Reboot (2022)
Allison and I watched it together when I was in New York for the first half of this month. I adore this series and am so bummed it wasn’t picked up for Season 2. We had a blast watching it. Johnny Knoxville! lol
Pour Une Nuit d’Amour (1947; d. Edmond T. Gréville)
Dan had a copy of this barely-screened hard-to-find film, so he and Keith hosted a small gathering – me, Imogen and Farran – so we could watch. We’ve done this a couple of times before and it’s now a little bit of a familiar ritual. Keith cooks dinner – he’s an amazing cook, multi-course meals, always delicious. He spent the first year of the pandemic making his way through various French cookbooks. We sit around and talk for 5, 6 hours. These are good friends. We watched the movie first. Blinds drawn. Everyone settling in. The room dark in the middle of the afternoon. This film is a HOOT. There were twists I never expected. Incredible acting and masterful visuals. There are nuns and peasants and a murder, plus a woman who seems to be one way and then reveals herself (understatement of the century) to be an entirely other way. We were all delighted and riveted by it. Getting together with friends …. having been deprived of it for two years, there’s still a novelty aspect to it, and it warms my heart and soul. Great Brooklyn day.
After Hours (1986; d. Martin Scorsese)
Allison and I watched this and had an absolute blast.
Dear Edward (2023; created by Jason Katims)
Allison and I watched this. We were so drawn in by the first episode. (And it’s a killer cast.) The next episodes verged on the corny. We both felt it. The premise is really cool though.
There’s Always Tomorrow (1955; d. Douglas Sirk)
I had never seen this before and I REALLY love it. A reunion, of sorts, of Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray, only this time instead of an ice-hot noir (Double Indemnity), they’re in a middle-aged romantic melodrama. Or maybe just a drama. I wrote a little about it here.
Seriously Red (2023; d. Gracie Otto)
I really liked this Australian film about an awkward slightly lost woman who stumbles into the world of celebrity imitators on the sheer power of her love for Dolly Parton. Rose Byrne plays an Elvis imitator. I reviewed for Ebert.
Phantom Lady (1944; d. Robert Siodmak)
Absolutely adore this noir. Siodmak pulls out the stops and so does his cast. Ella Raines – who comes across as so modern, so natural – is determined to clear her boss’ name. He’s been imprisoned for murdering his wife, and faces the electric chair. So begins her descent into a frightening shadowy underworld, where she has to go undercover – as a prostitute, at one point – in order to insinuate herself closer to those who may be responsible. She is searching for a so-called “phantom lady”, a woman her boss “picked up” on the night of the murder. This woman – who wore a massive feathered hat, unmistakable – would be her boss’ alibi. If only this woman could be found. There’s an incredibly sexual disturbing scene involving an after-hours jazz-band jam, where Elisha Cook Jr. is whipped into a frenzy by his own drumming. And Franchot Tone plays a famous sculptor, who presents as a friend, although …. Is he? Tone’s careful physical work is extraordinary: his hands are the most important thing in every scene. Watch his hands. This was Siodmak’s first Hollywood production, produced by Joan Harrison – a woman, as you will notice – a pioneer.
Stolen Youth: Inside the Cult at Sarah Lawrence (2023; d. Zach Heinzerling)
This story is so crazy. I remember following it when it first broke, and I was drawn to it, even more so than the whole NXIVM story, although I was sucked into that one as well. This one was even more confusing and disorienting. At LEAST NXIVM presented as an actual legitimate business. You can understand more readily why people would get sucked in. But THIS story … it exists in the margins, in the peripheral areas, the in-betweens, where idealistic young people – who, it must be said, appear to have grown up in an environment of enforced helplessness. The series does address that. It was “cool” and “the thing” to present as broken and wounded and “this is who I am” – I suppose you could call it “emo”. I noticed this new “trend” (which was probably always present, but we just didn’t have the internet to amplify it) once I started trolling around on Tumblr looking for Supernatural fanfic. As you do. I noticed it in the bios on all these Tumblr pages, where people led with their diagnoses. You don’t know what these people are studying in school, what they do for a living, anything, but you know they suffer from anxiety and depression and OCD and everything else. This is new. To “fit in”, you better have a host of psychological problems. I understand why this has happened – a necessary corrective to the feeling that these things are shameful or you don’t talk about them. I get it. But … such necessary correctives often have unintended consequences, and this Sarah Lawrence situation shows one of the potential ways this kind of thing leaves people very vulnerable. None of this is meant as a criticism. Nobody should have to pay the price these kids paid. This is a VERY upsetting watch. I thought it was very well done and I applaud everyone for agreeing to be interviewed about what was an extremely traumatic situation which stole years from their lives, and impacted them forever. I applaud their courage. I applaud the work they are doing right now to heal, to put themselves back together. I wish all of them well. They did not deserve ANY of this. This man infuriates me. Even the sound of his voice makes me want to wreck a room with my bare hands. I am so glad they put this predator away.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019; d. Quentin Tarantino)
No signs of getting sick of it yet. It’s wild to see Austin Butler here. Get ready, kid. Shit’s about to explode for you.
Baby It’s You (1983; d. John Sayles)
Same year as Valley Girl. Such an interesting era for “quirky” teen movies, directed by masters of the craft. Baby It’s You is almost a curio: Vincent Spano, ladies and gentlemen! He’s so excellent. What an interesting character. And Rosanna Arquette dominates: her intelligence, her emotions, her sense of stepping outside her comfort zone … it’s quite a complex character and the journey she goes on is the journey of growing up. Normally I hate the saying “People come into your life for a season, a reason, or a lifetime” but I have to admit there’s some truth to it. Happiness depends on you recognizing which one applies to each. Don’t mistake a reason for a season! I was convinced my 74 Facts man was “a lifetime” but he was “a season”. I thought Window-Boy was just “a season” (11 years is a season, Sheila?) but he was actually “a reason”. And I thought Michael was “a season” but he’s “a lifetime”, even though we’re not married or anything. I’m just talking lifelong friends. Forever friend. So. I got it ALL WRONG with the Triumvirate. I think a lot of us do! It’s what falling in love is all about, especially when you’re young. I love the distinct-ness of this, the environment, the dialogue, the cars, the environment: it’s all very much ITSELF. And Vincent Spano!! I love that character.
All I Desire (1953; d. Douglas Sirk)
Sort of Stella-Dallas-the-1950s-version. Barbara Stanwyck plays a woman with a tired vaudeville act. She never made it big. But she kept at it. Long ago, she abandoned her husband and three children – !!! – to pursue the career. Shadings of complexity are added as the film goes on: She was also unfaithful to her husband, and the scandal of it also was a factor in her skipping town. 15 years have passed and suddenly she gets a letter from her teenage daughter, who is about to appear in her high school play, and she wants her mother to see that she’s doing well and following in her footsteps. (Stanwyck has lied in the few letters she’s sent back home. She reports she’s doing well and packing theatre halls in Europe.) So she decides to return to the little conventional New England-y type town she left. Her return causes eruptions of emotions and scandal, long-buried hostilities/love exploding to the surface. Her oldest daughter took on the mom role, and runs the household. She has no nostalgia for the woman who left them. Teenage daughter is awe-struck, idolizes her mother. The young son has no memory of his mother at all. It’s a very touching film and gorgeously shot.
Emily (2023; d. Frances O’Connor)
I absolutely loved this film about Emily Bronte. I reviewed for Ebert.
While the Patient Slept (1935; d. ray enright)
A murder-mystery along the Agatha Christie vein, the Gosford Park vein: there’s a big mansion filled with family members, someone is murdered, they are all suspects. It’s fun.
Five Star Final (1931; d. Mervyn LeRoy)
I had never seen this before and I really loved it. It’s a newspaper movie: an indictment of tabloid sensationalistic journalism – such a harsh film that William Randolph Hearst was offended by it. Listen, man, if the shoe fits … An ambitious editor (Edward G. Robinson) realizes his newspaper is falling behind the other papers, and decides to change their tactics, becoming increasingly unscrupulous, basically harassing this one poor family by dredging up the past of one of its members. This has tragic consequences. (There are a lot of connections to the power of the internet and what is happening right now: where someone’s pictures in a high school yearbook can be dredged up and derail a career.) The paper resorts to trickery, sending someone (Boris Karloff) off in a disguise in order to infiltrate the family. Aline MacMahon plays the editor’s secretary who is so disgusted at what is going on you can see her transformation from peppy capable woman to total wreck who gets drunk in the middle of the day. She cannot support what is happening, and her employment makes her complicit. I must call out H.B. Warner (mostly remembered for his performance as Mr. Gower, the pharmacist in It’s a Wonderful Life) who gives what I consider to be a towering performance here, as the loving husband to the wife whose name is being slandered. He is TRAGIC. He GOES there. For REAL. My God. Five Star Final doesn’t pull its punches. The consequences of the paper’s actions are irrevocable. Tragedy is not averted. This is a very very angry film. I thought it was great.
The Mouthpiece (1932; d. James Flood, Elliott Nugent)
No, not the 2019 film I really loved. This is another hard-hitting pre-Code, with Warren Williams (so-called King of the Pre-Codes) in his first starring role. He plays an avenging-angel prosecutor, who sends a man to the electric chair, mostly because of his ringing-to-the-heavens evangelical closing argument. Turns out the man was innocent. He is so distraught at what he has done he descends into the lower depths, eventually “switching sides” and becoming a defense attorney, representing the dregs, the worst of humanity. Not only does he “represent” these people, he’s “in bed” with them, financially. He lives a gangster life, all money and booze and women. The total destruction of a man’s moral compass. Another good one I’d never seen before.
Grand Hotel (1932; d. Edmund Goulding)
I just read the novel for the first time (it’s a masterpiece. I guess I had no idea. I’m sorry.) so I re-watched the film. It’s so damn good. CRAWFORD. She’s so REAL.
Still Missing Morgan (2023; d. Devon Parks)
I wasn’t aware Ridley Scott was one of the producers of this. What could have been a glorified 48 Hours or Cold Case Files is instead something much more looming, awful, unfinished, infuriating. I was so busy with work in February, writing, etc., and spent half of the month not in my own bed, so I have been struggling with being “frazzled”, my word for … danger zone. It’s been hard to turn off the adrenaline required to get through every work day. One of the ways I relax is watching horrific little mini-series about horrific events. I recommend this. A lot of care has been put into it. It’s a terrifying story.
The Heart of New York (1932; d. Mervyn LeRoy)
Another Mervyn LeRoy picture. His films were a THEME this month. A crowded rambunctious movie – slightly tiresome at points – about a group of Polish immigrants clustered on the Lower East Side, living together, surviving, joking, lots of broad stereotypes but – unlike now – lots of Jewish people actually playing Jewish people. Vaudeville stuff, some works better than others. There is a plot. The patriarch of a family, who owns a successful fabric business? I can’t remember – has basically invented a washing machine. It will change the world. He is always inventing things and trying to get patents, only to find someone else got there first. The down side of the American dream. There’s also a lot of stuff about the children of immigrant parents: how they break away from tradition, their feet in two worlds. I posted a couple of images on my Instagram: of the teenage daughter, in her underwear, changing in front of the shop window, not caring that all the old Jewish dudes on the street are staring in at her, scandalized. This is how you tell a story in visuals. You don’t even need words. Look at the lettering on the window and look at the people cast outside. It says it all.
I wrote on Instagram that the film has a “sentimental view of adorable poverty on display … with a hearty cast of character actors and a script that makes you yearn for Odets – who was already writing at this point, but his one two punch of Waiting for Lefty and Awake and Sing came in 1935 – three years in the future. In one fell swoop, Odets’ writing made other writing taking place in similar environments look stock. Vaudeville schtick as opposed to the real deal. But the schtick is still sometimes entertaining even if it wears out its welcome.”
Week-End Wedding (1932; d. Thornton Freeland)
Loretta Young stars as a young wife who becomes the breadwinner in her marriage. She basically can’t stop working, because her husband (Norman Foster) is out of work. It’s 1932, after all. He becomes depressed, and she is a workaholic. She really enjoys her work. This is another problem. She’s dangerously on the verge of becoming a “career woman”. And we can’t have THAT. Society re-asserts itself near the end of the film where she is basically blamed for the husband falling deathly ill. She wasn’t there to care for him. Oh, boo-hoo, the guy can’t find a bottle of aspirin on his own? But there are a lot of interesting observations about marriage, in my opinion. How a hectoring teasing wife – constantly belittling her husband – has no one but herself to blame when he strays or finally has had enough of it. I wouldn’t want to be belittled 24/7 by someone who thinks they know best. My first relationship was kind of like that. When I rebelled, I went CRAZY. So. But the whole “how dare you enjoy your job, your husband is now dying because of it” thing is a bit MUCH. George Brent shows up here.
Desperately Seeking Susan (1985; d. Susan Seidelman)
It’s been years. Such a time-traveler. It makes me sad about New York, about the changes since 1985, how it is basically a city only for the rich now. There’s not really a vibrant downtown scene anymore. No one can afford it. Artists are moving to other places now, and New York is a lesser place because of it.
Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933; d. Mervyn LeRoy, Busby Berkeley)
I’m not sure how many times I’ve seen this. Thirty? I first saw it as a child and was swept away by the kaleidoscopic dance numbers created by Busby Berkeley. I found them confusing, beautiful, alienating. And then there was the spectacle of the four young actresses, living in one apartment, trying to survive, going to dance rehearsals, barging into casting offices, supporting each other. To a 10-year-old girl like myself, this was living the DREAM. It’s why I thrilled to movies like Stage Door, 42nd Street, even Morning Glory. I wanted that life. I didn’t care if I was cold and hungry, I wanted to go to dance classes in character shoes, and then go home to my crowded apartment filled with girls in the same boat. (I eventually did live that dream.) I finally wrote a piece years in the making – YEARS – about the similarities between Gold Diggers of 1933 and the unfairly-maligned Sucker Punch. The piece was included in a book (limited editions) so I reposted it here.
The Life of Jimmy Dolan (1933; d. Archie Mayo)
An absolutely gorgeous holy shit Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. plays Jimmy Dolan, a professional boxer – with an apple-pie life made up for him by the adoring press. He’s a champion. Behind the scenes, though, he’s loose and wild and debauched, and one night he gets in a drunken fist fight with a guy and accidentally kills him. He flees. He goes into hiding. He’s famous, though. it’s hard to hide. So he goes out west and ends up wandering into a home for disabled children, run by – sisters? – Loretta Young (again) and Aline MacMahon (again). Look for a small buck-toothed Mickey Rooney as one of the kids. The kids are treated with compassion (by the sisters and by the film), and there’s a little Black child among the kids, and there’s a surprising lack of racist framing of him. He’s one of the gang. Jimmy finds a new lease on life, working for the home, teaching the kids boxing, milking cows. But of course his past will rise up to haunt him. I mean, look at this man.
Heroes for Sale (1933; d. William Wellman)
A FURIOIUS movie, made during the worst year of the Depression, and it’s not only ABOUT the Depression, but about the shameful treatment of WWI vets, who returned home shell-shocked, injured – physically and mentally – and then abandoned by the society that sent them off to war. A continuing problem today. Richard Barthelmess plays one such soldier, who was given morphine for a war wound, which led to an addiction. Because of his addiction he loses everything. He is homeless, one of the millions of wandering men during those years, looking for work, any work. I wrote about this film years ago. Haven’t seen it since back then. It’s just as good as I remembered. It’s amazing to see a positive portrayal of a Communist Russian. This would soon change. The Communists, remember, were seen as the only potential stop on Hitler’s rise to power. the Hitler-Stalin pact was a shock an entire generation was unable to recover from. All that is in the future though. Heroes for Sale is the final number of Gold Diggers of 1933 – “Remember My Forgotten Man” – stretched out into a full narrative. I mean look at that title. Talk about not pulling your punches. Loretta Young, again. Warner Brothers. The same people in every movie.
Six Feet Under (2001-2005)
A recent conversation about Lili Taylor’s stint on Six Feet Under inspired me to a re-watch (of just those episodes). It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this show and it was amazing to me how much came back to me. I had forgotten how EARLY in the series she arrives. In my memory she entered maybe the 4th season or the 5th. It’s a phenomenal performance from her. I know people were annoyed by her but … I mean, haven’t you ever loved someone who wasn’t into you? If you HAVEN’T, then get down on your knees and thank the Lord above. It’s so painful your personality changes. You lose your spark, your joy. And it’s even worse for Lisa, because he MARRIES her. Nate is the WORST. God, he’s the WORST.
The Quiet Girl (2023; d. olm Bairéad)
A stunner. I reviewed for Ebert.
One Way Passage (1932; d. Tay Garnett)
How had I never seen this beautiful movie before?? It takes place on board an ocean liner, traveling from Asia to San Francisco. William Powell, wanted for murder, is on board. So is Kay Francis, a beautiful woman, who also happens to be dying. They fall in love: he doesn’t tell her he’s a wanted man, she doesn’t tell him he’s dying. The ship is crowded with grifters and frauds, as well as the detectives tracking them. It’s not just a witty caper. It’s suffused with romanticism, doomed love, tenderness. I was incredibly moved by it. Leave it to William Powell and Kay Francis – such a great pair together – to be able to believably perform the phenomenon of “love at first sight”.
Murdaugh Murders: A Southern Scandal (2023; d. Jenner FurstJulia Willoughby Nason)
Okay, I got sucked into it. I avoided the story as long as I possibly could. I’m all caught up now, thanks to the Netflix doc. I also watched the sentencing hearing. Damn you.
Marnie (1964; d. Alfred Hitchcock)
Tippi is put through the wringer here. She looks totally destroyed by the end of this psychological mind-fuck. It’s a tremendous performance. Very disturbing.
Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre (2023; d. Guy Ritchie)
I’m sorry to say I didn’t really like this. A movie like this should be fun and it wasn’t really fun, except for Josh Hartnett. I reviewed for Ebert.
Preparations to Be Together for an Unknown Period of Time (2020; d. Lili Horvát)
My new obsession. I’ve seen it three times already. I wrote about it on my Substack, and have been having an amazing conversation with “mutecypher” about it over there. It’s so deep. This is my kind of movie.
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