October, a month usually reserved for fearsome and gruesome gore, was a slower one for me regarding film watching. The beginning of the month was filled with screenings from the Vancouver International Film Festival (which, if you missed it, can be read here, here, and here), and the rest of the month was filled with friends, family, comedy, and more. I know, what a waste! With all that said, I was able to see some great films as well. This month, at the movies….
Black Narcissus
My first film from the British filmmaking duo The Archers, Black Narcissus is a dense and delicate entry into their filmography. The film follows a group of nuns as they try to establish a new convent in the high mountains of the Himylians. As lust, desire, fear, pride, and more start to pull at the edges of the sisters, their loyalties falter and the mountain winds bellow madness at them. A stunningly beautiful film, the film features some of the best matte painting sets you will ever come across, to the point of full immersion. The characters are detailed and exact, and Powell and Pressburger allow the actors room to draw out the quiet aspects of these lonely, isolated people.
Few if any films are able to capture the eyes as this film does. Every detail of the story is told through the close-ups of our characters’ eyes. A glimpse of faulty pride, an immediate plunge into desperate love, a denial, ever so subtle. The way the Archers capture the eyes reveals the souls of these characters. And it’s in these eyes that when two nuns start to become mirror images of each other (one pious and proud and the other rebellious and lustful) that at times are the only distinguishing feature between the two women. In this third act genre shift into psychological thriller, the Archers are able to release all the energy pent up throughout the film, in a shocking and fruitful final few minutes. A film about lust, duty, and the devil in loneliness. Brilliant and beautiful.
The Daytrippers
It’s always a delight when you come across a film that, while not completely unknown to you, does not have any legacy weighing it down. With The Daytrippers, director Greg Mottola (Superbad, Adventureland) assembles one of the best casts of the 1990s for a slice-of-life comedy about a small-town family heading to the big city in order to uncover a big secret. Featuring the talents of Hope Davis, Stanley Tucci, Liev Schreiber, Parker Posey, Campbell Scott, and more, the film is a quietly hilarious contrast between small-town folksiness and big-city pretention.
Following Davis as she travels with her overbearing family to the city to confront her husband (Tucci) after discovering a secret love letter, the film proceeds with hijinks and antics, one after the other, but always in a deeply convincing manner. These are real people in real situations that just so happen to be incredibly funny. Schreiber gives a fantastic performance as Parker Posey’s high-minded, super pretentious boyfriend, the type of character anyone would hate to be trapped in a car with on a road trip. Anne Meara plays the overbearing, overly Midwest-kind mother, one who knows nothing and is always right. Pat McNamara rounds out the cast as the under-appreciated but loving father. The chemistry between all these characters is more than enough to recommend this film, with the indie darlings of their day (and the stars of now) proving their place in Hollywood. A simple story told incredibly well.
Killers of the Flower Moon
Few filmmakers have a grasp on the toxicity and vileness that resides within men as Martin Scorsese. Many of his highest-regarded films, from his crime dramas like Goodfellas and Casino to his Wall Street satire The Wolf of Wall Street follow cowardly men who do repugnant things for only the briefest idea of power. In Killers of the Flower Moon Scorsese once again tackles this very subject, while inditing the audience who for years has misinterpreted his work and twisted his vision into a morally reprehensible idea of everything he believes.
Killers of the Flower Moon is an epic tale about the murder of the Osage people of Oklahoma in the 1920s. Following the killers as they invade the trust of the local native population, marrying them, befriending them, and forming actual relations with them, only for their bitter greed to lead them to the most heinous of crimes. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Ernest Burkhart, a simple, dimwitted man who is coaxed into these crimes by his uncle William King Hale (Robert De Niro in one of his best performances in decades). Is stupidity is not an excuse, but simply shows that evil does not need intelligence. Ernest marries an Osage woman Mollie (Lily Gladstone in a beautiful, heartrending portrait) and over the course of years slowly tears everyone she holds dear away from her. The film is unflinching in its portrayal of the brutality of these men, nor does it turn away from the violence they wrought.
That doesn’t mean the film lacks moments of peace and grace, they are simply not given to the monsters of the story. In the worst of times, the aching of the Osage people, Scorsese still allows them brief moments of reprieve, whether it is the joy of family or the reuniting with one’s ancestors. These moments draw even more out of the brutality that envelops the rest of the film. In the penultimate scene, we leave the violence and move into mythmaking, into taking the pain of an oppressed people and how it is turned into entertainment. It’s a sudden shift that ultimately makes your heart drop, the realization that consumption of pain is a part of the problem. In the closing frames, we are allowed a last moment of grace, a realization of the power of taking destiny by the reigns, and it’s a stellar, unforgettable moment.
Mo’ Better Blues
In Spike Lee’s fourth feature (and the first following his tremendous Do The Right Thing) Lee focuses his film down from the broad and domineering themes of the work and returns to the character-driven drama of She’s Gotta Have It with the Denze Washington starring Mo’ Better Blues. Following a successful jazz musician as his personal and professional lives start to unravel and collide in ways he can’t control, the film may not be as totemic as the generation-defining Do The Right Thing, but it still holds much to be admired from the New York filmmaker.
Washington puts his full charisma on display as Bleek Gilliam, a jazz prodigy who sees himself as a gift from God. Whether it’s in his romantic relationships (which he carries on two at a time) or on stage, he is the man in control. Bleek has worked hard for everything he has, and through this hard work demands control, perfection, and being the center of attention. These aspects of his personality are contrasted greatly with the freeform style of jazz, forming a unique idea between the creation of art and the men who create it. This could be read as a self-reflection from Lee himself, a comment on how the hyperactive and abundant personality he holds is both displayed and restrained on screen, and how art I not always a direct reflection of the creators. Artists are more than the art they create.
The film, almost in response to Do The Right Thing, is a more restrained effort from Lee. Unfortunately, this restraint comes off less as a maturing of one’s style and more as a calculation, more of reaching for an idea and style that is slightly out of reach for Lee. I don’t want a restrained Lee. While I admit that some of his more outlandish stylistic elements don’t always land with me, they are still intriguing. Here, while the film is solid, it at times feels voiceless compared to Lee’s other works. Luckily it is saved completely from obscurity by the final, brilliant ten minutes, pulling the film out of a blaise character study and turning it into the idea of building a life. For those ten minutes (and Washington) alone, this is one worth seeing.
Rashoman
The film featured in last month’s edition of The Favourites, you can upgrade to a paid subscriber in order to read about truth, lies, redemption, and legacy as seen in Rashomon.
Saw X
The only horror film I was able to make work for this year’s Halloween (previously a month where I would only watch horror), I must say I’m glad that one gorefest I saw was Saw X. Saw as a franchise is one I appreciate from afar more than actively engage in. I remember being thirteen, sitting in the small town laundromat, reading and rereading the review section for Saw (as well as the as-of-yet-unseen Jonathon Glazer film Birth), and with that, a mild obsession was born. At the time of its initial run, I was far too terrified to watch the films, only developing my taste for the unhinged gore and gruesomeness of horror years later. And I must say, having this be the first Saw film I’ve seen in theaters (we don’t talk about Spiral) I am glad to have waited.
This is an excellent horror film, the type that Saw had started out as only to lose its way around the fourth or fifth entry. Fantastic, cringeworthy contraptions, hateful characters ready to die that you still hope will find their way to escape, and the full return of the horror icon Jigsaw with a lead performance from Tobin Bell. Bell is the reason to see this film. For those unfamiliar with the franchise, it’s important to know that in the third film Jigsaw dies, and unlike every horror franchise before it, Saw doesn’t bring people back from the dead. The producers of this film rightfully realized that Bell was carrying this franchise, and by making a prequel (set between the first and second entry) they were able to bring their star back and give him the material he needed to make his complex character not only sinister but understandable—a gory, disgusting blast.
Westworld
Unexpectantly trapped in the Calgary airport overnight may not be the most proper screening environment, yet here we are. Westworld is a 1973 sci-fi classic about a theme park with completely immersive environments featuring completely accurate, life-like androids. Guests can fight, fuck, kill, and maim these robots with no consequences, living out lifelong fantasies. That is, until, the robots malfunction and turn on their human oppressors. The film is based on the novel and directed by Michael Crichton, the man who brought us the novel Jurassic Park (man really had a thing for theme parks going awry). And while there are elements in Westworld he would later return to and sharpen, the initial idea falls short.
The film feels like it only scratches the surface of the themes it’s attempting to explore, instead languishing in the debauchery of our two leads (Richard Benjamin and James Brolin) before the inevitable turn of the robots in the third act. No explanation is given for the rise of the androids, and no questions are really asked as to why, leaving the audience with a relatively uninteresting story that doesn’t seem to think to ask why. Yul Brynner puts in a fantastically cold performance as the unstoppable, unkillable robot cowboy, and both Benjamin and Brolin have fun playing up the cowboy motifs as played by rich city boys, but ultimately you can see why it was deemed this film needed to be explored much more thoroughly in a television series.