Best New-to-Me: August 2023

 Richard Brody's piece for The New Yorker, "What We Lose When Streaming Companies Choose What We Watch," has been making the rounds among film fans recently. It's for good reason too, while I'm personally immersed in a universe of similarly-minded disc purchasers and theater attendees, most of the film-viewing public seems to have elected streaming as their primary source of cinema. I don't always (or often) agree with Brody but I don't begrudge him a good take when he has one. Still, I can't help but think that his case for collecting is a tad overstated. Building a physical media collection can be rewarding and supports the industries (film, music, lit, etc.) behind the scenes, but I'm not sure how much of an act of "love" or "defiance" it really is. In all the collecting scenes I've taken part of, you regularly hear the same old jokes about buying way more shit than you could possibly take advantage of in your lifetime and the line between collecting and hoarding can get hazy. There's also the matter of access. There's probably a degree of greater general availability due to individuals buying films on disc. It's not uncommon to see a new physical release suddenly become accessible via streaming but it's hardly universal or even very predictable. On the other hand, collections at public libraries likely contribute in a far more meaningful way in providing access to great movies all for the low price of library card. I'm regularly surprised and delighted by what our local county system has available to check out.

 The other thing that irks me about the film-related physical media world is that it doesn't often translate to physical spaces. Unlike the book shop or the record store or even your local cinema, places to buy boutique blu-rays seem vanishingly rare. I really do think this is meaningful as I still hold onto the idea that brick and mortar spaces are instrumental in building local scenes and help lead to the interaction between creative people and the necessary collision of ideas. I realize virtual spaces can also facilitate these things, but I generally find them far less potent. There's something vital to meeting up with other people who at the very least are willing to make a trip just to experience weird art. None of this is to say that I don't absolutely love this moment in film curation and the kind of energy and care the independent labels are pouring into movies, many of which were totally unavailable previously. I just don't believe personal shelves filled to bursting carry all the same benefits as a public library or even the humble video store.

I watched plenty of good and even some great movies in August. I do wish I had made it out to the theater more often but that's a common lament for me. Here's the best of what I watched followed by some notes on screenings with other people.

The Grey Fox (1980) - Maybe it's notable that my first pick here was a disc I snagged at my local library. Though the cover is instantly recognizable to me from vhs days, this was a first time viewing thanks to Elric over at the Pure Cinema Podcast. It's based on a true story of Bill Miner who went to prison for stagecoach robbery and was released 33 years later to a barely recognizable world in 1901. It's a lyrical, often melancholy story of finding your way through life and (to a lesser extent) banditry. A lot of the appeal hinges on the always remarkable Richard Farnsworth but The Grey Fox is also beautifully shot, has a solid supporting cast, and the music of The Chieftains works wonderfully as a backdrop to this turn of the century story. There is a deeply satisfying "characters watching a movie" sequence and if you like trains or The Great Train Robbery - you will dig this.

Jeremiah Johnson (1972) - This Robert Redford/Sydney Pollack classic was the second half to my unintentional mythologized historical frontiersman double feature.  It's hard for me to get behind a protagonist that started out as a fur trapper (the real history of which is filled with all manner of greed and stupidity) and winds up a mortal enemy of the Crow Nation (the real "liver eating" Johnson was rumored to have slaughtered 300 men), but Pollack is able to conjure so many great moments and moods and things remain abstract enough that I was able to maintain my distance. Clearly, the key decision here was Redford's insistence that the film be shot entirely in Utah and not on some studio backlot. The scenery alone is beyond stunning and the actors are largely able to distinguish themselves amidst that backdrop. Screenwriter John Milius' influence is evident in both the violent sequences and the conversations between mountain men. You can almost see them as a dry run for the philosophical discussions between Conan and Subotai a decade later. I imagine Milius' take on Johnson would have been a much gorier affair and thankfully Pollack never subjects us to Redford with a bloody mouthful of liver.

Marlowe (1969) - Marlowe has neither the grit nor the glamour to match my favorite Chandler adaptations but it's still entertaining and definitely interesting. Others have noted that it feels like a television movie - cheap sets, bright lighting, and Garner's Marlowe feeling closer to Rockford than Bogart all contribute to that. Even though the film comes off as artificial looking, the filmmakers actually bothered to shoot some iconic locations - The Bradbury Building, Union Station, Club Largo, etc. The final shot of Marlowe driving out onto the strip at night looks remarkable, I only wish we could have had more of it. The material isn't always stellar, but if you're a fan of the period I think the cast is solid and compelling enough to hold your attention. Besides Garner, you get Rita Moreno, Carroll O'Conner, Sharon Farrell, and (somewhat inexplicably) Bruce Lee. Turns out Sterling Siliphant, who wrote Marlowe, In the Heat of the Night, The Poseidon Adventure, etc., was a friend and student of Bruce. Siliphant was also instrumental in getting Bruce's philosophical adventure epic Circle of Iron/The Silent Flute made after Lee died.

Libido (1965) - Just because a film is an early example of a genre doesn't necessarily mean it delivers as a good movie. Proto-giallo Libido seemingly has everything working against it - made on a dare by an untrained director (Ernesto Gastaldi), shot in 18 days on a shoestring budget, featuring some virtually unknown (at the time) actors in lead roles - and yet it's remarkably successful and clearly influential on what was to follow. Gastaldi may not have known much about directing but he absolutely understood narrative having penned some great Italian Gothics and he would go on to write many of the most famous gialli in addition to westerns, polizotteschi, and comedies for decades to come. Libido definitely benefits from the gothic/haunted mansion setting and fuses it with a Les Diaboliques inspired thriller. There's nothing explicit, but the pyscho-sexual undertones are palpable. I'd be remiss not to mention that Libido is Giancarlo Giannini's debut and he manages admirably to evoke the brand of psychological fragility required for the role. The rest of the small cast is terrific - especially Gastaldi's wife Mara Maryl who developed the original story for the film and even sewed her own costumes. I'm nearly certain it was the Unsung Horrors podcast that nudged me towards this in the first place and I watched it via Severin's fantastic looking blu-ray release. Libido is certainly notable for being an early giallo, and genre fans will note familiar tropes being established, but it's absolutely worth seeking out on its own merits.

Baby, It's You (1983) - Having recently re-watched Chilly Scenes of Winter and After Hours thanks to the stellar new editions from Criterion, I decided to catch up to this lesser heralded Double Play production. Baby was the first John Sayles film to be backed by a major studio and it's a significant early(ish) movie for Roseanna Arquette and Vincent Spano. Set in the 1960s, Arquette and Spano play New Jersey high school kids from differing backgrounds who still find a romantic connection. Unlike many other films with similar scenarios, Baby continues the story past high school where both characters' expectations aren't necessarily fulfilled in college or working life respectively. I'm kind of sucker for melancholy coming of age stories in the first place, but I think Baby holds its own via the use of music (the anachronistic Springsteen tunes actually work here), Sayles' class consciousness, and the performances. I love this quote from Arquette reflecting on the role: "I went to high school for a while, but my experiences were shitty. Somebody asked me how I prepared for that role. I put on those knee socks and that skirt and - I don't know. I just felt her."

The Body of My Enemy (1976) - Looking at the cover and the plot synopsis of this Henri Verneuil/Jean-Paul Belmondo crime picture led me to believe I would be getting a mid-70s slice of cold, gallic neo-noir. Instead, I got a fairly unconventional social/class satire told non-linearly with a dose of dark comedy. It's much weirder than I expected with Belmondo eschewing the stunt heavy action man persona he would fully embrace by the 80s for a far more cerebral and manipulative vengeance seeker. There's definitely grit and criminal grime featured in Enemy, but the fire that fuels the film is class conflict with Belmondo's complete contempt of the wealthy townsfolk. Enemy may be an odd addition to Verneuil's filmography but I found it compelling and thought it had similar vibes to Alain Jessua's off-kilter social satires from the same era. I picked up the Kino disc for this and am looking forward to listening to the Berger/Thompson/Mitchell commentary as they do such a great job of putting these lesser known (in this country) French films into context.

Je T’Aime, Je T’Aime (1968) - Should this movie be known as the one where Alain Resnais decided to cut the shit and just make a movie explicitly about cycles of memory? Je T'Aime is ostensibly about a suicidal man who becomes a candidate for an experimental time travel program. Things go haywire during the experiment and he's trapped reliving sequences of his past in 60 second snippets. It sounds like a science fiction story, but in practice plays out as a profoundly literary and fairly avant-garde approach to love and loss with a dose of murder mystery. There are some sequences of an absurdly 60s time machine that looks like an alien pumpkin on the outside and Barbarella's lounge on the inside which give it an extra pyschotronic edge, but Je T'Aime still is largely grounded in human relationships. I'm not always an enthusiastic science fiction fan, nor do I tend to like time travel movies, but I adored this abstract, philosophical, extremely French take on the genre. It's certainly not the best Resnais film, but even his weirder efforts are worth seeking out.

Going Places (1974) - Holy shit what do you say about a movie like this? It's anarchic, it's maddening, it's offensive, I kind of loved it, and I don't feel terrific about that. Betrand Blier's film debut starring Gérard Depardieu and Patrick Dewaere as listless buffoons lacking any impulse control or thought for the future and they channel their limited creativity towards sexual terrorism. It also features Miou-Miou as a woman with little to no agency who sticks with the pair for reasons I still find incomprehensible. Though it's not nearly so heavy handed, Going Places sort of works on a similar level to A Clockwork Orange or maybe Spetters where the charisma and humor of the actors keeps you engaged despite your recognition of how awful their behavior is. There's also a dreamlike quality to the film in sequences that maybe play out more like incredibly taboo fantasies (not that the reality of what's happening is ever seriously questioned by the film) - this is particularly noticeable in the middle sequence featuring a fascinating Jeanne Moreau or a truly disturbing scene involving a young mother on a train. It's also gorgeously shot which isn't any kind of excuse but has to be mentioned. I'm perhaps too easily won over by off-season footage of European resort towns (I blame Jean Rollin). There's a sentiment that the English language title is far too innocuous compared to the French title, Les Valseuses which literally translates to "The Waltzers" but is commonly slang for testicles. I'm not so sure. Blier very explicitly goes places and pushes boundaries in ways that genuinely surprised me. It's totally fair if you agree with Roger Ebert that the film is "the most misogynistic movie (Ebert) can remember" but I find myself sympathetic to Pauline Kael who felt that Going Places addressed sex and sex fantasies directly in an "assured style...with a dreamy sort of displacement." I picked up the Cohen Media Group release of this so maybe the audio commentary can help me make sense of it.

Pulp (1972) - Rather than being a library pick-up, Pulp was a full on library discovery. I usually just grab movies I've put on hold but sometimes I take a moment to browse whatever they have on hand that week. There's usually no shortage of Criterion or Warner Archive discs, but imagine my surprise to stumble over Arrow's release (now OOP) of Cain and Hodges' comedic follow up to Get Carter. I admit I'm surprised by how divisive Pulp seems to be. Aside from the unfortunate boar hunt footage (apparently this was staged, but I'm not sure I'm fully convinced that no boars were harmed) at the end of the film, I felt very much in sync with its hazy blend of slapstick, wry dialogue, and political/social satire. I imagine there's some degree of backlash from Get Carter fans expecting more of the same - Hodges & Caine don't even come close to delivering on that account - instead managing something that bridges the spy/detective farces of the 60s and the stoner inflected neo-noir of the 70s. The cast is incredibly fun and filled with nods to American noir films, the Maltese location footage is stunning, and apparently J.G. Ballard was a huge fan.

Get Out Your Handkerchiefs (1978) - Hoo boy. Another Blier picture featuring Depardieu and Deweare as two chauvinistic dolts with a complicated and intense friendship. They are not as explicitly sociopathic this time around but it doesn't make the film any easier to relate to. Carole Laure plays Depardieu's dispassionate wife, Solange, who he "offers" to a total stranger (Deweare) in an effort to cheer her up. While this effort fails, both men are clearly devoted to Solange and the unlikely trio take positions running a boys summer camp. Solange finally finds some solace in a brilliant boy who is savagely teased by his fellow campers. Solange's relationship with the boy starts innocently enough but eventually crosses boundaries that are just going to be too much for some viewers. Blier's absolute disregard and lack of understanding of female agency is only matched by his penetrating observations on male stupidity. His films keep shocking me and yet I can't help but laugh at the audaciousness of them. As much as Blier seems to deny interiority to his female characters, he has a terrific eye for actresses. Carole Laure (and Miou-Miou in Going Places) adds some much needed humanity to the work and even if I can't comprehend Solange's choices, I find her fascinating. Pair this one with Heartbreakers for a "Carole Laure navigates a weirdly intense relationship between two dudes" double feature.

Joy House (1964) - I went into René Clément's 1964 thriller almost completely blind. All I knew was that it was a 60s French crime flick starring Alain Delon and Jane Fonda which is everything I needed to know to snag a copy from Kino. Joy House is a simmering, twisty tale of a fugitive (Delon) who enters the employ of a rich widow (Lola Albright) and her ingenue niece (Fonda) while he's hiding out from American gangsters. Of course not everything is as it seems at the mansion as Delon uncovers the widow's intentions, the sexual tension between the three heightens, and the gangsters' pursuit circles ever closer. Seeing as Joy House was released four years after Clément's Purple Noon, it's natural to assume that it would be an equally if not more polished, coastal potboiler featuring beautiful people amongst postcard scenery. Instead, Henri Decaë's black & white photography gives Joy House a much rougher, propulsive look that feels like a throwback to low budget noirs of the previous decade. The lurid plot takes some wild swings which may challenge a viewer's credulity but they also presage the most outrageous 80s erotic thriller narratives. Of course, Joy House isn't very explicit and its eroticism is largely implied - which is for the best as sex scenes between Delon and Fonda would have likely immolated my disc player. If you're willing to exchange gallic cool for pulp thrills (aided in no small part by Lalo Schifrin's smoking score), Joy House totally delivers on that count.

Theatrical Screenings!

I've already written an entire piece devoted to August's screening of Tokyo Pop. Here are a couple of things I still managed to show up for.

The War is Over/La Guerre est Finie (1966) - Caught this at the always delightful Trylon Cinema thanks to a restoration via The Film Desk. Luminous, sensual, filled with overlapping memories and not-quite memories. I liked La Guerre quite a bit but there's no doubting the pace can feel very deliberate. Yves Montand was certainly the best possible choice to play a world-weary revolutionary and the rest of the cast is stellar. Ingrid Thulin and a very young Geneviève Bujold are particularly good as Montand's partner and an aspiring revolutionary, respectively. Sacha Vierny has shot some absolutely stunning films with some of the greatest directors of all time and La Guerre features some fantastic black & white photography. I never tire of Parisian location footage, particularly from the 60s, and La Guerre is bursting with scenes of period street life. The Film Desk is a company that seems to have very suddenly arrived on my radar over the past year, but they've actually been doing their thing since 2008. I'm hoping to snag some of their physical releases soon but definitely appreciate their excellent restoration work.

Hell in the Pacific (1968) - I was very fortunate to attend a special 16mm screening of Boorman's second collaboration with Lee Marvin courtesy of the Cult Film Collective. We watched this one outdoors and the summer sounds of a warm August night actually complimented Marvin and Toshirō Mifune's struggle to survive on an isolated jungle island rather well. I don't adore watching films outside (noise, bugs, light, etc.) but Hell was such a great choice: not a ton of dialogue, plenty of action, and two ridiculously magnetic screen presences battling it out. I've been dying to catch this since re-watching and writing about Point Blank so I couldn't have been happier once the secret was revealed. I've said it before and I'll say it again, if you live in/near the Twin Cities, you need to sign up for the CFC. They do great work and they will let you borrow movies. It's the best.

Not No Place: Time Spent After Hours (1985)

 I wish I could tell you I'm cool. I've been a fan of Martin Scorsese ever since I knew you could be a fan of directors and I wish I could tell you that in addition to the crime epics I watched dozens if not hundreds of times as a teenager I loved the more idiosyncratic entries to Scorsese's filmography just as well. As a young movie fan I focused very squarely on the violent, operatic Scorsese and either failed to appreciate his other work or skipped it altogether. It wasn't until a few years ago that I finally caught up to After Hours and to be brutally honest: it didn't land cleanly for me. I could appreciate the strangeness of Paul Hackett's (Griffin Dunne) nightmare odyssey into the wee hours of Soho, but I think my overall expectations for the film didn't match the reality of it. I thought it would be more immediately hilarious, more madcap, and more propulsive. I also struggled to relate to the protagonist. I didn't much care for the meek yet entitled word processor and I felt somewhat indifferent towards his torment. I empathized more with Robert Plunket's character who after enduring a long and wild-eyed explanation of Paul's horrible night asks him rather succinctly, "Why don't you just go home?"

Still, something about After Hours wedged itself firmly in my imagination where it continued to ferment and I knew it would be something I'd one day revisit. My obsession with cinematic New York City meant that I was continually seeing references to After Hours in books and articles or hearing it mentioned in discussions that interested me. I'm also a tremendous fan of other movies produced by Dunne and Amy Robinson: Joan Micklin Silver's Chilly Scenes of Winter has been a longtime favorite of mine and more recently I caught up to Sydney Lumet's Running on Empty which I adored. I've also been at this movie-watching game long enough to know that a second look (or a third) is sometimes what you need to make sense of a film on its own terms instead of whatever expectations you're bringing to the experience. So when I heard that Criterion was releasing After Hours I committed to snagging a copy and returning to it. I'm so glad I did. 

I'm admittedly a fan of stylists and After Hours was never wanting in that department. It opens with frantic, ranging camera movements conveying a sense of restlessness in probably the most mundane location possible: an office floor packed with corporate drones. Upon my second watch, I couldn't help but note that the opening is one of the few scenes permitted to have sunlight in it. Scorsese was looking to keep his production schedule lean but in no way does that impede the mobility of his camera. After Hours would be the first of several Scorsese collaborations with cinematographer Michael Ballhaus who had a talent for shooting beautiful pictures efficiently - initially forged in Fassbinder's creative maelstrom and having previously lensed the luminous Heartbreakers. The color palette is generally muted; beige, gray, and blue; shrouded in darkness with only the occasional stab of streetlight or neon to penetrate it. Scorsese insisted that (nearly) the entire film, including the interior sequences, be shot at night. Nighttime permeates every frame and that wandering camera gives the impression of peering closer to get a better look. Paul himself is always examining his surroundings and After Hours is crammed with cryptic details that may or may not signify anything: a screaming sculpture, prescription labels, a skull keychain, a medical text, or graffiti of a shark eating a man's penis. The austere Soho location work gives After Hours a foundation of inscrutable alienness (at least as Paul sees it) but the production design and art direction make it visceral. Howard Shore's ethereal, metronomic score perfectly complements the vacant streetscape. I think of Scorsese as a soundtrack guy. He utilizes both classical and pop references with equal facility and to be certain some of that makes its way to After Hours. However, it's all bound together by this exquisitely desolate, haunting pulse from Cronenberg's go-to composer. 

Despite any initial impressions I had towards Griffin Dunne's character, the quality of After Hours' ensemble was undeniable from first viewing. Rosanna Arquette, Linda Fiorentino, Terri Garr, John Heard, Catherine O'Hara, Verna Bloom, Cheech & Chong, even Dick Miller. It's such a fantastic collection of talent that was active at the time and a testament to the interconnectedness of their previous projects. Whether they get an extended sequence like the pop explosion 60s time capsule of Garr's apartment or the brief nod Miller has when he recites the film's title line, you get the sense of a living, breathing late night denizen with a story to tell. I can't deny Dunne's performance and we stay with him in every scene from the muted to the brazen. His increasing level of mania is palpable to point where he cries out into the night asking the question familiar to all desperate people, "What have I done to deserve this?" The women own the film for me, though. They all, in some way, reflect film noir tropes by inviting Paul into situations that eventually turn sour on him. However, this quasi-seduction isn't any kind of reflection on their amorality. They're genuinely interesting people, mostly artists and loners looking for connections, and Paul's undoing is largely through his own desire to be with them without understanding their world. The crux of the narrative is that he traveled somewhere far from home, late at night, because he has a brief conversation with a beautiful girl. Some of the early audience feedback for After Hours was that it expressed a level of misogyny because the women of the film are "all crazy." However, part of the key (this movie is filled with keys and doors) for me to appreciate the film was that it's both being presented from Paul's point of view and that it isn't necessarily an endorsement of that perspective. The women in the film appear crazy to Paul because he misunderstands every situation and person he encounters that night.

 Scorsese claims that Paul's dilemma was something he was able to recognize in his own life. Before working on the film, Marty had moved to Tribeca and while he was a native New Yorker he soon realized that he was not part of the downtown art scene at all. It was an alien world to him. So while I don't think Scorsese is asking the audience to validate Paul's actions, he is asking us to empathize with him. As uncomfortable as it might be, I've lived through many times when I've been the outsider stumbling into a situation without understanding the context. Despite my best efforts I've been the idiot tourist who can't make sense of the local scene and I've certainly experienced the record-scratch anxiety of walking into the wrong bar at the wrong time. In Paul's eyes it's an endless Kafka-esque series of persecutions that he's done nothing to deserve, but it's his failure to cultivate an understanding of his surroundings that's truly hounding him. Once I was able to wrap my head around this, I was much more able to access the humor of After Hours and it is incredibly funny. I came into it thinking it would be funny in a zany "one crazy night" farce mode; a Coen brothers comedy of errors. After Hours eventually does reach that heightened pitch, but so many of the funny moments are delivered flatly with brief pause as both you and Paul try to process the last outlandish statement or event. It's also an incredibly dark picture. The satire bites but it's housed in the structure of a stressed out nightmare with a finale worthy of surrealist horror. The drug use in After Hours is minimal but it still has those tangibly sweaty paranoid coke vibes that Scorsese has always captured so well.

While I have come around on my ability to better understand Paul, find the comedy in his tragedy, and even relate pieces of my own life to his - I haven't totally come to terms with him. He's looking for adventure in the city but he isn't willing to pay his dues - whether that's his subway fare or getting a mohawk at Club Berlin. He relates to women in the film in a similar manner, either as objects of desire or sources of shelter, but he's not attempting to truly understand them. It's this sense of entitlement that rankled me on my first watch and it continues to do so. This has only been made more poignant as the once neglected, industrial Soho that was supposed to have an expressway run through the middle of it has become overrun with Pauls. Not artists looking to carve a space for themselves in the world, but word processors (or their modern day equivalents) looking to have a interesting life simply by virtue of being able to afford to live there. Comedian Nato Green described comparable recent arrivals in San Francisco as people who "want big city amenities but aren't willing to deal with big city problems." Maybe I'm more like Paul than I think when I first watched After Hours looking for a breezy good time.  So while I'm not cool, I'm glad to have made a return to Scorsese's fever dream Soho. I think I'll keep coming back, but I needed to make an effort to get to know the place. 

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Wish You Were There - Tokyo Pop (1988)

 Tonight at the venerable Trylon Cinema, I was able to make it out to a one-off screening of Tokyo Pop (1988) as part of the monthly Sound Unseen screenings. Directed and co-written by Fran Rubel Kuzui (known better in this corner of the world for directing Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Tokyo Pop is the story of a New York rocker, Wendy, who makes off with her bandmate boyfriend's rent money to seek her musical fortune in Japan when it's clear he'll never elevate her star past backup singer. While she flounders at first, Wendy is able to begin to find her footing - especially after meeting Hiro, a young Japanese musician, who is also seeking success while hoping to maintain his personal and artistic integrity along the way. While Tokyo Pop received critical praise upon release it had fallen into relative obscurity and was only recently restored and re-released thanks in part to contributions from Dolly Parton, The Jane Fonda Women Directors' Fund, and Carol Burnett (mother to Carrie Hamilton who played Wendy in the film). 

I suppose the first thing to tackle is the music: there is lots of it and it wasn't always to my taste. Diamond Yukai (who plays Hiro) and Carrie Hamilton perform all of their songs themselves and while both are very capable singers, that doesn't save the somewhat saccharine covers of American pop and rock songs. However, pop music didn't prevent me from being swept up by the romantic energy of the film and in fairness to the characters - they both yearn to perform their own music and resist their newfound success as "not rock n' roll." Both Hamilton and Yukai are incredibly charming, have truly fantastic wardrobes, and I thought their chemistry together worked rather well despite any language barriers. Hamilton gives a standout performance and her physicality - tall with short-cropped peroxide blonde hair - cuts a striking figure against the Tokyo streetscape. Speaking of which, the 99 minute runtime is virtually all spectacular location footage of 80s Japan: arcades, marketplaces, train stations, shrines, love hotels, nightclubs, fishing docks, restaurants, and more are all immaculately captured (Rubel Kuzui was a Tokyo transplant herself and it shows). I have nothing to compare it to, but the restoration looked amazing to my eyes. There's also an element of cultural time-capsule to Tokyo Pop. Though they sadly do not perform - X Japan appears a couple of times in the film. The incident that initially sparks Wendy and Hiro's success takes place behind the scenes at an All Japan Women's wrestling event that features rising stars Bull Nakano and Aja Kong. I also have to make a special note of the appearance of Tetsurô Tamba as agent/record producer Mr. Dota. Though he doesn't have a huge part in the film, his onscreen charisma shines through. Clearly evidence of a massive career starring in everything from historical epics, to pinky violence, to You Only Live Twice (the Trylon will be screening Three Outlaw Samurai which features Tamba early next week). 

Kino Lorber Repertory is handling distribution for this restoration of Tokyo Pop and I would highly recommend catching it theatrically if you can. I am also very hopeful that this will see a physical release and find its way to streaming. While this isn't necessarily the kind of film I usually obsess over, I would be genuinely interested in a physical copy - particularly with some robust special features. I found it to be very sweet and I think it serves as a remarkable cultural document. Maybe I could lure unsuspecting friends to a double feature with the somewhat more lurid Death Ride to Osaka or even Lost in Translation  which also contains and Diamond Yukai appearance. 

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Best New-to-Me: July 2023

 My relationship to online life/social media (such as it is) has always been a bit fraught. I've enthusiastically spent hours posting and engaging with folks who share my interests and values and I've managed to develop some of those relationships into real friendships. At the same time I've found myself retreating from certain avenues of social media for my own sanity. Particularly during the peak of pandemic lockdown, I felt a longing for offline experiences and decided to disengage from some online spaces so I could refocus my priorities. The experience has mostly been a good one and the only reason I mention it here now is because I'm kind of back online in some places both old and new. I rejoined the smoking wreck that is twitter and somewhat more hopefully signed up on bluesky largely to promote this blog but also because that's where other film writers congregate. I feel like you shouldn't have to depend on social media to find and engage with current film criticism and analysis but I was truly missing some of the voices I appreciated when I was originally in the mix. 

So I'm back in some respects but I hope with a more balanced perspective. It's good to make your work accessible to people but it's also important to understand that the work is the work, not the social media persona. If you write you need to write, if you make art you need to make art, if you design you put your efforts into designing. Also, while it may not have the same reach as social media I think it's ultimately more rewarding to invest in and participate in your local scene of whatever it is that moves you. My impression is that the people I know with healthier attitudes around social media are also fully plugged into their local communities. The very earliest iteration of what was to become these best new-to-me lists was essentially my attempt to encourage people to go out and experience the amazing slice of film culture we have in this corner of the world. I'm still trying to do that and I hope I am in some way successful. 

Earlier this month I attended the Lumières Françaises and wrote a thing about it. I won't reiterate that here but I have broken out my other theatrical experiences below the at-home watches.

Best New-to-Me: July 2023

Heartbreakers (1984) - Kicking things off with yet another knockout release from Fun City Editions. There's a definite 70s European existentialism to this tale of male friendship and maturity but the delivery is pure 80s: Aerobics, Tangerine Dream, and not-exactly Patrick Nagel art abounds. Features some stunning LA location work shot by Michael Ballhaus right before he became Scorsese's go-to cinematographer. I've found myself increasingly fascinated by Peter Coyote, both as a performer and his unconventional road to acting. This is probably my favorite performance from Coyote that I've seen so far.

The Firm (1989) - I was relatively certain I'd seen The Firm before but either that's not the case or it was long enough ago that it felt fresh to me this time around. Furious examination and dissection of toxic masculinity from the always fascinating Alan Clarke by way of a scorching performance from Gary Oldman. Coming in at a lean 70 minutes in no way diminishes the impact which is like a wrench or a sledge to the temple. Absolutely astonishing that this was produced for broadcast television (which is something I think I say about every Clarke production).

Natural Enemies (1979) - I got the impression that Natural Enemies was one of the most enthusiastically received releases from FCE and it certainly garnered a lot of praise from various corners of the internet. Yet, it was actually because of the things people kept saying about it that I hesitated on checking it out. Luckily, my faith in what Jonathan Hertzberg is doing won me over and I finally snagged a copy. It's dark to be sure, and Hal Holbrook's Paul practically smolders with rage and despair, but there's a depth of humanity reflected back at him - not only from Louise Fletcher as his wife but from several of the other incidental characters he encounters on this fateful day. Paul's resistance to them and his resignation makes everything all the more tragic. The subject matter is likely the main hurdle to accessing Natural Enemies but anyone who is a fan of the period owes it to themselves to check this one out. It's a fascinating collection of talent (in front of and behind the camera) and features some tremendous location footage.

The Ernie Game (1968) - I can see how this could be an exasperating watch for some people. The character of Ernie (who does have some kind of undisclosed mental illness) is childish, self-absorbed, chaotic, and even abusive. The women in Ernie's life probably tolerate too much from him and I imagine some viewers will wonder how on earth they can continue to support or enable Ernie's meanderings. Still, I think both Donna and Gail are fascinating in their own right and they do draw boundaries for themselves unlike many of the compelling if frustrating female characterizations in films from the late 60s through the 70s. Character motivations aside, I was totally struck by the late 60s vibes, the sense of place (Montreal), and the focus on street life. I could watch these characters walk along snow covered streets or stumble upon informal Leonard Cohen performances all night. Canadian International Pictures has become one of my absolute favorite labels and the package for Ernie's Game is tremendous. It features several short films from Don Owen including a Leonard Cohen documentary from around this same time.  

Another Woman (1988) - Perhaps the most restrained Woody Allen film I've seen to date and that's a tremendous asset when you have a performance as powerful and nuanced as Gena Rowland's is. There's such a depth and emotional complexity that Rowland is able to portray and Allen was mature enough to give her the space to do it. The supporting cast is excellent as well and you get some killer stuff from Blythe Danner, Martha Plimpton, Sandy Dennis, Gene Hackman, and Ian Holm.

Metropolitan (1990) - I can't quite recall what drove me into the arms of Whit Stillman, but I found myself watching all three of his 90s films in July. I actually started with The Last Days of Disco and my favorite while watching it was Barcelona but I feel as though Metropolitan left the most lasting impression of the three. This isn't news to anyone who was paying attention to his films (I definitely was not motivated to see them in the 90s) but there's a real alchemy in taking these chatty, mannered, affluent twits and making likeable if not altogether relatable characters out of them. Stillman takes on young, frequently oblivious subjects and gives them enough outlandish statements, pop culture obsession, and occasional insight that you actually want to spend more time with them. His articulate asshole schtick doesn't change much between the films but I totally want to hang out with Chris Eigeman now.

The Dogs (1979) - I picked up both this and Shock Treatment from Severin's most recent sale making for a total of three Alain Jessua films for me this year (I wrote about Armageddon a few months back). Jessua's films are far from perfect but I've found them all really interesting in their own right. My understanding is that his films were popular so he had access to resources and high profile actors. In the case of The Dogs he was able to work with Gérard Depardieu in front of the camera and Étienne Becker behind it. Étienne Becker shot some fantastic looking movies and was the son of Jacques Becker - who besides being a favorite director of mine was one of Jessua's mentors when he was starting his film career. A French film critic mentioned on one of the special features that while Jessua didn't exactly work in science fiction he did work in a sort of adjacent reality to our own. That's such an apt description of The Dogs. There's nothing explicitly fantastic about it but it has such an alien feel to it - in part thanks to being shot in this quasi-brutalist looking Paris suburb. The community featured in the film is recognizable but operates at a heightened pitch of paranoia and there are some genuinely bizarre sequences like when the town meeting is disturbed by the arrival of more and more silent citizens with loudly barking dogs. Depardieu's Morel creates something akin to a cult or a secret society around the dogs which some of the characters become seduced by over the course of the film. I'm not sure the social satire fully coheres but it's still depressingly relevant today. Shock Treatment contains some similar themes exchanging clannish villagers trying to maintain a status quo for wealthy socialites trying to cling to their youth. Alain Delon plays the charismatic doctor who has masterminded the "treatments" he administers for outlandish sums of money. I think these actually make a solid double feature and would recommend all three of Jessua's 70s films if any of this intrigues you.

They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (1969) - Finally, finally caught up to this classic and it was every bit the brutal powerhouse I understood it to be. Sydney Pollack's direction palpably conveys the tense physicality of the dance marathon. The "derby" scenes are positively gut-wrenching. The ensemble is incredible. Fonda and York ably demonstrate that they won't be steamrolled or pigeonholed for the next decade. Still, it's Gig Young that absolutely knocked me out. He was recognized for the performance by the Academy but that doesn't convey how wonderfully dark and strange and occasionally touching it is. 

God's Country (1985) - I have Brian Sauer of the Pure Cinema Podcast to thank for this last addition to the at-home list. He mentioned it on their recent 80s Missing Pieces episode. I have a seemingly endless appetite for public television documentaries from around this period but how have I missed one from Louis Malle featuring a small town only a couple hours away from where I am now? It's difficult for me not to compare Malle's film to Middletown which I watched earlier this year or possibly some of Les Blank's films. Malle actually appears on camera occasionally which is different from those but he still offers a similar look at daily life in an environment both familiar to me and one that doesn't necessarily exist in the same way any longer. I was totally absorbed by the stories from the people he met and loved hearing their observations on everything from gardening to economics. Highly recommended if you are a fellow Midwesterner or grew up around farming.

Theatrical Screenings!

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023) - Caught this with the in-laws on Independence Day. It was entertaining enough though I can't help but feel like they should have used fewer animated effects and more real planes, trains, motorcycles, etc. Something about Indiana Jones cries out for the physical world. 

Cría cuervos… (1976) - It's Geraldine Chaplin's birthday as I write this (7/31) and it was an absolute joy to watch her in one of her many collaborations with Carlos Saura in a theater on 35mm film, no less. This is only my third Saura film having seen his entry into the quinqui genre Deprisa Deprisa and an earlier film he directed with Chaplin: Peppermint Frappe. Many of the reviews I read regarding Cria make it out to be this unrelentingly brutal depiction of childhood trauma but that wasn't my experience with it. The texture of the film is much richer than that and what makes it such an exceptional picture is how it weaves melancholy and trauma with moments of levity and humanity. I don't mean to say it won't be deeply affecting but it didn't psychically assault me or anything. Chaplin is entirely magnetic per usually and the haunted visage of Ana Torrent - a wide eyed witness to all manner of adult behavior - leaves an indelible impression. Also worth mentioning that Saura seems to have a real relationship with pop music in his films and Porque te vas? by Jeanette has been in heavy rotation after seeing this. 

Hard Ticket to Hawaii (1987) - Screened as part of the Genre Brain Melt series at Emagine Willow Creek. I dragged my poor buddy Stuart to this because that's the kind of pal I am. I'd seen it before but Andy Sidaris' epic of boobs, bazookas, and questionable snake puppets really needs to be seen with an audience for the complete experience. I had an absolute blast and Stuart hasn't yet blocked me on social media so I feel as though our relationship is intact. 

The Conformist (1970) - I first saw pieces of The Conformist in the absolutely essential documentary Visions of Light twenty odd years ago and was totally entranced by it. Since then, I've managed to see it a few times in varying states of quality and it's a film the reveals itself in different ways with each viewing. Seeing the 2022 restoration at The Trylon was definitely the best version I've ever watched and it's every bit as engrossing now as it was the first time. An unflinching portrait of fascist collaboration and a masterclass in cinematic language. Do not miss a chance to see it if you get one.

Past Lives (2023) - The praise for Celine Song's debut feature has been practically universal so I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I finally sat down for it. I found myself almost instantly charmed. The filming appears relatively low-key (though I wonder how it will look upon revisiting it) but the performances are so beautifully delivered, so delicately evocative. I couldn't take my eyes off of Greta Lee's largely subtle and occasionally expansive facial expressions and I loved that Song was willing to be patient and let the camera dwell on her. Past Lives is a great addition to the canon of New York movies as well. I'm sure the argument could be made that you could wait for streaming to catch this, but I'd say go snag a viewing if you still can. Take someone you like, go talk about it afterwards, you can thank me later.

Lumières Françaises 2023

 

Every year around Bastille Day the MSP Film Society hosts their Lumières Françaises Festival du Cinema - it's a showcase for French and francophone films focusing largely on newer releases with the occasional rep feature. I've caught a screening here and there during previous festivals but this year I wanted to make it out for a more significant chunk of the fest. Some of that is driven by my enthusiasm for what's going down at the Main Cinema these days but the film selections were also intriguing. I managed to catch five movies over the weekend and wanted to do some write ups for anyone interested. Most importantly, the festival is through July 19th, so if you're local to the Twin Cities you absolutely still have a chance to head out and get your French film fix. Whether you're interested in romance, zombies, or the greatest film of all time - there's something of interest for just about anyone this year.

Freestyle (2022) - I was very impressed with Marina Foïs' performance in The Beasts which I saw during MSPIFF back in April. I didn't have much other than that and a brief plot synopsis to go on but that was sufficient to get me to check out Freestyle. The feature debut of director Didier Barcelo has Foïs playing a woman suddenly and acutely possessed by a neurosis that keeps her from leaving her automobile. Stuck in a carpark after running out of gas, the situation gets more complicated when a thief (Benjamin Voisin) attempts to steal the car with Foïs still inside. The two initially struggle against each other but eventually become unlikely allies in a bizarre cross-country journey. Freestyle is frequently funny, touching, occasionally melancholy, and primarily a solid platform for Voisin and Foïs. Being trapped in a car for even 89 minutes is a personal nightmare, but the charm and chemistry between the two leads was enough to keep me invested even if things do start to meander a bit towards the end. Recommended for some solid character work and one of the best scenes of backseat psychoanalysis at gunpoint I've witnessed.

The Innocent (2022) - I wrote about The Innocent back in May when I picked it as one of my favorite new-to-me films of the month. I liked it well enough that I jumped at the chance to see it theatrically. It's become an impossibly easy recommendation to make to people due to its earnest, entertaining blend of heist and romantic comedy genre elements. It doesn't hurt that the soundtrack is overflowing with cool needle drops from a combination of movie soundtracks and 80s/90s europop. Louis Garrel and Noémie Merlant are excellent together and the supporting cast are terrific. Definitely catch this either in the theater (Stelvio Cipriani and Gianna Nannini jams via surround sound are where it's at!) or check it out on Criterion.

Scarlet (2022) - A lush, fable-like story set in post WWI France. Scarlet features some gorgeous compositions, stylistic flourishes, and what appears to be restored/colored footage from the period. Pretty pictures aside, I found Raphael Thierry's performance as a wounded vet returning from war only to learn that he's both a father and a widower to be worth the price of admission alone. It's hard not to make comparisons to Michel Simon and though the films are very different I couldn't help but be reminded a little of Panique. Juliette Jouan acquits herself well and I was happy to see more of Louis Garrel, but honestly missed Thierry's presence when he wasn't on the screen. I'm going to have to hunt down more of his work. The plot trajectory gets a bit murky in the final third or so but there's enough intrigue and magic to make Scarlet worthwhile if you can appreciate something closer to a fairy tale than a realistic drama.

La Syndacaliste (2022) - For fans of realistic dramas, La Syndicaliste is based on actual events. Isabelle Huppert stars as a hardnosed union rep for a nuclear power conglomerate in France. She discovers some clandestine dealings with China that could put the careers of her fellows in jeopardy and starts making waves. I don't want to give away too much of the plot as I truly found myself on a journey while watching this, unsure which way the film was headed. It's a bit of political intrigue, true crime procedural, and genre thriller. Huppert is naturally superb and she gets to share some screentime with Marina Foïs which I enjoyed tremendously. 

Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) - I'm certain that in a fit of hyperbole I've said something to the effect that I'd gladly watch Delphine Seyrig peel potatoes. Thanks to Chantal Akerman's most famous film, you can experience the joy of Seyrig preparing spuds, mixing meatloaf, and washing dishes along with a myriad of other daily rituals. I've seen Dielman before but never theatrically and I felt that amongst the other dedicated souls who turned up for an 11am screening that I must be among my people. It is a fascinating, engrossing, intimate, frustrating, and somehow still surprising work. I don't know that I could successfully watch it at home again so being forced to sit with it in the dark, with no pauses or smartphones available to me was a genuine treasure. It's not going to be for everyone but if you have an inkling to see it, I can't recommend it enough. I'm half tempted to take some time off of work to see it again on Wednesday.

Junesploitation/Best New-to-Me June 2023

 Last year I participated in my first Junesploitation - F This Movie's annual film challenge where they provide 30 prompts and we all do our level best to watch at least one movie per category. I had a great time with it so I didn't think long or hard before taking the dive again this year. I often travel in June which can complicate my Junesploitation schedule  (of course last year I made it out to Ex-Fest which was actually pretty helpful in knocking out some categories) but I still managed to watch 29 Junesploitation movies and hit all 30 categories. One of the great things about this particular viewing challenge is the openness in the attitudes of its participants. If you need to hop around the schedule or double up or don't have time to watch everything, it's no problem. As long as you're down to indulge your genre proclivities in some way during the month of June, you're invited. I know there's a lively community of commenters over on F This Movie! and I've done some social media posts for Junesploitation before, but I was really happy to have the Unsung Horrors discord server to blab about what I was watching and follow along with other participants. It's a cool community of movie fans (with interests much wider than horror) so you should definitely be listening to the podcast and then check out their other links.

Me being me, I watched a lot of non-Junesploitation movies in June as well so I think I'll break up this post into challenge related first time watches, other movies that really struck me in June, and then some notes on theatrical screenings I managed to catch. There's plenty to talk about!

Best of Junesploitation 2023

Gina (1975) A vitally potent blend of labor politics, pseudo-documentary, and genre elements set in a very specific time and place. Gina was a "free space" pick for me but would also work for the "revenge" category. It is a rape/revenge film which I realize is not going to work for everyone. Still, I don't think it feels particularly exploitative. Part of that is the storyline parallel to Gina's: an indie film crew trying to make a documentary on the textile workers in the small Canadian town in which it's set. Director Denys Arcand got his start as a documentarian and employs both his experiences and filmmaking techniques to this part of the film. Not only is this a smart way to manage a low budget, but it adds some gritty reality to the proceedings. I don't want to make this sound like a kitchen sink drama, though. Gina delivers the genre goods when it comes to Céline Lomez' dancing (choreographed by Les Ballets Jazz de Montréal founder Eva Von Gencsy), moments of intense violence, or the absolute crackerjack snowmobile chase towards the end of the film. Between this and La Gammick, Canadian International Pictures is becoming a favorite smaller blu ray label of mine and I'm very much here for more Quebecois crime classics!

Freedom (1981) - My choice for the "Teenagers" category this year. Who knew that I would become such a tv movie fan? It helps when you have absolute killers like Joseph Sargent and Barbara Turner behind the scenes and actors the quality of Mare Winningham and Jennifer Warren in front of the camera. Freedom isn't a particularly gritty take on teenage independence or the life of a carny - but it does feel genuine. Turner based the script on her actual experiences with her older daughter and Winningham and Warren really do seem to embody that familial friction so believably. Sargent doesn't do anything too flashy here, but he shoots a carnival midway just as ably as he does a Manhattan street scene. He also includes some nice handheld montages that give this a pseudo-documentary feel in a few sequences. I dragged my feet on Fun City Edition's first set of made for tv movies but have truly enjoyed them after picking it up. I'll be first in line for the new set!

The Last Run (1971) "Cars" can be a tricky category for me. To say I'm no gearhead is a vast understatement and while I love a good chase sequences, I'd just as soon see a bunch of disposable Fiats careening around then any kind of fancy sportscar. Still, there's no shortage of crime films that intersect with driving and The Last Run has been on my watchlist for ages. It's a fantastic slab of European set hardboiled crime action featuring George C. Scott at the height of his powers. Alan Sharp (Night Moves) wrote the script and he had such a gift for this brand of downer 70s neo-noir. There was a bit of behind the scenes hijinks on this film but Richard Fleischer eventually took the helm and delivers the goods very competently. The Last Run has been languishing in Warner Brothers dvd limbo for as long as I can remember and would make for an ideal blu ray upgrade. I almost hope someone else can take the reigns on this as WB tends to do barebones discs and I think there's some great bonus feature potential here. 

Take a Hard Ride (1975) - I had initially picked another movie for the "Fred Willimson" category but swerved towards this Antonion Margheriti western after it was recommended to me due to its dummy drop content! Presumably meant to capitalize on the success of the previous year's Three the Hard Way - Hard Ride transplants Jim Brown, Fred Williamson, and Jim Kelly into a fairly straightforward western tale of a man traveling with some money while everyone tries to take it from him. The plot doesn't break new ground, the details make for some wild viewing. Fred Williamson plays a fancy gambler who throws bags of snakes at people, Jim Kelly is a mute martial artist in a Billy Jack hat, Lee Van Cleef is essentially playing his usual role but teams up variously with corpse-robbing henchmen, religious war criminals, and a pack of mutinous bandits. It's not a profound film, but it's an incredibly entertaining one. Also, dummy drops!

For A Cop's Hide (1981) - Pour la peau d'un flic is not a "great" movie, but it was a fantastic surprise for me. It's the first of Alain Delon's directorial efforts during a period where he was only doing these hyper-masculine crime/action films. This was my "80s Action" pick and I assumed it would be something more along the lines of the Belmondo films from the same period (which I do like). Instead Cop's Hide is more in line with the shaggy, pulpy private eye stories that gained some traction in the 70s. Delon isn't well cast as the hard luck type but the film eventually sidesteps that characterization and he's able to play the kind of charming rogue he's better suited towards. There are twists galore as a missing persons case gives way to murder, crooked cops, conspiracies, drugs, and various unsavory activities. I was fully taken with the mystery though the version I watched had some synching issues with the subtitles. It's a great looking movie - shot by veteran Jacques Tournier - and the supporting cast is terrific. Anne Parillaud as Delon's secretary has to weather some generally shitty behavior and plays the dopey dame to an extent - but her screen presence is still there and she would go on to play some badass ladies (Nikita, for one). I'm curious to see her in Delon's other directorial effort, Le Battant. Brigitte Lahaie also turns up randomly as a nurse - though she never gets the chance to deliver any sinister injections!

The Bride Wore Black (1968) - I still need to shore up some major holes in my Nouvelle Vague filmography and was happy to finally catch up to Truffaut's genre flex for my actual "revenge" choice. Obviously a Hitchcock homage but also incredibly entertaining in its own right. I found Bride to be darkly funny and totally absorbing and I'm still thinking about the final gag. I confess that it has additional layers of interest for me due to the clear influence it had on other filmmakers. Wes Anderson and Quentin Tarantino are the most obvious examples though one would gladly tell you so with a wink and the other claims he'd never seen it (bleargh)

The Dion Brothers (1974) - My "Hicksploitation" choice had been languishing on my watchlist for a while and came heavily endorsed by Erica of Unsung Horrors so I decided to go for it. Unfortunately it also coincided with the recent passing of Frederic Forrest but what better way to celebrate his life than to dig into one of his great co-starring roles. Forrest is great in this along with the excellent Stacy Keach as two rural brothers telling the man to shove it and trying to make it as professional robbers. Crammed with awesome 70s actors, memorable dialogue, and some wild set pieces (shoot out in a building that's being demolished?) - this movie DEMANDS rediscovery, restoration, and re-release. The online copies look like deep fried shit, but you can still see the greatness. Somebody save this one!

Best of the Rest

Cisco Pike (1972) - Another long time watchlist denizen that turned up kind of randomly on YouTube. I've been having good luck with that lately and don't mind if it continues (though I would totally pick this up on blu-ray if I could). The cast for Cisco is the stuff of my 70s obsessed dreams - Kris Kristofferson, Karen Black, Gene Hackman, Harry Dean Stanton, Joy Bang, and others - but this isn't a movie about powerhouse performances. Even though Kristofferson's Cisco is tasked with selling 100 kilos of weed in a single weekend, there's not much urgency in the film. It's a naturalistic, hangout movie about a pack of losers doing what they think they have to and results in some wonderful scenes and moments. Maybe the ultimate 60s hangover movie and very much my kind of deal.

House Calls (1978) - I think it was ultimately my obsession with Art Carney's career in the 70s that led me to track down a dvd for House Calls and I'm so glad I did. This brand of sad/funny/charming love story propelled by amazing performances by Matthau and Glenda Jackson is so completely up my street and I absolutely loved it. Carney and Richard Benjamin are solid here as well but they're truly supporting characters. In an unfortunate theme of this month, I was saddened to hear of Glenda Jackson's passing. She positively lights up the screen in everything she did.

Middletown (1982) - I have not watched all six parts of this public television documentary series but the two I've watched were outstanding. Family Business focuses on a man and his family trying to make a Shakey's Pizza franchise successful. It's a rather striking portrait of people doing all the "right" things and still struggling to keep the lights on in the face of corporations and banks that don't value much of anything beyond the bottom line. My dad worked in pizza parlors like Shakey's in the 80s so it was a deeply nostalgic trip for me as well. Seventeen focuses on a group of high school students in their final year and has to be some of the rawest "coming of age" footage I've ever seen. The kids, though charismatic and kind of sweet, often come off as little sociopaths trying to understand the limits of their own agency. There is some deeply fraught racial context on display as well and some of the things said left me with my mouth hanging open. It was pulled from PBS before it aired for being too controversial and then went on to win the documentary Grand Jury Prize at Cannes a couple of years later. Essential stuff.

Little Murders (1971) - Hilariously nihilistic stage play adaptation that could only exist in those strange transition years between the 60s and 70s. While I find Elliot Gould's apathetic Alfred relatable, nobody is particularly admirable in this one and it goes really dark towards the end. While their characters are mostly terrible, everyone involved in the production is fantastic. Again, this was an unfortunate memorial watch for Alan Arkin who both directed this and makes a phenomenal appearance as a neurotic police detective. 

Theatrical Screenings!

New Jack City (1991) - I was able to catch a screening of this in NYC as part of the Tribeca Film Festival (a first for me) with a filmmakers Q&A. The film holds up beautifully and Mario Van Peebles is impossibly charismatic in person. Listening to Fab 5 Freddy and the RZA talk about 90s hip-hop has to be one of the raddest things to happen for me.

The Dragon Lives Again (1977) - Not only is this a Brucesploitation flick, but it also features low-rent, occasionally inexplicable knock-offs of the Godfather, Clint Eastwood, Zaitoichi, Caine from Kung-Fu, the One-Armed Swordsman, Dracula, Emanuelle(!), the Exorcist, James Bond, and even Popeye. Completely bonkers tale of a post-mortem Bruce Lee who enters the underworld only to get mixed up with this motely crew of weirdos and the horny king who rules over them. I'd definitely recommend seeing this with a crowd and (maybe more importantly) seeing a version with the original scope aspect ratio. By all accounts, the pan and scan bootlegs are horrendous. I was able to see the AGFA scan but there is a new Severin scan/restoration which will probably look even better.

Asteroid City (2023) - I'll probably have to sit with this another time before I have anything really substantive to say about it. I really did enjoy it though and I haven't been quite as enamored with Anderson's last couple films (which I still enjoyed so maybe I'm just a hopeless fanboy). While the puzzle box structure of Asteroid City may be the most convoluted in Anderson's filmography, it's noticeably less frantic and I think that's a good thing. 

The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) - I was able to catch a 16mm screening of this Harryhausen classic thanks to our local Cult Film Collective. If you're local to the Twin Cities, you love weird movies, and you're passionate about seeing films on actual film, you owe it to yourself to look the CFC up and become a member. Sinbad isn't my favorite Harryhausen but it has an absolute banger of a skeleton fight and how about that Star Wars chasm swing?

Best New-to-Me: May 2023

As far as my movie watching goes, May has been a month largely without a driving theme behind it. I didn't attend any film festivals and attended local series only erratically. I also didn't have any viewing challenges or personal projects I felt like I needed to work on (save for a single film essay that should see publication soon). I'm really okay with this as May is also sandwiched between the local international film festival and the 30 day genre indulgence of Junesploitation. Left to my own devices, I wound up traveling down familiar backstreets of crime flicks and 70s movies and 70s crime movies. I had some notable re-watches along those lines - The Yakuza, Straight Time, Miami Blues, Scarface, and Point Blank - and just watched a whole lot of stuff in my seemingly preferred era of 1968-1981. 

Hustling (1975) -  A Woefully underseen made-for-tv movie inspired by Gail Sheehy's reporting and subsequent book covering prostitution in New York.  Helmed by Joseph Sargent (The Taking of Pelham One, Two, Three), starring Lee Remick and Jill Clayburgh, and rounded out with some of my favorite East Coast actors of the period like Melanie Mayron, Alex Rocco, and Burt Young. I used to avoid television movies because I thought they suffered from conforming to network standards, and you could argue that Hustling is overly chaste for a film about sex work, but I can't help but be won over by some of these productions because the quality is so high. This is a "real" movie featuring a lot of talent in front of and behind the camera. I don't want to oversell Hustling as some prophetic piece of progressive, sex-positive activism but it does seem to come from an attempt at understanding rather than overgeneralization or condemnation - not bad for network tv.

Broadway Danny Rose (1984) - I was looking over some stills from Danny Rose in Jason Bailey's book "Fun City Cinema" and it occurred to me that I had never seen it. It's bursting with beautifully shot location work by Gordon Willis and I love the framing device of a bunch of old comedians recounting the story of  a old-school talent agent in a deli. Allen manages to nail the balance of melancholy and absurdity so well in this. Maybe not a film as expertly crafted as his best, but maybe a new favorite for me.

Gregory's Girl (1980) - Bill Forsyth's coming of age comedy has a reputation for being sweet and touching, and it is sweet and touching, but it also possesses a genuinely weird, bone-dry sense of humor. I found myself repeatedly laughing out loud and I watched this by myself. I thought all of the performances were incredibly charming and how do you not love a young Clare Grogan?

Valley of Love (2015) - Isabelle Huppert and Gérard Depardieu are my second and third most-watched actors this year so I suppose it was inevitable that I would seek out their second onscreen collaboration after being knocked out by Loulou. I love both as performers and I assumed watching them play somewhat fictionalized versions of themselves would be effortlessly entertaining for me in a pleasant if not especially profound way. Valley of Love turned out to be much weirder and formally precise than I expected. I was genuinely taken with it.

The Organizer (1963) - I'm not particularly well versed in Mario Monicelli's work. I enjoyed Big Deal on Madonna Street well enough and I liked An Average Little Man so well I wrote a longer form review of it on this site. I wanted to see more Monicelli's films and The Organizer seemed like the next logical step. It succeeds on a variety of levels - it's a glorious recreation of early 20th century Italy, it's a satirical if empathetic take on the labor movement, and it also bears some of the same jabs at neorealism that are in Madonna Street. I was totally caught up in it and found myself messaging people who I thought might appreciate it. Definitely a good one to fire up during the ongoing W.G.A. strike. 

All Night Long (1981) - This is a film that you could probably file under fascinating disasters - it's a collision of European sensibility, nods to classic screwball comedies, and some questionable casting choices. Somehow it all worked for me. Gene Hackman's character gets so angry after being passed over for promotion that he hurls a chair out of an office window and gets busted down to night manager at one of the company's pharmacy locations. Strange people and strange situations ensue but most of the action is centered around his burgeoning affair with his somewhat ditzy next door neighbor. Barbara Streisand is totally miscast as a suburban sexpot but she's still a star and she does have chemistry with Hackman. Maybe more of an oddity, but one I'm glad to have caught up to.

Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970) - Frank and Elanor Perry's scathing indictment of NYC socialites and patriarchal structures in general has been a long time watchlist denizen of mine. The men in this movie are beyond awful and (being perfectly honest) Carrie Snodgress' Tina isn't altogether admirable herself. If you can withstand the deplorable characters, you'll be rewarded with a chaotic, surreal, and biting portrait of the Upper East Side. This is another film that I was nudged to watch by Jason Bailey's book.

On the Yard (1978) - I have long been an enthusiastic evangelist of Joan Micklin Silver's work, but it wasn't until picking up the two film set from Cohen Media that I've had a chance to see anything directed by her husband, Raphael D. Silver. Normally a producer on Joan's films, the couple switched roles for On the Yard, a prison drama featuring John Heard after he was featured in Between the Lines but before starring in Chilly Scenes of Winter. Yard is neither as explicit or exploitative as some of my favorite prison films, but it's very well acted and provides a compelling mix of personalities to invest in. I'm not sure how believable a film like this is for an audience that have been exposed to some truly gnarly prison narratives but it's well worth seeking out for fans of low key dramas from the era.

The Champagne Murders (1967) - My lone Chabrol for the month (I want to grab those box sets at some point) and while the results are somewhat mixed I still found it totally worthwhile. t's clearly an attempt at a commercial thriller but it bears many trappings of an arthouse social satire. Chabrol is fascinated with the lives of these wealthy socialites but there's also a totally naked level of contempt for pretty much everyone in the film. It probably could have done with more murders and less champagne but it helps that the film is gorgeous and filled with performers that I love.

Hustle (1975) - It wasn't intentional that I watched Hustling and Hustle this month, both released in 1975 which was also the year "Do the Hustle" hit number one on the Billboard charts. Hustle definitely wants to be a downer, social satire neo-noir but there are moments that feel more like an especially gnarly episode of Dragnet. Still, this is the kind of sad, shaggy crime story that I favor even if the execution feels awkward. The cast is unreal - Reynolds and Deneuve don't light the screen on fire but they're movie stars all the same. Paul Winfield is great, Ben Johnson and Eileen Brennan just off The Last Picture Show, old pros like Ernest Borgnine and Eddie Albert, and then a slew of appearances from folks who were not yet famous: Fred Ward, Catherine Bach, and Robert Englund. I'd be remiss not to mention cult/adult film legend Colleen Brennan who doesn't get much to say, but her presence haunts the film throughout.

Buffet Froid (1979) - Shot largely in the La Defense region of Paris, Buffet Froid's stark, modern locations and austere lighting feel like the first rumblings of the coming cinema du look. However, where Carax and Besson found surreal romanticism, Blier conveys extreme absurdity and alienation. The entire cast manages the complex tone of the film rather admirably - maintaining deadpan reactions to ridiculous circumstances and horrible violence until their particular neuroses are pushed past their ability to contain themselves any further. Beautifully composed, darkly funny, and some fun performances from actors I already love.

The Innocent (2022) - A new movie! Louis Garrel's latest dropped on the Criterion Channel in May so I decided to check it out. I think it's only fair to warn potential viewers that The Innocent is essentially a romantic comedy so if you can't stand the thought of that, it may not land. However, it manages to balance that with some heartfelt dramatic moments and a totally engaging crime/heist story. At this point, I think I'd watch Noémie Merlant doing anything for 90 minutes and that certainly doesn't hurt. There is some fantastic use of music - both 80s Europop hits and several classic Stelvio Cipriani tunes including his killer theme from What Have They Done to Your Daughters.

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) - I've wanted to watch Goodbar for years but wasn't sure where I could find it. I believe it's one of many excellent films being kept off of physical media due to music rights. Turns out a person can find it on YouTube of all places if they are willing to poke around a bit. I can understand the impression that this is a film about scolding women who enjoy sex - but I understood it more as an indictment of patriarchal society crashing headlong into the sexual liberation movement. Theresa doesn't have the tools to establish boundaries or self-worth in part because her father was a domineering shithead and the men she encounters all take their various identity crises out on her. It's as though consent or respect haven't yet entered the dialogue. The music is terrific and I love the location work - the finale is nothing short of horrifying.

Sharky's Machine (1981) - More Burt! Sharky definitely feels like it could use a 20 to 30 minute trim of its two hour runtime, but there's a deeply satisfying hardboiled crime movie lurking in there. It's stylish, mean, and pretty wild. I don't know if this is my favorite Henry Silva performance but it's a gloriously unchained one. I think Burt was trying to emulate Eastwood but some of this lands in Umberto Lenzi territory.