’s another reason why it is great.   

A Tale of Two Cities (1935)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

A Tale of Two Cities (1935) – J. Conway

Having not read the book for decades, the plot unfolded as if new for me, and although there is some spectacle (the storming of the Bastille, for example) and numerous character actors, the film was elevated primarily by Ronald Colman's performance as Sidney Carton whose moral action at the end of the film only slowly sunk in, a day or two after viewing. The Dickens novel must be much better but this remnant of the Golden Age of Hollywood might be as good as a pared down version of the book could be.

Gosford Park (2001)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Gosford Park (2001) – R. Altman

I never watched Downton Abbey but perhaps I should have because I really enjoyed writer Julian Fellowes’ script for this late Robert Altman outing.  I suspect I first watched it because it was Altman but perhaps also because, like the Charlie Chan films it references, it was heralded to be a pretty good whodunit, taking place in the Upstairs-Downstairs world of British period drama (circa 1932).  And it is that, but, of course, Altman lets the plot meander all over the place, introducing characters who may not be entirely distinguishable who also talk over each other (a directorial trademark) making it difficult to determine exactly why they are there in the country estate owned by patriarch Michael Gambon and younger wife Kristin Scott-Thomas.  Suffice it to say that we hear enough to deduce that very nearly every character – at least those upstairs, if not also downstairs – has a motive for killing Gambon (which doesn’t actually happen until quite a long way into the film).  Only new ladies maid Kelly MacDonald (working for Dame Maggie Smith) and perhaps outsiders Bob Balaban (a Hollywood producer) and Ryan Philippe (his valet) are unlikely suspects (or are they?). The cast features an amazing array of British acting royalty, doing their thing expertly:  Helen Mirren, Alan Bates, Derek Jacobi, Emily Watson, Richard E. Grant, Clive Owen, Stephen Fry, Jeremy Northam, Eileen Atkins, and more.  Class differences are trotted out and the whole thing is gloriously gossipy. In the end, Altman and Fellowes drop enough hints to help viewers to figure out the culprit, even if detective Fry probably never will, but then again, there’s a twist that makes the watching even more worthwhile. 

 

Dark City (1998)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Dark City (1998) – A. Proyas

Preface:  I found this blu-ray when cleaning out our laboratory which has now been refurnished as staff office space (students don’t attend class in person now, let alone show up for psychology experiments). I don’t think I can describe it without some spoilers (although I’m sure I watched it decades ago and didn’t remember a thing).  So be warned.

Written and directed by Alex Proyas (who had previously made The Crow, 1994, and subsequently made I, Robot, 2004, among other less successful films), this takes its cues from film noir, with Rufus Sewell waking up in a sordid room with a dead prostitute and no memory of who he is or how he got there.  The film seems to take place in the 1940s to boot, with wife Jennifer Connolly singing in a nightclub and detective William Hurt traversing the city at night looking for clues (and for Sewell who has fled the scene).  But all is really not what it seems, as Proyas melds science fiction onto the noir frame to create something much more unique (but which still plays like a crazy homage to cinema classics gone by). I suppose the film could be called “high concept” if you had time to dwell on whether our memories make us who we are or whether there is something more fundamental or innate than that.  But there is no time for that, what with Kiefer Sutherland’s mad psychiatrist running around with huge hypodermics at the beck and call of some bizarre alien creatures animating corpses from the nearest morgue (including children) to pump everyone full of other people’s data.  There, I’ve done it – but isn’t this a spoiler that just makes you want to see what kind of insane work this may be, a work that Roger Ebert called “a great visionary achievement”?  For the record, I watched the Director’s Cut.

Night of the Living Dead (1968)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Night of the Living Dead (1968) – G. Romero

The first thing that Romero’s original low-budget zombie flick has going for it is that you feel that it could really be happening – the characters do the things you expect them to do, if facing this (otherwise implausible) scenario. The second thing is that Romero manages to sneak some social commentary (chiefly about race relations) into what would have been expected to be just grindhouse fare. The third thing is Pittsburgh – it just feels like a place where a zombie manifestation could happen.  Dawn of the Dead, the first sequel, may be even better, although the franchise loses steam after that.  If you’ve only seen its more recent descendents (or remakes), you really owe it to yourself to check out the opening salvo.

Le Samourai (1967)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Le Samourai (1967) – J.-P. Melville

Jean-Pierre Melville is one of my favourite directors – his films typically combine elements of film noir (gangsters, heists) with the technique of Robert Bresson (an existential focus on process) and an obsessive commitment to particular colour palettes. I have seen Le Samourai, starring Alain Delon as a lone wolf hitman, countless times, having once owned it on VHS.  However, only last night (after watching it again and reading an interview with Melville), did I think that the movie had another more mystical reading than the standard surface understanding. More specifically, I had never thought that the pianiste, Cathy Rosier, who witnesses Jef Costello (Delon) executing his contract (a club owner) might actually be Death herself.  One remembers that Melville worked with Cocteau early on (Les Enfants Terrible, 1950) and was perhaps influenced by the latter’s Orpheus (also 1950) in which Death is also personified. In any event, to reconceptualize Jef as infatuated with his own death rather than the piano player is almost to see a different film (and one where the ending is somewhat even more satisfying). Of course, the straightforward reading of the film still works too, with Jef compromised when he is seen by witnesses and confused when his no-longer-airtight alibi still holds up (his pursuit of Cathy to understand why she didn’t dob him in and their subsequent triste is the alternate explanation for his final act).  As with most Melville films, there is great pleasure here in following Jef’s methodical actions as he comes to terms with his situation, fleeing the police (led by crafty Commissaire François Périer) and contending with his double-crossing employers. Delon remains cool throughout.  A masterpiece.

The Holdovers (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Holdovers (2023) – A. Payne

Director Alexander Payne and actor Paul Giamatti previously teamed up for Sideways (2004) where the actor played a similarly bummed out but know-it-all character touring California’s wine country. Here, decades later, he’s the misanthropic classics-spouting history teacher, unloved by students and colleagues alike, stuck baby-sitting students whose parents left them at boarding school over the 1970 Christmas break.  Payne and screenwriter David Hemingson do a wonderful job fleshing out the characters of those stuck at Barton School which also include Da'Vine Joy Randolph’s school cook Mary Lamb and Dominic Sessa’s troubled student Angus Tully.  As in Payne’s other films, the film advances via humorous episodes (a sporting accident, a Christmas party, a trip to Boston) and the characters’ relationships with each other deepen and they learn something about themselves too.  But Payne avoids the saccharine by ensuring that the proceedings are adult and authentic feeling.  He (and his team) also captures the time-period not only with perfect set-decoration/art-direction/cinematography (think The Paper Chase) but also in the social, race, and class relations depicted (amiably defiant of norms in some cases perhaps).  Bittersweet is the dominant flavour here but that’s not to say that your heart won’t also be warmed. So good.    

 

Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Anatomy of a Fall (2023) – J. Triet

Having just watched Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with my Dad, I can definitely see the family resemblance with Justine Triet’s Oscar-winning Anatomy of a Fall.  Both films deconstruct a central death with exacting forensic/clinical investigations leading to high-profile court cases with fallible defendants (Ben Gazzara in the older film, Sandra Hüller in the newer one).  They differ in the way that Otto Preminger focused more on Jimmy Stewart’s lawyer, whereas Triet honed in on the relationship between Hüller’s Sandra Voyter and her blind son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) who is the sole witness able to tell the court whether his father was killed by his mother.  Court cases in France do not seem to follow the same rules as those in America, with the defendant (as well as the defense team) freely interjecting (and/or being asked to comment) while the prosecutor questions witnesses. Evidence mounts and seemingly supports a strong case against the defendant – or does it? Hüller, who was so good in Toni Erdmann (2016), is fascinating here, ably allowing us to doubt her while remaining hopeful that she didn’t do it.  Absorbing throughout. It won the Palme d’Or at Cannes.

Perfect Days (2023)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Perfect Days (2023) – W. Wenders

Japan’s entry for the Best International Oscar was their first directed by a foreigner, in this case, Wim Wenders (Wings of Desire, 1987).  Koji Yakusho (Cure, 1997; Shall We Dance, 1996) won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival in 2023 for this film.  He plays a cleaner for The Tokyo Toilet company who services restrooms in the Shibuya area. But these are no ordinary toilets!  The film’s idea itself apparently originated with these architect-designed toilet blocks that were created for the 2020 Olympics – after the pandemic overshadowed everything, the feeling was that the toilets did not get enough attention.  So, a commission was offered to create a documentary to highlight their uniqueness, but when Wim Wenders won, he decided to create a fiction film instead. (Wise choice).  We follow Yakusho’s daily routine in detail and learn that it rarely changes.  He is a man who clearly takes pleasure in the simple things of life and is conscientious about his work and his life. He also listens to cassette tapes of sixties music and reads classic novels.  He has a particular interest in photographing trees (or one particular tree).  Wenders takes a minimalist approach (this is slow cinema) with some experimental flourishes to represent the dreams of Hirayama (Yakusho), which unfold like abstract shadow plays. Gradually, we learn more about Hirayama as a result of his interactions with other people (although his routine shows him to be a loner who barely speaks). There is a mystery of sorts here although many will feel the movie to be virtually plotless. The final shot (or nearly final shot) is likely to be the one that garnered Yakusho his acting awards and Wenders holds it long enough for us to ponder the character’s motivation and emotions. After the credits, Wenders offers an insight that unlocked the film for me:  "‘KOMOREBI’ is the Japanese word for the shimmering of light and shadows that is created by leaves swaying in the wind. It only exists once, at that moment.”  I’m pleased to see Wenders’ success after a number of years when his documentaries outshone his narrative films. Highly recommended.  

Monster (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Monster (2023) – H. Kore-eda

I’ve been following director Hirokazu Kore-eda since I first caught After Life (1998) randomly in London in 1999 (and soon after found his breakthrough film Maborosi, 1995, on VHS). He is probably best known now for Shoplifters (2018) which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes that year. He’s become an expert at the shomin-geki (family drama, or “common people” drama). In many ways, Monster, Kore-eda’s return to Japanese film-making after stints in France and Korea, falls into this genre too (but may also represent the classic coming-of-age story).  We begin by following Sakura Ando’s single mother who becomes increasingly concerned with the experiences of her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa) at primary school when he comes home with a bloody nose and hurt ear.  He tells her that the teacher hit him and called him “Pig Brain”.  She confronts the principal who instructs the teacher to make a formal apology to the parent, but without quite admitting everything.  This agitates the mum who takes legal action against the school.  But the truth is not so simple (as is often the case in Kore-eda’s films) and we are subsequently treated to two more versions of events before settling in to see things from Minato’s point of view. Without giving too much away, let’s just say that the film transforms into a story about societal norms, constraints, and prejudices – the way some people may be seen as monsters and may even self-stigmatise themselves as monsters. But freed from these shackles, in a separate reality, love can prosper. Although ultimately the film decides to move on from its promise of a Rashomon-styled tale of subjective perceptions, the resulting focus on primary human relationships (despite verging on the overly sentimental) offers a triumphant conclusion. Unfortunately, the world we know may not allow this euphoria to be sustained. 

Odd Man Out (1947)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Odd Man Out (1947) – C. Reed

One of the first DVDs I ever bought, but it has been ages since I watched it.  James Mason stars as one of the leaders of the IRA in Belfast, Johnny McQueen, who has been hiding out after escaping from prison but is now planning a payroll robbery in order to finance their operations. Yet from the start things don’t go right – Mason plays McQueen as tentative and uncertain and director Carol Reed (later famous for The Third Man, 1949) uses expressionistic touches to show McQueen’s wooziness as he gets into the car to head to the job.  Of course, the subsequent heist suffers as a consequence and McQueen kills an innocent employee during the escape while also being shot himself. He then falls backwards out of the getaway car, with his panicked partners leaving him passed out in the road.  From there, the movie depicts McQueen’s journey through the snowy night in Belfast, encountering numerous supposed loyalists and other friendly souls, none of whom assist him enough to help him back to safety. At the same time, McQueen experiences delirious hallucinations, as he is both dying and coming to terms with his crimes. There is a burning spiritual fever in Johnny as he attempts to avoid the police dragnet – but to what end? Kathleen Ryan is in love with Johnny and wants to rescue him, but neither she nor anyone else can see a way forward beyond Johnny’s pre-ordained fate. Reed and cinematographer Robert Krasker shot the film as a blend of postwar neo-realism (the slums of Belfast), film noir (the chiaroscuro lighting and dark themes), and expressionism (McQueen’s visions distort reality). To me, the film seems to share structure and themes with Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man (1995), which also follows a man on a journey from life to death, offering a critique of society on the way. In both films, humans struggle with difficult moral decisions where right and wrong can confusingly depend on the eye of the beholder.  Yet, at the end of the day, as the police inspector hunting Johnny succinctly states, for him, there is neither bad nor good, only innocence and guilt.

 

Rebecca (1940)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Rebecca (1940) – A. Hitchcock

Less a thriller or a suspense film than a gothic melodrama (popular at the time: Wuthering Heights, 1939; Gaslight, 1940/1944, etc.) which stayed true to the novel by Daphne du Maurier (purchased for Hitchcock by producer David O. Selznick). Joan Fontaine is the awkward young woman (a paid companion for a boorish and matronly society lady) who meets wealthy Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier) at Monte Carlo where he is vacationing, trying to escape memories of his late wife, Rebecca. After a whirlwind romance, Fontaine’s character becomes the new Mrs. de Winter and takes her place as the head of the household at the beautiful and remote English mansion Manderley. From the start, she feels that she does not measure up to the beautiful and sophisticated Rebecca and this feeling is encouraged by Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), the unfriendly and hard-hearted housekeeper who was overly fond of the previous Mrs. de Winter (some reviewers have suggested a same-sex attraction). Husband Max does not make things any easier for Fontaine’s character (who is given no first name), often reacting angrily and moodily when Rebecca comes up – and indeed, since there are monogrammed R’s everywhere in the house, this is very often.  In their excellent book about Hitch, Rohmer and Chabrol point out that pairing an emotional woman with an unemotional man in a two-shot became a trope of the director, something I never noticed before (but is clear in Notorious, 1946, too).  Fontaine impresses as she transforms from vulnerable and insecure to become a more confident partner to Olivier -- and both of them, as well as Anderson, received Oscar nods in addition to Hitchcock himself along with best screenplay, score, and a slew of technical category nominations. The film won Best Picture and Best Cinematography, which held true to the Gothic style and produced an air of mystery and ultimately suspense -- which Hitch injects into the film in its final minutes as a startling twist is introduced and foppish cad George Sanders almost destroys the burgeoning romance between Olivier and Fontaine.  When Truffaut suggested to Hitchcock that he developed his interest in the psychological dynamics of his characters when working on this film, the great director agreed.  A must-see.

Napoleon Dynamite (2004)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Napoleon Dynamite (2004) – J. Hess

Totally absurd and amusing, feeling sui generis or at least unlike anything else that I had seen at the time.  But also, I guess, a straightforward high school comedy where characters learn stuff and develop over time (maybe). As written and directed by Jerusha and Jared Hess, this is funny stuff but which doesn’t make fun of its characters, however ridiculous they may be. Jon Heder plays Napoleon Dynamite as a sullen teenage nerd (even if the actor was already well into his 20s), defiantly his own person, seemingly unaware that he might be perceived as different.  He’s got an older brother, similarly but differently nerdy, and they live in rural Idaho with their butch grandma (and later cheesy Uncle Rico) – it is hard to know what decade this is because everything seems very dated (furnishings, phones, vehicles) but then Kip the older brother is hanging out in online chat rooms every night and meets a girlfriend that way. The plot, as it is, centers on Napoleon’s new friend Pedro and his decision to run for class president (against popular girl Summer).  Pedro and another of their friends, Deb, are played expressionlessly, leading to some very dry deadpan humor (also typical of Heder who delivers ridiculous lines as straight as possible).  Amon referred to them as NPCs.  Essentially an anecdotal film, with the usual high school rites of passage (school dance, confrontation with bullies, class elections), all treated with disregard and irreverence – yet there is nothing here that smacks of mainstream attitudes or commercial filmmaking (not a teen sex comedy).  There is, however, one amazing dance routine by Heder that has to be seen to be believed. 

Barbie (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Barbie (2023) – G. Gerwig

A bit under the weather on a Sunday afternoon with just Amon (aged 11) at home and the Barbie DVD having arrived from the library, so we chucked it in.  It was a bit weird to begin with – a grown man and a young boy watching Barbie – after the homage to 2001 (not quite funny but odd), the opening musical number, singing and dancing in Barbieland, had us cringing.  But then, the movie started to show its true colours (beyond just pink), critiquing the patriarchy, critiquing Barbie herself – and having fun while doing it and more importantly, letting the audience in on the fun.  Margot Robbie (Stereotypical Barbie) and Ryan Gosling (Just Ken) play the dolls as not-too-bright but they grow in sophistication (okay, she does) as the movie unfolds and they leave Barbieland for the real world (where Ken discovers men have more power than they do back home). America Ferrera and Ariana Greenblatt play our mother-and-daughter identification figures with diametrically opposed feelings about Barbie.  Will Ferrell is here as Mattel’s CEO and Rhea Perlman shows up as Barbie’s creator Ruth Handler (we get some actual Barbie history lessons, including from narrator Helen Mirren). There are a lot of in-jokes for movie-lovers with nods to Monty Python, Jacques Tati, and more. It’s silly but serious, funny but dark, and altogether knowing in a way that even Amon understood.  He thought the end of the film might bring a world where women and men are equal (at least in Barbieland) but, of course, even more apropos, the Kens (there are multiple Kens and multiple Barbies, in line with the release of doll variants) only get a slight increase in their rights (just like women in the real world).  Director Greta Gerwig manages to tread a very thin line (including a message but avoiding being too didactic) and creates a wondrous world (with old-school special effects) that lingers with you long after the movie has ended.

My Man Godfrey (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

My Man Godfrey (1936) – G. La Cava

Classic screwball comedy that isn’t quite as frantic as some but which still contains a fair few throwaway jokes buried in the hubbub.  As part of a scavenger hunt searching for a “forgotten man”, sisters Irene (Carole Lombard) and Cornelia Bullock (Gail Patrick) find Godfrey (William Powell) at the New York City dump, living with other homeless men and looking the worse for it. When he decides to return with Irene (after pushing condescending Cornelia into an ash pile), the night ends up with Godfrey being offered the job of butler to the Bullocks, a surprise to father Eugene Pallette and mother Alice Brady (and her “protégé” Mischa Auer – the source of many laughs). He soon learns the family is chaotic, nearly unhinged in their need for drama, and although living in a wealthy manner, almost broke (a secret kept by Mr. Bullock).  What unfolds next is a life-lesson for spoiled children, a fairytale for those living through the Great Depression, and a well-acted/directed/written (six Oscar nominations) comedy. Surprisingly, Powell is given the straight role here but he plays it with expert skill and holds things together while those around him improvise. Highly recommended. 

 

Past Lives (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Past Lives (2023) – C. Song

Celine Song’s debut film is a wistful and melancholy reflection on many things, chiefly the people we used to be in earlier parts of our lives.  Perhaps it is telling that the film includes two lengthy flashback scenes: first, 24 years ago when the protagonists are around 12 years old and living in Korea, and then again 12 years after that, when one of them (now named Nora; played by Greta Lee) lives in New York City (after her family migrated first to Toronto) and the other (Hae Jung; played by Teo Yoo) remains in Korea.  They found each other as a result of facebook.  I am sure this was a common experience at the time (it was for me!) as people suddenly found that they could look up old primary and secondary school friends to find out where they were now (and marvel at how much everyone had aged).  But intriguingly those people you found again only knew a past version of you, one that might not even feel accurate anymore.  And, as Song points out, this odd feeling might be even more significant for migrants, who may have even starker differences between past and present selves, including speaking different languages, practicing different cultural norms, etc.  Such is the case for Nora.  Yet, it is easy to romanticize the past, probably even for those who have not moved places (as much as some of us have). In the film we are led to feel that there could be romantic possibilities between Nora and Hae Jung based on their friendship at age 12 and their rapid re-engagement 12 years later.  But another 12 years pass before they actually meet face-to-face and by then, Nora is married (to a Jewish American, Arthur; played by John Magaro).  When Hae Jung shows up in New York, will Nora leave Arthur for him?  Arthur worries about this “fairy tale” possibility (and the Korean notion of pre-reincarnation past lives creating a sort of destiny for lovers in this life). However, Nora (and Celine Song, whose story this may be) may be more realistic than the men in her life. Naturally, this film hit me in all sorts of ways and might be more relevant for me than others, as a migrant myself, married to a migrant from Japan, and, especially, as a 56 year old with many past selves. The reflective tone (punctuated by quiet shots of NYC with appropriate music) was just right for contemplating these things as well as the beautifully acted characters and relationships within the film.

Asteroid City (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Asteroid City (2023) – W. Anderson

I guess we all know what to expect from a Wes Anderson film by now: quirky characters played by name-brand actors (and handpicked children or adolescents), outstanding but heavily stylized art direction (with splendid use of colour), carefully chosen pop songs on the soundtrack, and a certain mix of nostalgic, melancholic, whimsical, absurd, wry, knowing, and even dark moments (often all at the same time).  So, with his 11^th feature, do we just get more of the same?  The answer is basically yes.  This time, Anderson takes us to Asteroid City (somewhere in the West of the USA but filmed in Spain) in the 1950s where young people who have won a science competition creating futuristic inventions (focused on space, mostly) are congregating for an event (chaired by General Grif Gibson – Jeffrey Wright). The main focus (if you are able to focus amidst the busy mise en scene) is on Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) who is chaperoning his son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) but who also has his three daughters with him because their car broke down on the way to the house of his father-in-law (Tom Hanks), who then arrives to take them back.  Also present are movie star Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson) and her daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards).  These families are marked by absent spouses and their reaction to the fractured nuclear family (caused by death/illness/violence) is the dark vein that Anderson mines here.  But it is easy to be distracted by all of the other events, characters, asides, music, visual references, etc. that he throws at you.  For example, you wouldn’t be surprised if Wile E. Coyote showed up at any moment, as the art direction here is cribbed straight from Chuck Jones (the roadrunner is here, although the coyote is noted only in passing). There are also singing cowboys, flying saucers, a very topical quarantine, allusions to Marilyn Monroe – in fact, the whole thing is staged as a play within a movie, where Bryan Cranston narrates a recounting of what appears to be a Group Theatre production (with Willem Dafoe and his actors assisting playwright Edward Norton to develop what we are seeing in the film). As such, Anderson repeatedly breaks the third wall and the actors play characters playing characters, not just the characters themselves.  It is dizzying.  So, as before, your enjoyment of the film is going depend on your appetite for Anderson. If you’ve cultivated an appetite already, I would say that Asteroid City feels a bit fresher than The French Dispatch (2021) but doesn’t reach the exalted heights of the Grand Budapest Hotel (2014).  I haven’t checked out Anderson’s other 2023 releases – a trio of shorts drawn from the work of Roald Dahl on Netflix – which suggests a surging productivity in the director.  But how much is too much?