By Brett Blake It’s become a bit trendy in recent years for movie buffs to take stock of the year in film, not just in terms of new releases, but also older movies that one might have discovered over the course of that year. I tried my hand at this last year, and have decided to do it again. I watched nearly 250 movies in 2019. Some were new releases, others were films I revisited, and many were films from prior years that I saw for the first time. That third group is the subject of this list, which is comprised of the ten best/favorite/most interesting older movies that I saw for the first time this past year. Criteria for appearance: a movie with a United States release date of any time prior to 2019 that received a first-time viewing from me during the year. With that preamble out of the way, let’s jump in. In no particular order... THE MAN WHO HAUNTED HIMSELF (1970) A fascinating and strange tale. The hook here is a fantastic one, playing on classic fears of the doppelgänger. Roger Moore is absolutely fantastic in the title role, and if people only know him from his James Bond work, they really owe it to themselves to check out this rather deep cut from his filmography, because the versatility he shows off here is impressive. His portrait of a slightly stuffy man dealing with domestic ennui and gradually succumbing to increasing paranoia is extremely effective and even genuinely moving at times. What the film gets across incredibly well is the feeling of the uncanny intruding on normalcy, the idea that something truly inexplicable and bizarre may be happening to your life, and you’re - basically - powerless to stop it or even decipher it. It culminates in a finale that is subtly horrifying and, as the title would suggest, haunting. THE SILENT PARTNER (1978) In the conversation around crime thrillers of the 1970s, THE SILENT PARTNER has seemingly been forgotten, but this is a fantastic yarn with engaging performances and a compelling plot. The premise is a great one, full of unexpected developments and unusual turns: Elliott Gould is a bank teller who comes to discover that Christopher Plummer is going to rob the bank, so Gould figures out a way to make it look like Plummer steals more money than he really does so that Gould can keep it for himself. The script makes quirky and unexpected choices throughout, and it’s also imbued with a dynamic tone that blends together darkness, playfulness, tension, and even just a bit of sexiness (as well as a splash of kinky, sadistic violence) to create a fusion that feels quite unlike anything else of the era. And Plummer, no stranger to villain roles, has never been so convincingly frightening. HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951) A treat! If you were to just read a brief synopsis, you would probably come away thinking this is a very conventional noir, but the actual film itself is anything but conventional. True, its plot is not particularly remarkable, but its rather deft tonal blend makes it totally unique in the noir canon. On paper, mixing legitimate dramatic stakes with some (at times) goofy humor should probably not have succeeded in this era, but somehow those elements compliment each other. The cast is terrific -- Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell are almost archetypal lead characters, and they’re surrounded by a fantastic roster of supporting players, such as Raymond Burr, Tim Holt, Jim Backus, and (especially) Vincent Price. More than anything else, this is a showcase for a side of Price we didn’t get enough of, especially later in his career; it is so refreshing to see him in a non-horror setting and getting to play up his skill for humor. This movie simply should not work, but it does. HANDS OF THE RIPPER (1971) A horror movie from Hammer Films with a delightfully strange premise -- Jack the Ripper’s spirit possesses the body of his teenage daughter! Just based on the subject matter, this is one of Hammer’s more overtly shocking and provocative films, and it embraces a fairly full-on depiction of psychosexual trauma and bloodletting; Peter Sasdy’s direction is, at times, intentionally overheated, which gives the killings a nightmarish feel. The cast lacks some of Hammer’s more familiar faces, but Angharad Rees does some affecting work in the story’s pivotal role, and her character’s dilemma of wanting to have a normal life while being driven to violence by the literal sins of her father is pretty effective; the movie delights in the murders she commits, but it also has unexpected empathy for her. NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947) A fascinating and truly idiosyncratic noirish drama. The directions in which the story unspools are completely surprising, and spiral out into a complicated web of unhealthy relationships and unscrupulous scheming. Tyrone Power delivers a marvelous performance, one that is incredibly well-calibrated and multi-layered; this is a character who is so blatantly an opportunistic and morally questionable charlatan, and Power doesn’t flinch in conveying that, yet he also introduces moments of (possible) genuine feeling that almost give the impression the character is deluding himself into believing he’s a much better person than he really is. Power can make us both loathe and feel sympathy for this guy (sometimes in the very same scene!), and the journey the story takes him on shows him to be one of the most complex lead characters I think I’ve ever seen in this era of this genre. EYE OF THE DEVIL (1967) From the very opening moments, which feature some striking and eerie montage editing, it’s clear that EYE OF THE DEVIL is more than just a textbook British chiller. There is visual storytelling in here that feels very ahead of its time, even almost avant-garde in places, without losing focus and becoming too experimental. It boasts a strong pair of leads in David Niven and Deborah Kerr, as well as some solid supporting turns from Donald Pleasence, David Hemmings, and Sharon Tate, who all demonstrate a strong ability to creep you out. The movie does an effective job of capturing this pervasive sense of the occult being at work, and very quickly we get the sense that something very, very wrong is (eventually) going to play out... which it does. This is small film, all things considered, and the pace slows considerably in the back half, but the story resolves with some excellent suspense. YOUNG MR. LINCOLN (1939) A film which elevates Abraham Lincoln as the paragon of folksy decency and virtue... and I'm completely fine with that, because if any historical figures deserve that sort of treatment, Lincoln is surely among them. That's not to say that Lincoln is presented simplistically or without depth, but it does effectively make the case for the greatness in the man's character and soul. Henry Fonda is excellent in the title role, and in many ways young Lincoln is a perfect vehicle for his particular acting talents. Surrounding him are colorful performers galore, part of the kind of quirky and memorable ensemble you could only have assembled during the height of the studio system. John Ford, always a strong directorial force behind the camera, embarks on a journey of American mythmaking here, and the result is potent, patriotic, and quite stirring if you're open to it. THE ONE I LOVE (2014) A peculiar and idiosyncratic character study wrapped in some vaguely-fantastical, TWILIGHT ZONEian packaging. I really don’t want to go into any detail about the particulars of this movie, other than to say it uses genre-y concepts to really drill down and examine the insecurities and resentments of a frayed relationship, while slowly growing into something genuinely creepy and unsettling. And it somehow manages to do this with a level of humor that keeps it from being unpleasant. Mark Duplass and Elisabeth Moss each get to show off a good amount of range, and the movie succeeds both because of the sharp quality of the writing and because of the great turns from its leads. This is a movie I walked into with no expectations, and found myself completely won over by it. STILL OF THE NIGHT (1982) Director Robert Benton’s follow-up to KRAMER VS. KRAMER finds him in completely different territory, that of the Hitchcock-style mystery-thriller. It’s a well-made yarn that doesn’t reinvent any wheels, but is quite enjoyable for fans of this stuff. There are a few great touches (like the eerie, macabre depiction of a dead man’s dream, as well as a superb riff on NORTH BY NORTHWEST’s auction sequence), and Roy Scheider’s good (he’s always good) as our protagonist who finds himself drawn into a murder mystery. We also have Meryl Streep, and though the role here doesn’t demand as much from her, she’s every bit as good as in THE DEER HUNTER or KRAMER VS. KRAMER; this is not a performance of hers that often gets discussed, but she’s terrific. The mystery ends up resolving in a way that is not fully satisfying, but the journey to get there still is. RAVENOUS (1999) A bizarre and compelling western-horror-comedy hybrid, one that is terrifically unnerving but also has an effective, dark sense of humor. The location shooting is often beautiful, yes, but it also has a level of grimness that adds a desolate feeling to the proceedings. It plays with some really interesting and uncomfortable ideas about the effects of cannibalism; it’s all heightened stuff, but the leads -- Guy Pearce and Robert Carlyle -- sell it very well. Pearce’s work is particularly key, because I think the movie would simply devolve into strangeness were it not for Pearce anchoring things in a relatable emotional and psychological place. The dialogue is uniformly terrific, as is the score, which marries folk music and experimental qualities with more traditional scoring approaches. It’s a film that apparently a lot of people didn’t know what to do with upon its initial release, but viewing it 20 years on, perhaps the sort of tonally adventurous storytelling it attempts would have been more appreciated if it was released today.
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By Brett Blake In a lot of ways, THE IRISHMAN feels like Martin Scorsese’s definitive final statement about organized crime and the ultimately devastating and soul-damning effects it has on those who come into contact with it. Far from the rip-roaring ride of GOODFELLAS or the operatic grandeur of CASINO, this is an extremely introspective work that is tinged throughout with melancholy and unspoken regret. Fundamentally, the movie is about a man looking back on his life and the key points where it pivoted further and further away from the straight and narrow. We see the gradual chain of events that lead Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) -- seemingly an okay man on the outside -- from being a truck driver to being a mob killer. There’s also a dreadful inevitability to many of the story’s turns, not just because some viewers might know the fates of some of the real-life people involved, like Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), but because it’s so clear that the characters are at the mercy of larger forces. Forces which, through their own actions, these people have allowed to have control over them. Sheeran is caught up in the middle of many opposing parties, doing his best to mediate things, but we know it’s futile. Tempering that stuff, though (and perhaps even enhancing it), is an unexpected level of warmth. We get to witness a great deal of affection and moments of human connection pass between many of the characters here. They’re allowed a lot of nuance, and emerge as complicated, complex people. It’s also a funny movie; by no means a laugh riot, of course, but there are plenty of exchanges and lines of dialogue that are genuinely amusing. The way the story is structured is interesting, employing a “flashbacks within a flashback” sort of device; there could have been a danger in such a decision, but the different eras have enough distinctiveness that it’s not difficult to keep track of the unfolding plots in each. Scorsese’s filmmaking is just as dynamic and engaging as ever. Beautiful camera moves, crisp and sharp editing, and a sense of momentum that is kind of miraculous given that this is a 210-minute, expansive film filled with digressions. He’s also always had a knack for knowing which piece of music to use under which sequence, and that’s on full display here with a series of needle drops that either perfectly set the tone or underline something in an unexpected way. Now, I would be lying if I said I thought the CGI de-aging (especially of De Niro) was seamless, because it’s not. It exists on a sliding scale between serviceable and odd, but it never reaches the point of detracting from any given scene. What’s particularly exciting about seeing Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci back together in a Scorsese picture (for the first time since 1995!) is that they’re not merely playing variants on roles they’ve played before; this is new territory for both of them. De Niro’s persona tends to lend itself to playing guys on the upper end of the food chain, but here, he’s playing a pure subordinate, one who has big connections, sure, but who is fundamentally there to follow orders. As the situation gets gradually more complex, the weight pressing down on Sheeran is extremely well-portrayed by De Niro. And Pesci is particularly great in this -- when you think of Pesci in a mob-related part, you naturally think of a certain kind of performance, but that’s not what he’s doing here at all. He conveys the sense that he’s a regular, decent guy, and only occasionally allows darker, more chilling moments to filter to the surface. It’s a quiet and reserved performance, and it’s one of his best ever. As Jimmy Hoffa, Al Pacino is... well, Pacino. BIG Pacino. Scenery-chewing Pacino. But somehow, it’s not over-the-top, and it feels appropriate for the stubborn and outsized personality this tale’s version of Hoffa is. It’s undeniably fun to watch Pacino tear into things with this kind of gusto. Finally having Pacino in a Martin Scorsese film has been a long time coming, and it was worth the wait. It’s way too soon to start talking about placing THE IRISHMAN alongside Scorsese’s other masterpieces, but it’s unquestionably a powerful and engrossing work that closes the book on his crime films, and it’s one of 2019’s best. By Brett Blake DOCTOR SLEEP is a quite engrossing... but also odd and awkward... adaptation of Stephen King’s sequel to THE SHINING. It’s a fascinating movie in the sense that all the individual pieces, choices, and performances are thoroughly compelling, and it tells its story with confident filmmaking, but it is also operating in the shadow of Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film version of THE SHINING, which this movie embraces, but which also results in something that feels extremely uneasy. It’s worth saying right here -- because much of the rest of my time will be spent digging into why the movie feels so strange -- that I think DOCTOR SLEEP is a quite good film. It’s very well-staged by director Mike Flanagan, and his screenplay adaptation of King’s novel captures the sensitive and introspective qualities of this story of adult Dan Torrance dealing with the trauma that his experiences during THE SHINING inflicted upon him. Ewan McGregor is equal to the task of performing the role, and he manages to convey Dan’s internalized conflicts very well. As the pivotal character of Abra Stone, a young girl who can also Shine like Dan, Kyliegh Curran is extremely sympathetic, getting across with ease the sense that this girl is precociously curious about her abilities, perhaps a bit reckless, and also contains an untapped well of internal strength. The performance of the movie, however, belongs to Rebecca Ferguson as the villainous Rose the Hat, the leader of a group of psychic vampires who prey on those with the ability to Shine, which sets them on the trail of Abra and Dan. Rather than purely chewing scenery (though there’s a bit of that), Ferguson makes Rose feel like a complete character, not just a collection of “bad gal” tropes wrapped up in one tidy and convenient package. We can tell she’s having fun in the part, but she plays the character’s menace completely straight, and she makes this character probably the best villain in any movie this year. So all of that is good-to-great stuff. But here’s where things get strange, though not necessarily in an objectively bad way -- DOCTOR SLEEP is not scary. There are a couple of moments that are shocking, and its general atmosphere is strong, but it in no way offers the overpowering dread that THE SHINING does. I would expect that people who walk into this movie with no knowledge of its source book may walk out kind of perplexed by what they’ve just witnessed. Yes, it deals with the supernatural, and yes, great acts of evil are depicted, but on a tonal level, this is much more introspective and cerebral than it is genuinely spooky. It’s a character study dressed-up in horror trappings, ultimately more concerned with the emotional stories of Dan and Abra than it is in unnerving the audience to any great degree. It’s cashing-in on the iconography of one of horror cinema’s towering achievements... yet it is pretty uninterested in even trying to replicate the intensity of the frightening mood with which Kubrick’s THE SHINING is infused. And in that sense, it’s very faithful to the book, so credit to Flanagan. But in attempting to meld Kubrick’s THE SHINING with King’s DOCTOR SLEEP novel (which approach things from radically different angles and intentions), we are left with something of an uneasy balancing act. In a vacuum, the finale -- which returns us to the sinister Overlook Hotel from Kubrick’s film -- does provide a more satisfying and cinematic conclusion than the conclusion of King’s novel (which, essentially, takes place on a vacant lot in the Rockies), but when you really look at it through the lens of the movie trying to thread the needle and serve multiple masters, it feels awkward. Technically well-executed and visually interesting, sure, but somehow jarring and out-of-place. At the end of the day, I think this film proves that it is not possible to make something that is both a faithful sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING and a faithful adaptation of Stephen King’s DOCTOR SLEEP. Kubrick’s vision of THE SHINING's story remains too different from King’s own, so for Flanagan to attempt to wrap them both together here and hopefully arrive at some kind of fusion is valiant and admirable, but -- ultimately -- kind of ineffective. The movie is never not compelling, however, and devoted fans of the novel will likely find a great deal in here to be pleased about. Its intentions are very much coming from a good place, and that does count for something. |
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