The Bad Sleep Well (Akira Kurosawa, 1960) B+

For me, Kurosawa is one of the those directors who makes engrossing, thoroughly fascinating films that are always worth look, but there's just something about them that I can't "love" them in that special way that you're supposed to love your favorites. The Bad Sleep Well, I must say, is another one of those films. As a mystery/suspense film, it's a notch lower than High and Low; however, The Bad Sleep Well has a certain allusiveness that kept me involved in the plot even when things slowed down a bit. And the downbeat, cynical ending was a welcome surprise. All in all though, like most Kurosawa films, this is one I don't think I'll ever need to see again.

Shoot the Piano Player (Francois Truffaut, 1960) B

One of the main ways in which Truffaut differed from Godard, another pioneer of the French New Wave techniques, is that, for the most part, Truffaut liked to stick to telling full and complete stories while Godard loved using situations to really explore something else (like the romance in Breathless or the couple's trip to her parents' house in Week End). Shoot the Piano Player is the first Truffaut I've seen that actually feels like it could have been done by Godard. The editing techniques aren't as jarring as something like Breathless; rather, it's how the plot comes second to the wild tangents that the characters seem to go on for minutes at a time that reminded me of Godard. The opening scene in which Charlie' brother is seen talking with a random stranger about women and love has absolutely no barring on the plot whatsoever (other than the fact that he's avoiding the two men after their share of a robbery) and is never mentioned again in the film, but it's still fascinating stuff. I especially loved the scene in which Charlie and Lena are picked up by the two men and their witty banter in the car. Did it move the forward in any way? Probably not, but it's fun, jazzy and everything we love about the French New Wave (or at least I do). Shoot the Piano Player is a pleasant, tasteful, well-made little film, although I just wish there was a little more to get excited about. The ending was absolutely perfect and a nice contrast to The 400 Blows, but that flashback was a little clumsily done and probably could have been tightened up a bit. All in all another solid little gem from one of my favorite directors.

Seven Women (John Ford, 1966) B

Seven Women starts off innocently enough, acting like yet another The Inn of Sixth Happiness ripoff with American missionaries dealing with Chinese uprisings and invasions. Eventually, however, it evolves into an interesting meditation on religion and how far people will go to save others. Margaret Leighton runs a mission in China near the Mongolian border and when Anne Bancroft, a crass, chain smoking doctor, arrives to help a woman with a tough pregnancy, a subtle power struggle erupts between the two over a young innocent orphan living at the mission (Sue Lyon). When a Mongol barbarian invades the mission, the women are pent up together and Bancroft must sacrifice herself for the sake of the others. This sends Leighton off the deep end and she turns into this scary ass zealot, denouncing Bancroft as "the whore of Babylon." This film is no The Searchers or The Grapes of Wrath, but it's fascinating to see Ford work with this fine ensemble of women (Leighton, Bancroft, Mildred Dunnock, Anna Lee, Flora Robson) and direct a type of film he had never done before. A fitting last film if I've ever seen one.

Gypsy (Mervyn LeRoy, 1962) B

From the minute I heard the Ethel Merman version of "Rose's Turn," I've been in love with the musical of Gypsy, but, somehow, I had never gotten around to hearing the whole soundtrack or seeing the film version (even though I've heard it's inferior to the original stage version). Now that I've seen a full version, I think I feel confident in proclaiming it one of the greatest musicals I've ever seen. Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim have created some of the most beautiful and memorable musical scores I've ever heard, complete with some grandiose, larger-than-life numbers for one of the most important roles in the history of Broadway: Mama Rose. It's been called the "King Lear of musical theater" and all of the greats have played her: Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Tyne Daly, Bernadette Peters, Patti LuPone and Bette Midler (in a 1993 TV version). Considering the pedigree of the role, it may seem strange that Rosalind Russell, who reportedly only has a two-note range, was cast in this 1962 film version. Indeed, it was strange watching Russell lip sync to most of the songs and then warble through "Mr. Goldstone, I Love You" and parts of "Rose's Turn," but, musical gifts aside, I think she gives a great performance, grounding the sometimes larger than life Mama Rose into reality and really getting the stage mother aspect of the role. As much as I like Russell, I just wish that the producers had gotten first choice Judy Garland to star; she could have nailed both the singing and the acting and probably would have won an Oscar for it. Director Mervyn LeRoy is one of the best of the Golden Age "invisible" directors who can do any type of genre and deliver great results. This Gypsy is still a bit too stagy, but LeRoy keeps it much more cinematic and doesn't let the actors fly off the deep end. If Oscar was looking for a musical to nominate for Best Picture in 1962, why did it go for the dreadful The Music Man, which was a complete and utter disgrace and not Gypsy, which had better music, direction and acting? Natalie Wood was also amazing as the untalented Louise (later to become the notorious Gypsy Rose Lee) and, for the first time, I must say that I actually liked a Karl Malden performance. He's a complete doormat to the overbearing Mama Rose, but he isn't as annoying as you would expect from him or this type of role.

Romeo and Juliet (Franco Zeffirelli, 1968) A-

My thoughts over here.

Time for Catch Up

Yes, I realize I haven't posted on here in quite awhile and I'm trying to remedy that situation. I'm ready to get back on track but in order to do that, I need to write about the 12 films I've seen in the past week or so. So, here are my quick thoughts about those films:

Funny Games U.S. (Michael Haneke, 2008): People either love or hate this film and I found it profoundly interesting in the way it played with our expectations. The basic message about it all being "only a movie" is not new, but the way Haneke presents it here is just as fascinating as when we first saw it in Sherlock, Jr. I loved the rewind scene and how Haneke's refusal in letting the audience get the revenge they want to see. Bold and imaginative. B+

The Hurricane (John Ford, 1937): Another excursion into overrated John Ford territory. Films about Pacific island natives were in vogue during the 30's, but The Hurricane doesn't have Mutiny on the Bounty's strong narrative and performances or Bird of Paradise's hott, shirtless Joel McCrea. The film's main problem is that it presents the rebellious jailed character played by Jon Hall as the hero; more than anything, he's a hopelessly annoying boy who can't take his minor six month sentence and just move on with his life. Ugh. Even the usually reliable Mary Astor and Thomas Mitchell (who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar, the only reason I watched this film) are boring. D-

Diabolique (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1955): For being considered one of the scariest films ever made, I probably think Diabolique is a tad overrated in that sense. However, I must admit that I was on pins and needles throughout the whole damn film. Just when you think the film is over and you're lulled into a false sense of security, Clouzot finds a new way to jolt you and make you worry for the main characters (a hard-as-nails Simone Signoret and a frail Vera Clouzot). That final scene when Clouzot's character wanders the boarding school in the dark is one of the most intense scenes I've ever seen. B+

The Battle of Algiers (Gillo Pontecorvo, 1968): The story confused me at certain points, but it's hard not to deny the impact of Pontecorvo's directorial style. It can be seen as both a blessing and a curse since it's influence is felt in both the "cinema verite" style of independent filmmaking and the shaky cam action films. B+

Murder, Inc. (Bob Balaban and Stuart Rosenberg, 1960): Peter Falk is the whole show here as soulless hit man Abe Reles in this middling gangster film that is completely stuck in the Production Code despite being from the 60's. C

The Letter (Jean de Limur, 1929): The first version of Maugham's short story is quite an achievement for an early sound film: de Limur doesn't have too many scenes where the dialogue runs on for an unnecessary amount of time and the he does attempt to tell the story visually at certain points. I'm not familiar with the structure of the source, but I think the way de Limur's The Letter lets us in on the crime right away so we figure out Leslie Crosbie (Jeanne Eagels) from scene two eliminates nearly every reason to see this movie (Contrast this with Wyler's version 11 years later which slowly unravels Leslie's story until we realize her ultimate motives at the very end). Eagels was nominated for an Oscar for this performance and God know's why since most of it is a shrilly, over the top mess. She completely unnatural in front of the camera and has the most annoyingly theatrical voice I think I've ever heard. Her only redeeming scene is her final moments when she reveals the truth to her husband and her violent line readings hold the most impact. C-

The Most Dangerous Game (Irving Pichel and Ernest B. Schoedsack, 1932): A stupid story and incredibly wooden acting dash the hopes of The Most Dangerous Game becoming the great lost classic of horror film. However, the editing is some of the crispest and most fascinating that I've seen in a film from this time period. The hunting sequences were spectacularly done and incredibly suspenseful even though you knew what the outcome was going to be. B-

Miller's Crossing (Joel and Ethan Coen, 1990): It's no Fargo or The Big Lebowski and I don't think the dark comedy is as funny or as out in the open as it is in those two masterpieces. As a 30's style gangster film, though, Miller's Crossing is still a pretty damn good film. There are so many characters to keep track of and so many double crossings that it probably needs a couple more viewings to get everything straight, but I still think it's a fun time trying to figure out Gabriel Byrne's character and loving Marcia Gay Harden and her immaculate hair. B+

On the Edge of Innocence (Peter Werner, 1997): I'll admit that the only reason I watched this film was because James Marsden stars as one-half of the romantic duo in this teenage mental hospital patients in love and on the run TV movie. The film is pretty silly in it's depiction of bipolar disorder (in my experience with my brother, the highs and lows are never that high and low) and the ending is simply stupid, but it's fun cheering on this Bonnie and Clyde-esque couple and Marsden is never bad to look at. C-

Jumper (Doug Liman, 2008): What a complete waste of time. From the first voiceover by Hayden Christensen, I was completely over this film. How do you sound that unconvincing and just plain awful in the first 30 seconds? Jamie Bell and Rachel Bilson (whom I loved on The O.C. and actually provoked a couple of seconds of laughter from her reading of "Yeah, I don't speak your language") deserved more than playing second fiddle to Christensen and did the best they could with the completely shitty material. D-

Let Us Be Gay (Robert Z. Leonard, 1930): The only point of interest in this completely average and horribly edited MGM light comedy is the pairing of Norma Shearer and Marie Dressler, two of the most respected and beloved actresses in their day but now nearly completely forgotten and misunderstood. The interplay between these two actresses was hilarious and silly, exactly what the nature of the film calls for. Dressler proved that she was ready for more challenging work and Shearer gives one of her most delightful early performances (and her best between The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg and Private Lives). C

The Cranes Are Flying (Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957): Who knew the Soviet's could make a romance this tender, emotionally fragile and completely honest. Possibly the greatest straight war time romance since The Big Parade. The deep focus photography, straight out of Citizen Kane, was impossibly beautiful and the long tracking shots, which had to have been majorly difficult, were pulled off with ease. A

Week End (Jean-Luc Godard, 1967) B-

On the DVD cover for this film, one critic described Week End as Godard's version of hell and there's no way I can possibly disagree with that assessment. There's a long scene that takes place about 20-30 minutes in which the main couple are rudely passing cars during a traffic jam and for about 10 minutes all we hear is the loud honking of car horns. The scene, which, I must add, was seen after a long day in which I dealt with car troubles, made me both queasy and gave me a headache; it certainly felt like hell to me. Even if Week End is too terribly uncomfortable for me to ever see again, I'm glad Godard went all out in making this experience as hellish as possible. This decision shows real balls and makes the film that much more interesting. I do love Godard's fascination with violence here in all the images of horrific car crashes and the unscrupulous main couple's constant comments to each other about how much they want each other dead. I also loved the individual scenes in which the wife, after their car gets wrecked in a huge crash, screams bloody murder about her Hermes scarf and the one in which the couple try to steal a car from a singing Jean-Pierre Leaud. The only thing I truly hated about Week End was the constant political monologues he gives to random characters that seem to go on for forever. I felt that there must have been a more creative way for Godard to mix them in with the rest of the film.

Tom Jones (Tony Richardson, 1963) C- (x2)

I've never read the source novel by Henry Fielding (and I probably never will) but I suspect that, as with many novel to film adaptations, the screenwriters had a tough time condensing multiple story lines and subplots and a myriad of characters into a two hour film. Tom Jones feels oddly disconnected to me because none of the subplots seem to add up and are often dropped without a moment's notice. Plus, Richardson's stale British New Wave tricks, which I'm sure were positively retro-chic back in 1963, feel completely dated. I also couldn't get over how misogynistic the whole film was. Tom is allowed to roam the countryside, fucking whoever he wants, but someone like Molly is considered a slut for doing the same. It simply isn't right, especially when I'd rather be following these fascinating women instead of Tom. Albert Finney's casting here is a complete mystery since he isn't exactly the type of good-looker that would turn the ladies' heads nor does he really do anything interesting with the role. If nothing else, I would really love to see the women get more material to work with-- Susannah York especially, who was so good in They Shoot Horses, Don't They? and definitely could have handled more oomph to her tireless romantic lead.

The Music Man (Morton DaCosta, 1962) D+

Egad, this movie is painful. I'm not going to say that DaCosta's adaptation of The Music Man is the problem here since most of the trouble spots stem from the actual story itself. The people are complete caricatures, the jokes are hokey at best and the film is way too long to be stabilized on the one joke. By the 45 minute mark, I thought the townspeople deserved to be swindled because they were so stupid. Seriously, they were so retarded I swear I caught some of them with drool hanging off their chin; I don't know how they function in the real world. I understand that all musicals are fantasies by nature, but there are times when the suspension of disbelief is too great to bear. The only brightside are the Meredith Wilson songs up through "76 Trombones." I thought they were original and creative enough to keep me interested even when the story was leaving me numb (seriously, how could no one seen that juvenile delinquent put that firecracker behind the presenters at the 4th of July meeting? He wasn't exactly subtle or anything). After "76 Trombones," the songs got progressively worse and that's when the film became nearly unwatchable.

A Thousand Clowns (Fred Coe, 1965) B (x2)

A fun, if slightly annoying, film about a middle-aged bachelor (Jason Robards) who is taking care of his nephew (Barry Gordon) after his sister dumped him at his place seven years previously. Two social service agents (William Daniels and Barbara Harris) show up at his place and tell him that he needs to turn his deadbeat ways around to keep his nephew. All in all, A Thousand Clowns is a very sweet film that was obviously influenced 60's British cinema (not exactly my favorite film movement) but still manages not to get caught up in those empty stylistics and develops a meaningful story about the relationship between Robards, Gordon and Harris. My only major complaint is that towards the middle I grew sick of Robards constant whining about not getting a job, how it's not for him and blah blah blah. He was too douchy during these moments and couldn't make me care one way or another if he actually got to keep the kid or not. Thankfully, the screenplay tones it down and he much more likable towards the end.

Roma (Federico Fellini, 1972) C-

Fellini, along with Bergman, Lynch and Coppola after The Godfather, is one of those directors who I probably should like a lot more than I actually do. True, he's done some very inventive things as a director and I respect him greatly. But, more often than not, I just don't understand what the fuck Fellini is doing or trying to say half the time. In Roma, I was with Fellini during the first half hour- a nice recollection of his younger years and what Rome meant to him at the time which is an obvious precursor to his well-received Amarcord two years later- but after that I was totally confused. Out of nowhere, Fellini turns the cameras on the people shooting the movie, narrating his various discussions with random people who told him what they wanted Roma to say about Rome, and it just goes downhill from there. There's a scene involving rowdy people in a low-end vaudeville hall that was meant to contrast with a section about current music, but that section never appears. Then there's a random scene involving people digging a subway and coming across a lost mural in a hidden catacomb that left me scratching my head. The ultimate in weirdness has to be that fashion show with priests and nuns modeling the latest habits and robes. I have no idea what was going on there. It wouldn't have been so bad, but it just went on and on for at least 10 minutes. The scene could have been interesting in a different film, but what exactly is saying about Rome? All in all, a potentially good film is ruined by Fellini's desire to go so overboard that no one knows what the hell his point is anymore.

Fanny (Joshua Logan, 1961) C

A perfectly respectable and watchable romance in the "star-crossed lovers" vein, even though I'd hardly call it worthy of the Best Picture nomination it received in 1961. It's appropriately epic and audience-catering as most Best Picture nominees of the time were. My problem is that I just can't find anything interesting to even say about it. Nothing about Fanny stirred any passion in me whatsoever; it's hardly a classic, but I've seen far worse films in my time. The performances were amusing, especially the interplay between Boyer and Chevalier, although I've seen each of the cast members do better work elsewhere.

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow (Vittorio De Sica, 1964) C+

Separately, the three short films that compromise Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow would be considered great films in their own right. Together, bundled up in one larger film, they don't work as well. Why? Because, as a whole, we are supposed to find the connections between the three stories and understand why they were placed together. Unfortunately, the only connection that exists between them is the superficial fact that Italian sex symbols Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni play the leads. The first segment, Adelina, lets its one joke run on a bit too long but its joke is quite humorous. Anna, the best of the three, works so amazingly because it suggests and hints at the relationship between Mastroianni and Loren rather than come right out and say and that ending is flat out genius. The third story, Mara, is the silliest of the two- hooker Loren and client Mastroianni must help stop a seminary student from leaving to go in the Foreign Legion- but it's a quite a bit of fun, Mastroianni has never been sillier (although Too Bad She's Bad is pretty close) and Loren's striptease was legendary. I wish these three short films had been released separately instead of lumped together in this film so I could possibly enjoy them more and make a stronger case for the film as a whole

Adelina C+; Anna A-; Mara B

The L-Shaped Room (Bryan Forbes, 1963) A-

I'm usually not a huge fan of 60's British cinema, which usually looks so dated now that it's almost unbearable to sit through, but The L-Shaped Room works exceptionally well because, stylistically, it's straight out of 1940's Hollywood. Leslie Caron plays a young French woman who gets knocked up and decides to keep the child (much to the chagrin of everyone around her) without the help of the baby's father. She moves into a boarding house and becomes friends with her neighbors, including eccentric musician Johnny (Brock Peters), lovable former actress Mavis (Cicely Courtneidge) and a nice young writer Toby (Tom Bell). The first 30 minutes or so are solid, if nothing groundbreaking, but you quickly realize that it's just setting the groundwork for a fantastic final 90 minutes. The material is pure melodrama, but director Bryan Forbes doesn't go for trashy, instead steering The L-Shaped Room towards an effective Sirkian drama. I also loved the impressive deep focus photography that really heightened the emotion, especially the scene on the stairwell between Caron and Bell during an enormous fight. It takes a while to warm up to Caron, but once you do, she'll sucker punch you with how good she is. Caron is definitely a limited actress, but Forbes and The L-Shaped Room play to her strenghts (most importantly, her de Havilland-like quiet strength) and she gives an immaculate performance. I also loved Cicely Courtneidge as the former actress who lives downstairs. She's quirky, dramatic and a lesbian in the 60's- why the hell wasn't she nominated for an Oscar as well?

Stolen Kisses (François Truffaut, 1968) A- (x2)

Film Rant here.

The Singer Not the Song (Roy Ward Baker, 1961) D

The Singer Not the Song starts off interestingly, with a classic good versus evil plotline between a moralistic priest (John Mills) and the murderous leader of a small Mexican village (Dirk Bogarde). Mills tries to stop Bogarde's alphabetical killings, but Bogarde pretty much laughs in his face and tries twice to kill him. The tension mounts for an hour until circumstance arise in which Bogarde shoots one of his own men to stop him from killing Mills, but, even after the priest protests, the sheriff runs Bogarde out of town. Then, for the next hour, we are introduced to this ridiculous love triangle that involves Bogarde, Mills and a beautiful villager. It wouldn't be so bad if this had been hinted at at some point in the first hour, but it seems almost tacked on to make this film feature length. Needless to say, the rest of the film is a complete mess, nearly dropping the original good vs. evil plot to cater to the melodramatic love story. My pretend boyfriend Dirk Bogarde, however, rises above this crap and delivers a performance that's totally boss. Ben Foster must have been taking notes on this film when preparing for 3:10 to Yuma, because there are a lot of similarities between the two performances: the rock star clothing and swagger, generally badass line deliveries and, above all, the homoeroticism. Bogarde is the only thing that keeps The Singer Not the Song moving long after I've finished giving a crap about it.

The Thomas Crown Affair (Norman Jewison, 1968) C-

This is my second viewing of The Thomas Crown Affair and I still don't think it's a very good film. Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway are "sexy! no no no" but are they particularly interesting here? Not really. The placing of four different point of views during the robbery is fascinating, but eventually realizing that Jewison is using style to cover up a lack of substance. The robbery is one of the most boring I've ever seen in a film. They take people hostage in an elevator and the lobby? That's the big secret plan? You've got to be fucking kidding me. After this lackadaisical robbery, the screenplay sort of bounces around from setting to setting, character to character without ever stopping to reflect upon anything substantial: "Oh look, Steve McQueen's flying a plane with 'Windmills of Your Mind' playing over the soundtrack. That's kinda cool. I wonder what it has to do with anything. Nothing you say? Then why the hell am I watching it?" It's only been a couple of hours after I finished watching The Thomas Crown Affair and I really can't remember anything between the robbery and the ending. The only scene that's particularly memorable is the chess scene between Dunaway and McQueen. If you never thought that chess could be that dirty, you obviously haven't seen this scene; it's downright filthy (in an amazing way)!