Best New-to-Me: February 2024

 The shortest month of the year is in the books and I feel like I'm chugging along fairly well in the movie-watching department. Lots of screenings, some solid physical media pick-ups, and plenty I'm curious about for the near future. I've been impressed with the enthusiasm around both screenings locally and boutique label releases. It feels very much that despite the apocalyptic things being written about the death of the movies not too long ago, there's a real vital interest around quality cinema. Quality is virtually impossible to define but for purposes of this blog we'll say that it appears that people are turning out for art films, rep. screenings, and independent works. I was just at a nearly sold out screening yesterday at 11am for a 50 year old Italian film that almost none of us had seen before. Further down in this column, I'll mention the fully sold out screening of Daisies I went to on a Friday night. Movie fans will always be subject in some ways to the whims of massive, frequently idiotic media conglomerates but at least locally it seems if you give folks something worth seeing, they will show up for it.

We Still Kill the Old Way (1967) - Solid mystery/conspiracy thriller that I thought was going to be more of a crime film. Regardless, I found my self drawn in fairly early by a genuinely compelling plot bolstered by solid performances from Gian Maria Volonte and Irene Papas. I did find my attention failing me at some point but for whatever reason, I often struggle to settle in with Petri's films. Still well worth seeking out and I hope to revisit on a less crap-tacular scan one of these days.

French Postcards (1979) - Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz undoubtedly had a strange trajectory in the film industry. Starting with the utterly beguiling Messiah of Evil and ending roughly with the largely maligned Howard the Duck - somewhere in the middle they had several wildly successful collaborations with George Lucas and also made French Postcards. Released in '79 and loosely based on Huyck's and Katz' own experiences traveling and studying in Europe (though not a nostalgia piece) - French Postcards is adjacent to what I recognize as a sex comedy but perhaps better defined as a coming of age ensemble film? Its multiple characters and diverging storylines don't flow elegantly, but I found everyone so damned charming that I didn't mind a bit. It's very sweet but not cloyingly so and it's occasionally very silly, nearly absurdist. There's a somewhat inexplicable scene where they are all putting on a play (never previously mentioned in the film) and I found myself actually rolling it was so weird.  The young actors account well for themselves and remain believably natural even when things get goofy. It's also shot virtually all on location in Paris in the 70s which doesn't hurt a bit. I can see a people writing this off as slight (and they could be right) but I'd say it's well worth your time if 70s-80s funny/sweet/sad ensemble pieces with some European influences speak to you.

El Crack (1981) - Solid, frequently sentimental spin on a film noir detective story. I enjoyed this and I thought Alfredo Landa's performance was particularly excellent. There's a kind of domestic melodrama story that probably does deliver the emotional underpinning for the heavier stuff, but I did find myself disengaging. The mystery is no surprise for any fan of the genre but there are a few violent jolts that sucked me back in. I wish this was boiled a little harder but I'm still glad I managed to check it out. The opening sequence (arguably my favorite scene) was clearly influential on a certain 90s crime classic.

Cops vs. Thugs (1975) - An excellent distillation of Kinji Fukasaku's crime oeuvre - corruption, honor codes, historical precedent, and institutional pessimism set against a compelling noir yarn. Cops vs. Thugs is in many ways a precursor to heroic bloodshed and a variety of American gangster pictures but it keeps things fully grounded in a believably gritty setting. There are some striking moments of violence and action but without the operatic excess of many films exploring similar themes. Fukasaku's crime world feels very lived in to me and not romanticized one bit.

Yokohama BJ Blues (1981) -  I can probably just go ahead and say that this was my favorite discovery of the month and it will undoubtedly make my end-of-year list. Truly impressive Japanese spin on the shaggy dog detective story that feels very much in conversation with 70s downer, hangout reinvention of the private dick genre. A double bill with something like The Long Goodbye would make perfect sense to me. Unlike those 70s classics, Yokohama has a visual appeal not dissimilar to the hyper-cool 80s noirs that were also beginning to make their ascent.  In contrast to nearly all of its predecessors and contemporaries,  Yokohama BJ Blues takes a pronounced  interest in gay characters. Some of this queer text seems rooted in traditionally iffy pulp fiction tropes but some of it is incredibly tender and ambiguous in a really lovely way. Yokohama lends itself beautifully as a film noir setting and while I'll never stop loving New York or Paris, it's always cool to see a city you haven't watched 100s of times before.  Yusaku Matsuda's BJ is a musician in addition to being a private eye and I thought the musical elements were integrated well and certainly gave him something interesting to work with outside of his typically tough characters.  I'd love to see a nice physical edition of this and I'm dying to know more about where it came from and how it fits into the bigger picture of Japanese crime films. 

Violent Streets (1974) - Propulsive, kinetic, entertaining milieu of nightclubs, city streets, sex, and violence. The action leans into cartoonish excess at times and the plot gets convoluted to the point that I didn't always understand who was working for who and for what reasons. However, the important thing for Violent Streets is that it's cinematic as hell. Absolutely stunning action set pieces set everywhere from a chicken coop to a black tie gala. I'd love to know more about Madame Joy who only had a couple of screen credits to her name but manages some chilling Meiko Kaji vibes while operating under your standard "cross-dressing psychopath" character type. Noboru Ando and Bunta Sugawara are predictably excellent in this as well. Hideo Gosha is an undisputed master of samurai film but this makes me wish he had done more modern films.

Police (1985) - Cerebral, claustrophobic at times, and ultimately pessimistic. Police is certainly rooted in a realistic police/criminal milieu but being a Maurice Pialat movie, it's driven largely by conversation and performance. It's wonderfully written and the cast is excellent, it's possibly my favorite Sophie Marceau performance. While it's always nice to see Sandrine Bonnaire, I do wish she had been given something featuring more of the emotional texture the other actors are exploring. The other Pialat films I've seen work their way to this emotional explosivity and Police instead feels far more resigned. Depardieu is both incredible and disturbing as his character's casual (creepily affable) misogyny appears to mirror his own. It doesn't make him less compelling but adds some grossness to everything. Police is very plotty and chatty so I would not go into this after a long day unless your French comprehension is better than mine.  I'm glad I picked up a copy as I think I'll revisit this with a fresher mind and my expectations leveled.

The Game Trilogy - After watching Yokohama BJ Blues I felt compelled to finally check out Matsuda's collaboration with Toru Murakawa that truly made their careers early on. I picked up the set from Arrow and watched them back to back so it's easier for me to discuss them all in the same entry. I was curious about these films when they were first released on disc but I kept reading that Matsuda's character is so despicable - especially towards women - that it's hard to engage with the narrative. I find the way that Japanese entertainment handles sexual violence really difficult sometimes and it is enough to put me off of something. However, and this is no way an attempt to hand wave anything away, when I finally watched The Most Dangerous Game the most obviously objectionable scene wasn't nearly as exploitative or brutal as I've seen in many other Japanese films and honestly in hardboiled cinema across the globe. I think context is useful here and while Matsuda's characterization of the assassin Narumi did become a symbol for masculine coolness at the time - I don't find his character to be very cool at all. He is objectively terrible at life - degenerate gambler, lives in (under?) a bowling alley, has a goofy bumpkin quality to him (as evidenced by some clothing choices), and is largely incapable of maintaining human relationships. This is what makes him interesting (even if he is repellent) as he is also objectively amazing as a hitman. Delon's Jef Costello was unattached ostensibly due to a kind of zen discipline he approached his work with, Matsuda's Narumi is unattached because he's a disaster of a human being - unless he has a gun in his hands.

Aside from all of this, Murakawa delivers some satisfyingly tough, stylish crime pictures. There's some outstanding location work and a electric, hand-held feel to many of the sequences. He worked with one of my favorites, Yuji Ohno, for a lively 70s jazz/funk score. The first film is probably my favorite of the three but The Execution Game is also tremendously realized. The screenwriter deliberately took inspiration from Le Samourai and the result feels much more Melville-ian than the previous entries. It's extremely cool but I do find myself longing for the grit and rangy weirdness of the first film. The Killing Game is the weakest entry for me, injecting the film with some broader comedy just wasn't a welcome addition. 

Theatrical Screenings!

Chronicles of a Wandering Saint (2023) - This was a sweet movie and I think it definitely has an audience. I am just not part of that audience. Even at a lean 84 minutes I was ready for this to wrap.

American Fiction (2023) -  The movie is largely about how Black stories are forced to pander to white audiences and it was hard to sit in a mostly white (affluent, NPR, artsy) crowd and not feel that we were, in fact, being pandered to. This has such a great cast and honestly the characters are compelling in their own right. I only wished I was spending time with them in a movie I liked better. 

Past Lives (2023) - A rewatch for me and still one of my favorites from last year. The performances are still totally charming, the music is perfection, and the 35mm photography remains gorgeous. I was able to think a lot more about the shot choice and the framing of people in space as their physical and emotional closeness expand and contract throughout the film.

Cemetery Man (1994) - There's no coherent, impartial review I can give to a film like Cemetery Man. I watched it probably dozens of times on tape in my teens and 20s and I believe I pre-ordered the dvd when Anchor Bay put it out. I'm very glad that it's been restored and re-released and that it's much more widely available again. I went to see it theatrically for (I think) the first time and mostly enjoyed it (the experience was unfortunately marred by a technical glitch early on) but also wondered if maybe I've put in my time with this one already. It's still wonderfully insane and I would recommend it to anyone interested. Personally, this might be more of an occasional 5-10 year revisit.

May December (2023) - Another rewatch that my wife wanted to catch up to. I'd say this rewards revisiting. The tone is managed masterfully and I was able to check in much more fully with Charles Melton's performance this time around. I will remain a Michel Legrande musical stab super-fan forever.

Bye Bye Tiberias (2023) - There are some extremely moving, intimate, beautiful sequences in this documentary about a family and both forced and chosen Palestinian diaspora. I wouldn't say it's the strongest documentary on a strictly formal basis but I was certainly affected by it.

Daisies (1966) - Seeing this with a sold out, boisterous crowd on a Friday night was maybe the best way to experience the madcap antics that make up its 76 minute runtime. Such a treat to see it on 35mm as well. This screening was adjacent to an exhibition on avant-garde art in Eastern Bloc nations from the 60s to the 80s. I'd visited the art show a couple of times which gave some nice context as I'm not particularly well versed in Czech New Wave cinema.

2024 Oscar Nominated Animated Short Films - Animation - My wife and I have been going to the animated shorts program nearly every year we've been able to for over a decade. The quality is always variable but I generally come away with one or two really memorable films whether they were actually nominated or just part of their "highly commended" segment. This year I thought the nominees were fine to offensively bad. However, I thought one of the commended choices, Wild Summon, was absolutely wonderful. Weird with a strong message and one to look out for if it shows up on Vimeo or something out there.

The Prisoner (1955) - This was a member screening for the Cult Film Collective on a super rare 16mm print. Strong performances from Alec Guinness and Jack Hawkins do a lot to elevate material that might have been better suited to a 60 minute teleplay rather than a feature. Glad to have been given a chance to see it in such unique circumstances, though.

La Chimera - This is one of the last 2023 movies that I've just been dying to catch. I'm certainly a Rohrwacher fan and I thought the set up for Chimera sounded intriguing. There's a lot to admire here and certainly some themes to mull over and perhaps revisit. It's a lovely looking film, the characters are fun and charismatic, and this delivers some Rohrwach-ian fantasy elements as well. What I keep thinking about and the thing that ultimately won me over the most on my first viewing is how playfully this is rendered. There's some genuine silliness and anarchy that reminded me in parts of French New Wave, other parts Fellini, and even Emir Kusturica at times. The sold out crowd I attended with was largely inert but I found this a quite funny movie though it does find itself in more thoughtful and melancholic territory towards the finale. Notably, this was the opening film of the local Italian Film Festival and the organizers hosted an aperitivo beforehand. Cinema aperitivo should be a thing. I'd take small plates and a couple glasses of wine before a movie over a collectible popcorn tub any day.

The French Had a Name For It – Top 5 Underseen French Crime Flicks

 Minneapolis' own Cult Film Collective recently released a zine of "top 5" lists contributed by its membership. The zine is only being distributed to members but I decided to reproduce my list here on the blog. The whole zine was a great read and hopefully we'll be able to do another one next year. If you're in the Twin Cities area, you should definitely be checking out the CFC and consider joining!

You can also check out some of the upcoming screenings being promoted by the CFC over at :   https://www.trylon.org/films/category/cult-film-collective/

Crime films and especially French crime films have always been part of my regular viewing but shortly after becoming a Cult Film Collective member, I started delving more deeply into the genre. This kind of noir cinema has a dedicated and passionate following and my pursuit led me to discover some fantastic programming work in theaters from San Francisco to Melbourne. Whether the following are truly "cult" films is probably a matter of debate, but they are some of my favorite underseen gems I've logged since the joining the CFC.

Witness in the City (1959)

A suspenseful, well composed cat-and-mouse game through Parisian nightlife. Henri Decaë shows off his total mastery of street footage and driving sequences, Barney Wilen's jazz score adds an additional layer of cool to everything, and Lino Ventura is as watchable as ever as the film's protagonist who also happens to be the bad guy.

Symphony for a Massacre (1963)

Genre banger from Jacques Deray that's heavy on cool 60s vibes and location work. There's not a deep mystery at the heart of Symphony but the suspense is exquisite through multiple dialogue free sequences that allow space for actions and motivations of the various players to unfurl.

Last Known Address (1970)

Lino Ventura and Marlène Jobert team up as an unlikely pair of crime solvers who scour Paris to find the missing witness in an organized crime trial. There's a degree of 70s cynicism at play here but the focus on the city as a character, shoe leather detective work, and the chemistry between Ventura and Jobert distinguish Address from the rouge-cop films that were gaining ascendency at the time.

The Cop (1970)

In contrast to Address, The Cop is entirely in the tradition of morally ambiguous, pessimistic, anti-authoritarian crime fiction and does it as well or better than many films that would follow. Unrelentingly hardboiled, gritty French crime from Yves Boisset with a cast so stacked that somehow Bernard Fresson doesn't even make the poster.

Police Python 357 (1976)

Police Python 357 takes the plot outline from The Big Clock, mashes it together with Magnum Force, and infuses the result with a powerful dose of Melvilleian honor code sensibility. The beginning simmers but the finale is an eruption of insanity. Yves Montand fully commits to the action hero role, but not without some internal torment and it's a joy to watch.

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Best New-to-Me - January 2024

 Hello and welcome to the first post of 2024 actually about things I watched in 2024. I'm not big on resolutions and I haven't exactly made any regarding film, but I have been watching a fair amount of movies and trying to tackle some big gaps in my personal filmography. I did make a private "Criterion Challenge" list for myself to try and knock out some of those movies we're all supposed to have seen by now. I'm historically abysmal at this kind of thing but I'm hoping that my stubborn ass can handle one viewing a week dedicated to watching some of the best regarded films of all time. We shall see.

I've been reading Rui Nogueira's Melville on Melville which is a book-length interview with Jean-Pierre Melville written in a similar framework to Hitchcock/Truffaut. If you are a Melville fan, there's a lot to enjoy. Melville comes off as funny and highly opinionated and seems happy to discuss his films while not holding them up as overly precious. He was frequently looking towards the next film and the next project. One thing Melville mentions in his introduction is that he considered himself one of the last living witnesses of pre-war American cinema and that no one will be left who can truly assess those films in context once he is gone. Melville says " The film which was released in April 1934 - between March 1934 and May 1934 - isn't at all the same thing when you see it now some afternoon or evening at the Cinematheque." He goes on to describe his own films similarly. This is, of course, somewhat ironic to me as many people and critics failed to appreciate Melville's films when he was still alive and Nogueira's purpose in conducting the interview was to document and elevate Melville's work for an international audience. Still, it did get me thinking on seeing films in context and why I still find it personally important to get out to the theater for new releases. I'm a film dork so I'll forever believe in finding underseen, underappreciated gems of past years and will always love and appreciate the work repertory theaters and programmers are doing, but there's still something I find compelling about getting out to the new movies and especially at the theater with an audience. Part of it is continuing to believe that great movies are being released every year and there's also a sense of conversation with the films and the audience I don't get watching movies at home. It's something I really, truly missed when the cinemas shut down and I'm still thinking about it now. 

Le Havre (2011) - I've been meaning to watch Le Havre pretty much ever since reading about when it came out and just never found the moment until now. I was partly inspired by having seen Aki Kaurismäki's Fallen Leaves (more on that below) and also because I was having an epically shitty day. Le Havre turned out to be a truly potent remedy for my dark mood blending stylistic turns from classic Hollywood and Cinema du Look with Kaurismäki's class conscious humanism. I found it totally engrossing and only wished I could recognize more of the societal solidarity of Le Havre in my own life.

Growing Up on Broadway (1984) - My wife turned me onto this educational short about menstruation featuring kids who were in the Broadway production of Annie. It's a wild time capsule, the kids are terrific, it is VERY clearly sponsored by a feminine hygiene product company. I've since shared it with a few people and you too may be the kind of viewer who finds this weird and charming. Either way, it's on youtube and only 17 minutes long.

Pasha (1968) - Late last year, I finally bit the bullet picking up some French blu-rays that I believed were English language friendly and region agnostic. I wouldn't recommend it for a single purchase, but it went rather well for me to pick up a handful of films. One of the main drivers to go through this was to finally see Georges Lautner's Pasha starring Jean Gabin. A lot of Pasha is a re-tread of world weary Gabin trying to maintain his code of honor while society indulges in cowardice and decadence. He grimaces disapprovingly at everyone from hardened criminals to his wayward colleagues on the police force and scenes like the "Les Hippies" nightclub sequence are clearly objects of derision. At the same time the consistently pulsing Gainsbourg soundtrack and some of the more lavishly styled mod settings betray Lautner's obvious enthusiasm for the fashion of the times. Late-career Gabin might be a victim of his own inertia but there are still some ferocious sequences of action and violence that propel Pasha along its brisk 85 minute runtime. Interestingly, Pasha's frank police violence was a subject for possible censorship from the French government and along with Un Conde provides a template for the gritty cop movies American's largely see as kicking off some years later. I've never seen it confirmed that these European films were a direct influence on Friedkin, but I feel like it is a distinct possibility.

Katherine (1975) - Made for television joint with a terrific cast (Sissy Spacek, Art Carney, Henry Winkler, Julie Cavener, etc.) directed by Jeremy Kagan (The Big Fix). The style is unconventional mixing "interviews" with principal characters, flashbacks, image collage, and interstitial scenes of Spacek's Katherine addressing the audience directly. It's a compelling story loosely based on the actual life events of Diana Oughton who became increasingly radicalized until her death in an accidental bomb explosion. I don't think the film necessarily approves of political violence but it does paint a sympathetic portrait of leftist ideologies and the societal injustices that inspired them. I think this could make for a terrific physical media release (maybe along with some other Kagan films) but I have to imagine the music rights alone (heavy with 60s hits) would make it challenging.

Underground (1995) - I was mildly obsessed with Emir Kusturica's Black Cat, White Cat in the 90s and I can't recall if I never got around to watching Underground or I tried and failed to get into it or it just fled my memory over the years. However it went down, this was essentially a first time watch. I know probably less than I should about the politics and history of former Yugoslavia and yet that's never really prevented me from being immersed in Kusturica's visionary chaos. The music and the visual richness is something I associate with all of his work, but the satire seems distinctly more pointed here. I would absolutely love to see this theatrically one day and someone really ought to program a retrospective Kusturica series. Just putting that out there programmers, you don't even need to credit me.

Local Hero (1983) - Another long time watchlist denizen finally attended to. I wasn't ready to purchase a copy of Bill Forsyth's (arguably) best regarded film and yet it's availability online or via my local library has been a little erratic. I'm actually glad for the delay as I've dipped my toes into less heralded portions of Forsyth's filmography which both grounded my expectations and attuned me to his particular brand of quirk. Forsyth doesn't make bombastic, laugh out loud comedies and somehow I invariably burst into laughter at some dryly observed piece of absurdity in each of his films. Local Hero may in fact be the best one I've seen so far. It's silly, it's gorgeous, and it's wonderfully performed (it's hard for me not to be enthusiastic about this cast but they're particularly good). The socio-economics of billion dollar fossil fuel companies trying to buy up coastline and the local enthusiasm for those corporate dollars isn't what I would call rigorously interrogated in the film but there's such strong streams of both melancholy and wonder that I think Local Hero gets it mostly right on an emotional level. Now I probably am ready to buy a copy.

Payday (1973) - Here's another one that's been on my radar for a while I was finally, finally shoved off the ledge hearing Brian Sauer sing its praises on Jason Bailey's and Mike Hull's A Very Good Year podcast. Maybe it was the country western music context that held me at arm's length for so long and it's definitely not widely available but hol-ee shit do I wish I had gotten around to this one sooner. Absolute killer 70s bummer country outlaw banger with Rip Torn playing the scumbag as only he could play it. It's truly a gorgeous looking film for all of its ugliness (directed by Daryl Duke of The Silent Partner) and the music is incredible. This is fully screaming for a good physical media release and there are plenty of boutique labels that could do it justice. Take my damn money already.

The Counterfeiters of Paris (1961) - Another of the import discs I picked up, this is a total charmer of a caper comedy with some of my favorite faces of French cinema. It's not incredibly inventive but there are some sequences of almost lyrical beauty that are overachieving for the material. Louis Page (Any Number Can Win) handles the camera duties here and Gilles Grangier elected to shoot a combination of excellent locations in addition to some gorgeous sets - particularly the labyrinthine townhome occupied by Bernard Blier's character. Combine this with some Michel Legrand music and some engrossing counterfeiting sequences and you have the makings of a new favorite comfort watch for me. I know Kino is releasing a different Grangier/Gabin collaboration so I'm looking forward to picking that up and hope that more are on the way.

Shadows in an Empty Room (1976) - I've been dragging my feet on this one for ages but I wanted to try to fit something in for Giallo January. Shadows' giallo bona fides might be questionable but that's fine as I actually prefer when it leans into hardboiled cop action. On that count it's positively ferocious with doors getting smashed in, fist fights, foot chases, and an unhinged car chase set piece that ranks up with some of the best. Extra points for shooting down a helicopter with a revolver and threatening an infant with a switchblade.

The Spirit of the Beehive (1973) - It's difficult for me to write anything terribly sensible about some of these pillars of arthouse cinema that I'm only now getting around to. Beehive is positively stunning and it's inconceivable that this was Erice's debut feature. I was so totally blown away by Ana Torrent's presence and performance in Carlos Sauros' Cria! and here is an even tinier Ana every bit as magnetic as any child actor you're likely to see. I can't say that I fully appreciate the political context around Beehive but I do feel like this captures the absolute horror of childhood so beautifully that I think relating to the film was easy for me. Can I add this to my list of favorite Frankenstein films? I hope so.

Nightcap (2000) - I picked up the Twisting the Knife set from Arrow to continue on my Claude Chabrol journey I embarked on last year. I think Nightcap (I really do prefer the original title, Merci pour le Chocolat) was my favorite of the four but they are kind of a whole in my mind. Nightcap features another perfectly chilling Isabelle Huppert performance as a wealthy chocolatier who's relationship to her pianist husband and unmoored stepson is tinged with typical Chabrol-ian darkness. The four films in the set (The Swindle, The Color of Lies., Nightcap, and The Flower of Evil) are all preoccupied with wealth, ambiguous familial relationships (with suggestions of incest), old secrets, cycles of history, and death. At this point, I find them all compulsively watchable and the Arrow sets are filled with great features and discussion of Chabrol's work and themes. I'm also finding myself weirdly nostalgic for the period in which these films were made - the late 90s into the early 2000s. It looks a lot like the world does now, just without smartphones or the internet permeating every interaction people have. I'm probably just getting old but still...

The Breach (1970) - Many of the contributors to the Knife set referenced The Breach as well as the other Hélène films and I was actually able to find a copy of this one. I can understand why a lot of people site this as a favorite amongst the Chabrol thrillers. The opening is rather startling and while it simmers for a good hour it eventually erupts into a wild, chaotic finale. Unlike a lot of his more mannered works, the sex and violence and corruption happens on the screen instead of merely referenced. I have grown to appreciate Chabrol's exercises in ambiguity but The Breach delivers in a much more tangible sense. This didn't connect with me right away but has kind of grown in my estimation the more I think about it and the more I think about how it relates to his other films. The copy I saw did not look terrific and there really needs to be a restoration and re-releasing of his films from 1968-1978. I'll be the first in line to buy that box set.

True Confessions (1981) - Adapted from John Gregory Dunne's novel by Dunne and Joan Didion and directed by Ulu Grosbard (with Owen Roizman as cinemtographer, so the same team as Straight Time), True Confessions is a tremendous if somewhat understated LA noir that seems to be overlooked or forgotten. Loosely based on the Black Dahlia Murder, Confessions is filled with all the hardboiled favorites: murder, prostitution, porn, abortion, crooked cops, even worse politicians, and offers the added wrinkle of the LA Archdiocese. I think Duvall and De Niro are both excellent and while there's not much physical resemblance, they do play their brotherly connection convincingly. It's often contentious but it's believably tender at times. The rest of the cast is overflowing with faces I like to see: Charles Durning, Burgess Meredith, Kenneth McMillan and even some small parts for Dan Hadeya and James Wong. The lack of operatic violence would have put me off of this one when I was younger and story doesn't wrap up particularly neatly. Still, I see this as nearly Chandler-ian and it didn't keep me from being drawn in. Hard recommend if you go in for this kind of thing but it might not win over the casual crime film viewer.

Theatrical Screenings!

Winter Kills (1979) - Kicking off the new year with this supremely nutso sort-of spoof that never quite lives up to the promise of its totally bananas cast. The tone feels all over the place and despite the short runtime, the narrative manages to ramble a fair amount. For all of its faults, I have to say I was consistently entertained throughout - it's outrageous enough and so stacked with people I love to see that it would be hard not to engage with it. Looking at the production history of Winter Kills, it's clear that this thing was going off the rails from jump and it's impressive they even managed to get a complete film finished. Who Killed Winter Kills is totally worthwhile to look up if you've seen the film. We got to watch the fancy new Tarantino-driven 35mm print thanks to the fine folks of the Cult Film Collective.

Fallen Leaves (2023) - Not outrageously inventive nor does it depart significantly from Kaurismäki's other work but it's so excellently done that I didn't mind a bit. The setting for Leaves is ostensibly Helsinki around 2021 or so but it's also filled with anachronistic touches that place it almost within an alternate reality or something. I could see myself revisiting this to tease out more of those threads. It's also incredibly sweet, melancholy, filled with movie posters I'd love to own, and Maustetytöt (featured prominently in a terrific narrative breaking section) has gone into steady rotation at Kino Ventura central.

The Zone of Interest (2023) - I can see how some might be put off by Glazer's remove but I still appreciate his approach to attempting to document something about an atrocity that's nearly incomprehensible in its immensity. What can you say or show in a film that even approaches the enormity of evil of the Holocaust? I'm not even sure how to write about this film other than to say Glazer's craft is exceptional and I wish he would make more movies.

The next few movies are all things I've seen so far as part of the Film Independent Spirit Awards screenings at the Walker Art Center. They do these screenings every year and they are free to Walker members, Film North members, and Film Independent members. The screenings only occur in Minneapolis and Los Angeles so if you live in the Twin Cities, I can't encourage you enough to take advantage of them. If you became a Walker member and only used it to go to the screenings, I think that would still be a great deal.

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt (2023) - This is the debut feature of Raven Jackson, known for her photography and poetry, and it feels very much like a film made by a poet. Evocation of fragmented sense memory, the fluidity of time, the specificity and incompleteness of our recollection all feature prominently. It is very lyrical in its execution and beautiful as well. I think how audiences connect with it is going to be highly subjective - there isn't much traditional narrative or character study to hang on to. Either you will be utterly lost, appreciate it from a distance, or find yourself transcended. The sound design is tremendous, definitely a theater watch if at all possible.

All of Us Strangers (2023) - Andrew Haigh is a director I should really follow up on as while I've not seen all of his films, I tend to really appreciate the ones I do manage to see. There was a lot of hype around Strangers and I think it's deserved. It's an incredibly intimate and evocative portrait of isolation and loss with some outstanding performances from its scant cast of essentially four actors. Not many dry eyes left in the theater during this one and being an old sad-sack, I loved the soundtrack as well. Last year around this time I was watching Paul Mescal in Aftersun as part of the Spirit Awards so that's two positively heartbreaking turns from him.

A Thousand and One (2023) - My favorite category for the Spirit Awards is "best first feature" (as well as their Cassavetes award) and I'm continually astonished at how accomplished some of these debut features are. I went into A Thousand and One mostly blind and I found myself drawn in immediately between its recreation of 90s NYC and the captivating performance from Teyana Taylor. This is both a heartfelt and sometimes brutal family drama but it's also a story of gentrification and the dissolution of place and a culture. The balance between these two was struck rather deftly and while it doesn't let anyone off the hook, it doesn't feel strident in how it approaches the subject. Taylor is already a star but this definitely put her more squarely on my radar. I was really impressed with Josiah Cross as well. This should be a bigger hit and more people should see it, but I do see it is available on prime video so hopefully it gets some more eyeballs. I will 100% be looking for the next feature from A.V. Rockwell and you should too.

Upon Entry (2022) - Another debut feature, this time from Spain, and a fantastic illustration on how to cleverly assemble a taught narrative on a budget. It's the story of a young couple attempting to move to the US when they get held up by immigration. Their initial confusion gives way to desperation, rage, and despair as the interrogation they're subjected to becomes increasingly Kafkaesque. This was a really smart film and I doubt I would have seen it otherwise so I'm glad for that.

2023 - Year in Review

 Last Year when I sat down to write my annual review of my own movie watching and writing, I was working my way out of a bit of a filmic funk. My overall viewing numbers were down, I hadn't been writing consistently, and I was feeling disengaged from what I love best about movies. Thankfully, going through the exercise of writing about what did bring me cinematic joy helped turn things around for me. This year has been my most consistent year of writing in this space and I also wrote for other online and offline publications who were generous enough to have me. I'm happy to say that I have a ton of ideas for pieces and projects for the coming year and while time is ever a precious resource, I'm grateful to be in a place of creative enthusiasm. As always, thanks so much to everyone who reads, likes, responds, or otherwise offers any bit of encouragement to keep me plugging along. It truly means the world to me and I hope you do find a movie recommendation or at least a kindred spirit amongst my ramblings.

Movies are Back, Baby! I keep hearing this from film journalists and while it has a lot to do with Barbenheimer, it's true in a smaller way for me too. As I write this, I'm sitting at 400 Letterboxd diary entries for 2023 and I know my theatrical attendance has been solid throughout the year. 400 is not an insane number of movies compared to many die-hards and more dedicated reviewers than myself, but until I can abandon my 9-to-5 this is a sweet spot for me. Most of the films I saw were from the US and could be considered dramas which is fairly typical for me. France was the clear runner up for country of origin and the crime/thriller genres were well represented (though they do cross over with the dramas).

Directors - My most-watched director for 2023 was Claude Chabrol and it wasn't close. I watched 15 Chabrol films over the year and almost all of them were new-to-me. Chabrol is a fascinating character in his own right and was such a prolific filmmaker that I will no doubt be watching many of his films for years to come. Despite my interest in French film, I (sheepishly) admit that I haven't been the greatest student of the New Wave. I certainly watched a handful of the best known Truffaut and Godard films as a young movie nerd but my real entry into Cinéma français has always been Melville who is more New Wave adjacent. Chabrol is interesting because he is undoubtedly part of the Cahiers du cinéma gang and the first of them to get a movie made, and yet his career diverged from the movement and was met with rather severe criticism from them (not unlike Melville). I've actually never fully understood why the Cahiers critics could have such undying admiration for filmmakers like Hawks and Hitchcock but met comparable French stylists with such total derision. Regardless, Chabrol's filmography is a rich one and I was able to sample from his earliest films that were largely in line with his New Wave contemporaries, some of his mid-period Hélène cycle thrillers, and many of his later period "commercial" films. Though I've been trying all year, it's challenging to capture what I find so compelling about Chabrol's films in writing. Often the plot beats are simplistic or appear to be loaded with genre tropes and yet he is able to present them or subvert them in fascinating ways. His style is somewhat detached (which works beautifully in his repeated skewering of the bourgeoisie) but he works with these marvelous actors - Stéphane Audran, Michel Bouquet, Isabelle Huppert, Jean Yanne, etc. - and gets tremendous, emotionally powerful performances from them. His films can be cruel, they are often slyly funny, and though he is working in the form of popular entertainment - he often seems indifferent to delivering the expected to his audience. One thing I have noted with some frustration is the availability of his work. Criterion has released both his earliest films and some later ones where he received a lot of critical admiration (La Cérémonie). Arrow has produced two beautiful box sets of Chabrol films licensed by mk2 mostly from the 80s and 90s. I am loving the sets and the films but they are not his most celebrated or necessarily where I'd recommend anyone start with Chabrol. Somehow Chabrol's films from 1968-1978 are missing in action aside from a few dvd releases here and there. This includes the Hélène films as well as his much admired first collaboration with Isabelle Huppert, Violette Nozière. These are the films that not only would I like to see given restorations, there the ones I could probably most easily recommend to fans of classic genre, thriller, and even horror films. There are a lot of eurocult crossover with the performers and they're just great movies. Here's hoping we see some in the near future.

As a quick additional note, my second most watched director of the year was Hal Hartley. Hartley was one of the undisputed kings of the indie film scene when I was first being exposed to them in the late 90s and I worked in theaters when some of his higher profile films released. I've felt like his name had been somewhat forgotten and his films weren't terribly easy to find so I couldn't have been more thrilled to see Criterion Channel offer a complete retrospective of his work. I subscribed for a month and devoured them - it was a terrific revisiting of a time and place I still think of fondly.

Actors - In part inspired by the Fun City Editions release of Party Girl, I was watched and re-watched a considerable chunk of Parker Posey's career. This overlapped rather well with my Hal Hartley binge and she became my most watched actor for 2023. Much like Hartley, Posey was already indie-film royalty when I first got a job at an arthouse theater and I quickly became a massive fan. Though I did a lot of re-watching of her films, there were some new-to-me ones that left a lasting impression. Gregg Mottola's Daytrippers is my platonic ideal of a 90s indie classic - initially budgeted for 50k, shot in 16 days, leverages the actual apartments of the cast and crew as locations, and is essentially bursting with talent because NYC was overflowing with creative, enthusiastic people who were willing to make a thing just to make a thing. It's an ensemble piece but Posey certainly shines as the snarky foil to Liev Schreiber's reserved (though slightly sinister) intellectual. Jill Sprecher's Clockwatchers is another low-key 90s gem that I was totally taken with. Again an ensemble (featuring some great stuff from Toni Collette) but one where Posey shines as the office temp who knows the game well enough to subvert it. No machine can replace me until it learns how to drink!!!!

A very close second place to Parker Posey was Isabelle Huppert. I don't know that there's much I can say to add to the world renown and admiration Huppert has already earned time and time again. She worked closely and magnificently with Chabrol and I would easily recommend any of their collaborations. Interestingly, Huppert shared the screen only twice with Gérard Depardieu and both films are incredible - Loulou and Valley of Love. There's no way I can defend Depardieu the person, but he and Huppert are iconic on screen together (even and maybe especially when they are older). Lastly, I have to mention La Garce which Fun City Editions released earlier this year and I wrote about in a standalone article. The article was one of my most visited pieces since I started the blog so I hope people are finding the film, seeing the film, and recognizing its quality even if it is challenging. I've seen it playing here and there around the country and would love to see it for myself on the big screen.

Theatrical Experiences! 

I've always been thankful for the variety and depth of cinematic options available to us here in the Twin Cities but I think it was doing some traveling last year that truly brought that quality home. This isn't New York or Los Angeles or Paris, but I'd wager to say that the Twin Cities metro (especially Minneapolis) is currently home to one of the best local cinema scenes in the country - especially for a city of its size. Many comparable metros have been left with maybe one or two arthouse or even independent theaters while we're spoiled for choice on a weekly basis. I had a genuinely tough time trimming my list down to the experiences that left the greatest impact on me and most of these entries are local. This is an amazing problem to have and one I hope to keep on having. If you're living near here you should really be taking advantage of these resources and if you're just going to one of these venues, I'd highly encourage you to sample some others. I still have some spots and series that I haven't fit in yet but I hope to address that in 2024.

My top ten theatrical experiences in roughly chronological order:

The 7 Grandmasters (1977) - Shown in 35mm at the venerable Trylon Cinema thanks to Dan Halsted of The Hollywood in Portland. I would love to be able to attend Dan's regular series that he programs from his unparalleled collection of original Kung-Fu film prints, but I'm beyond thrilled that he makes the trip out to Minneapolis every so often to present something amazing. I was already familiar with the unrelenting intensity of 7 Grandmasters but it's something else entirely to see a Kung-Fu film on film and with an audience. I wrote something about this one for Trylon's Perisphere blog which was cool to be able to do. 

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022)- This is in part a stand-in for the Independent Film Spirit Award screenings that happen at the Walker every year. As far as I know, the Spirit nominee screenings only take place in Los Angeles and Minneapolis and for me it's often the chance I have to catch festival movies that had yet to or will not hit wider theatrical release. This year there was something especially moving seeing a documentary about an artist and an activist in an art museum surrounded by a crowd of art and film lovers. One of the reasons I struggle to do "best of" whatever year lists is that the line between the years gets blurry to me. I think Bloodshed has generally been considered a 2022 film, I saw it in 2023, and it would make my best-of list for either year.

Nights of Cabiria (1957) - Cabiria is one of the rare Fellini films that I first saw in the theater. It had been re-released following a restoration in the 90s and I saw it at the sadly now-defunct Uptown Theatre knowing almost nothing about it. I was positively entranced then and it remains one of my most cherished movie going experiences. This year I was able to bring my wife to a nearly sold out matinee screening of Cabiria as part of the Italian Film Festival at The Main Cinema. While I can't totally recreate that first time viewing experience for myself, it was an absolute joy to be sitting in the dark with people who either loved the movie as much as I do or were discovering for the first time themselves. The fact that so many people would pack a theater at 11am to watch a 66 year old Italian film is one of those life affirming moments we could all use more of.

MSP International Film Festival - I have attended MSPIFF screenings many times before in my life but 2023 was the first year where I was really able to see not only multiple films every week but often multiple films a day. This is very much thanks to MSPIFF granting me press access to the festival so I made every effort to see as much as possible. From an organizing perspective, it was run beautifully. I thought the staff and the volunteers did a great job and hosting most of the films at the Main meant I could use public transportation to attend and things like a meal or a drink were all a short walk away. I also loved the programming: Tori and Lokita, Showing Up, Kokomo City, The Beasts, The Origin of Evil, Birth/Rebirth, L'Immensita, Love Life, and more are all movies that have really stuck with me over the year. I'd love to take some time off of work for the festival in 2024 and hopefully attend some more talks and events.

Lumières Françaises 2023 - Another nod towards the Main and their international programming - this time the annual French film festival. I did manage to make it out to several screenings during this week long tribute to Cinéma français but there were definitely two standouts and they were both films I'd seen before. The Innocent is a 2022 film that I managed to catch during my Criterion subscription and one I've been able to recommend to a broad swath of people because I think it's an incredible slice of entertainment. It's part heist film and part romantic comedy with a soundtrack that blends both impossibly cool movie soundtracks and irresistible 80s/90s europop jams. Seeing it in a theater was excellent and hearing Stelvio Cipriani themes in full surround sound is a dream. The real highlight of the festival for me was watching Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles theatrically for the first time. I've seen Chantal Akerman's masterpiece before but I don't know that I'll ever want to see it again outside of a darkened cinema. Being compelled to sit with it for the full duration in the dark, with no pause buttons or other distractions available is to truly confront it in its fascinating, frustrating, intimate, engrossing whole. 

New Jack City (1991) - Seeing a restored version of New Jack City in New York with a fully hyped up audience would have been enough to make it on this list, but this screening (during the Tribeca Film Festival) also featured a Q&A with Mario Van Peebles, Vanessa Williams, Fab 5 Freddy, and Michael Michele. Did I mention RZA was also just there, hanging out and talking music with Freddy? Unreal stuff. 

Cria! (1976) - This is the kind of film I absolutely adore the Trylon for rolling out. It wasn't really part of a series, it's not a new restoration, they just decided to screen a 35mm print of Carlos Saura's dark and touching portrait of childhood grief and estrangement. I didn't find this as unrelentingly depressing as many people claim it to be. Rather, I found Cria to have a richer texture that captured a lot of the joy and levity in childhood that contrasts some truly harrowing experiences. I managed to find a book on Saura at Brattle Book Shop in Boston so I have some more reading to do and more of his films to catch up on. One thing I'm curious about is his facility for integrating pop music into his films. Deprisa, Deprisa influenced a lot of my listening in 2022 and Porque te vas? has been in heavy rotation this year. 

The Super Spook Show Spectacular - I would have liked to include more of Cinema of the Macabre's programming on this list because Tim shows some killer movies. However, his Spook Show Spectacular this October was easily one of my favorite cinematic experiences of any year. Five mystery movies, grab bags, skits, prizes, trailers, and even Edgar Allen Poe were on offer that afternoon and I loved every bit of it. I have nothing but endless admiration for those who subject themselves to 24 hour horror movie marathons but this was much more my speed. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Luigi Cozzi's Black Cat was one of the films screened and it has been my ambition to see that with an audience since first hearing those sweet Bango Tango riffs that open the film. I am very hopeful that this will be a continuing tradition and I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Hi, Mom! (1970) - Another unexpectedly awesome 35mm showcase from the Trylon and local heroes The Cult Film Collective. Brian De Palma's early feature is chaotic and confounding - blending verité location footage, multiple film formats, unexpected shifts in tone, and improvised dialogue to deliver a biting satire that while funny, doesn't even try to conceal the seething rage that's driving it. It's not a perfect picture by any stretch of the imagination and I think criticisms about how its politics are unexamined are totally fair. However, seeing it with an audience truly made the picture for me and that's why it's on the list. Being with people laughing and gasping and feeling terribly uncomfortable together delivered such a visceral experience for me and maybe (hopefully) captures some of the impact it had on audiences back in 1970.

Found Footage Festival Vol. 10 - One of those genuinely fortuitous moments. I was texted out of the blue to see if we wanted to go to see the Found Footage Festival live at the Heights so we decided to forgo grocery shopping and get down to the theater. I've been appreciating the shot on video delights of the FFF from afar for years but this was my first ever viewing of the live show. I don't recall laughing so hard for anything in recent memory. The Dorothy Recording, sourced from somewhere near here in Minnesota, was an obvious highlight and I was beyond stunned when they played clips of a film noir serial shot in my home town and aired on public access television in the early 90s. It was also extremely cool that the show opened with Strange Tapes. Scott showed some amazing stuff and I believe is the person responsible for alerting me to the presence of Hamburger Dad for which I will be eternally grateful. 

I hope that you had a satisfyingly cinematic 2023 and I wish you a 2024 filled with great films!

Best New-to-Me: December 2023

 My last post and last New-to-Me list of 2023. I actually did a list for every month this year which is the baseline of consistency I was looking to accomplish in this space. As always, thanks for reading those and the other little lists and reviews I've managed to put up this year. If you have not checked it out already, please take a look at my French Crime Christmas movie list and reviews. I watched a lot of other great flicks in December, but I still think Paris Pick-Up is probably my discovery of the month. Much like in November, I've been getting out to the theater very regularly as the onslaught of festival films starts to hit our shores and awards season approaches. I love our local repertory scene but it's also fun to go out to new movies with other people who are excited to see them - even if the films don't always land cleanly with me. I'm definitely looking forward to the Film Independent Spirit Awards screenings starting next month for similar reasons. There are always some great movies programmed and there's at least a touch of that festival energy in the air. Anyway I hope you had a good holiday or at least a break from the grind and here are the final new-to-me movies of the year.

T.R. Baskin (1971) - Baskin is a movie I'd heard of  but had no inkling of where to watch it until it was recently released by Fun City Editions. It stars Candice Bergen as the titular Baskin - a young woman who recently moved to Chicago looking to find "fame and fortune" and herself to a degree. Her story is told largely through flashback during a confessional conversation she has with a traveling businessman played by Peter Boyle - who was under the impression that she was some kind of escort. The film is a genuine curiosity - in many ways it fits within the milieu of New Hollywood films but bucks against the themes and conventions the movement is often associated with. The story centers squarely on a woman, she's a fully realized character, and though she is sexually objectified by men around her, it's not really the story about sex lives or sexual awakenings (quite a contrast to Carnal Knowledge which came out the same year starring Bergen). It's also shot fully on location in Chicago which was extremely rare at the time and gives the film a unique look and feel compared to the deluge of of New York and Los Angeles movies that are synonymous with the period. The films cover reads "Candice Bergen Is T.R. Baskin" and that statement couldn't ring more true. If there was ever a woman born to play this role, it's Bergen. Although she was quite young at the time, there's this inherent maturity to Bergen that fits Baskin perfectly - the character both being naive about city living and possessing an incredible astuteness in her observations. Boyle is also tremendous in his role as a sad-sack foil to Baskin's unrelenting wit. It's a complete about-face from his breakout role in Joe only one year previous. The film does employ a plot conceit that's a touch awkward for me, but it's overflowing with rich dialogue, great performances, and a brilliant collection of Chicago location work. The disc looks terrific and supplemental features add some great context to what is a real discovery for me this year.

One False Move (1991) - This definitely falls into the better-late-than-never category. I'm not sure what's been keeping me from watching Carl Franklin's relentlessly hardboiled 90s neo-noir standout, but I knew that grabbing a copy of the Criterion 4k would ensure that I finally got around to it. There are a couple of aesthetic choices that I did not love but One False Move has a violent authenticity to it that apparently stems from both Franklin's biography (he sets up a scene similarly to how he saw someone get shot) as well as extensive conversations between LAPD and writers Thornton and Epperson. Bill Paxton totally inhabits the character of Dale Dixon but I was truly impressed with Cynda Williams and Michael Beach in their comparatively nuanced performances. You probably don't need me to recommend this one to you but if you need a nudge, you have been nudged.

 Dirty Money (1972) - Another absolute 70s Quebecois crime banger from the good people of Canadian International Pictures. I was under the impression that Dirty Money would be more of a comedy but I didn't really perceive it as such. It's frequently compared to Blood Simple and like that film, it does have a certain dark irony and there is a stark absurdity to its brutality. However, also like the Coen's debut, Dirty Money delivers on low budget yet hard hitting genre goods. I'm absolutely loving these crime films coming from CIP so I hope more are in the works.

Les Cousins/The Cousins (1959) - I've been watching a lot of Chabrol this year and especially in December so I'm going to cover a few in a row. I'm trying not to just include all of them but this truly has been a rewarding pursuit and one I'm happy to continue into next year. Cousins was supposed to be Chabrol's debut feature but he was able to put the funding together for Le Beau Serge first so Cousins had to wait. Still one of the earliest Nouvelle Vague pictures out of the gate, it mirrors Serge in many ways. The country is exchanged for the city and while the two leads aren't a precise exchange of their previous roles, Jean-Claude Brialy becomes the brasher character while Gerard Blain assumes an introspective demeanor. I like both films but Cousins is more indicative of the kind of Chabrol movies I've become such a fan of - bad behavior, class conflict, generational strife, deceit, and generous helpings of existential angst. Henri Decaë shot both films and while the neo-realist informed Serge is undoubtedly a handsome picture, Decaë seems more assured in the urban milieu - street scenes, driving sequences, and a camera lurking around corners, capturing stolen moments. The leads are both excellent but Cousins was also the screen debut of Juliette Mayniel. She's probably best known for Eyes Without a Face but I really fell in love with her watching Night of the Hunted last month. She delivers an impressive performance as the woman caught between the desires of the cousins as well as her own. 

La Femme Infidèle/The Unfaithful Wife (1968) - The first film in Chabrol's Hélène cycle and perhaps the original text for the "Chabrol-ian" thriller. Stéphane Audran (Chabrol's wife at the time) plays a beautiful woman who is bored in her marriage to a successful insurance executive played by Michel Bouquet. The film follows them as they go through the motions of their bourgeois life but suspicions are aroused around how Audran's character spends her free time. The plot beats for La Femme couldn't be more straightforward though the finale does twist ever so slightly - however it's how everything is presented that makes this such a powerful viewing experience. The deliberate pacing, the wry sense of humor, the character studies all conspire to rachet up the tension and hold the viewer in suspense. If I had a better mind for classic films I'm sure I could see more of the Hitchcockian references on display but there are certainly some nods towards Psycho and Vertigo that even I could pluck out. I've been hopping all around Chabrol's filmography this year, but this might be where I recommend people start if they're interested in his thriller mode of filmmaking. 

Poulet au Vinaigre/Cop au Vin (1984) - I've seen this get some middling reviews from people who I think must either be expecting something more shocking or something more conventional. In Poulet Chabrol delivers something akin to an Agatha Christie mystery but the investigation doesn't even start until midway through the film. However (and this is something that I've noticed in a lot of French mystery stories) the first hour of the film is spent painstakingly immersing the viewer in all of the local intrigue that's as important if not more important than the details of the murder. I was able to re-watch some of the scenes with commentary from Chabrol (thanks to Arrow's truly excellent box set) and he sets it all up so beautifully that it's impossible not to admire his craftsmanship. This is perhaps on the lighter side of his filmography but I really enjoyed it and actually prefer it to the more conventional Inspector Levardin films that would follow.

Betty (1992) - A somewhat detached but no less engrossing tale of a woman (Marie Trintignant) spiraling into self-destruction following the implosion of her bourgeois life. The present storyline unfolds in a bizarre limbo-like hotel and restaurant somewhere "near Versailles" and the tale of Betty's downfall is revealed via interwoven flashbacks (and occasionally flashbacks within flashbacks). The style doesn't feel overwrought and though Betty has thriller plot beats at a distance, the execution feels much closer to an arthouse film. Trintignant is very good and Stéphane Audran is tremendous and even heartbreaking as the affluent older woman who takes Betty into her care. Following the release of La Cérémonie, Chabrol addressed why so many of his films were centered around women, "They live in a world that is still very macho. So to be heroines, they don't have to do extraordinary things. It's enough for them to be women to have very real problems." While the situation the women of Betty find themselves in is hardly universal, their struggles around desire, addiction, and self-worth are highly relatable. 

Ménage (1986) - The cinematic personification of "Be Gay, Do Crimes." Whatever philosophy actually drives Bertrand Blier is not clear to me other than his love of chaos, provocation, and absurdity. I also have to wonder what Gerard Depardieu was really like as a younger man (he seems mostly horrible as an older one). I read Ménage as a largely a joyous expression of ridiculousness but, as always with Blier, your mileage may vary.

Italianamaerican (1974) - I've been on a slight Scorsese binge with Killers of the Flower Moon in theaters this year and After Hours and Mean Streets releasing on 4K. His early documentary where he interviews his parents is as effortlessly charming as they both would prove to be in his fictional work. There are conversational beats in this film that are essentially echoes of their later performances in films that I've totally internalized after a youth spent watching them on repeat. I love that the conversation settles around storytelling as an artform as Scorsese's own work is so frequently fueled by a recreation of oral storytelling - either through first person narration or iconic scenes of characters sharing anecdotes. I also watched American Boy and would recommend that as well if only to hear the original version of Pulp Fiction's famous overdose scene.

Full Time (2021) - I loved Laure Calamy in Origin of Evil which I saw earlier this year so perhaps I would have tracked this down one way or another - but I confess that I was definitely nudged towards watching Full Time after hearing Samm Deighan recorded a commentary track for Music Box Film's blu ray release. Either way, I'm so glad to have watched it. I think there's a fair criticism that the politics of Full Time isn't exhaustively articulated - however I think it presents perfectly well a perspective from a person struggling to put the pieces together in the face of repeated hardship and frustration. A key point of the film and the source of its anxiety inducing kinetics is Julie's problems getting from her (presumably) more affordable suburban home to her job in Paris in the midst of a transit strike. The strike and the transit workers are largely without a voice in the film, only providing an obstacle to Julie's frantic attempts to keep her life on the rails - but that's part of the insidiousness of the system we're in. Julie may well be sympathetic to the transit workers' plight (she does not criticize them in the film) but it doesn't stop her from having to get to work, to pick up her children, to feed them, and to try to improve her lot. Julie's one source of optimism is her pending application for a corporate marketing job - one which she is actually overqualified for - which could be seen as politically reactionary. Scrambling at all costs - including abusing the trust of her co-workers - to get out of a working class position at a hotel to achieve the incremental victory of landing in the white collar world. However, I don't know that the film even paints this possible future as particularly promising. It's a respite perhaps, the boot is lifted ever so slightly for a moment, but there's no reason to think that the corporate churn will treat her much better.

Mademoiselle (1966) - Tony Richardson's largely French study in cruelty is a bit of a conundrum to me. On the one hand, it's beautifully shot and Jeanne Moreau's portrayal of an icy sociopath is as good as anything she's ever done. No small part of me wants to see this theatrically as soon as possible. On the other hand there's elements of Mademoiselle that come off as ham-fisted: the clunky Freudian imagery, the seemingly actual pain and death inflicted on animals, and the idea that Jeanne Moreau has somehow been driven mad from sexual frustration doesn't quite convince. It's still a hell of a movie and well worth seeking out if you think you can stomach it. Richardson is a huge blind spot for me and it sounds like Mademoiselle is somewhat singular in his filmography. Still, I'd like to watch more of his stuff.

The Treasure of Abbot Thomas (1974) - I confess that I do not universally adore the M.R. James "Ghost Story for Christmas" adaptations but Abbot Thomas is now one of my favorites. Genuinely disturbing and spooky with a terrific final sting. It follows the usual story of academics failing to heed the warnings of older, esoteric arts and finding the darkness that lurks in hidden places. Good stuff!

Theatrical Screenings!

The Holdovers (2023) - Genuinely excellent. I wondered if the 70s setting was just going to be aesthetic gimmickry or pasted-on nostalgia but I was very pleasantly surprised. It is definitely a nod towards a certain kind of film from the 70s (Hal Ashby comes immediately to mind) but it's also an authentic part of the story being told. I think all of the performances are solid and I couldn't be happier to see Da'Vine Joy Randolph getting some award nominations. I'm sure part of this was just due to my recent visit but I totally nerded out in Rick Dalton meme fashion when they visit Brattle Book Shop in Boston. 

 The Boy and the Heron (2023) - Every bit as visually arresting as I thought it would be. Stunning images and ideas - some of them disturbing, some of them silly, and some of them reflective. Heron (more appropriately titled How to Live originally) touches on most of Miyazaki's visual motifs - nature, grotesquerie, transport, work, labyrinthine interior spaces, etc. - and appears to have direct references to his previous films. I was surprised how often I could see reflections of the Castle of Cagliostro in this, but I've been perhaps over-invested in that film since the early 90s. Thematically, I felt things getting a little muddled. I wasn't connecting particularly well to the emotional thrust of the film and often wasn't that invested in its characters. Of course the mere existence of a new Miyazaki film in 2023 is reason to celebrate but I don't know that this is one that will become as dear to me as his previous efforts. 

Found Footage Festival Vol. 10 (2023) - I've enjoyed the Found Footage Festival for years now but had not managed to make it out to a live show before. I can't imagine missing one now. I haven't laughed so hard during anything in recent memory and was amazed when they showed a bunch of clips from my home town's public access channel! I was invited by friends and did not realize that Strange Tapes was opening the show. Not only did Scott show some hilarious stuff but I believe Strange Tapes is where I first discovered Hamburger Dad which is the kind of debt I'll never be able to repay.

Poor Things (2023) - The latest phantasmagoria from Yorgos Lanthimos is definitely in line with his previous work. It's by turns grotesque, hilarious, and filled with excellent (if highly affected) performances. I also found it to be perhaps his slightest piece yet. The Favourite was similarly bombastic but even that had something more to chew on - the self actualization tale being told in Poor Things doesn't feel particularly provocative or revelatory. Looking in to the source novel, it seems that Yorgos and McNamara excised a significant element that would have possibly convoluted their film a step too far but also appears to (I haven't read it so I'm hypothesizing) add some complexity and focus to the thornier issues that the film breezes by. In no way would I discourage you from seeing Poor Things and I'm always willing to allow cinematic stylists exist as just that. I always like to consider the films that captured my imagination as a younger viewer that are less that perfectly realized in hindsight. Poor Things could very easily be that influential piece of fantastique for someone else, I just wish it was as rich in ideas as it is in aesthetics.

Ferrari (2023) - I hate to end the year on a sour note, but I found Ferrari to be incredibly dull. Fine performances I suppose but I failed to give a shit about anything that was happening. People seem to like it so it might just be me but I was struggling to stay conscious during Mann's latest and that's definitely disappointing. Maybe Heat 2 should remain a novel.

That's a wrap on 2023, thanks so much for reading and I'd always love to hear your thoughts on any of these you've watched. Happy New Year!