Goldfinger (1964)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Goldfinger (1964) – G. Hamilton

Not a Christmas movie, but easily the best of the Connery Bond films (at least as far as I recall them). Bond is charged with preventing bullion smuggler Auric Goldfinger (Gert Frobe) from robbing Fort Knox with the aid of the notoriously named Pussy Galore (Honor Blackman). Dated for sure, in its overt sexism and casual racism, but if you can look past that, you can find a thrilling action film where 007 uses all the gadgets that Q provides (especially in his new Aston Martin). Although Goldfinger himself cuts a rather lumbering figure, the real nemesis here is his bodyguard Oddjob (Harold Sakata), nearly indestructible and armed with a lacerating bowler hat.  Director Guy Hamilton (a stalwart for the franchise) takes us from Miami to Switzerland to Kentucky, splashing money on the screen where necessary, and keeping things moving (all important). The undeniable theme song (by Shirley Bassey) adds even more style to the proceedings. Connery is fit and a master of both hand-to-hand combat and the snarky one-liner. He's in peril more than once (to be expected) but I had forgotten the plot twist at the end. Brainless fare when you’ve burned out your brain at the end of the year.

Searching for Bobby Fischer (1993)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Searching for Bobby Fischer (1993) – S. Zaillian

Aito is really getting into chess now (he beats me nightly) which reminded me of this solid ‘90s film about a 7-year-old kid (and a whole subculture of kids) playing competitive chess in tournaments. Joe Mantegna and Joan Allen play the parents of Josh Waitzkin (played by Max Pomeranc) who wrestle with the moral quandaries put to them about their son’s social and emotional life and whether fostering his success is more for them or for him. Ben Kingsley and Laurence Fishburne play Josh’s two mentors, the classically trained but conservative taskmaster and the risky bullet player from Washington Square Park, respectively. Writer-Director Steve Zaillian keeps things moving (in his directorial debut) with the requisite tension (if not without some inescapable sports movie cliches). Dan Hedaya, Laura Linney, and William H. Macy show up in cameos.  You probably don’t really need to know anything about chess to enjoy this, but now that we do, the authenticity is discernible.  And after all, the film is based on a true story (co-written by the real Fred Waitzkin) and features clips of the real Bobby Fischer who is frequently name-checked as a future “destination” (for better and//or for worse) in the film.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) – A. Lee

First rewatch since it was released.  At the time, Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh were making their first crossover films, from Hong Kong to Hollywood.  Of course, this film was directed in Taiwan by Ang Lee who had already broken through with The Ice Storm and Sense and Sensibility (and would have future success with Brokeback Mountain). This film won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film (check this).  Although epic with beautiful cinematography, it also manages to capture something of the Shaw Brothers and the classic Hong Kong kung fu flick.  The pacing and regular fight scenes (albeit with wires) keep Lee’s interest in relationship drama at bay, although the complicated plot (complete with long flashbacks) does help to maintain viewer interest. Yeoh is great as always but Chow is too reserved, somehow losing his natural charisma (that featured so well in his films for John Woo).  Newcomer Zhang ZiYi holds her own with these two superstars. Worth another look.  

 

Ugetsu (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ugetsu (1953) – K. Mizoguchi

Mizoguchi doesn’t pull his punches. So even though he is recounting a ghost story (as one of two interwoven tales), we are still treated to a look at the brutal conditions of feudal Japan in the 16^th century. In particular, he shows us the awful fate of women – here the wives of the two protagonists (Kinuyo Tanaka and Mitsuko Mito) suffer either sexual violence or murder (you are forewarned). Things are barely better for Genjurô (Masayuki Mori) and Tôbei (Eitarô Ozawa).  Both are farmers but Genjurô has a side-line in pottery, using a hut-sized kiln to forge sake cups, jugs, and bowls. As war breaks out among the Samurai clans, they decide to sell their wares in the nearest town, discovering profits to be had. Tôbei longs to become a samurai himself and uses his share of the proceeds to buy some armor. Genjurô is seduced by a noble woman (Machiko Kyô), after delivering her purchases to her expansive but decaying manor.  Both neglect their wives, who suffer the fates described above. As the two tales unfold, our heroes find different fortunes – both transcending what could be expected from your standard reality (although Genjurô’s tale is clearly the more supernatural). Perhaps the censors (American) required Mizoguchi to tack on an unlikely “happy” ending but there is no escaping the downbeat nature of these tales of moon and rain.  (Sansho the Bailiff, 1954, would go even further into the horror of the times, with no relief). As a jidaigeki (period film), Ugetsu’s mise-en-scene and art direction are top notch – no sign of 1950s Japan anywhere and thus, we are transported to another time and land, where real and unreal mix.  

 

Ikiru (1952)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ikiru (1952) – A. Kurosawa

An existential classic from Akira Kurosawa.  One of my favourites from years ago but I was worried it might be too sentimental upon this rewatch.  Takashi Shimura (later the head of the Seven Samurai, 1954) plays Watanabe, chief of the public liaison section of city hall, a petty bureaucrat who has spent 30 years pushing papers and referring community members to other sections. The film opens just as Watanabe finds out that he has stomach cancer and may have only six months to live. The first half of the film shows us Watanabe’s immediate reaction: first, despair; then, giving in to total hedonism; then, seeking human connection (first with his son and daughter-in-law who essentially reject him, then with a younger co-worker who ultimately finds him weirdly desperate); finally, he decides to use his final months to do something meaningful.  Earlier, we had seen a group of women petitioning the city to convert a disused swampy area into a children’s playground, but Watanabe’s section (and all the other sections) gave them the run-around.  Now, Watanabe decides to break the impasse and make the project a reality. Fast forward five months and we are now at Watanabe’s wake, attended by the Deputy Mayor, his senior advisors and section chiefs, and, of course, Watanabe’s own section members and his family. The second half of the film shows us the different reactions of all of these people to Watanabe’s final actions (in a Rashomon-like display of perceptual biases).  The Deputy Mayor seeks to take all of the credit for the playground himself while his senior advisors all suck up to him and agree.  After they have quickly excused themselves from the wake, Watanabe’s staff review all of the events of the previous few months (in flashback) to give us a portrait of Watanabe as single-mindedly determined to get the project done despite many bureaucratic hurdles and setbacks (this is, in essence, a scathing satire of Japanese society at the time). Naturally heartstrings are tugged but not in a heavy-handed way. Shimura underplays the grey man so much so that he is very nearly characterless but in the end his actions – and therefore his life -- have made a real difference to the world. And that’s what it’s all about.  (I have not been drawn to watch the recent remake with Bill Nighy in the Shimura role, Living, 2022).

  

A Double Life (1947)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

A Double Life (1947) – G. Cukor

I’ve had this DVD for a couple of decades and it is a comfortably familiar watch, reminding me of my time in the theatre (high school and some of college). Ronald Colman (who won the Best Actor Oscar for this part) plays Tony John, a Broadway leading man, currently starring in a smash hit comedy but being enticed to consider Othello as his next big role. Screenwriters Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin use their knowledge of the theatre to good effect to bring authentic backstage drama to the screen. Director George Cukor allows Colman the latitude to develop his character, an actor who allows his parts to intrude too much into his personal and daily life (cue expressionistic sound and visions).  So, when it comes to Othello, we see Tony John gradually start to seethe with jealousy – which is easy because he is still in love with his ex-wife Brita (Signe Hasso), playing Desdemona, and suspects she is falling for press agent Bill Friend (Edmond O’Brien).  Earlier in the film, when mulling over the part of the Moor from Venice, Tony stumbles into an Italian restaurant and he ends up going back to the cheap apartment of the waitress (Shelly Winters) for a one-night stand (she does not recognize him). Three hundred performances later, out of his mind with jealousy, he returns to her apartment, confused and tormented – and the film turns noir.  Although Colman’s take on Shakespeare is hammy, the use of the Bard’s scenes to subjugate his inner psychological conflicts, unconsciously, is pretty genius.  Although I never acted in Othello, I fondly recall my time doing Shakespeare during the Advanced Studies Program for NH kids at St Paul’s School (summer of 1984).   Tis truth, his lines have entered our culture, even if we’ve long forgotten their derivation: Othello (and Tony John by implication) “loved not wisely but too well.”

Broker (2022)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Broker (2022) – H. Kore-eda

I’ve been a fan of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s work going back to After Life (1998) which I saw in London when I was in the UK for a job interview and Maborosi (1995) which I subsequently picked up on videocassette.  His films have always been unpredictable (in that they don’t follow a formula) and humanistic (in that they have empathy for the characters and show them warts and all). Broker was filmed in South Korea with a Korean cast, featuring Song Kang-ho (best known for his work with Bong Joon-ho in Parasite, 2019, or Memories of Murder, 2003; he won the best actor award at Cannes for this film), following a less successful (but still on point) venture in France (The Truth, 2019, with Deneuve and Binoche). Kore-eda has spent a lot of time focused on family relationships (and as such may be the natural heir of Yasujiro Ozu’s shomin-geki genre) and Broker continues the theme of his Cannes-winning Shoplifters (2018) that a “family” might be defined as any group of individuals that chooses to be one. Here, we find Sang-hyun (Song Kang-ho) and Dong-soo (Gang Dong-won) working as “brokers” who take abandoned babies from a local church group’s “baby box” and sell them on the black market to wannabe parents who cannot meet Korea’s strict adoption regulations.  Dong-soo was abandoned in a similar way as a child (left at an orphanage) and so these are not ordinary brokers but really care about who they are selling to.  So when the mother of their latest acquisition (a baby named Woo-sung) turns up, they are happy to work with her to find the right parents for her child. Apparently actress Lee Ji-eun is a pop star in Korea but her acting is strong and she fits into the ensemble who are, unbeknownst to them, being tracked by the police.  At the same time, Sang-hyun is being pursued by gangsters to whom he owes a gambling debt and Moon So-young (Lee Ji-eun) may also have a criminal past. So, Kore-eda builds suspense about where this is all going to end up. But it is true that the film does verge closer to sentimentality than some of the director’s other films, even if he doesn’t leave the characters where you might expect them to be, if this were a Hollywood film.