Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1975) B

A completely devastating film about the mysterious vanishing of three schoolgirls and a teacher during a completely innocent St. Valentine's Day picnic in 1900 Australia. I loved Weir's style here and the strange and eerie atmosphere he sets up, from the almost Persona-like opening to the Michael's slight obsession with finding the girls after witnessing them go up the rock to the drunken decline of the headmistress (the fabulous Rachel Roberts) at the school the girls came from. My only problem with the film is that it occasionally slips into L'Avventura territory where it just seems to completely forget the fact that we're searching for these women and plays it off like it doesn't matter. Weir only lets this happen twice or so and then immediately draws us back in.

Interiors (Woody Allen, 1978) A (x2)

The first time I saw Interiors I generally liked it but didn't think it was anywhere near the realm of Annie Hall. The second time, however, I was absolutely caught up in it and couldn't take my eyes off the mesmerizing images unfolding before me. I think it would take a few more viewings to definitively grasp what Allen is aiming for and eventually I will take the time to write something more in depth about this film. Let me first say that the muted, empty art direction and lifeless costumes were absolutely perfect. The sparse decorations and simple colors beautifully reflect what is going on in the lives of Eve (Geraldine Page) and her daughters Renata (Diane Keaton) and Joey (Mary Beth Hurt). Geraldine Page and Maureen Stapleton, as the girls' father's second wife, were nominated for Oscars and while Stapleton's was infinitely deserved-- she adds color and touches of humor that juxtapose magnificently with the coldness of the rest of the family-- Page, for me, just seemed somewhat miscast. She was good, but I think most of that was due in part to Allen's dialogue and not from what Page was doing as actress: Page's Eve is all cold, vacuous stares and not much else. Much better, in my estimation, were Diane Keaton, who knocked me out with her presence and sharp contrast from the previous year's Annie Hall, and Mary Beth Hurt, who I suspect was taking on the Woody Allen role but does it much better than Allen ever could have.

Day for Night (François Truffaut, 1973) A (x2)

Truffaut's Day for Night is, quite simply, one of the most fascinating films about the movies that I've ever encountered. Second viewings usually make or break a film for me, but I actually thought it was much stronger than I remembered. Unlike Sunset Boulevard or Singin' in the Rain, Day for Night is a love-letter to the movies and what they mean to Truffaut. Sure, they're messy and shit happens that completely fuck them up, but he wouldn't have it any other way. I also thought the performances were surprisingly strong considering they're hardly Truffaut's main concern here. Valentina Cortese's character arc isn't especially strong, but she's humorous and affecting in her few scenes and quite the diva. Jean-Pierre Leaud understands the immature young man bit quite well by now and delivers nicely. I also noticed in the scene where Leaud asks Truffaut to be his best man how similar they act and look. It was almost a Persona moment it was so eerie. Jacqueline Bisset, as the American actress who's just recovered from a nervous breakdown, was also much better than I remembered. She seemed so lost (in a good way) throughout the whole movie, and I finally understood why she cheats on her husband and sleeps with Leaud's character.

I know this was a little scattered and thread-bare, but I'm positive I'm going to write something more in depth sometime in the future. This movie is much too fascinating to be summarized in a paragraph or two.

Three Days of the Condor (Sydney Pollack, 1975) D+

One sub-genre that I simply don't understand, no matter how hard I try, is the 70's conspiracy thriller. The China Syndrome is merely meh, Klute, Fonda's performance aside, is flimsy at best and The Conversation is simply one of the most overrated movies ever. With my prejudices out in the open, let me just tell you why I also didn't enjoy Sydney Pollack's Three Days of the Condor. One of the thing that gets me about thrillers post-Hitchcock is that they generally aren't thrilling and Condor is no exception. We are given no clues throughout the film, such as, maybe, a plot to assassinate someone that's uncovered, as to why the bad guys want Redford's character dead. They simply chase him around and force him to fend for his life. When we are given an explanation at the end, it comes out of left field and makes absolutely no sense. It plays out like the screenwriter wrote a couple of options on a dartboard and threw a dart to see which one to pick. Another problem with Three Days of the Condor is the major miscasting of the leads. Just because you put glasses on Robert Redford, it doesn't mean he's instantly become some bookworm. For Condor to have made any sense, they should have casted someone who actually looks brainy and would have a hard time getting out of these situations. With Redford, it looks too easy and the story doesn't make sense. My beloved Faye Dunaway is also miscast in her role as a woman who Redford forcefully captures. She's too high strung and forceful to play a captive convincingly.