It Was Just an Accident (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It Was Just an Accident (2025) – J. Panahi 

Jafar Panahi’s 2025 Palme d’Or winner is admittedly not an easy watch, despite its use of comedy to cut its tension. That comedy made me think of Waiting for Godot before it was inevitably mentioned by the characters themselves (it is comedy rooted in absurdity). The parallel is that these characters spend the entire movie pondering whether the one-legged man they have captured really is or is not their former torturer – but they can’t know for certain because all of them were blindfolded during their time in prison as political dissidents (or simply people who ran afoul of the State). Panahi himself has spent time in prison in Iran and has been banned from making films there, but still has found ways to complete his projects, outlaw style.  Where in the past he has criticised the government for their treatment of women and their violations of human rights more broadly, here it feels more personal – a bitter recitation of the terrible injustices inflicted on innocent civilians by their own government. The plot feels like a loose framework (they drive around Tehran in a van seeking to find others who can identify their captive) to allow the characters to speak their truths, directly to the audience. Only late in the film, in a scene shot entirely in red filtered lights, do we hear a version of the government’s response, that political opposition can’t be allowed because it undermines support for the revolution.  This seems to be the hallmark of those who know that their power is invalid, without support of the people as a whole.  Yet Panahi’s message is that, despite the injustices and horror wielded against them, protesters must maintain the moral high ground, as it is in empathy, social justice, and respect for human rights, even of those who transgress against us, where strength lies.

The Invisible Man (1933)

 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Invisible Man (1933) – J. Whale

Inexplicably, I never reviewed James Whale’s classic version of the H. G. Wells’ story, even having watched it many times before (and now in 4K Ultra HD).  This is Claude Rains’ Hollywood debut: even if you don’t actually see him for most of the film, that voice is enough! We begin somewhere in the middle, after Rains as Jack Griffin has already discovered the secret of invisibility (through chemical means) and now desperately wants to find the antidote, to become visible again.  He’s holed up at a local British pub/hotel owned by Una O’Connor and Forrester Harvey (playing as broadly as they can for comic relief), becoming more and more disagreeable (under his bandages, hat, and false nose) until they call in the constable.  Meanwhile, the head of his lab Cranley (Henry Travers) and scientific colleague Kemp (William Harrigan) have figured out that Griffin is the Invisible Man and even know the unfortunate side effects of the chemical he’s used that will eventually make him go mad.  Although Cranley and his daughter, Griffin’s love interest, Flora (Gloria Stuart, later in Titanic, 1997), want to help Griffin, his rival Kemp wants to turn him over to the police.  Of course, it doesn’t end well for Griffin.  Whale pulls out all the stops with regard to the special effects and, as this is still the pre-Code era, it shouldn’t be a surprise to find out that Griffin has to spend most of his time naked – although he’s too preoccupied with finding a way back to visibility to get up to much mischief (apart from a couple of murders and some monomaniacal rambling).  Quite a few sequels followed this.

The Odyssey (2026)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Odyssey (2026) – C. Nolan

It seems that I only go to the cinema for “event movies” these days, since everything else seems to eventually come to the small screen (which has gotten increasingly sophisticated across my lifetime).  Somehow, I scored some $7 tickets, so Amon and I headed out to see Christopher Nolan’s latest this afternoon (though not in iMax or even 70mm).  I purposefully hadn’t read too much (except parts of one essay declaring it not true enough to Homer’s original).  Amon and I have watched a lot of the classic adventure films, so it is good to be able to say that this is a fine example of the genre.  Nolan introduces some of his typical flashback structure to the film, where we first meet Penelope (Anne Hathaway), wife of Odysseus (Matt Damon) and her son Telemachus (Tom Holland), who have been awaiting Odysseus’s return from the Trojan War for the past 20 years.  We know his exploits have been passed among the people of Ithaca in song, but no one knows if he is alive or dead, even though many of his men and even his King (Agamemnon) have long since returned home.  We soon discover that Odysseus has been stranded in a mental fog, eating lotus flowers, on an island with Calypso (Charlize Theron) recovering from his injuries for the past 7 years. We see his exploits in flashback, featuring the classic episodes involving the Trojan Horse, the Cyclops, the witch Circe (Samantha Morton), Scylla and Charybdis, the Sirens, and more. Nolan knows how to manage the pacing of the adventurous bits and the more talky parts of the narrative (mostly involving Robert Pattinson and other suitors for the hand of Penelope and their conflict with Telemachus and with Odysseus’s aging servant Eumaeus (John Leguizamo)) to keep things moving across nearly 3 hours. As he journeys home to Ithaca, Odysseus is occasionally visited by Athena (Zendaya) who serves as his guide and inspiration. I’m not sure having Zendaya and Lupita Nyong'o (in a bit part as Helen of Troy) in the cast is enough to make this film “woke” (although perhaps some MAGA viewers may also have concerns about Elliot Page, who has a key role); the American accents on display from Hathaway and Damon alone are enough to require suspension of disbelief that this is really ancient Greece. (and let’s leave the boring-old culture wars out of this anyway). Moreover, although there is a lot of fighting, ultimately there is some anti-war sentiment here too, as we learn of Odysseus’s regrets at the terrible killing and raping of civilians in Troy by his own men/army. He wants to repent. (This doesn’t stop him from becoming a one-man army late in the film though). As a spectacle, the film is loud and action-packed although pretty sombre through-and-through.  I only occasionally thought of Jason and the Argonauts (1963) and Ray Harryhausen’s special effects but that was for kids and this is for adults (with similarly wondrous cinematography but less of a sense of wonder).  Perhaps this would be diminished on the small screen and perhaps I have over-rated it due to the big-screen. Nevertheless, for an escapist day out, it ruled.

 

The French Connection (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The French Connection (1971) – W. Friedkin

Paul Schrader recently said (on Letterboxd) that he was surprised how much “shoe leather” was involved in The French Connection – and it is true, this is an action movie where the characters are constantly on the move. Director William Friedkin and editor Jerry Greenberg do a great job with the pacing of the film, introducing us to Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and his partner “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider) as they do some routine drug busts in seedy parts of Manhattan then gradually showing them start to suss out a much bigger deal going down.  That bigger deal involves Marseilles businessman (and major drug lord) Alain Chartier (Buñuel favourite Fernando Rey) who arrives from France to make the exchange in person.  Doyle and Russo have to tolerate the involvement of the Feds as they stake out the principals, tail them on the subway, and even chase an El train by car (one of the most famous car chases in cinema).  As befits ‘70s America, it’s a downbeat affair, but gripping all the way.  Hackman’s Doyle is a shitty guy, racist, single-mindedly willing to do anything (including break the law) to bust the perps; Scheider’s Russo is along for the ride. Based on a true story and you aren’t surprised that this is how the NYPD may have operated – the location settings add to the gritty allure.

The Ladykillers (1955)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Ladykillers (1955) – A. Mackendrick

Positioned near the end of Ealing Studios’ amazing run of comedies, many featuring Sir Alec Guinness, The Ladykillers is also a caper film where whatever can go wrong does.  This is no knock on the very clever armoured car heist planned by Professor Marcus (Guinness wearing some very scary false teeth) and his gang (including Cecil Parker, Herbert Lom, a young Peter Sellers, and Danny Green).  They just weren’t prepared for Mrs Wilberforce (Katie Johnson), an old lady whose particular way of doing things makes trouble for just about everyone and throws a spanner in the gang’s plans.  Although perhaps it made sense for them to rent her spare room in the house by the railway tracks (pretending to be a string quartet needing practice space, ha, ha), they didn’t realise they’d have to contend with her parrots, nosy elderly friends, fondness for reporting things to the police, etc. etc.  The pivotal moment in the plot here is not dissimilar from the final catastrophe in Kubrick’s genre-related The Killing (1956), which came out the next year. After that, the gang just can’t hold it together in the face of Mrs Wilberforce’s scrutiny and will.  Director Alexander Mackendrick went on to make Sweet Smell of Success (1957), an extremely bitter and cynical look at the media in New York, while Guinness graduated to David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), both leaving comedy behind (perhaps not completely).  But what a way to go!

Project Hail Mary (2026)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Project Hail Mary (2026) – P. Lord & C. Miller

Another sci-fi blockbuster in what has become a well-established genre going back to the 1950s, if not earlier.  Project Hail Mary nods to the past classics (2001, Close Encounters, E.T., Interstellar, etc.), often explicitly.  But, as directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (best known for directing The Lego Movie, 2014, as well as producing the various Spider-verse films) from Andy Weir’s book, it has a very odd tone, perhaps goofy is the right word? (The movie’s soundtrack definitely contributes to this tone). I kept asking myself whether the film was designed primarily for kids (not unlike E.T.) because the level of corniness and especially sentimentality is awfully high, especially for a film that includes a worldwide disaster-level premise (instead of the world overheating it is actually going to cool down by 10 or 15 degrees as some strange bacteria seem to be eating away at the sun).  Ryan Gosling is essentially a one-man show as the scientist-turned-schoolteacher sent thousands of lightyears away to solve the problem.  The story is told partly in flashback, as we learn how exactly Gosling (playing Ryland Grace) ended up in space with the help of project director Sandra Hüller. Gosling is charismatic as usual but the comical earnestness he’s tasked with sometimes feels a bit “cringe”.  To say more about the film’s plot would probably be criminal because it took me in directions I did not expect.  In terms of its speculation about future events, does it get it right? Looking back at the genre today, it often seems prophetic (hello Hal) but also can end up being technologically dated.  The same fate may befall Project Hail Mary and I suspect that some aspects might seem silly decades down the track (sillier than intended) but truly it is hard to say what it might have gotten right. Overall, the film looked great (maybe even greater in iMax?) and I certainly was never bored but I’m not sure I signed up for a buddy comedy?  

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.

Life in One Chord (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Life in One Chord (2025) – M. Gordon

Shayne P. Carter is probably best known for leading the Flying Nun band Straitjacket Fits in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, as singer/guitarist/songwriter.  They were part of a New Zealand music scene (along with the Chills, the Clean, the Bats, the Verlaines, etc.) that became popular in the college radio scene in the US while I was a d.j.  I don’t think I ever saw them live back then but I admit that they weren’t my favourites from the scene, tending toward something more dramatic, possibly like arena rock (if Flying Nun could ever reach that scale), which wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. That said, songs like “She Speeds” and “Hail” were on heavy rotation in my world.  I didn’t know them at the time but Carter’s earlier band, the DoubleHappys, fit my indie-rock mold better (I discovered them later). Perhaps the difference was in Carter’s collaborators, trading bassist and songwriting partner Wayne Elsey for David Wood (bass) and Andrew Brough (guitar/vocals), retaining drummer John Collie. Tragically, Elsey had been killed while on tour, falling from a train in Carter’s presence (they were both only 21), which had a traumatic impact and affected Carter’s life as well as his musical direction.  A moving single, “Randolph’s Going Home” (in collaboration with Peter Jefferies), was Carter’s way of paying tribute to his friend and documenting the tragedy.  Later, Straitjacket Fits got signed to Arista Records before imploding and subsequently Carter founded Dimmer who have had continued success in New Zealand.  In 2019, Carter published his autobiography which inspired filmmaker Margaret Gordon to track him down to make a film out of it.  Like many Kiwis, Gordon has spent time in Melbourne and has contacts with some of my friends who were drawn to collaborate on the film (Reece Sanders worked on motion graphics and Simon Wright helped with some editing, I think).  When the producers struggled to afford to pay for the music rights for some of the clips, I contributed $50 to their kickstarter campaign (and have my name in the credits – is this a conflict of interest for this review?). Although I didn’t get to see the film on the big screen when local shows happened here last year, I did see Carter’s solo show at the Northcote Social Club (which was great). I also bought his solo album from 2016 (Offsider) on bandcamp, which is a stark piano-based affair, an instrument Carter apparently taught himself for this release (recommended!); he’s also recorded with an orchestra, provided accompaniment to stage performances, and generally taken artistic challenges and risks rather than played it safe.  I finally had the chance to watch the film on Amazon Prime last night and, having spent the last year refamiliarizing myself with Carter and his music, I found this a deep and moving experience.  He’s an amiable character, funny and self-deprecating despite his success. Beyond the music (which is well-documented here from the early Dunedin scene to beyond), Gordon’s film takes us into Carter’s personal experiences growing up half-Maori/half Pakeha (European), feeling that he didn’t belong in either culture.  Since he didn’t feel comfortable reading passages from his memoir aloud for the film, he recommended NZ newsreader Carol Hirschfeld to do this instead, an odd conceit but well explained (and which also informs us a bit more about Carter’s character and the walls of defence he has erected, which may also include his humour). At any rate, I am pleased to say that the doco is never less than engaging, finding a way through editing, music, graphics, found and shot footage (visiting old haunts), and carefully chosen talking heads (archival and new) to flesh out Carter’s story and the adjacent stories of his bandmates and other scenesters (he volunteered as a carer for Chris Knox after the latter’s stroke!). This is a film and an artist that you should definitely check out!  I’ve been re-evaluating Straitjacket Fits and Dimmer now in this new enriched light.

Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger (2024) – D. Hinton

Martin Scorsese is omnipresent talking about film, particularly classic films and film preservation. He has 493 “self” credits on iMDb which is probably an underestimate.  Occasionally, he has made his own documentaries or essay films about his relationship with cinema and the influence of movies he’s seen on his own oeuvre, such as A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies (1995) or My Voyage to Italy (1999).  This time, as directed by David Hinton, he talks us through his feelings about the films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger (and their production company The Archers).  I’m also a big fan of this duo – there are 16 reviews on my two blogs for films directed by Powell and often also written by Pressburger. I gave 5 stars to The Thief of Bagdad (1940), I Know Where I am Going (1945) and Black Narcissus (1947) and 4.5 stars to The Edge of the World (1937), A Canterbury Tale (1944), A Matter of Life and Death (1946), and Peeping Tom (1960). Scoresese has a particular affinity for the ballet films, The Red Shoes (1948; 4 stars) and The Tales of Hoffmann (1951; which I still haven’t watched all the way through) as well as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943; which I need to watch again and review). He narrates his way through all the films with a healthy dose of clips and also links them to choices he made in his own films (primarily Raging Bull, 1980). He highlights the risks they took -- their experiments with plot, Technicolour, composition – and their fierce independence (leading to many ruptures with producers and companies). Scorsese also discusses his real interpersonal relationship with Powell who became a friend and mentor and who eventually married Scorsese’s longtime editor Thelma Schoonmaker. He talks a lot about Powell’s love for England and his embodiment of the stereotypical English reserve.  Pressburger, a Hungarian Jew who moved to Berlin and then escaped to England, also gets his fair share of behind-the-scenes stories and clips. In all, it’s a touching and insightful tour through the Archers’ body of work, although inevitably it contains an arc that moves from success to decline and disregard. Fortunately, Scorsese isn’t the only voice heralding the cinematic output of this great duo (and they were finally re-appreciated in their lifetimes). If you haven’t checked out any of their great films, what’s stopping you?

We Jam Econo (2005)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

We Jam Econo (2005) – T. Irwin

I’m pretty sure I didn’t really appreciate the Minutemen when I saw them open for R.E.M. at the Mosque Theatre in Richmond, VA, in the Fall of 1985 (except perhaps their Creedence cover “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”). This turned out to be their final tour before singer/guitarist/lyricist d. boon died in a van accident in December of that year.  Knowing that outcome adds a lot of extra emotional weight to this otherwise straightforward doco about the band – even the predictable ex-punk talking heads seem to have an extra level of tenderness toward the band.  Of course, a lot of that devotion is due to the striking contribution of this band to music history.  They were punk, yes, but not in the stereotypical sense. Instead, they were flying flannel as self-professed corn-dogs out of San Pedro, CA, ready to absorb classic rock, country, jazz, and everything else they heard into their short sometimes abrasive songs; they grew into musicians with superb creative technique (drummer George Hurley gets many kudos here). Our guide through the band’s history is bass player/singer/lyricist Mike Watt, now an elder statesman of the music scene (as well as in 2005). I guess I did not realise how many of the band’s songs he wrote himself (nor the fierce rivalry between him and d. boon) – thinking about it now, you can see the difference between boon’s political lyrics and Watt’s more narrative take (esp. on “History Lesson Part 2” of course). He’s down to earth, switched on, and authentic in his spiel. I’ve got 3 or 4 of the band’s albums, including their opus Double Nickels on the Dime, which was designed not only to compete with Husker Du’s Zen Arcade, another double LP, but was a reference to Sammy Hagar’s “I can’t drive 55” because his driving might have been crazy/exciting but his music was boring – the Minutemen opted for the converse, boring driving (at 55 or below) but crazy/exciting music.

Bad Timing (1980)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Bad Timing (1980) – N. Roeg

Let’s face it, after the high-water marks of Walkabout (1971) and Don’t Look Now (1973), director Nicolas Roeg never really made it as an auteur (he also co-directed Perfomance, 1969, with Donald Cammell and served as cinematographer for Lester, Schlesinger, Truffaut, others).  This might be his last hurrah (though there were other attempts to follow this theme to come). Perhaps following on from the cut-up technique he used to edit the Julie Christie-Donald Sutherland sex scene in Don’t Look Now, he used that technique for Bad Timing, although for the entire film.  Some reports suggest the film was shot as a straightforward erotic thriller and only later sliced and diced (à la William Burroughs) but I prefer to see it as a puzzle film, intended as such. After Tom Waits’ “Invitation to the Blues” plays, we are in an ambulance with Art Garfunkel tending to a comatose Theresa Russell (subsequent versions of this scene include “Who Are You”). From there, we jump back and forth in time across their (intense) relationship. It’s an “opposites attract” scenario with free spirited Russell living in the moment and Freudian psychotherapy professor Garfunkel trying to control her. In keeping with Garfunkel’s occupation, sex and death are the main themes here, but it isn’t clear who is unravelling more as the film “progresses” (or just as more details are added to beginning, middle, and end).  At some point, we realise that Harvey Keitel is actually a police detective investigating whether any malfeasance has taken place on the night that Russell was sent to the hospital and suspicion rests on Garfunkel. Things do conclude with a revelation and I guess that cements the feeling that both characters are equally damaged by this oil-and-water affair. But the reason to watch this film (if you are fully prepared) is for the madness and intensity and brave acting by both Russell (who subsequently married Roeg) and Garfunkel (previously in Carnal Knowledge, 1971, another risky choice) who don’t shy away from nakedness (physical or emotional).  Reviews suggest this is polarizing (no surprise).

Anora (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Anora (2024) – S. Baker

This is the fourth Sean Baker film I’ve watched and I came to it a bit late, after all the hype surrounding its Best Picture Oscar win (and the Best Director, Screenplay, and Editing wins for Baker) has died down.  I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to like it, given the Cinderella story marketing frame, to which I only barely paid attention, seemed a bit cliché. And, as the film unfolded, the blue-collar erotic dancer meets spoiled Russian heir plot seemed just an opportunity to show decadence on the screen rather than to explore any meaningful ideas about class differences.  But then the fairytale plot evaporated and the intensity and stress racheted up, scene by scene, so that this felt more like a Safdie Brothers outing (although I haven’t yet seen their solo efforts) than the keenly/wryly observed naturalistic films of Baker’s oeuvre (e.g., Red Rocket, 2021; The Florida Project, 2017; Tangerine, 2015). The chaos and breakdown of relations between the characters is both comic and harsh and although Anora (Best Actress Mikey Madison) remains the heart of every scene, there are some excellent character turns by Karren Karagulian and Vache Tovmasyan. Still, it was hard to tell if this was just a thrill ride for viewers or something deeper – and then the final scene between gangster/minder Igor (Yura Borisov) and Ani/Anora made the film for me. Not only did this provide the necessary emotional release for the character but it revealed just how many defenses had been up, perhaps for a very long time, as a protective shield necessary in a hard hard world (even if the temptation to dream about that fairytale might be omnipresent, if not fully conscious).

No Other Choice (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

No Other Choice (2025) – C.-W. Park

I was very enamoured with Park Chan-wook’s previous film, Decision to Leave (2022), a hazy film noir romance that felt like an ode to Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958).  Now his new film takes a Donald Westlake novel (The Ax, previously adapted by Costa-Gavras, to whom this film is dedicated) and turns it into a dark comedy about our era of industrial transformation and the mass layoffs it is creating.  Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) works for a large Korean paper company that is taken over by an American corporation that promptly sacks a chunk of its workforce including Man-su.  An expensive present from the company (an eel dinner) foreshadows the pink slip.  The film then follows Man-su and his family, including his wife Miri (Son Ye-Jin) and two children, Si-one and Ri-one, a possibly autistic cello prodigy and a typical teen getting himself into trouble, as they cope with the disaster. The family struggles to make ends meet (Miri goes to work as a dental assistant) and with the bank about to foreclose on the family home, Man-su hatches a desperate plan to ensure that he is the prime candidate for any job opening at other paper companies (there seem to be quite a few).  The film takes its time as Man-su identifies his competition and builds up the courage to take them out. Of course, it’s messy, and Man-su creates too many clues and loose ends for the police to follow -- but director Park revels in the opportunity to create eccentric characters, stage some magnificent shots in beautiful colour (kudos to cinematographer Kim Woo-hyung), and basically let things get weird and goofy.  Lee Byung-hun holds it all together with a charismatic performance (rightfully nominated for a Golden Globe). Another highlight in Park’s already excellent oeuvre.

Fallen Leaves (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Fallen Leaves (2023) – A. Kaurismäki

It’s probably easy to underestimate Aki Kaurismäki, the 68-year-old Finnish director. His films are short, understated, and droll. In Fallen Leaves, the characters interact in a version of Helsinki filled with movie posters – including for films by Bresson, Godard, David Lean, and Jim Jarmusch (whose film, The Dead Don’t Die, 2019, the central couple go to see). This provides some hints about Kaurismäki’s intent – his film may feel slight, but it is actually linked carefully to film history, though unique in its own style. Bresson is a clear inspiration because we often see the characters doing things, small things like looking at the expiry date on food or sweeping a factory floor, which puts viewers in an existential mindset (thinking about doing and being). This is part of the so-called “Proletariat Trilogy” (the fourth film, following 1990’s The Match Factory Girl) which speaks to the class differences which were pivotal to Godard’s politicised cinema; including ongoing reports of the war in Ukraine every time a radio is switched on also reminds us of Godard’s intertextual approach (his bold colour palette also shows kinship). As far as the plot goes, David Lean’s Brief Encounter (1945) seems to be a touchstone, although in Fallen Leaves, Alma Pöysti’s Ana and Jussi Vatanen’s Holappa aren’t married to others and approaching an affair – they are just lonely strangers who struggle to make their connection happen.  Kaurismäki observes them nonjudgmentally (even when Holappa’s behaviour is clearly self-destructive, but with a wry eye that suggests that finding humour in life is one way to survive its repeated letdowns. Bemusing sequences, such as in the karaoke bar, are played as deadpan as you can get (a tendency also shared with his friend Jarmusch). Things go wrong, yes, but it’s never as bad as it seems – or at least the characters pull themselves together and get on with it (as existential proletariats must do). Music ties the whole thing together, bringing the melancholy, especially with a Finnish version of the French song “Les Feuilles Mortes” (known in English as “Autumn Leaves”, and translating to the film’s title here) and a Finnish version of Gordon Lightfoot’s Early Mornin’ Rain. Holappa’s friend Huotari (Janne Hyytiäinen) sings a traditional Finnish ballad at karaoke and indie-rock duo Maustetytöt get showcased in a bar. Definitely worth 80 minutes of your time.

Nights of Cabiria (1957)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Nights of Cabiria (1957) – F. Fellini

My Fellini period was decades ago, in the 1990s; so revisiting Nights of Cabiria felt almost like seeing a new film.  Yet, Fellini’s early style, mixing (Italian) neo-realism with something more personal, poetic, episodic, remained familiar. This film belongs to Giulietta Masina (Fellini’s wife and muse) who plays Cabiria, a downtrodden prostitute with an indomitable spirit (she won the Best Actress award at Cannes for this performance). The arc of the film follows Cabiria (full circle?) from our first glimpse of her being pushed into a river (nearly drowning) by a seedy paramour only after her purse, through a series of encounters where we see other sides of her, sometimes disparaged but often her (not clichéd but perfectly acted) heart of gold shows through and invites warmer treatment, eventually from a gentle accountant (François Périer) who promises to take her away from the life. Emotions follow this same arc: bitter, melancholy, playful, amazed, despondent, resilient. Fellini started as a screenwriter and his talent shines here. The sets and locations, from squalor (older prostitutes living in caves) to astounding luxury (the film star’s mansion), allow Masina to act as the viewer’s emissary to unknown worlds, adding empathy and identification.  Is she looking for true love? Well, so are we.  After this, Fellini moved onto the decadence of La Dolce Vita.

La Chimera (2023)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Chimera (2023) – A. Rohrwacher

Director Alice Rohrwacher’s most recent feature and her first since her breakthrough with Happy as Lazzaro (2018).  (She seems to make a lot of shorts).  La Chimera feels very European (Rohrwacher is Italian), even if it stars British Josh O’Connor (he barely speaks and usually in broken Italian). Isabella Rossellini plays a matriarch (the mother of O’Connor’s lost girlfriend). As in Lazzaro, there’s a communal feel to the casting, with a lot of amateurs, possibly non-actors, in bit parts or just part of the gang. Is this Fellini-esque? Rohrwacher also seems to enjoy gazing at faces. The blurb at iMDb seems to position this as some sort of arthouse Indiana Jones but I have to tell you that even though O’Connor plays a sort of archeologist (or perhaps just a graverobber), this is not that (although there are some beautiful arthouse shots!). Instead of action, we get an elusive meditation on our connections to the past, both cultural (as in the hunt for artefacts or lost treasures) and personal (as in returning to one’s old haunts or dwelling in one’s thoughts about people who have passed). Not so much bringing the past to light in the present but perhaps escaping to the past, not necessarily but especially one’s own past, not an updated version? But that’s just one of the themes and ideas free-floating through the film. Rohrwacher again toys with magical realism with O’Connor also a sort of dowser for graves, overcome when near treasure-filled hollows in the ground. But how do these lost souls feel about giving up their riches?

It Happened One Night (1934)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It Happened One Night (1934) – F. Capra

It seems to me that Frank Capra is one of those filmmakers that you first encounter as a child or youth (from It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946, to Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, 1939, and maybe to Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, 1936), when his “Capra-Corn”, full of sentimentality and simple populist politics, can have its biggest impact.  But there’s no denying the pleasures available to adult viewers in a film like It Happened One Night (1934), winner of 5 Oscars for Capra, screenwriter Robert Riskin, and stars Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, not to mention Best Picture.  Gable is at his charismatic best as the no-nonsense straight-talking but principled reporter who gets drunk, gets fired, and then stumbles onto the story of a lifetime: heiress Colbert has run away from her over-protective banker father (Walter Connolly) to elope with an older aviator, acknowledged by all to be a fraud. When her bag is stolen, bystander Gable helps her to navigate the journey from Miami to New York to meet her fiancé (by night bus and other modes of transport), teaches her about hitch-hiking (the thumb!), piggy-back rides, and donut-dunking – and also falls in love with her. There are some highly-charged erotic moments when the couple are separated by the Walls of Jericho (a blanket suspended between two twin beds). When they aren’t fighting (which is most of the time), you can see the care developing between them.  Anyway, it’s a comedy with the kind of plot that puts all sorts of obstacles in the way of young love until we reach the requisite happy ending. They don’t make them like this anymore.

 

Bugonia (2025)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Bugonia (2025) – Y. Lanthimos

For some reason, I haven’t checked in with director Yorgos Lanthimos for quite a while (last time was The Favourite, 2018), so I missed his two previous collaborations with Emma Stone. After watching Bugonia, also starring Stone, I think I’m going to need to go back and catch up.  To be honest, I wasn’t certain that I would like this one.  I mean, “conspiracy theorists who kidnap a CEO because they think she is an alien” sounded either too facile or trying too hard to be weird. So, the film had to work hard to convince me – and by the time it was done (with those amazing freeze-frame shots), I was convinced.  Jesse Plemons and Aidan Delbis play the conspiracy theorists, none too bright, but Plemons (playing “Teddy”) is clearly obsessed while Delbis (playing “Don”) appears to have some sort of disability and is more ambivalent (and not lacking in empathy). The film plays out sort of exactly how you think it would – CEO denies being an alien but tin-foil-hat guys persist.  Yet Lanthimos keeps adding extra details and the cast fully inhabit their roles, going for broke. To say that this production pushed things as far as they possibly could is probably an understatement. Weird, but not only for weirdness’s sake – there are some deeper themes here about corporate greed (of course), the destruction of the environment (particularly bees – which relates to the ancient Greek origin of the film title) but also about power’s need for victims (even the cop-babysitter evokes this) and the merry path to hell that we humans are currently traversing… Perhaps this could be read as one big cosmic joke but the final moments arrested that thought. Highly recommended.