A fifth by Ray.

The Stranger (1991), directed by Satyajit Ray. This is Ray's final film; he died in 1992. The film tells the story of a long-lost uncle who returns to meet his niece after a 35 year absence. He has been out of communication with any family members since 1968, 32 years ago. He arrives on his niece's doorstep a few days after the niece has received a letter announcing his return. The niece has no memory of this uncle, and her husband is sceptical that this person is, in fact, her uncle. Once he arrives the family make several efforts to establish whether this stranger is truly the person he claims to be. Much of the action takes place in the family's living room where a selection of family friends comes to test the new arrival, and these tests become occasions for reflections on the nature of civilization, identity, politics, the class system, materialism, and so on. We might be reminded that the philosopher is often, if not always, a stranger to others. Ray's characters are attractive in their puzzlement, their humour, their humanity. Perhaps the key to these characters is the young son, Satyaki, whose openness, innocence, and desire to learn give him a special relationship with the Stranger. This is a quiet, yet intense film that suggests the simple "forest life" is the good life, and that all the so-called civilized values devolve into warfare, division, and an unfair separation of peoples into haves and have-nots. The final scene in the country brings Ray back to the world of his Apu trilogy made over thirty years before The Stranger. Told with delicacy and gentleness, this is a story for our times. I might add that the colours in this film are dazzling.

 Four by Satyajit Ray.

The Music Room (1958), directed by Satyajit Ray. The film opens with the sound of Indian classical music alongside the sound of European classical violins, and the juxtaposition introduces the theme of music, clash of cultures, and change. Change is perhaps at the forefront here as we soon enter the fading world of a zamindar (feudal land owner) who lives in the past while being confronted by the present and future at every turn. Much of the film takes place inside the zaminder’s crumbling mansion, itself a reminder of culture clash in its colonial splendour, and inside the failing mind of the feudal lord who refuses to accept change. His obsession is with music, and the film contains performances of Indian classical music and dance that take place, for the most part, in the opulent music room with its huge chandelier. In order to maintain position over his crass neighbour, a self-made man who embraces modernity (electricity, automobiles), the zamindar (Chhabi Biswas) is willing to spend all the remaining money, and his wife’s jewels, in order to continue presenting famous musicians in his ornate jalsaghar (Music Room). The final dance sequence in the Music Room is stunningly effective. Throughout the film we have symbolic touches: the small model boat, the white horse, the elephant, the automobile leaving behind a large dust cloud, the sound of music, the mansion, the encroaching river, the hookah and the cigarette, the huge mirror, the wall of portraits, and of course the chandelier. All of these touches are delivered with subtlety and lightness. The final shots show the dimming of the candle light alongside the beginning of sunrise. This is a masterful film from a masterful film maker.

 

The Big City (1963), directed by Satyajit Ray. This is Ray’s first film set in modern day Calcutta, and it begins with a shot of a trolley antennae sparking on its high wire as it moves along. The image let’s us know that something electric is about to happen. What that something is pits traditional ways with an emerging modernity that includes housewives finding work outside the home. The story focuses on Subrata Mazumbar (Anil Chatterjee), his wife Arati (Madhavi Mukherjee), and their extended family who live in cramped quarters and on the edge of poverty. Much of the film is shot in medium close-ups and close-ups that accentuate the tightness of the family dwelling both in terms of space and standard of living. Finding themselves in need of financial help, Arati decides to look for work, and she finds it selling knitting machines. It turns out she is good at her work and she soon finds herself moving up in her company. Meanwhile Subrata loses his job at a bank, making Arati’s income even more important for family survival. A lipstick tube, paper currency, a mirror all chronicle Arati’s emerging independence and sense of self-worth. The film, despite the rather closed-in camera work has a thrilling sense of life. We get to know this family, father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, son, sister-in-law well. We also get to know Arati’s boss, Himangshu (Haradhan Bannerjee). The film examines the economic divide in this city. It also notices racism in its depiction of the Anglo-Indian woman Edith (Vicky Redwood) who is treated badly at work. She finds a friend in Arati. This is a film that deals with difficult and important issues, and at the same time gives us characters we can like and even admire. 

 

The Coward (1965), directed by Satyajit Ray. Screen-writer Amitabha Roy (Soumitra Chatterjee) finds himself stranded in a small town. Local tea magnate, Bimal Gupta (Haradhan Bannerjee) offers to put him up for a night. When Amitabha meets Mrs. Karuna Gupta (Madhavi Mukherjee), he finds himself face to face with his girlfriend from some years ago. He still love this woman who he had hesitated to marry in the past. The film focuses on this reunion and the failure of Amitabha to come to terms with his past failure of nerve. Along with Akira Kurosawa, Jean Renoir, and Yasujiro Ozu, Satyajit Ray stands out as one of the great humanist film makers. What makes this film worth seeing is its understanding of human beings, their foibles and weaknesses and strengths. Here Madhavi Mukherjee delivers another strong portrait of a wife whose strength, stoicism, and talent remain despite a patriarchal system that places women as secondary to their husbands and partners. We saw her earlier in The Big City (1963), in which she plays a wife who goes out to work because her husband becomes unemployed. Here she is a dutiful wife who sets aside her painting in deference to her husband. Now her gift for art finds an outlet in drawing the household servants. In this closet drama, Ray manages to explore class and gender and the human condition.

 

The Hero (1966), directed by Satyajit Ray. Most of the film takes place on a train travelling to Delhi. The main character is film star, Arindam Mukherjee (Uttam Kumar), who is on his way to Delhi to receive an award. He is the main focus, suffering, as he does, from an existential crisis. We learn his back story through flashbacks and we learn something of his emotional crisis through his dreams. These sequences, both flashbacks and dreams, are handled masterfully. We also meet others on board, most importantly the magazine editor, Aditi (Sharmila Tagore) who “interviews” the famous film star, and who finds herself in a strangely compelling relationship with him. Others on board are a variety of people who are either star-struck or disapproving of film actors. There is also an advertising man who tries to get a commitment from a business man by using his wife as a lure. For her part, the wife desires to become a movie star. The plot is not complicated, although the human beings in this plot are. I kept thinking of the many other films that take place on board a train. This one is excellent. As always, Ray’s interests lie in humanity. His use of the train is fluid and seamless and he never makes us feel cramped as his camera moves through the corridors and into and out of compartments. I was reminded of Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited (2007) in the use of space and the dream sequences. The Hero is an impressive film.

 Some Sci-fi/horror from the 1950s.

Project Moon Base (1953), directed by Richard Talmadge. The story of the first moon base was supposed to be a TV series in the early fifties, but it did not make the cut and so producers pieced pieces of the TV episodes together and came up with this film. It has its charms – a person walking on the ceiling of the space station, a sign saying “Don’t Walk on the Walls,” and some nifty special effects of docking in outer space. The acting is pretty bad, and the ending calls up thoughts of Adam and Eve. We also have a woman as Commander, and, even more surprisingly, a woman as President of the United States. Of course, we also have agents of a foreign country (guess which one) who wish to destroy America’s Space Station. This one is not particularly well filmed or acted, but somehow it manages to overcome its liabilities. Taken in the right spirit, it is fun.

 

The Magnetic Monster (1953, directed by Curt Siodmak and Herbert L. Strock. This is an intelligent low budget science fiction film about the dangers of nuclear radiation; here it runs amok. We have no giant insects or oversize robots or creatures from the deep. What we have is an atomic isotope that devours energy and doubles its size every 12 hours. If not stopped, this thing will send earth spinning out of control and way into space. The end! Trying to solve the mystery of how to get rid of this thing are Jeffrey Stewart (Richard Carlson) and his colleague Dan (King Donovan) who work for the Office of Scientific Investigation. What they learn is that the only way to rid the world of this thing is for them to take it to Nova Scotia. I’m not kidding – Nova Scotia. Canada’s maritime province saves the world. What could be better? The spectacular climax here is actually lifted from the 1934 German film, Gold, directed by Karl Hartl. This is an earnest little film that somehow works. It also can claim to initiate a cycle of films about the dangers of nuclear research. The early scene in the appliance store is fun. Also fun is the large computer that assists the scientists; it is called MANIAC.

 

Stranger from Venus (1954), directed by Burt Balaban. Made just three years after Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still, Stranger from Venus revisits the story of an alien come to earth to warn the people of earth to cease and desist when it comes to nuclear bombs. Unlike the earlier film, this one has a miniscule budget, hardly any special effects, and a cast of humans who prove their ignorance and stupidity. The Stranger here is a man without a name (Helmut Dantine) who has the power to heal, and who likes gardening. What’s not to like. He also seems to have a force field around him that impedes people from touching him, that is all people with the exception of Susan North (Patricia Neal – yes, she was in The Day the Earth Stood Still too). Susan can embrace and even kiss this stranger with a green thumb. Most of the action takes place in an out-of-the-way English pub. Why the alien decided to drop in to this place remains unclear, but he is not going to save humankind from a lonely pub in the “wilds” of England. The film is noteworthy precisely because of its lack of production flourishes and for its earnestness. Oh, and for its unflattering picture of our species.

 

Them! (1954), directed by Gordon Douglas. This is one of the best known Sci-fi/horror films of the 1950s, and for good reason. The production values are excellent, the creatures impressively believable, the characters interesting, and the locations nice. The films opening with the little girl wandering the desert, unable to talk, vacant and then that sound, so chilling. The creatures, by the way, are large ants, and the film lets us know quite a bit about ants and their ways. The ants are large because – you knew this – of atomic testing back in the 1940s. This film is one of many in the 50s that dealt with the atomic bomb and the consequences of radiation. It is also one of the best ones. Edmund Gwenn as Dr. Harold Medford gives a great performance as the person who, along with his daughter Patricia (Joan Weldon), who is also a doctor, figures out what is going on. He also delivers the sobering news that humanity is in a precarious situation now that the nuclear genie has been loosed. Other stalwarts in the cast include James Whitmore, James Arness, Olin Howland, Dub Taylor, Walter Coy, Sean McClory, Fess Parker, Sheb Wooley, Dick York, Jack Perrin, Leonard Nimoy, and Willis Boucher, familiar faces all. Sidney Hickox is the cinematographer, and his work here is sharp and impressive.

 

The Collosus of New York (1958), directed by Eugene Lourie. Here is a 1950s monster film that mixes Frankenstein with Der Golem. The story s preposterous, but somehow engaging. In short, the family of famous scientists comes a cropper when one son, Jeremy Spensser (Ross Martin), a “genius” who is slated to help humanity is hit by a car and dies. His lunatic father William (Otto Kruger) is a brain surgeon, and he decides to remove his dead son’s brain and revive it. Another son, Harry (John Baragrey), is a whiz with robotics and automation. William convinces Harry to fashion a 12-foot body in which to lodge Jeremy’s brain. What could possibly go wrong? Jeremy, now a colossus, finds a way to reconnect with his young son Billy (Charles Herbert), and he is not pleased when others try to keep Billy from him. So he learns how to mesmerize people, making creaking sounds and flashing his bright eyes. The action moves on to a United Nations Peace conference where Jeremy turns up and fries any number of people by sending a beam of light from his eyes. I suspect this film could have had something to say about science overreach, about automation, about family, and maybe other things too. As it is, the film stumbles along delivering one impossibility after another. The bits that deal with Jeremy’s desire to connect with Billy and his family may point forward to Robocop. But this is, perhaps, the least of Eugene Lourie’s four monster features: The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), The Giant Behemoth (1959), Gorgo (1961), and this one.

 

The Hideous Sun Demon (1958), directed by Robert Clarke. Another 50s cheapie, this one a riff on the werewolf and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde films. Robert Clarke plays Dr. Gilbert McKenna who does research that uses radiation. Somehow, he gets a severe and rare case of radiation poison. His exposure to radiation isotopes proves deadly. Rather than just growing sicker and sicker until he passes, Gilbert discovers his illness only turns him into a hideous demon when he is exposed to the sun. This hideous demon is a throwback to the early stages of evolution. Like poor Larry Talbot, Gilbert is the victim of a terrible affliction. We know how these things turn out. The demon suit here is pretty good, reminding me of a cross between the werewolf we all know and love and the creature from the Black Lagoon. The script has its moments: for example, “I've told him before that bourbon and water go together, not bourbon and radiation!" The focus on Gilbert’s struggle to come to terms with his affliction does give the film a little heft. The finale at an oil field that seems to sit right aside a suburban housing zone is memorable, if predictable. The scene in the shack with the little girl meeting poor Gilbert reminds me of a scene in James Whale’s Frankenstein, although the outcome here is rather more benign. Also memorable is the infamous “rat scene.” Quickly let me add, no rats were harmed during the making of this film. All in all, this is a film for those who like the oddball outings from Poverty Row.

 

Corridors of Blood (1958), directed by Robert Day. I suspect the title caught the eye of Stanley Kubrik. Now I wonder if he was disappointed not to find corridors of blood in this film. This is not to say the film disappoints; it does not. Here Boris Karloff plays the good Dr. Bolton who offers free service to the poor when he is not conducting surgery in a London hospital in the 1840s. In his spare time, he seeks a way of providing painless surgery, or separating the knife from the pain, as he says. This is before the arrival of chloroform. Anyway, you can bet that things go awry for the good doctor who before long finds himself without a job and with an addiction to the stuff he has been inhaling as he tries to find a way to make surgery painless. He also finds himself under the influence of Resurrection Joe (Christopher Lee) and Black Ben (Francis De Wolff). This is all very captivating, but what is even more engaging is the mise en scene. The sets for the London streets and inns are excellent. The film is worth watching just for its visual delight in recreating London in the mid nineteenth century. But we also have Boris managing to convince us of this good man’s turmoil as he descends into addiction and grows more frantic to solve the problem of painful and bloody surgery.

 

The Haunted Strangler (1958), directed by Robert Day. Here is one for fans of Boris Karloff. He plays novelist James Rankin who is convinced that twenty years ago an innocent man went to the gallows, and he, Rankin, is out to exonerate this man and identify the actual murderer. As things move along in dark musty chambers, the Judas Hole, a cabaret with a lively set of cancan girls dancing up a storm and a couple of buxom women followed by someone sinister, and a creepy graveyard with rats, we begin to unravel a tangled plot as Rankins’s detective work reveals the truth. The film gathers elements of the Jack the Ripper story with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and when I tell you this, you will have a spoiler. Sorry. But the film is worth seeing if you like this sort of thing. Karloff, in the late stage of his career, is just fine, and the atmospherics are also just fine for a modest low-budget film. This little horror gem is character driven, and satisfyingly so.

 

The Lost Missile (1958), directed by Lester Wm. Berke. Shot newsreel-style, this little pot-boiler has a rogue missile shooting across Canada and northern United States, leaving a five-mile swathe of devastation in its wake. Ottawa goes up in flames. Where this missile comes from, who controls the missile, its motives, all remain a mystery. Nothing is revealed. The warning about atomic destruction is as clear as it could be. Main characters include Dr. David Loring (Robert Loggia) and his fiancé, Ellen Parker (Joan Woods). As things turn out, only Dr. Loring can save the world, or at least New York City, and to do so, he must sacrifice himself. Special effects are minimal, the acting bellicose, the story familiar. On the plus side, the whole thing is brisk and to the point. The film works as a low-budget precursor to such later films as Dr. Strangelove (1964) and Fail Safe (1964). 

 

The Brain Eaters (1958), directed by Bruno VeSota. Made for a mere $26,000, The Brain Eaters does not manage to live up to its title. It does, however, attempt to cover similar ground to Don Siegel’s The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), only here the pods are replaced by small furry tentacled parasites who have lived beneath the earth for millions of years and are only now, in 1958, making themselves visible in small town Illinois. If one of these parasites attaches itself to the back of your neck, you become zombified. The acting is worthy of the $26,000 budget. The camera work shows a few nifty tilts just to let us know that things have gone awry in this Illinois town. Like a few other films of the 50s, The Brain Eaters turns to electricity to finish off the parasites. If you are interested in the paranoia of the post-war period, then this film will hold some interest. By the way, Leonard Nimoy turns up as Professor Cole; he is unrecognizable as we see him looking a bit like Gandalf as he sits in a hazy room. This hazy room is inside a strange cone that has appeared for some reason (I may have missed the reason), and the good professor Cole has been taken over by the parasites. But don’t worry, the end here is not like the end of The Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

 

The Mugger (1958), directed by William Berke. This little police procedural is quite captivating. It is also rather daring for 1958. Well it is 1958, and so the film does exhibit an insensitivity to gender issues, the men here, both good guys and bad, leering whenever a pretty woman is nearby, and making sexist remarks regularly. The story concerns the police trying to identify a man who terrorizes women in the dark streets of an unnamed city. This mugger uses a knife to cut the women’s cheek, and he also steels their purse. Knife and purse, see. As detective and psychiatrist Dr. Pete Graham (Kent Smith) explains, these two objects have a Freudian significance, although he never mentions Freud by name. While looking for the mugger, Pete is asked to help a taxi driver friend, Eddie (James Franciscus), with a problem at home. It seems the sister of Eddie’s wife is giving them difficulty. Meanwhile, Pete’s fiancé Claire (Nan Martin), also a cop, is working undercover at a sleezy dance hall where Eddie’s sister happens to work. Finally, the muggings escalate to murder. The mystery grows deeper. Is the mugger the same person as the murderer? This tangle of a tale is carried out efficiently and, to my mind, satisfactorily. 

 

Giant from the Unknown (1958), directed by Richard E. Cunha. “A very large, degenerate, Spanish conqueror is freed from suspended animation by lightning and goes on a killing spree in a small town.” This is the synopsis on IMDB, and its okay, although the large conquistador does not make it into the small mountain town of Pine Ridge. He stays above the snow line while Sheriff Parker (Bob Steele – yes, that Bob Steele), and others seek him here and there. Meanwhile Dr. Frederick Cleveland (Morris Ankrum) and his daughter Janet (Sally Fraser), accompanied by Wayne Brooks (Ed Kemmer), look for artifacts left by the Spanish in the 15^th century – or whenever long ago. One of these Spanish conquistadors has been preserved in some exceptional soil until a bolt of lightning rouses him from his centuries old slumber. Awake, this large fellow goes about hurling people hither and yon. Jack Pierce provides the makeup for the giant, the same Jack Pierce who worked on Universal’s Frankenstein and Mummy films. This is one of many low-budget monster films tossed off in the 1950s. Despite its budget, this film is well made. The locations are fine, the group of people familiar, the plot predictable, and the whole agreeably hokey. The one quite laughable moment occurs when the giant falls at the end.

 A few films.

Immensee (1943), directed by Veit Harlan. Here is a tearjerker from mid-war Germany. Immensee is a film that aspires to the condition of Hollywood’s Casablanca, even echoing that film at the end when our two protagonists part ways, one leaving on a plane and the other staying where she is. These two are star-crossed lovers, their stars crossed mostly because of the wanderlust of Reinhardt Torsten (Carl Raddatz), a music conductor and composer of international fame. The woman he leaves behind when he embarks on his peripatetic journeys is Elisabeth Uhl (Kristina Soderbaum), a woman hopelessly in love with Reinhardt, but also loved from afar by her neighbour Erich. What happens is this: Reinhardt stays away too long and Elisabeth marries Erich, only to have Reinhardt return looking to pick up with Elisabeth from where he left off. What is a poor girl to do: go off with the man she pines for or remain with the steadfast husband who loves her deeply, even to the pojnt of self-sacrifice? In this very Aryan world, there is only one thing she can do: fulfill her duty to her husband. Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about this film is its colour cinematography. The music is by Wolfgang Zeller. The melodrama has, I suspect, lost effectiveness over the years.

 

Opfergang (The Great Sacrifice 1944), directed by Veit Harlan. Once again Carl Raddatz and Kristina Soderbaum are star-crossed lovers in this melodrama concerning duty, the human heart, and behaving stoically in the face of a dire fate. Raddatz is the adventurer Albrecht Froben who finds himself infatuated with the chilly Octavia (Irene von Meyendorff). In fact, he is so infatuated with Octavia that he proposes to her, and she accepts. Then comes next door neighbour, the peripatetic Finnish woman Äls Flodéen. Äls is adventurous and flirtatious, and, of course, Albrecht is smitten. Oh, but wait, Äls is also ill with something that portends her imminent demise. So we have a love triangle and each person involved must make sacrifices. So we have love, duty, sacrifice, and even honour working their way into the viewers’ feelings. This is a movie made during the worst of times, and yet it holds onto hope. As with Immensee, we have sumptuous colour and excellent set designs. The actors perform with conviction. 

The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes (1937), directed by Karl Hartl. This film from UFA in Germany just a couple of years before the war is a romp. We have two con men, Morris Flint (Hans Albers) and his sidekick Macky McPherson (Heinz Ruhmann), stopping a train and after boarding being taken for the famous English sleuths, Holmes and Watson. Many hijinks follow involving a master forger, a gang of thieves, and two young female innocents, Mary Berry (Marieluise Claudius) and her sister Jane (Hansi Knoteck). At times I was reminded of Pabst’s Threepenny Opera (1931). The film has lots of energy, much action (even a song and dance number performed by the supposed Holmes and Watson), many changes of scenery, a courtroom sequence, and sly talk. There is also much spying and many mistakes of identity which just may be a comment on the state of things in 1937 Germany. The early scenes on the train are reminiscent of Hitchcock in such films as The 39 Steps (1935) and The Lady Vanishes (1938). Finally, I will confess that the mysterious laughing man was an irritant.

The Invisible Dr. Mabuse (1962), directed by Harald Reinl. The first Dr. Mabuse film arrived in 1922, courtesy of Fritz Lang. The series continued into the early 1970s. This one from 1962 is rough. Lex Barker, one time Tarzan, plays agent Joe Como, out to find a murderer in Berlin and then finding himself on the trail of the dastardly Dr. Mabuse who has a plan to create an army of invisible fighters to take over the world. He is ambitious, to say the least. We have the familiar stuff with invisibility. The invisible man, however, is not Dr. Mabuse (Wolfgang Preiss), but rather a scientist who has invented a gadget that renders its wearer invisible. This scientist also happens to be infatuated with cabaret singer, Liane (Karin Dor). We have the invisible stuff with opening doors, footsteps in a carpet, chairs sagging and so on; we also have a disfigured person, and a melting face. I must not neglect the clown who plays an important role in the action. Fights are furious, if a tad unconvincing. The acting, well enough said. The film is a mix of H. G. Wells, James Bond, and The House of Wax.

Fata Morgana (1971), directed by Werner Herzog. Christopher S. Long ends his review of this film with the remark: “But really, there’s just no way to describe it.” And yes, the film is a hallucinatory experience offering the patient viewer the simulation of a mirage. The opening of the film gives us four minutes (seems like more) of airplanes of various sizes landing on the same strip in the rippling heat. This opening should tell us we have arrived on a strange planet, a planet with beauty and ugliness and devastation and hilarity and sadness and things seen that remain unseen, mysterious, disturbing, shaped and shifting. Meanwhile a voice over gives us remnants of a curious creation myth. Curious and curiouser, we travel a wonderland of desert images. We have abandoned places and vehicles, an assortment of people, including child soldiers, a frogman scientist, a man with a monitor, a child holding a strange fox-like creature, a musical duo the like of which you have probably never seen before, and a fellow lying back and puffing a small ball up and down. As we watch these strange goings-on, the soundtrack gives us everything from Mozart to Leonard Cohen, Blind Faith, and Third Ear Band. What does all this add up to? Is this a documentary or simply a vision of Hell pretending to be Paradise? The tourists, or are they tourists, near the end who bend and wave from beneath the sand dunes just might remind us of the Inferno, or they just may be having fun. In any case, we have enough shots of destroyed spaces and desiccated carcases to let us know the planet has not fared well under the stewardship of human beings. This is quite an amazing film, even for Werner Herzog.

Baal (1970), directed by Volker Schlondorff. Rainer Werner Fassbinder stars as the eponymous character, bad-boy poet Baal, in this exercise in “New German Cinema.” The film is an adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s first play, and it has that Brechtian manner of alienating the viewer. Be prepared. While watching the film, I kept thinking of Chatterton, the marvelous boy who died sleepless in his pride, although Baal is the antithesis of the Romantic Chatterton. Baal is the quintessential bad boy, rebel without a real cause, except for a general disdain of everything. The film proceeds in some 24 short chapters in which Baal displays disgust for everything and everyone he meets. He is supposedly a poet of some genius, the film Bucket of Blood kept coming to mind whenever Baal began intoning his “poetry.” Perhaps the one thing Baal, both the film and the character, have going for them is an, what shall I call it?, appreciation for earthiness, even dirt and the body’s place in the earth. What comes to mind here are the likes of Norman O. Brown and Wilhelm Reich, and a certain aspect of the 1960s. In short, this is not a film that will “entertain” you in the usual sense of the word, but it is a film that may set you thinking about such things as conformity, celebrity, non-conformity, anonymity, sexuality, and the surprising unpleasantness of humanity.

 

 Just a miscellany of recent films.

Eyimofe (This is My Desire) (2020), directed by Arie & Chuko Esiri. This film tells the story of two would be travelers who live in poverty in bustling and hustling Lagos. Mofe (Jude Akuwudike) is an electrician who wants to relocate to Spain, and Rosa (Temi Ami-Williams) is a hairdresser who moonlights in a bar and wants to relocate to Italy. We follow them in their struggles to survive and keep the hope of leaving Nigeria alive. The opening shot of a tangle of electic wires, red, yellow, green, and black, pretty much sums up the lives of these people and the tangle of desires that is Lagos. In this world a passport is sacred. Something to be sought, touched, and admired. The green of the Nigerian passport lends its hue to the overall look of the film. Both Rosa and Mofe are caregivers, Rosa looking after her pregnant younger sister, and Mofe looking after his siblings because his father is so stingy. As things transpire both of them find themselves tangled in the convoluted bureaucracy, and both of them find they constantly require lots of naira (Nigerian banknotes) to pay for this or that: rent, hospital fees, doctor’s fees, food, travel documents, and so on. The camera follows the two protagonists as they make their way through the crowded streets of the city and into intimate spaces, living places and work places. This is an impressive film that manages both to tell a specific story of a specific place and to show how this story has a wide application.

No Bears (2022), directed by Jafar Panahi. Jafar Panahi plays a version of himself in this Iranian film about borders, borders between fact and fiction, between rural and urban, between classes, and of course between countries. Some of these borders are less than firm, while others are as firm as can be. Panahi is living in a small isolated village near the border with Turkey, and from here he is trying to direct a film remotely, a film being shot just across the nearby border in Turkey. He has to communicate with the film’s actors and crew via the internet and the internet is very unreliable where is he. He is where he is for fear of being arrested in the city, and he cannot leave the country. We have, then, two stories, the story of Pahani’s exile and his interactions with the local villagers (he comes a cropper of the village traditions when he goes about taking pictures), and the story within a story in the film Panahi is trying to make. This film within a film is about two lovers who are trying to leave the country, but only one has a passport (illegally gained), and the one with the passport refuses to leave without her lover. The film within a film and the outer story of the exiled Panahi come together at the end in a rather blunt way. This film, like several of Panahi’s films, was made in secret. When it was released, Panhai was in Evin prison in Tehran. He was released in February 2023, just a year ago.

 

The Holdovers (2023), directed by Alexander Payne. Here’s another story about a late middle-aged teacher in a prestigious boys’ school who forges a relationship with one of the students, one who has been a troublemaker and tossed from a couple of schools prior to being enrolled at Barton. It is the Christmas break and a few of the boys have been left by their parents to spend the holidays at the school. One teacher has to be left to oversee these boys. This is Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), he of the lazy eye, jaded demeanor, and acidic quips from the ancients. The boy who eventually becomes Paul’s companion on a short trip to Boston is Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa). Also on this short excursion to Boston is the school’s cook, Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph). The film follows the template of films like Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939) and The Browning Version (951), and others. It does not break new ground. What distinguishes this film is the acting. All three of the main actors deliver exceptional performances. Also impressive is the mise en scene. Winter scenes about the school work to give us a warm blanket of snow to warm our hearts. We also have a wonky Christmas tree to underline how angled these characters are.

 

Run All Night (2015), directed by Jaume Collett-Serra. This is the third film that Neesom has made with Collett-Serra, and it is a rip-roaring thriller with a touch of noir. We have lots of dark streets, rain, cigarettes, careering cars, and shooting. The plot has two old friends and fellow gangsters, one a gang boss, the other an aging hitman, pitted against each other after the aging hitman, Jimmy Conlon (Neesom), kills the son of the gang boss, Shaun Maguire (Ed Harris). Maguire not only sends his minions to wipe out Jimmy’s son, Mike (Joel Kinnaman) and Jimmy, but he also hires ace assassin Andrew Price (Common) to make sure neither of these two, Jimmy and Mike, survive. We have lots of mayhem, so much so that the film teeters on the brink of the surreal. It may seek to conjure the gritty streets and dark vision of a corrupt society (including police force) of film noir, but its flamboyant camera and frenetic action and violence push it into overdrive. Both Neesom and Harris deliver world-weary performances that somehow add gravitas to an oft repeated plot of retribution and maybe even salvation. As an addition to the Liam Neesom-action thriller genre, Run All Night has its attractions – if you find mayhem, brouhaha, and a high body count attractive.

Renfield (2023), directed by Chris McKay. I was not expecting much from this turn to Dracula’s sidekick, Renfield (Nicholas Hoult). However, the first 15 or 20 minutes sold me. This beginning is sure to capture anyone who admires those early Universal horror films, especially the one directed by the inimitable Tod Browning. Even Browning’s lost film, London After Midnight (1927) manages an appearance here. Nicholas Cage’s Dracula finds opportunity to echo Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney, and Christopher Lee, in a bravura performance. It is too bad the rest of the film does not maintain the parodic level of those opening 20 minutes or so. On the other hand, the rest of the film does have its moments, most glaringly moments in the vein the Raimi’s The Evil Dead films. I refer to the splashing of blood and viscera, decapitations and delimbing, and so on in giddy fashion. As for story, this involves young Renfield trying to extricate himself from a “toxic relationship,” and find a way to gain control over his life. He encounters a police officer, Rebecca Quincey (Awkwafina) – Quincey, get it? Together they manage to deal a blow to corruption in the police force and to his nibs, Count Dracula. This is all quite fun, if rather frenetic and bloody. Perhaps the nicest thing about the film is Cage’s ability to evoke another vampire, Donald Trump. Cage’s Dracula is a narcissistic thug who relishes the thought of world domination. The film, then, resonates for our times.

Destroyer (2018), directed by Karyn Kusama. Keith Uhlich in Slant Magazine refers to this film as “the torturously self-serious crime thriller Destroyer.” It is a star-turn for Nicole Kidman who appears in make-up that gives her, to put it mildly, a bedraggled look. She is a wreck of a human being who happens to be a Los Angeles police detective. As a detective, she is also a ruin. The film slips back and forth between the present and some 17 years previous when the Kidman character, Erin Bell, was beginning her career as a police officer and working under cover with a gang of bank robbers. Of course, things go wrong back then, and they continue to go wrong in the present. In the present, Erin is on the trail of the thug who was responsible for things going wrong in the past. This is Silas. Mostly, the film showcases Kidman’s acting chops, and not to much pleasurable viewing. This is a slog of a film. The viewer will feel at the end what Kidman communicates from the first frames of the film when she is wracked with a hangover and walks unsteadily to the crime scene that sets the action going. What can one conclude? The film has ambition, but…

The Bubble (2022), directed by Judd Apatow. I wanted to like this film. In the early days of the pandemic, a Jurassic Park film shut down production in England, as did other productions. The Bubble takes this event as its starting point. A group of film makers gather in a stately home in England in the early days of the pandemic to shoot the 6^th installment of Cliff Beasts. First, they must quarantine for two weeks before rehearsals and then shooting can begin. The idea allows Apatow to lampoon the film industry, celebrity culture, TikTok, and popular culture generally. As I say, I wanted to like this. The film, however, stumbles along and along and along for nearly 130 minutes, far too long for the story it has to tell, a story that consists of bits and pieces rather than a coherent narrative. A few funny bits help, especially in the first third of the film, but things grow tiresome before the midpoint. To spice things up, a few cameos serve as easter eggs: Beck, John Lithgow, John Cena, James McAvoy all make brief appearances. As comedies go, this one just misses the mark – at least for me. Scenes of filming with green screen and wires hold some interest, but not enough to sustain a film this long.

Budapest Noir (2017), directed by Eva Gardos. This Hungarian film follows the film noir script to a ‘t’. The only thing missing is the signature black and white photography. We have the bedraggled anti-hero (a reporter) in a trench coat who provides the voice-over narration. He also receives the requisite beatings by various thugs, and a visit from an alluring femme fatale. We have the dark offices and dark streets with, of course, rain. Finally, the action takes place in 1936 Budapest against the backdrop of events in next door Germany. The plot has our reporter doggedly investigating the murder of a beautiful lady of the night despite various attempts to make him cease and desist. His investigations lead him to some unsavoury, but powerful people. The murdered young woman happens to be Jewish, and the rising antipathy against the Jewish People serves as motivation for murder. The final scene perhaps says all that needs to be said. Our reporter, Zsigmond Gordon (Krisztián Kolovratnik), stops by a news stand after he has wrapped his investigation. The newsman, a friend of Gordon’s, has one arm and a cheerful demeanour, or at least he used to be cheerful. Now he tells Godron that he is closing the news stand and leaving. Some thugs have tossed a brick through his window. Gordon is dismissive of this and says the news man ought to stay. Now the news man tells Gordon that he is Jewish. Gordon says not to worry; what is happening in Germany (it is 1936 remember) won’t happen in Hungary. After all, he says as he walks away in the night, “This is Budapest.” The film masterly recreates the Budapest of 1936. It also recreates the sleezy atmosphere of the best noir films with its nightclub scenes and scenes in a photographer’s studio where the photographs are of the pornographic sort. This tale of corruption in high places is a worthy addition to the genre.

Dark Waters (2019), directed by Todd Haynes. What works best for me in this film about the evils of the Dupont chemical company and the lawyer who plays David to Dupont’s Goliath is the cinematography. Haynes and cinematographer Edward Lachman bring a sense of decay to the look of things, especially, but not exclusively, to the exteriors. Something sickly and even rotton settles on things here rendering the positive ending rather more ambiguous than at first blush it may seem. The system is, after all, rigged. Lawyer Rob Bilott (Mark Ruffalo) may soldier on, but we recognize the insidious power of a huge corporation such as Dupont to poison not only the waters of a region, but also the minds of people who are adversely affected by these same waters. The film is in the vein of such films as The Insider (1999) and Erin Brockovich (2000), and like those films, it makes it point clearly. The scene in which Dupont CEO, Phil Donnelly (Victor Garber), tosses the word “hick” at Ron Bilott during an evening dinner event is powerful, as is the scene in which Bilott walks through a nearly empty underground parking garage to his car. Tension here is palpable. The domestic scenes and the scenes of human interaction are nicely handled, as always, by Haynes. He is a director who takes an interest in the subtleties of relationships. 

Gretel and Hansel (2020), directed by Oz Perkins. This take on the Grimm Brothers tale has Gretel taking the lead. This is her coming of age story. She comes to learn just how powerful she is and how independent. The story manages to stay pretty close to the Grimms’s version, and yet bring a fresh perspective. The visuals are striking, if perhaps not immune to certain aspects of cinematography that have become cliché these past several years: the obligatory aerial shot, the yellowish lighting, and the necessary dream sequences, for example. The atmosphere is suitably creepy, and there are touches of horror nicely played out and stimulating the viewer’s imagination. The back story of the girl in pink adds a faux fold dimension that does, I think, work and allows for a twist late in the film.  In short, this feminist version of the familiar tale is impressive. The ending gives way to intrigue; it is open in a compelling way. Just what lies ahead for these siblings, especially for Gretel? We have watched Gretel mature into young womanhood and dispatch the wicked witch/mother. Now what?

March has arrived. Here are a few action-packed movies.

The Heroic Trio and Executioners (both 1993), directed by Johnnie To (the second film also has Ching Siu-Tung as co-director). These two films combine wuxia with American-style comic book zaniness. This is my third viewing of The Heroic Trio, but my first of its sequel. The former holds up all right, although I confess my enthusiasm has waned just a bit. The trio are Chat (Maggie Cheung), Ching (Michelle Yeoh), and Tung (Anita Mui); they are also known as Thief Catcher, The Invisible Woman, and Wonder Woman respectively. Invisible, you ask. Well Ching’s ill-fated partner has developed an invisibility cloak. The plot has to do with a sinsister underground warlord, Evil Master (Shi-Kwan Yen) stealing babies because he is looking for the next Emperor of China. He believes China must have an Emperor, one he can control. He has a crazed henchman named Kau (Anthony Wong – this actor appeared in 18 movies in 1993 alone!) who eats his own severed finger. Speaking of eating body parts, I can also report that the film has a group of cannibal children who dine vigorously on various body parts. Chat blows them all up. So we have much flying through the air, either on invisible wires, or on visible wires or on flying barrels or on a motorcycle. As for the trio, stand aside Charlie’s Angels. These three work independently of men. We find them reunited in Executioners which takes place some years after the action in The Heroic Trio and after a nuclear event has pretty much destroyed everything. The plot here turns on a search for clean water, and we learn that the villain, another over-the-top comic book character Mr. Kim (Anthony Wong) wants to destroy the existing government and seize world domination. Once again, we have flying about and bombs and much mixing of action, humour, and sudden sadness when a good character (perhaps a child) dies. These films offer a dazzling foray into cultural history. We even have a nod to The Terminator (1984) at the end of The Heroic Trio. 

 

Master Z: the Ip Man Legacy (2018), directed by Woo-Ping Yuen. This is an entry in the Ip Man franchise, but it puts the brakes on the excesses of the other films in the series, and gives us a spare film (for such types of film!) that focuses on Cheung Tin-chi (Jin Zhang) after his defeat by Ip Man. Cheung has decided to give up martial arts and open a grocery store. He is living a quiet life with his young son, until one day he comes to the rescue of two young women, Julia (Liu Yan) and Nana (Chrissie Chau), and in doing so he attracts the ire of the lout Tso Sai Kit (Kevin Cheng). Life turns dangerous. Add to this mix, Kit’s sister, Tso Ngan Kwan (Michelle Yeoh), a gangster trying to go straight, Davidson (Dave Bautista), a hulking restauranteur who enjoys barbecuing steaks, and the laconic Sdai (Tony Jaa), and you have the ingredients for an agreeable exercise in mayhem in the martial arts mode. Woo-Ping keeps the action furious, intricate, and balletic. The sequence on the neon signs is eye-popping and reminds me of something similar in the Thai film, Chocolate (2008). The sets here remind me of those in Kung Fu Hustle (2004). Perhaps the niftiest scene here is the one in which Cheung and Tso Ngan deftly and fluidly slide a glass of whisky back and forth across a table. As these films go, this one is a winner.

 

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021), directed by Destin Daniel Cretton. Here is another contribution to the Marvel Universe on film. The conventions threaten to wear thin, but here the threat is averted by some dazzling special effects and a cast of appealing characters including Awkwafina as Katy, Tony Leung as Xu Wenwu, Michelle Yeoh as Ying Nan, Meng’er Zhang as Xialing, and Ben Kinsley as Trevor Slattery. The eponymous character is played by Simu Liu, who is best known for his part in Kim’s Convenience. Here he manages the fight sequences convincingly.  Of course, we have the requisite flying about, and fighting, and explosions, but all of this is delivered with a sense of humour. The wuxia fight scenes are, for the most part, done well, with the help of computers. The final overly long fight sequence devolves into something of a “destroy all monsters” set piece, with huge flying dragons duking it out in a magical land. The plot reminded us of Jet Li’s Twin Warriors (aka Tai-Chi Master, 1993), and there are several visual echoes of that film in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. Once we arrive at the mid-credits sequence, the film reminds us of the larger Marvel Universe with the appearance of Captain Marvel (Brie Larson), and Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo). Finally, I should mention that this film has its endearing creature in the faceless, winged, furry wombat-like creature, Morris (voiced by Dee Bradley Baker). It also has quite effective creatures that remind us of Chinese dancers with their lion-like trailing costumes. In short, the film does not stint on spectacle. The final end-credits sequence is nicely feminist. There are, however, many credits to scroll past before we have this scene. Patience, dear viewer.

The Flying Swordsman (2022 – aka The Hidden Fox), directed by Lei Qiao. This wuxia outing is fine to look at, but difficult to follow. The narrative here not only has too any moving parts, but it also unfolds with returns to past action at various times and to various times. In short, what we have is convoluted. Having noted this, I return to the visuals. There is much to admire in the camera work, special effects, costumes, colour, and wuxia action. There is a lot of action. The story has something to do with the search by eight villains for a hidden fortress and treasure hidden there, the plot for vengeance by one of the group whose father, a master sword-maker, had been murdered by these guys years ago – 10 years methinks. Throw in another character, a female, also set on revenge, and you have the group who fly about swirling their swords and slashing things here and there, hither and yon. Then we have the secret power that each of these villains has, each power different from the powers of the others. For example, one of the villains carries a small container with what are supposed to be leeches, but look like centipedes. These insects can bring the villain back from death. Wow. Another villain, a woman in red, can accomplish amazing things with thread. Anyway, as wuxia films go, this one is middling. 

Come Drink With Me (1966), directed by King Hu. As we would expect from Hu, this film is colourful and graceful in its action sequences. Golden Swallow (Cheng Pei Pei) moves like a dancer (indeed Cheng Pei Pei was trained as a dancer) as she takes on large groups of bad guys. As in The Fate of Lee Khan (1973), much of the action takes place in an inn. The plot has Golden Swallow arriving at the inn to meet the leaders of a band of rebels in order to negotiate the release of her brother whom the rebels have taken prisoner. Unlike some of these films, this one has a simple straight forward plot. After some furious fighting, Golden Swallow is hit with a poison dart and rescued by a beggar/drunkard named Drunken Cat (Yueh Hua), who is often accompanied by a group of children. These children, along with Drunken Cat, are prone to bursting into song; I mentioned dance earlier, and the film has touches of a musical. Anyway, Golden Swallow and Drunken Cat forge an uneasy relationship and then work to defeat the rebels and rescue Golden Swallow’s brother. What distinguished Hu’s martial arts films is not the fight sequences, but rather the characters and the colours and the locations and the fluidity of everything from camera movement to the movement of bodies. Apparently, this film influenced Ang Lee when he made Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). There may not be a dragon here, but there is a “Smiling Tiger”! As wuxia films go, this one is impressive and sets the standard for films that follow.

 

The Fate of Lee Khan (1973), directed by King Hu. Perhaps not as impressive as Hu’s Touch of Zen (1971), this film nevertheless manages to entertain with its female protagonists, its flying fight scenes (most especially at the end), its fluid camera work, its sets and outdoor locations, and its bright colours. Set in the 14^th century, the action mostly takes place in a country Inn run by Wan Jen-mi (Li Hua Li). Wan has four perky females serving customers, and these servers draw customers away from a rival nearby inn. The plot has rebels arriving at the inn to wait for the titular Lee Khan, a warlord who has a map of the rebels’ battle plans. The rebels want to retrieve this map. The first half of the film teases us with various characters who may or may not be rebels. The second half deals with the conflict between the rebels and Lee Khan and his entourage. The martial arts action is not particularly well staged, but the characters run the usual gamut from silly to serious. All in all, this is a pleasant example of the genre.

 Last few western before the end of February.

Day of the Outlaw (1959), directed by Andre De Toth. This is De Toth’s final western and it is bleak. It is both of its time and ahead of its time. It is of its time in the cast of ne’er-do-well characters who brutalize and threaten a town, especially the town women. It is ahead of its time in its presentation of an anti-hero as the main character. This is a revisionary western before the term came into prominence. Shot in a snowy mountainous location (Wyoming), the film gives us characters at the extreme limits of emotion; they exhibit hate, lust, greed, anger, fear, and desire. The plot pits two men, Blaise Starrett (Robert Ryan) and Jack Bruhn (Burl Ives), against each other in a standoff that can only end in death. Starrett is a bitter rancher who pines after another man’s wife and who hates the coming of barbed wire to the range; Bruhn is a former military man who leads a gaggle of thieves and brutes, and whose control of these brutes is breaking down. De Toth’s camera moves slowly as it follows the activities, and it accentuates a stifling constraint even amid a sprawling landscape. The black and white photography, courtesy Russell Metty, nicely expresses the cold and the divisions among the various factions in town. The winter weather also underlines the starkness and iciness of things. The snowy conditions prefigure films such as Corbucci’s The Great Silence (1968), and Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971). This is an impressive mood piece.

Apache Warrior (1957), directed by Elmo Williams. This low budget western purports to be a “true story.” It tells a story about the Apache Kid (Keith Larsen), a scout for the cavalry who finds himself outside the law and on the run. Trailing him is his one-time friend Ben Ziegler (Jim Davis). Then there is Marteen (Rudolfo Acosta) as a villainous Native American. None of this has much to do with actual history, and the action is largely played out on sets. The film tries to be sympathetic towards Native Americans, but really this is a film in which a white guy assists a Native guy to escape the authorities and the bounty hunters, after the white guy realizes the Native guy is really his friend. This film does not have a lot to recommend it, except perhaps for some historical interest as a 50s western trying to overcome the familiar stereotypes, and not quite managing to do so.

Westbound (1959), directed by Bud Boetticher. This is the least interesting of the Randolph Scott/Bud Boetticher films. Boetticher called it "mediocre." He directed it as a favour to Scott who had one more film on his contract with Warner Brothers. The main character, Scott of course, lacks the troubled backstory that most of the main characters in the other films in the so-called Ranown cycle have. And the antagonist also lacks the charm of Randy's adversaries in the other films. The film's lacklustre story is perhaps evidenced by the lack of screen shots available on Google. This lack is lamentable because the film does contain some lovely panoramas and the most colourful stagecoach I have seen in a western. The actors are amiable, and the story trots along at a brisk pace. If this is a lesser collaboration between Scott and Boetticher, it is not without interest. Give it a try.

True History of the Kelly Gang (2019), directed by Justin Kurzel. This film throws everything, including the kitchen sink, at us, from the opening overhead shot to the final shoot-out that outdoes Bonnie and Clyde by a long shot. The film is certainly not without interest, but I confess I found it somewhat less than fully engaging. We are to see the infamous outlaw as a product of poverty and abuse and strange affection when he was a boy. He has mentors whose motives are suspect, to say the least. He has a mother who drums into him his "destiny" as a child of Ireland. The Irish connection ticks the box of colonialism and colonial exploitation, but we have precious little awareness of the people who did indeed inhabit this terra nullius. Ned never does understand who he is or what he wants. The cross-dressing reminded me of another Arthur Penn movie, The Missouri Breaks, although here the cross-dressing does not have the delirious nuttiness that it has in Penn's film. And so what to conclude? When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.

The Power of the Dog (2021), directed by Jane Campion. This film has received much notice recently, and for good reason. The cinematography is superb, the acting fine, the pacing slow and burning, and the story clever and timely. Let’s take the story, for a moment. This is a western with nary a pistol nor a rifle. No fisticuffs here, no barroom brawl, and no racing hither and thither on horseback. Native people do appear, importantly but not prominently. Near the beginning of the film, we have a brief but magnificent cattle drive. Instead of branding of cattle, we have castrating of bulls. This last detail is telling. This western is interested in exploring life on a fairly isolated ranch in Montana in 1925. The memory, and saddle, of an old hand, Bronco Henry, and the presence of motor cars points both back to the old romanticized west and forward to the new west beginning to emerge. We are on the cusp of things both crepuscular and dawning. As the plentiful commentary on the film points out, this western explores and critiques the traditional masculinity of the western genre, and it does so with subtlety and intelligence. Also, as some have noted, this is a western in the vein of a film such as Meek’s Cutoff (directed by Kelly Reichardt, 2010). Way back in the days of Butch and Sundance and Pike Bishop commentators spoke of revisionary westerns; well, those westerns were hardly revisionary in any deep sense. The Power of the Dog is.