Samantha Chater

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: The Essentials: Douglas Sirk

“Magnificent Obsession” (1954)
Based on the Lloyd C. Douglas novel of the same name, Sirk’s “Magnificent Obsession,” is one of the great tearjerkers of the 1950s. In his third film with Sirk, Rock Hudson, plays Bob Merrick, a rich caddish, playboy type, who in a reckless accident crashes his speedboat, and is resuscitated with equipment borrowed from the town saint Dr. Phillips. Phillips then suffers an attack of his own and dies while his equipment is being rushed back too late to save him. Changed by the unfortunate ramifications of his accident and resuscitation, Merrick is guided by an older intellectual and artist, Edward Randolph (Otto Kruger), who helps him in his mission to make things up to Dr. Phillips widow, Helen (played by Jane Wyman). On his quest for contrition there are many twists and turns, which are a touch soap opera-y (he accidentally blinds her, he then pretends to be someone else, then they fall in love and so on.) However Sirk’s aptitude for melodrama makes it all work and gives the high-stakes emotions a deeply accessible poignancy that will have the harshest cynic reaching for the tissues. The crisply-hued Technicolor only serves to make the mix of spirituality and sentimentality feel more heightened, while fantastic performances from both Hudson and Wyman also go a long way, and Wyman was rightfully nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for her role. “Magnificent Obsession” was a box office hit for Sirk and Universal, and though it has been criticized for its hokeyness, there is no denying its importance and worth in Sirk’s canon.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: 20 Wedding Movies To Say “I Do” To

“Ceremony” (2011)
”Ceremony,” Max Winkler’s debut film, is a fast talking, slightly neurotic take on the wedding crasher sub-genre. With stylized and effective nods to both Whit Stillman and Wes Anderson, “Ceremony” has a lot going for it. Michael Angarano plays Sam, a wannabe children’s book author, who takes the anxious Marshall (Reece Thompson) on a weekend away on the pretense of rekindling their lapsed friendship. This turns out to be a ruse, as Sam quickly convinces his naive friend to crash the nearby wedding, which turns out to be that of his former lover Zoe (played by Uma Thurman), who he is determined to win back. Angarano and Thurman both put in strong performances, and as sort-of romantic leads, despite their height and age disparities, and pull off some convincing chemistry. “The New Girl” star Jake Johnson is effective as Zoe’s alcohol-soaked brother, who despite the somewhat one-note role, pulls the biggest laughs. The film also looks fantastic, from the crispy cinematography, to the perfectly covetable set dressing. The classic rock soundtrack never misses, with one of the standouts being Ezra Koenig’s cover of Paul Simon’s “Papa Hobo”. Winkler has created a group of characters that, while being flawed, are also quite sweet in their own way, which can also be said for the film itself, it doesn’t always hit its marks, but it manages to charm nonetheless.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: 15 Great Films About Failing Relationships

“Carnal Knowledge” (1971)
Oddly, “Carnal Knowledge” was marketed as a comedy upon release, but to this writer it’s more of an incisive drama of modern day struggles with sex, relationships and coming of age from resident romantic cynic and directorMike Nichols. The film follows a couple of college roommates, Jonathan and Sandy (Jack Nicholson andArt Garfunkel), who together obsess over their various sexual misadventures and eventual conquests. Sandy pursues the seemingly pure Susan (Candice Bergman) – who Jonathan secretly and simultaneously dates and beds (first no less). After college they go their separate ways, but while Sandy marries Susan, Jonathan pursues everything in a skirt, bedding a dozen odd girls a year – yet is still unable to find his physical ideal (break out the tiny violins) until he meets Bobbie (Ann-Margaret) who’s all T-and-A all the time. Their passion fizzles to dramatic blow-outs (he yells, she cries) that end in an overdose and divorce. As they grow older, Sandy and Jonathan grow more and more disillusioned by the opposite sex – but while Jonathan is angry, Sandy simply falls into complacency and nonchalance. Though the film’s frank discussions about, and depictions of, sex (a condom on screen, quelle horreur), are hardly as shocking now as they were in the 1970s, the characters’ detestability and blatant misogyny are still as unsettling as ever. Jack Nicholson is the stand-out star and Nichols, to his credit, reigns the nastiness in (somewhat) and keeps the performance from being a caricature. “Carnal Knowledge” remains a timeless and emotionally resonant portrayal of the uglier side of the male sexual psyche.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: Retrospective: The Films of Alfred Hitchcock Pt. 2 (1940-1976)

“Shadow of a Doubt” (1943)
Inspired by Thornton Wilder’s famous Rockwellian vision of small town America in “Our Town,” Hitchcock turns the fantasy inside out with “Shadow of a Doubt.” The story follows young teenager Charlotte “Charlie” Newton (Teresa Wright), who longs for excitement, which arrives in the form of her namesake, her cultured Uncle Charlie Oakley (Joseph Cotten). When two undercover cops show up working on a “survey” of the average American family, they reveal to her that her beloved uncle may in fact be the serial killer known as the “Merry Widow Murderer,” and Charlie is forced to question her own blind loyalty to her favourite Uncle (a relationshiop that is already dripping with incestuous overtones). Cotten puts in a great show as the charming and debonair Uncle Charlie, making it as hard for audiences as it is for his niece, at first, to believe he may be a serial killer underneath it all. Hitchcock, ever a master of setting and place, creates the perfect average American family in an average American small town, complete with a chatty neighbourhood policeman to Emma Newton’s insistence that a cake cannot be made just for pictures. Park Chan-wook’s upcoming “Stoker” seems to be a homage to this one, but the Korean director will have a tough task living up to its inspiration. [A-]
Hitchcock Cameo: Playing cards with his back to the camera on the train, seventeen minutes in.

“Strangers on a Train” (1951)
“Wanna hear one of my ideas for a perfect murder?” Guy Haines (Farley Granger), a famous tennis player, is recognized on a train by Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker). Guy wants to divorce his cheating wife Miriam in order to marry Anne Morton, the daughter of a U.S. senator, and advance his career in politics. Over lamb chops on the train, Bruno also reveals he’d like his interfering father dead, and so suggests the perfect crime — an exchange of murders by perfect strangers. The conversation ends somewhat up in the air, with Guy placating the seemingly eccentric Bruno, who is satisfied a deal has been struck. Guy and Bruno’s relationship dynamic is set from the start, the seductive Bruno and the elusive Guy. Bruno ends up killing Guy’s wife, in one of the most elegantly shot strangulations scenes in cinema history, shown in reflection of Miriam’s thick glasses. Then Bruno demands that Guy keeps his end of the bargain, and Guy, with motive aplenty, is put in a tricky spot. The final confrontational climax between the men resulted in a magnificently shot action scene in which Guy and Bruno fight on a merry-go-round spun out of control, resulting in a fantastic trick shot of an explosion. “Strangers on a Train” is perfectly taut thriller, in which the two male leads shine as, respectively, the ostensibly good but pretty unlikeable guy at the wrong place at the wrong time and the creepily seductive and occasionally frenzied villain who embodies Guy’s darkest desires. Adapted from Patricia Highsmith’s novel of the same name, Hitchcock endured a grueling adaption process with endless rewrites, but his passion for the story never waned, and is clear in the final product, filling it with double-entendres and masterful film noirish use of black and white and shadow — and a number of shots still obsessing film students today. Despite its shocking-by-1950s-standards themes, with homosexual overtones galore, “Strangers on a Train” did gangbusters at the box office and critical esteem for the film has only grown with time. [A]
Hitchcock Cameo: Continuing the ever-growing string-instrument theme from “Spellbound” and “The Paradine Case,” getting on  train with a double bass ten minutes into the film. All he needed was a viola and he would have had a quartet.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: Retrospective: The Films of Alfred Hitchcock Pt. 1 (1925 - 1939)

“The 39 Steps” (1935)
Probably the first truly great Hitchcock picture, this is the one where everything that he’d been working toward coalesces into a gripping, enormously entertaining chase thriller that feels like it could have been made yesterday. Adapted by “Blackmail” and “The Man Who Knew Too Much” scribe Charles Bennett (really finding a groove with the director), from the seminal 1915 spy novel by John Buchan, it sees the perfectly ordinary Richard Hannay (Robert Donat) finding himself embroiled in an espionage ring after watching a performance at a music hall in London, England. Wrongly identified as a spy and a murderer, he flees London for Scotland, pursued by various agents of the law and the underworld. Enter the soon to be tried-and-true, Hitchcock Icy Blonde, played by Madeleine Carroll, who becomes entangled in the chase. Slightly more screwball and playful than some of the director’s other films of the period, it’s filled with sight-gags (including poor Carrol being handcuffed to Donat and dragged every-which-way, much to Hitchcock’s delight) that mix nicely with the more classically Hitchcockian spy-chase-suspense-thriller narrative, establishing a formula that would serve him well over the decades to come. Donat makes a perfectly dapper and surprisingly physically impressive lead, who meets mortal peril with debonair quips and self-deprecating charm — it’s a shame it’s his only work with Hitchcock — while Carroll is the template for the Hitchcock female lead, sexy, smart and strong-willed. It’s been remade three times since, but this stands head and shoulders above all the others, and really sees the director come of age, truly bringing him to the attention of world audiences (thanks to its stars, it was a huge hit both home and abroad). [A]
Hitchcock Cameo: Throwing away a cigarette box outside the theatre at the 06:56 mark.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature:Overrated and Underrated Films of 2012

Underrated: “Bachelorette”
Theres been a lot of talk of late about women in comedy, which felt like a pretty redundant conversation when it began: is the question “Are women funny?” really something we’re asking in the 21st century  After all the success of “Bridesmaids” last year, it seems, unfortunately, that the pendulum swung back the other way, with a backlash against women doing “gross-out humour.” Unfortunately this kind of sentiment seemed to wash over into the reviews of Leslye Headland’s first film “Bachelorette” — which definitely features its fair share of gross-out moments, pavement licking and wedding dresses being used as toilet paper, but also goes beyond that. “Bachelorette” isn’t funny like Judd Apatow films are funny, instead it’s full of biting one-liners and black humour, it’s a bit nasty and as smart as heck. You probably don’t want to hang out with all the characters at a bar after the movie like I did after seeing “Bridesmaids,” but the leads in “Bachelorette” ring truer than most female characters do in film these days, for better or worse. Headland has created the kind of female characters that are severely underrepresented, ones with actual problems, who aren’t always nice but also have shades of grey, are at least semi-functional and maybe talk to each other about something other than a dude once in a while. She also casts it brilliantly, with leads Kirsten Dunst, Isla Fisher and Lizzy Caplan, all committing to their roles as the “bitchelorettes” with gusto and putting in charismatic performances. The supporting guys aren’t half bad either with both James Marsdenand Adam Scott filling their roles with perfect panache. “Bachelorette” may not be a comforting feel good comedy, but that doesn’t make it any less insightful, witty or entertaining.

Overrated: “Holy Motors”
Perhaps “Holy Motors” is only overrated in certain circles of cinephilia — its not likely to win any major awards nor make millions at the box office, but critical reception has been overwhelmingly glowing, with the film making decent showings in both the Sight and Sound andCahiers du Cinema best of 2012 list. Yes, Denis Levant,the star, the lead, the one with the most screen time, is great, but a film this well reviewed should be more than just an actor’s vehicle. Instead, Leos Carax’s picture feels repetitive, pushing the same points about reality, fantasy, representation and viewership over and over — and to tell the truth they weren’t that insightful the first time ‘round. Sometimes Carax makes his point in visually arresting ways, and in other scenes he comes close to being emotionally touching, but this is a film that feels all too pleased with its own cleverness, quietly laughing at the viewer for taking any of it seriously. “Holy Motors” ticks a lot of boxes in terms of intertextual references, which will surely make it great fodder for a Film Studies course, but grows tiresome over the course of the film. Its also full of obvious and unaffecting scenes that seem to appear purely for “shock value” — Levant’s green-suited, flower-eating devil, from his naked erection to bloody finger biting, feels tired and even dated, as do the out of place co-stars like Eva Mendes and Kylie Minogue, who both felt useless in this film, whether purposefully or not. To wrap the film up, Carax’s final scenes only further trivialise the last 100 odd minutes that the audience has endured. Its hard not to feel that one of these vignettes could have been an entertaining short, but as a feature, and a lauded one no less, it is simply tiresome.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: 15 of the Best Baseball Movies

“A League Of Their Own” (1992)
The story of the real-life All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL), which started in 1942 with all the male ballplayers fighting in WWII, “A League of Their Own” is something of a touchstone for any female athletes of a certain age told they simply weren’t good enough. With a snappy script of quotable one-liners, thePenny Marshall-directed comedy also manages to tug its share of heartstrings. “A League of Their Own” managed to not only make baseball accessible and riveting to non-fans as well as fanatics, it showed that the sport was grueling and the girls (and guys) who played it played hard and suffered for the game they loved. It features a great ensemble cast, including alpha female Geena Davis fresh off “Thelma And Louise,” Madonna in one of her better acting turns, Tom Hanks, playing against type as the blotto Jimmy Dugan and a scene-stealing Rosie O’Donnell as Madonna’s loudmouth BFF. The narrative unspools in extended flashback, illustrating the conflict between Dottie Hinson (Davis) and plucky younger sister Kit Keller (Lori Petty), as two sides of a coin: one who is settled in the traditional values of marriage and family, and the other who yearns for the new freedom the AAGPL offers. Their reluctant alcoholic and antagonistic manager Dugan (Hanks) doesn’t take it seriously and instead Hinson steps up as manager, fueling an inevitable separation, creating a rift both personal and professional. Though at moments “A League of Their Own” can veer into sappy cliché territory, Marshall’s ability to keep baseball at the cinematic center, as well as effectively combine laughs, gasps and tears (even though “there’s no crying in baseball!”), make this film a heartfelt favorite, baseball fans or no.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature:Fall In Love: The Playlist’s Favorite Romantic Comedies

“Harold and Maude” (1971)
As far as loveable rom-com couples go, it’s hard to look past Hal Ashby’s “Harold and Maude.” It’s the kind of film I can’t really imagine being made today, with the story centering on the innocent romance between the young death-obsessed Harold (played byBud Cort) and the 79-year-old and carefree Dame Marjorie “Maude” Chardin (Ruth Gordon). The film’s setupof Cat Stevens singing “Don’t Be Shy,” as Harold methodically goes through the motions of faking his own death, to the complete lack of amusement or shock of his mother who walks in on him, sets the tone beautifully for this romantic comedy, that balances its blackish heart with a sweet first love/coming of age story. Harold and Maude meet at a mutual stranger’s funeral, and Harold falls hard for Maude, who shows him there is more to life than death e.g. flowers, dancing and playing the banjo, which in the hands of a lesser actress would be insufferably twee. Though Cort was in his early 20s when the film was made, his wide-eyed stare and floppy hair make him appear eternally boyish, in contrast with Gordon’s Maude, who is in no way the graceful ageing lady – but as a couple they are incredibly endearing, and the film’s effective statement of a deep connection winning over superficiality in the game of love should not be overlooked. Laughs come courtesy of Harold’s idiot mother who tries to set him up with various prospective wives, who he frightens off with more phony, gore-filled suicide attempts so he can instead go on adventures with Maude and her petty-crime sprees. Ashby made the inspired choice of having Cat Stevens soundtrack the film, perfectly underscoring some of the sadder moments, to the point of tears on more than one occasion for this writer. In fact, it’s the film’s mix of deadpan humour and heartfelt emotions that make it so adorable and continuously watchable. — Sam Chater

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature:The Films Of Richard Linklater: A Retrospective

“Before Sunrise” (1995)
Continuing the theme of shooting what he knew, Linklater turned one of his own personal love stories into one of the great indie romances of the ’90s. “Before Sunrise” centres on two characters, the slightly cynical but moreover dreamy romantic American Jesse (Ethan Hawke), and the idealistic but grounded French Celine (Julie Delpy). The two meet by chance and begin talking on a train from Budapest, Celine on her way back to Paris, Jesse on his way to Vienna for 24 hours before he flies back to America. He convinces her to alight in Vienna with him to continue their conversation, and so it begins, a 14-hour marathon conversation (not in real time, fortunately…) which must end, as the title implies, at sunrise. It sounds banal, but much of what they say about life, love, politics et al. is interesting and insightful, and reveals hidden depths of the two young characters still trying to “figure it out”. As their time together runs out, the two decide instead of risking their spark fizzling long distance, to instead meet up in six months in Vienna, leaving a tantalising will they/won’t they to the ending. Linklater took great care with his casting, and he chose well, Hawke and Delpy not only put in fantastic performances, but their natural romantic tension is intoxicating; both actors are also said to have contributed uncredited work to the script, which is not hard to believe, considering the naturalism in their delivery. Between that and Linklater’s unobtrusive shooting style, full of tracking shots and extended takes, its hard to remember what you’re watching isn’t actually two people really having the most important night of their lives. [A-]

“Tape” (2001)
This drama, made simultaneously with “Waking Life,” reads like a filmmaking exercise — made in real time, with the then-new digital camera, with limited sets (a small motel room with an adjoining bathroom) and only three actors, even if those actors are Ethan Hawke, Uma Thurman and Robert Sean Leonard. Based on a one-act play of the same name written by Stephen Belber and set in Lansing, Michigan, the motel room is rented by drug dealer and volunteer firefighter Vince (Hawke), who may also have a hot temper and semi-violent tendencies. He’s there in theory to support his high school friend Jon (Leonard), a documentary filmmaker who has a film in a local festival. While the two are reminiscing, an argument about the circumstances under which Jon slept with Vince’s high school girlfriend Amy (Thurman) years ago comes up. Vince coerces an incriminating confession out of Jon, which he catches on tape. Of course Vince has also invited Amy to the party, and the conversation just gets more bizarre and heated from there, ending with a neat little plot twist. This is where Linklater is most at home directing realistic dialogue that is both interesting and insightful to the human condition. He uses the digital camera to great effect, swiftly moving it from person to person, amplifying the emotions as they grow increasingly heated. Adapting theatre plays to film is not the obvious slam dunk you’d think, but “Tape” manages to capture the live feel, while also making the rapid-fire dialogue and limited setting work to the film’s advantage. Linklater also gives the cast room to stretch beyond traditional “movie star” acting with Hawke in particular shining, proving once again that both he and Linklater consistently bring out the best in each other. It’s not surprising that it was Hawke who approached Linklater with “Tape,” and asked long-time friend Leonard and then-wife Thurman to co-star. Intended for TV, it was decided to release the film theatrically based on the final cut of the film, and it joined “Waking Life” at the 2001 Sundance Film Festival.  [B-]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature:The Films Of Robert Bresson: A Retrospective

“Les Anges du Péché” (1943)
Made in 1943 during the Nazi occupation of France, nine years after his short, “Les Affaires Publiques,” (which was a comedy, no less), “Les Anges duPéché” was Bresson’s first full-length feature film. A collaboration with playwright Jean Giraudoux and Dominican priest and writer, Father Bruckberger, the story follows a well-to-do young woman Anne-Marie (Renée Faure) who decides to join a convent, where the nuns work at rehabilitating female prisoners (the convent had a real-life model). At the prison she meets Thérèse (Jany Holt), who refuses the nuns’ help, as she maintains she is innocent of the crime of which she was convicted. After she is released from prison, Thérèse gets revenge on her former lover, the man who framed her, and hides out afterwards in the convent, much to the delight of Anne-Marie, who believes she is seeking salvation rather than simply hiding out from the police. It’s something of a spiritual thriller, with the two female leads both seeking redemption from two different perspectives, that of sinner and would-be saint. However, in the end, they find their redemption in each other, though Bresson refuses absolutes, and finds neither woman wholly good nor entirely evil. Unlike most of his films, here the cast are professional actors, and the two leads shine, particularly Jany Holt. It is regarded as the director’s most “conventional” feature in terms of acting, music (his only film featuring an original score), dialogue and plot, but the spiritual subject matter and the relative sparsity of the filming style foreshadow Bresson’s future films. [B]

“The Trial of Joan of Arc” (1962)
One of Bresson’s shorter works, running at just 61 minutes, it is evident that with “The Trial of Joan of Arc” the director understood the power of economy and refused to pad out the story unnecessarily. It begins with Joan (Florence Delay) already captured and facing trial at the hands of the English judicial system for her part in leading the French troops to war against the English. During the trial the 19-year-old Joan reveals she acted on the insistence of the saints, with God Himself appearing before her in visions. Joan, attacked for everything from her clothing to her claims of virginity, is charged with witchcraft. However she sticks to her guns, even if it means being burnt alive. Similarly to Dreyer’s “The Passion of Joan of Arc,” Bresson’s “The Trial of Joan of Arc” relies on the source material of the historical transcript of Joan’s heresy trial. With classic Bressonian naturalism and low-key, neutral performances, the film has a restrained quality to it, stripped of every conceivable embellishment to the dialogue, sets and costumes. As he’d proven many times before, however, Bresson thrives in simplicity, and the monochromatic framing is controlled and precise, while his admiration and sympathy for Joan are clearly indicated throughout the film, making her victimization almost unbearable to watch. The film is performed with utmost fidelity to reality, with no overacting or contrived shots, and the transcripts are delivered almost word for word, bringing to sober life the solemn gravity of the trial. This even extends to its heroine; Delay looks small and weak in stature, neither the pseudo warrior Joan we are often given in pictures and films elsewhere, nor the ethereal Joan of Dreyer. Her strength, as far as Bresson is concerned, lies in the spirit of her convictions and her faith. [B] 

“A Gentle Woman” (1969)
Bresson’s first film in color, “Une Femme Douce” (“A Gentle Woman”), is based on the Dostoevsky short story “A Gentle Creature.” The story focuses on the unknowable inner world of ‘the gentle woman,’ Elle, who we meet at the beginning of the film right after she commits suicide. The story is told in flashbacks narrated by her pawnbroker husband, Luc, as he tries to understand what led her to kill herself. They met at his store, and he, struck by her beauty, followed her home, married her despite her initial protestations. An odd pairing from the start, the pawnbroker finds himself unable to fully understand his wife as he wants: he appeals to her with trips to the opera, buying her records and books, but still she isn’t happy. Luc becomes more oppressive and Elle becomes more withdrawn, until one night she reaches for a gun to kill him, but is unable to pull the trigger. Instead she escapes the only way she can, through death — a common escape for Bresson’s characters. As we are told the story from the husband’s point of view, his wife’s world remains mysterious, always hidden just out of frame. Interestingly, though Bresson referred to all his actors as “models,” this one featured an actual 1960s model, Dominique Sanda in her screen debut (she later went on to star in Bertolucci’s “The Conformist”), though oddly enough Sanda was cast on the basis of her voice. The performances are typically Bressonian, with little emotion or reaction given away by expression, though the gentle subtleties of Sanda’s face and movements hint at her inner turmoil. Bresson’s view on materialism vs. spiritual fulfillment are made clear in this film, with hints that the pawnbroker’s obsession with money and “things” led to his wife’s despair, and ergo her death. [B+]

“Four Nights of a Dreamer” (1971)
Bresson returned again to Dostoevsky’s short stories for inspiration with “Four Nights of a Dreamer,” based on a story called “White Nights”; an understated and highly stylized look at the unexplained power of love, whether returned or unrequited. The film follows Jacques, the dreamer of the title, a solitary painter, whose artistic process involves recording himself and replaying the recordings aloud. He walks the streets of Paris but is always alone. At Pont Neuf, he meets Marthe, a young girl standing on the edge of the bridge about to jump. Her lover went away to America, and was supposed to meet her on the bridge that night but didn’t turn up. Together they decide to contact Marthe’s lover, with Jacques acting as messenger. From then on Jacques cannot escape the thought of the unattainable Marthe, recording her name and listening to it constantly. He meets her on the bridge for the next three nights with no reply from her lover to deliver, until on the fourth night Jacques confesses his love to her, albeit with classic Bressonian restraint. As Marthe tries to work out her feelings, they walk the streets of Paris together and Marthe runs into her former lover. After hesitating for a moment she runs to his arms, leaving Jacques to return to his studio, once again alone, to paint. “Four Nights of a Dreamer” could be seen as Bresson’s most romantic film, both in subject matter and visual style, and the ethereal night scenes where the two meet are incredibly evocative of the first blush of romance, one-sided or no. However, there is an arch sense of absurdity and irony within making it perhaps his most playful effort. Everything seems heightened, the city of Paris, people, lights, rivers and songs — here we get Bresson’s only use of popular music, but again it is all diegetic, from wandering buskers to a house band on a passing boat, to a circle of hippies sitting and singing. “Four Nights of a Dreamer” is also one of the few Bresson films still unavailable on DVD or VHS, which hopefully someone will be able to rectify sooner rather than later. [B-]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: The Films Of Whit Stillman: A Retrospective

“The Last Days of Disco” (1998)
“It’s really important there be more group social life. Not just all this ferocious pairing off.”
Stillman’s final film in his “Doomed Bourgeois In Love” triptych  — made for his biggest budget of $8 million — “The Last Days of Disco” follows a group of recent grads navigating the rules and social pecking orders of the New York nightlife in the waning days of disco’s popularity in the early ’80s. And yes, while it also humorlessly depicts them falling in and out of each other’s beds and on and off the dance floor, there is a strong hint of melancholy throughout the film. Nostalgic, but not sentimental, not only does ‘Disco’ mark the death of an era, but the death of an ideal, and therefore a newfound liberty. A side dish to all the talk of sex and class and dating the right guy or gal, Stillman also looks at the disco era through a philosophical prism — both sincere and comical — that views the heyday as a social utopia, an ideology and a lifestyle, and not just a fad. Chloë Sevigny plays the mousey ingénue Alice Kinnon, who is paired up with the callow and self-absorbed frenemy Charlotte (Kate Beckinsale), and together they are surrounded by a bevy of would-be suitors, including up-and-coming ad exec Jimmy Steinway (Mackenzie Astin), self-proclaimed “nightclub flunkie” Des McGrath (Chris Eigeman), potentially unhinged Assistant D.A. Josh Neff (Matt Keesler), and “Departmental” Dan Powers (Matt Ross). Stillman’s picture came out just three months after the much-derided Mike Myers drama on a similar era “54,” but unlike its rival, Stillman pretty much refrains from the hedonistic examination of the club’s notorious history, being much more interested in the social mores of the post-college set, the brief window of optimism this era allows them and the inevitable decline of the disco scene. Aided in no small way with a killer soundtrack that shimmies seamlessly from one golden ’70s hit into another, while the disco is fun, it’s the deadpan conversations and deeply ironic situations that truly shimmer. Both Beckinsale’s Charlotte and Eigeman’s Des have their share of classic Stillman lines in “The Last Days of Disco,” with captivating, if misguided rants on sex, love and friendship. But it’s actually the overly sincere, slightly ridiculous Josh, who seems to be the director’s mouthpiece, and his “Lady and the Tramp” analysis, a hilarious love triangle metaphor, that is one of the highlights of Stillman’s typically incisive and eloquent script (it’s also a bit meta with sly references to his first two films including a brief cameo by Carolyn Farina from “Metropolitan”). “The Last Days of Disco” was unfortunately a financial flop in North America, making only $3 million, but this comical requiem for a golden age of socializing was given a new lease on life to eager audiences (new and old) by Criterionin 2009. [A]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature: The Films Of Billy Wilder: A Retrospective

“A Foreign Affair” (1948)
Returning to European subject matter surely couldn’t help but feel personal for Wilder, a Polish-born Jew, considering his escape from the Nazis, and the personal loss he suffered (the director had actually done wartime service for his adopted country, editing U.S. Army Service Corps documentary footage after wrapping “The Lost Weekend”), but however wounded he was, you wouldn’t know if from “A Foreign Affair.” The film is one of Wilder’s best satires, aimed squarely at the corruption endemic in occupied Germany. The story follows conservative Iowa congresswoman Phoebe Frost (Jean Arthur) on a fact-finding mission to Berlin. She meets Army Captain John Pringle (John Lund), who is secretly sleeping with Erika von Schlütow (Marlene Dietrich), a German cabaret singer, who has cut her former ties with the Nazi party. Congresswoman Frost, hearing talk of an officer consorting with a former Nazi supporter, is determined to get to the bottom of it, and enlists Pringle’s help, not realizing he is the officer in question. There was open hostility both on and off the camera between Marlene Dietrich and Jean Arthur; the latter, for whom “A Foreign Affair” broke a four-year absence from acting, was racked by insecurities, and felt Wilder was favoring Dietrich unfairly. The German actress’ cabaret performances are indeed some of the highlights of the film, particularly “The Ruins of Berlin,” (composer Friedrich Holleander, Dietrich’s frequent collaborator, was rightfully nominated for an Oscar), and the director’s affection for the star shines through, so maybe Arthur had a point. An ever-cynical Wilder has created characters that each walk a gray area of political and social assumption and duality, lambasting both Congress and the military, in one fell entertaining swoop. But films like this are judged not only on their merits but their message, and it received mixed reviews, with some critics horrified by Wilder’s somewhat light-hearted take on American post-war duplicity — the filmmaker was not only denounced by Congress, but the film was also banned in Germany. 65 years in, it’s less controversial, but just as good. [A-]

“Ace In The Hole” (1951)
Wilder’s first film as the triple threat of writer, producer and director, “Ace In The Hole” was also his first project after his split from writing partner Charles Brackett, coming off the back of the critical and commercial success of “Sunset Boulevard.” The working title of the film was “The Human Interest Story,” but while it was changed by Paramount to the it’s-fun-we-promise “Big Carnival,” it has long since reverted back to Wilder’s favored, and far superior, title. The film is a scathing examination of how news is made, inspired by the real-life story of Floyd Collins, who in 1925 was trapped inside Sand Cave in Kentucky after a landslide, with a local journalist turning the accident into a national tragedy and winning a Pulitzer for his efforts, despite the death of the stricken Collins. A shade darker than even “Double Indemnity,” the amoral antihero Chuck Tatum (played by Kirk Douglas), is a status-hungry journalist with a chip on his shoulder, who happens upon a man, Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict), trapped by a cave-in. Teaming up with crooked local sheriff, and Minosa’s unfeeling and equally unscrupulous wife Lorraine, he creates a media frenzy. Thousands of people arrive, songs are written, a ferris wheel is erected, and local business thrives, as long as the man stays trapped in the cave. At the center of it all is Tatum whose unquenchable ambition to climb to the top of the journalism ladder in New York drives the story, scruples be damned. Though the film was a critical smash in Europe, the reaction in the U.S. was uneven at best, and the film was a financial failure. Fortunately, critics and academics have subsequently caught on, and it’s now rightfully considered to be one of Wilder’s top-tier pictures. [A]

“Love In The Afternoon” (1957)
Based on the Claude Anet novel “Ariane, Russian Girl” (previously adapted as “Scampolo, ein Kind der Strasse” with a script co-written by Wilder), “Love in the Afternoon” marked the rather inauspicious beginning of a fruitful long-term collaboration between Wilder and screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond, and on paper must have seemed like an ideal first project — they just moved it from Germany to France and made everyone speak English, voila! The story centers on a widowed French detective and his daughter Ariane, a cello student. Fascinated by her father’s work, Ariane overhears a plot to off ageing playboy, Frank Flannagan, by an angry husband whose wife is Flannagan’s latest conquest. Ariane surprises Flannagan with a warning, and he is duly intrigued by her mysterious entrance into his life, and the lack of further details she’ll provide. And also, let’s face it, by the fact she’s played by the adorable Audrey Hepburn. Ariane, suddenly finding herself in love, decides to hide her innocence beneath a veneer of worldliness and countless affairs, in order to play the player into falling in love with her too (nope it doesn’t make a lot of sense here, and it doesn’t in the film either). Again, Wilder wanted Cary Grant for the romantic lead, and again, Grant turned him down (as he would all of Wilder’s subsequent offers too) and it instead went to Gary Cooper. Hepburn was Wilder’s only choice for Ariane, the wide-eyed innocent, and Maurice Chevalier leapt at the role of her father. Though the film flopped commercially in the U.S., it was a financial success in Europe under the title “Ariane.” It’s hard to watch this film without thinking of the influence of Ernst Lubitsch, whom Wilder worked with on “Ninotchka,” especially with the casting of Lubitsch regulars Cooper and Chevallier, and the gypsy musicians that seem to follow Cooper everywhere in the film. But in contrast to the works it sometimes evokes, everything about this film falls a little flat, from the romance to the jokes, and at 130 minutes, well, seriously, how long should it take a pushing-60 playboy to fall in love with Audrey Hepburn? This film is no one’s best, but no one’s worst either. Still, we’d hope for a lot more from Wilder. [C]

“Irma La Douce” (1963)
Based on the Tony award-nominated French musical of the same name, “Irma La Douce” reunited Shirley MacLaine, Jack Lemmon and Billy Wilder, three years after their super-successful turn in “The Apartment,” to rather diminished effect. Irma La Douce (MacLaine) is a hooker (or as they say in France — poule) with a heart of gold, who loves her work, but whose mean old pimp (or mec) treats her poorly (big surprises all round). A naive cop, Nestor Patou, not knowing the arrangement the mecs and the poules have with the police (flics), busts the girls, and his police captain, and gets himself fired from the force. Jobless, he returns to the scene of his undoing, and proceeds to bust the head of Irma’s mec. So naturally, she takes him on as her new mec and live-in boyfriend, against Patou’s better judgement (uh-oh), and chaos etc., ensues. Wilder originally conceived the film as a black-and-white musical, a truer adaptation of the original, however, apparently nervous about directing song and dance numbers, he instead extensively rewrote the script, and turned it into a non-musical color rom-com. To get this love story between a pimp and prostitute past the MPAA (who are covertly ribbed in the film) Wilder had to use sly allusions to sex and innuendo to get the film finished, the gymnastics of which sometimes show. The role of Irma was intended for Marilyn Monroe (it’s hard to not imagine her shining in this part as well), but her untimely death lead to MacLaine being cast. MacLaine had such faith in both Wilder and Lemmon that she took the role before reading the script, which she later said she thought was terrible. If she did, she hides it well as the wide-eyed, scrappy Irma, and was nominated for a Best Actress Oscar for the role, (losing to Patricia Neal for “Hud”), and the film also managed to win Andre Previn an Academy Award for Best Score. Far from the home-run laughs of “The Apartment” and “Some Like it Hot,” Irma La Douce is still a fun if G-rated tour of the seedy Parisian underbelly, but coming in overlong at close to 2 1/2 hours, would have benefited from some tighter editing. Though it was a bit of critical flop, it made over $12 million and became one of the most financially successful films of Wilder’s career. [B-]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “23 High School Movies That Get The Passing Grade ”

“Rock ‘n’ Roll High School” (1979)
For a film that started life from a script with the working title of “Disco High,” it’s hard to believe that the musical vehicle that would end up driving what was to become “Rock ‘n’ Roll High School” through to completion wereThe Ramones. But then again, they were a band that personified goofy humour and celebrated freaks, geeks and pinheads alike; they fit the tone of a screwball high school comedy to perfection. The film follows former cheerleader Riff Randall (played adorably by P.J. Soles), Vince Lombardi High’s resident Ramones fan, and all-round rock n’ roll rebel, as she goes up against the new super-tough Principal Togar (Warhol alumnus Mary Woronov) and her two goons, who try to stop Riff from going to a Ramones concert and giving Joey Ramone the songs she wrote for him. Though she succeeds in attending the concert, Togar then tries to burn all the students’ Ramones records, so enough is enough; time to destroy the school, which pre-1999 was an innocent enough idea. Produced by B-movie master Roger Corman and directed by frequentJoe Dante collaborator Alan Arkush, “Rock ‘n’ Roll High School” is the perfect mix of good-bad gags, surreal humour and lots of music.  None of the Ramones could act (especially Dee Dee, who gets two cringeworthy lines about pizza), but The Ramones sure could play. In fact, the sheer number of live tunes that Arkush crammed in around the narrative is to his credit, and includes everything from “Blitzkrieg Bop” to “Teenage Lobotomy”. Gabba Gabba Hey! [B]

“Heathers” (1989)
Coming in two years after the sappily titled “Pretty in Pink”, “Heathers” is a darkly comic satire on the brutality of high school cliques. Veronica Sawyer (Winona Ryder, in one of her first roles), a relatively normal middle-class girl with an above average IQ, has been adopted by the popular girls, all called Heather, but isn’t sure she can hack the moral ambiguity and all-around vapid bitchiness that comes with the crown. Everything changes when she meets the new kid J.D. (Christian Slater, aping Jack Nicholson), whose disdain for the high school hierarchy, and readiness with a weapon, provides her with a way out: Offing the popular kids. J.D. deceives Veronica and funnels her adolescent fury into violent action. Painting their murders as suicides, Veronica and J.D. get revenge and attempt to upend the social order, however little changes at the high school, as suicide becomes a trend (with number one single “Teenage Suicide (Don’t Do It)” by Big Fun, playing in the background), while the Queen Bees at Westerburg High (named for the frontman of The Replacements) are quickly replaced. Veronica manages to foil J.D.’s dramatic plans to blow up the school, create “a Woodstock for the 80s,” and simultaneously usurp and break free of the Heathers, taking up instead with the school dork Martha Dunnstock, and striking a blow for teenage misfits everywhere. The script is a sarcastic gold mine for made-up teen quotables, from ‘What’s your damage?’ to “How very” and the cynically romantic “Our love is God, let’s go get a slushie.” The out-of-touch teachers and parents all make hilarious straight men, whether they are ignoring the events or going into overzealous touchy-feely smother-mode, as one hippie teacher earnestly informs the kids, “Whether to kill yourself or not is one of the most important decisions a teenager can make.” Its hard to believe that Winona Ryder was just 17 when she made “Heathers,” — the world weary one-liners and simultaneous eye-roll seem like second nature, and the combo-release of “Beetlejuice” that same year made her the object of outsider adoration the world over. “Heathers,” though a box office dud. became a cult classic and source material for a spate of black high school comedies in the future. [A]

“Dazed And Confused” (1993)
Coming out in 1993, a year when the Internet was still a novelty concept, and set in 1976, “Dazed and Confused” was already steeped in nostalgia, that feeling has only grown in the nearly two decades that have followed. The film begins and ends in the 24 hours that surmises the last day of school before the long summer break in a small town in Texas. The to-be seniors wander the halls, kings and queens of the school, getting ready to haze the freshman, girls are tortured with humiliation, and boys with good ‘ol fashioned paddling. The ensemble cast is filled with your usual high school archetypes — nerds, jocks, popular kids, and stoners, which just happened to be played by to-be-celebs including Ben Affleck, as the repeating senior with a chip on his shoulder; Parker Posey as the ultimate mean girl; and Matthew McConaughey as the iconic, sleazy stoner Wooderson, whose character defining line – ‘That’s what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, and they stay the same age.’ helped make this role a break out for the future rom-com star. Loosely structured, the film follows two intertwining narratives of one senior (Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd played by Jason London) and one freshman (Mitch Kramer played by Wiley Wiggins), one at the top and the other at the bottom of the high school food chain respectively, when the film starts. While the older popular Pink is struggling with the powers that be forcing him into adult choices and threatening his youthful freedom, Mitch is just beginning to enjoy the first fun parts of being older: girls, parties, booze etc. Throughout the film, scenes are punctuated perfectly by one of the best soundtracks of all time, which should make those born well after the 80s nostalgic for 70s classic rock; the film is bookended by the now classic combo of Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” and Foghat’s “Slow Ride.” Though Linklater seems to deny the heady nostalgifcation that abounds in ‘Dazed’ with lines like, “If I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself,”  perhaps he’s also hinting at the inevitability of donning rose tinted glasses that come with age, and losing the frustration with the world (however small) that comes with being 17. Its hard not envy the seemingly lost innocence of the 70s as the kids car-hop, drink and smoke before heading off to “party at the moon tower.”  [A]

“The Virgin Suicides” (2000)
Sofia Coppola proved herself a filmmaker to be reckoned with her debut feature, “The Virgin Suicides”, an adaption of the Jeffrey Eugenides’ book of the same name. The film tells the story of the five teenage Lisbon sisters — Cecilia, Lux (Kirsten Dunst at her teen-dreamiest), Bonnie, Mary and Therese, as remembered by a group of neighbourhood boys. Recounting the events that led up to the girls suicides, the story is told by omniscient deadpan narrator (Giovanni Ribisi), who guides us through the dreamy, sun dappled visions (aided by Edward Lachman’s knockout cinematography) of the young girls lives, from first kisses and dances through to heartbreak. As the boys piece together scraps of information to build a story, the girls remain as mysterious and unattainable as ever, more so in death. The Lisbons’ straight-laced religious parents — Kathleen Turner as the overbearing matriarch, and James Woods as the ineffectual father — go into protective overdrive after their youngest daughter commits suicide, which only seems to drive the girls further into despair and alienation from their peers. Josh Hartnett gives the best performance of his career as the swaggering adolescent playboy Trip Fontaine, the object of Lux’s (and the suburbs female population) affections; his entrance to the film, a model strut down the high school halls, to Heart’s “Magic Man,” never fails to set our hearts a-flutter. However Trip ends up being the catalyst of the girls ultimate undoing, as Lux flaunts her curfew for a cursed tryst on the football field, the girls are shut in their house by their parents, with seemingly no means of escape, except, well you know…  French duo Air provide the darkly mesmerising score, complimenting the ’70s hits (from 10cc to ELO) to great effect, while the picket-fence suburban setting serves as stark contrast to the violence of the story. Coppola manages to imbue the film with an enviable nostalgic haze, while also managing to breath some sense of life into the girls, beyond the romantic pedestal the boys memories have placed them on. [A]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “The Films Of Hal Hartley: A Retrospective”

“Surviving Desire” (1991)
Originating as a TV featurette (Hartley’s first) that clocks in at under 60 minutes, it’s tempting to overlook “Surviving Desire” — essentially a tight series of vignettes — as an early minor project in Hal Hartley’s body of work. Taking cues from Robert Bresson and Jean-Luc Godard and utilizing a veritable grab bag of literary and film references fromFyodor Dostoyevsky to “West Side Story,” Hartley was cementing what were to become his filmic signatures, including his non-naturalistic dialogue.

 “Surviving Desire” follows a floundering literary professor (Donovan again, the frequent anti-hero of Hartley’s films) as he falls into that kind of obsessive surface love, known as limerance, with one of his students, the removed and ambitious Sofie (Mary B. Ward). What their relationship lacks in physical connection they make up for in a banter that is, naturally for Hartley, short, sharp and ratatat-esque with its quips. The narrative non-sequiturs peppered throughout the film, such as the silent choreographed dance that expresses Jude’s joy at his burgeoning romance and the live appearance by the band The Great Outdoors serenading a giggling girl on the street, are just some of the ways Hartley plays with form and lifts the serious tone of the film.  Employing a lot of $10 words, but also a sly, stylish sense of fun, “Surviving Desire” is a passionate examination of big ideas, including faith, ambition and the dangers of the over-examined love life. [A-]

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “The Playlist’s 50 Most Anticipated Films Of 2012”

“The Five-Year Engagement”
Synopsis: Tom and Violet get engaged, but life gets in the way of their wedding plans, leading to a — you guessed it — extended engagement period.
What You Need To Know: Though the premise is hardly earth-shattering, simply more of Hollywood’s hetro-centric obsession with upcoming nuptials, there are quite a few reasons to hope for the best in this case. The film re-teams the duo behind “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” and “The Muppets,” writer/director Nicholas Stoller and writer/actor Jason Segel, along with the almighty Judd Apatow producing. Many people missed Segel and Emily Blunt’s comedic turn together in last years mega-flop “Gulliver’s Travels,” in which they supplied the only cast chemistry that kept that corpse somewhat afloat, which at least bodes well for “The Five-Year Engagement.” This potentially sweet-and-sour rom-com also boasts a supporting cast of absolute comedic ringers from the small screen including Alison Brie (“Community”), Mindy Kaling (“The Office”), Chris Pratt (“Parks and Recreation”) and Chris Parnell (“SNL”), and everyone’s favorite terrifying Australian matriarch, “Animal Kingdom” Oscar-nominee Jacki Weaver. Segel and Stoller have already made it clear they are aiming to mine the holy grail of rom-coms like Woody Allen’s “Annie Hall” and Rob Reiner’s ”When Harry Met Sally.” Though the recently released trailer focuses on plot summary over hilarity and hi-jinks, it was still still amusing, possessing  the endearing tone we’re hoping for, plus, hopefully there’s still plenty R-rated fun and genius one-liners hidden in its arsenal.
Release Date: April 27

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “The Playlist’s Most Anticipated Escapist/Popcorn Films Of 2012”

“Wanderlust”
Synopsis: Two New Yorkers lose their jobs and get caught up in the touchy-feely commune lifestyle.
What You Need To Know: More than almost anything else in 2012, “Wanderlust” comes with a giant roster of well-proven comedic talent. It’s co-written and directed by the lovable “Role Models” helmer and founding member of “Stella” and “The State,” David Wain, while former “Party Down”-er and “The State” alum Ken Marino also co-wrote, and good-times enabler Judd Apatow is producing, which means Wain and Marino might actually be able to make a smart grown-up version of “Wet Hot American Summer” (we can dream). Paul Rudd (who almost never gives a bad performance) and Jennifer Aniston (who no-one seems to cast appropriately but is actually quite funny) play the leads, their first film together since the lack-lustre ’98 rom-com “The Object of My Affection”. The support cast is also something to write home about and all are relatively underused by big-budget standards, with Alan Alda, whose turn in “30 Rock” proved his talent is far from fading; Justin Theroux, whose comedic genius on-screen has been squandered by Hollywood for some time (though recent roles like “Your Highness” are remedying this); and Malin Akerman, whose roles on the small screen, like in “Children’s Hospital,” haven’t yet been matched by her so-so big screen ones like, um, “The Heartbreak Kid.” The recent trailer gave off good vibes – like the best PG bits of “The Ten” – with the teasing of more casual nudity to come in the red-band version. Even if the majority of it is likely to be Joe Lo Truglio.
Release Date: February 24

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “The Playlist Staff Pick Their Most Underrated & Overrated Films Of 2011”

Overrated - “Ides of March”
“The Ides of March” had a lot going for it; a stellar cast with an irrefutable mix of hot young up-and-comers (Ryan Gosling, Evan Rachel Wood, Max Minghella) and respected old hands (Paul Giamatti, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Marissa Tomei). They also had “King” George Clooney directing and starring, in a role he seems born for, as a Presidential candidate, and “political thriller” is a genre which Clooney is far better suited to direct, than the ill-advised screwball comedy of “Leatherheads”. It seems like most critics bought the hype and drank the Kool-Aid as well with positive reviews flooding in from all corners after its red carpet turns at both Venice and Toronto. So yes, the cast lived up to its promise, they are great, though it feels that everyone but Gosling gets little to no screen time; perhaps the downfall of an overstuffed star cast? “Ides of March” comes in at just over 90 minutes so its hardly overlong, and yet, it feels it. The strange blend of cynicism and naiveté that makes up Gosling’s Stephen, paints his actions as stupid and headstrong, rather than those of what is meant to be a seasoned campaigner. In fact Clooney has managed to give every character a distinct sour note, lending the end of the film a nobody-wins-in-this-cut-throat-world feel, that feels like an easy out. The worst part of the film though is that it clearly aims (or at least sold itself) as a tight little thriller, but there is nothing thrilling about it. Sure, there is sex (Evan Rachel Wood and Gosling’s chemistry is off the chain) and a whole lot of double crossing, but every plot twist feels simplistic and cliched, and the motives behind them feel illogical and often counter intuitive. Then there are the obvious plot holes of relying on poor police work to get-away-with-it.  Though the actors do what they can with the script, it all ends up sounding like Sorkin-lite. In fact its hard to watch ‘Ides of March’ and not want to go and watch almost any episode from “The West Wing” instead.

Underrated  - “Submarine”
“Submarine” copped a lot of flack this year for being overly derivative, of “Harold and Maude,” Wes Anderson and to a lesser extent Noah Baumbach, as if there was a patent on neuroticly precocious youngsters, as well as a deadpan delivery and a self-conscious shooting style. The directing debut of British comic genius Richard Ayoade brought a distinct darkness and reality to the quirk of Submarine - as opposed to the style over substance route - the character’s not only look like real people, to an extent they act like it - petty, mean, selfish, cowardly, foolhardy. It would all be uncomfortable stuff if it wasn’t counter balanced by the effective over-stylization of almost every scene. The slightly cartoonish nature of all the adults from protagonists Oliver’s milquetoast dad and neurotic mother (played brilliantly by Noah Taylor and Sally Hawkins) can be accounted for by the fact that the entire film is seen exclusively through Oliver’s eyes, who also has a typically teenage sense of his own importance. Ayoade had a great team behind the scenes as well - the grey rundowness of the town, contrasted with the rough beauty of the Welsh seaside both owe some of their cinematic grandeur in this picture to cinematographer Erik Wilson, while Alex Turner’s lyrically driven downbeat acoustic numbers work harmoniously, and to brilliant effect, with both the dialogue and narration. The fact that this coming-of-age film is Ayode’s first stab at feature filmmaking, is, as it often is, super exciting and one can only hope that his authenticity, sly humour and heart-on-sleeve cinematic reference points are as apparent in his sophomore effort.

Excerpt from the The Playlist feature “Gods of Carnage: The Complete Films of Roman Polanski”

“The Ninth Gate” (1999)
Despite starring the box office draw of Johnny Depp, mainstream audiences stayed away from “The Ninth Gate”. And its easy to be put off by Depp’s unlikeable protagonist, Dean Corso, a selfish single-minded rare book dealer, who we first meet when he’s fleecing a family of rubes of their father’s rare book collection, and who does little to redeem himself throughout the rest of the film. Depp’s own charisma is the only thing keeping anyone interested in such an emotionally and morally stunted character, whose “book detective” mines the worst traits of the likes of Philip Marlowe, with little of the charm, and the uneasy mix of dark humour and dread, as well as the slow pacing, hardly makes for an edge-of-your-seat thriller. The performances are mainly under-played as well, bar Frank Langella’s hammy show as the would-be devil-raiser-cum-professor Boris Balkan, who hires Corso to authenticate his copy of a book supposedly authored by the devil himself. Along the way Corso meets the owners of other copies of the book, and is aided by the Girl, who herself may be the devil, or a succubus, or a familiar, depending on who you talk to - we never fully find out. The book dealer’s travels throughout Europe are beautifully shot, in lush libraries and one particularly amazing-looking castle, but still the whole affair feels oddly misshapen and ill-conceived. Very loosely based on Arturo Perez-Reverte’s novel “El Club Dumas”, Polanski co-wrote the script with previous collaborator John Brownjohn (who also worked on “Tess,” “Pirates” and “Bitter Moon”), and though it’s certainly not the best film of anyone concerned, “The Ninth Gate” still features wonderful mood and atmosphere, largely due to Darius Khondji’s cinematography as well as Polish composer Wojciech Kilar’s score, but that ultimately amounts to window dressing around a rather unappealing core . [C+]

This excerpt was part of a larger feature from The Playlist, titled “From Bloody Murders To Bridesmaid Speeches: The 25 Best Movie Moments Of 2011”

“Bridesmaids” - The Competing Speeches
“Bridesmaids” was full of amazingly awkward moments, but some of the best were bred out of the passive-aggressive rivalry between the raw nerve of Kristin Wiig’s Annie and the princessy Helen played to hate-able (yet strangely sympathetic) perfection by Rose Byrne. Annie’s initial off-the-cuff maid of honour speech, at BFF Lillian’s engagement party, is one-upped by Helen’s earnest follow-up, full of tears and cutesy in-jokes. Annie, refusing to let Helen have the last word, follows up her speech with another, turning the toast into a painfully hilarious verbal smack-down. As the rounds continue to fourth and fifth speeches, with Helen smoothly repeating a heartfelt saying in Thai and Annie bouncing back with some disjointed high school Spanish, the whole scene, in true Sideshow-Bob-stepping-on-rakes style, almost stops being funny, and then cycles back. Wiig’s honed improv comedy skills come to the fore, propelling the discomfort forward, while Byrne manages to politely hold her own, even through an out-of-tune rendition of Dionne Warwick’s ‘That’s What Friends Are For.’ Its a slowly built mix of laugh-out-loud funny and painful cringe, and a particular comic highlight in a film that’s full of them.

The excerpts below was originally published as part of a larger features Long Live The New Flesh: The Complete David Cronenberg on Indiewire blog ‘The Playlist’

“Dead Ringers” (1988)
Inspired by the stranger-than-fiction (unless that fiction is Cronenberg’s) story of real-life twin gynecologists, this disturbing film tempers the director’s long-running body horror fascination with some of the more psychological and philosophical conundrums of the human experience. Protagonists Elliot and Beverly Mantle (both played by Jeremy Irons), identical twins so close they are almost one person, share literally everything and take to impersonating each other as it suits them, which leads to decidedly unethical situations both in their medical practice and their personal lives. Though one is slightly more sensitive and recalcitrant than the other, they both, like many Cronenberg “heroes,” lack basic emotional intelligence, something which, coupled with their chosen field of gynecology, allows them to take hideous advantage of women at their most vulnerable. Its not until a woman comes between them (graphically symbolized in a vivid dream of said woman attempting to chew though the fleshy umbilical cord that binds the twins in their symbiotic existence) that things start to fall apart. Mostly taking a break from the gross-out prosthetics of “The Fly”, “Dead Ringers” was Cronenberg at his most restrained, served well by the aristocratic Jeremy Irons, whose masterful double performance, enabled by motion control camerawork, allows the audience to tell the identical twins apart, most of the time, by mannerisms alone. The role was initially turned down by Robert De Niro and William Hurt before it fell to Irons, whose dry-as-a-bone delivery makes it uniquely disturbing as well as darkly funny, and though he didn’t win the Academy Award that year, he was savvy enough to thank Cronenberg in his acceptance speech when he won the following year for “Reversal of Fortune.” “Dead Ringers” was also Cronenberg’s first collaboration with future longtime cohort, cinematographer Peter Suchitzky, whose starkly colored vision works beautifully with Cronenberg’s own. [A-]

“Naked Lunch” (1991)
Cronenberg’s attempt to film the unfilmmable, “Naked Lunch” is his adaption of Beat writer William Burroughs’ most famous work. He had shown interest in an adaptation back in 1981, but it wasn’t until he met producer Jeremy Thomas, and later Burroughs himself, that the project got off the ground. However, realizing that a faithful, authentic adaptation would be banned around the world and cost hundred of millions to make, Cronenberg had to find a different way of exploring Burroughs’ work. In the process he gave free rein to his own fascination with the grotesque and his knack for finding the funny in it all, exploring that deeply fucked-up world by combining the text with major events from Burroughs’ own life and pieces from other works of his, like “Exterminator!,” “Queer,” and “Letters to Allen Ginsberg.” Protagonist Bill Lee (the Burroughs surrogate, played by Peter Weller) is an exterminator who gets high on bug powder, to which his wife (Judy Davis) is also addicted. Together Davis and Weller both deliver droll performances, until the notorious true-to-Burroughs William Tell scene is replayed, Bill is plunged into the hallucinogenic world of the Interzone, and bizarre-noir adventures spring forth. Clark Nova, the infamous typewriter bug who talks out of a butthole, is one of the film’s best devices, addressing both the latent homosexuality of his protagonist and the catharsis of the creative process in one foul, fell swoop, and the collaboration between Ornette Coleman and Howard Shore (Shore has scored all of Cronenberg’s films, bar “The Dead Zone”) creates an eccentric noir score that keeps the crazy pulp vibe going. Shame, then, that it never comes together into anything like coherence: the director didn’t make his name with easy watches, but this is near impenetrable. As a grandly ambitious failure, however, it is still somewhat admirable; a case of the director aiming high and falling short, but leaving some fascinating artifacts in the debris. Even at his worst, Cronenberg is more interesting than most. (B-)