-
Criterion Review: HOLIDAY (1938)
Grant and Hepburn co-star in Cukor’s adaptation of the Barry play about money and expectations
After a whirlwind romance in Lake Placid, Johnny Case (Cary Grant) finds out his fiancee Julia (Doris Nolan) comes from an extremely wealthy family. Julia’s elder sister Linda (Katherine Hepburn) approves of the match, but their father… that’s a different story. Holiday, so named for Johnny’s plan to make enough money to take a long break from work, and not the holiday season (although the action occurs in the days between Christmas and New Year’s Day), was the second pairing of Grant and Hepburn after Bringing Up Baby.
George Cukor (Dinner at Eight, The Women) directs the duo in this second film adaptation of Philip Barry’s 1928 play. Barry would later write plays The Animal Kingdom and The Philadelphia Story, both of which would be adapted for screen; the latter would re-team Hepburn and Grant with Cukor in 1940. The 1938 version of Holiday is less melodramatic than the 1930 film (also included in the recent Criterion package).
Class differences are made more distinct in Cukor’s film, with Johnny walking through the servants entrance of Julia’s grand Manhattan home because he assumes she works there. The set decoration verges on ostentatious in the grand rooms, although there’s a quaintness to the decor in Linda’s preferred territory, the former nursery.
Edward Everett Horton — who plays the same character in both films — is here part of a middle-class professorial couple (matched with Jean Dixon in her last film role). The Potters are friends of Johnny who appreciate his humor and support his dreams. Their characters seem tailor-made for the audience to empathize with, as they appear out of place at a lavish engagement party. The Potters offer a lightness of wit as well as giving the work a more grounded feeling.
Hepburn and Grant are well-matched in Holiday. We see the growing attraction between Johnny and Linda, although she is protective of her younger sister. Julia prioritizes their dad’s approval and the appearances of things while Linda’s voice and person continue to be stifled and limited by their controlling father. Linda holds high hopes for their brother Ned (Lew Ayres), who is so under their father’s thumb he turns to drink. “Unlike me, Linda always hopes,” Ned warily tells Johnny.
The Criterion BluRay package offers opportunity to further appreciate two young artists at the top of their game while acknowledging the behind-the-scenes work which led to Holiday. Add the fact that the less familiar 1930 version is part of the special features, as well! It offers for quite a contrast to Cukor’s film, especially as Mary Astor plays Julia as smarter and more conniving than Nolan’s duller take on the role. The 1938 film remains memorable for its strong cast, pointed wit, and disparagement of the obscenely wealthy.
The Criterion BluRay is packed with special features, including:
- the first film adaptation from 1930, starring Mary Astor and Ann Harding as the rich sisters, which sticks closer to the original source material
- Audio interview from 1971 & -2 with director Cukor. He speaks to Gavin Lambert about Barry writing the play in more affluent times (his film version was made in the later years of the Depression) and recalls Hepburn auditioning for A Bill of Divorcement with a scene from the play. Audio quality of this interview is somewhat difficult to make out.
- A gallery of Kalloch’s costume designs for the Cukor film, including original drawings and final styles
- A conversation between filmmaker Michael Schlesinger and critic Michael Sragow which compares the 1938 film and 1940’s The Philadelphia Story. They discuss Grant’s personal parallels to the character of Johnny Case, Cukor’s direction style and choices, the character depth added through the screenwriter’s changes, as well as the production design and cinematography.
-
WEATHERING WITH YOU: A Sunny Romance with a Cloudy Moral Center
Makoto Shinkai’s latest anime melodrama features truly dazzling spectacles with off-key consequences
The conceit I love most of all about movies is how they can make us feel like a first kiss matters as much as the end of the world. Movies help us make sense of an at times senseless universe, and imbue us with life-affirming power in our moments of darkness. It all depends on how much we grow to care about the people depicted onscreen, how much of ourselves we see in them.
Makoto Shinkai is a director who has spent his career marrying the personal with the cosmic. From life-swapping in Your Name to war and interstellar travel in Voices of a Distant Star, Shinkai tests the bonds of human hearts against time, space, and myriad other forces that threaten to tear them asunder. In Weathering With You, Shinkai makes a film that tests the bounds of love once more — focusing more on how much one is willing to give for others at the cost of themselves. And, as the film’s title suggests, that cost is inextricably linked to the worsening health of a planet in ever-looming danger.
16-year-old Hodaka is a runaway new to Tokyo who manages to get a job as an errand boy for a tabloid of tall tales. In researching the latest creepy phenomena, he crosses paths with orphan girl Hina, who can magically cease Tokyo’s unending rainfall by praying for it. Hodaka’s on the run from the cops, who’re trying to return him home; Hina’s determined to protect her and her brother Nagi from being found out by social services. Together, the three set up a lucrative business bringing sunshine to the citizens of Tokyo — a decision that threatens to upend Hodaka and Hina’s budding relationship as well as the balance of nature.
Like Shinkai’s other films, Weathering With You is a visually stunning piece of work. With an unabashed love of aerial landscapes, Shinkai never ceases to create stunning vistas that put heaven and earth in continued conversation with each other. In his more grounded cityscapes, Shinkai’s production design revels in the minutiae of worldly pleasures, from the interiors of internet cafes to the brash, eye-grabbing ads that illuminate Shibuya and Ikebukuro. Such fascinations heighten the magical realism of Shinkai’s worlds — as a result, anything godlike or paranormal feels delightfully normal in a world that already feels extraordinary.
At times, the beauty of Shinkai’s settings and conceits leaves little to spare for the film’s characters. We are given enough to root for Hodaka and Hina — and at times care a damn good amount about what happens to them. But through the film’s extended usage of montages, unelaborated backstories, and other narrative hand-waving, one can’t help but feel the rough edges of the film’s storyline the more we progress through Weathering With You. The circumstances of Hodaka’s running away aren’t elaborated upon enough to emotionally invest in their urgency, and the interwoven subplots of the film’s characters (from a father’s asthma-stricken daughter to a woman’s desperate search for a better part-time job) feel more like narrative hinders to Hodaka and Hina’s romance than earnest, complimentary explorations of the film’s themes in their own right. However, that doesn’t stop us from being won over by much of the film’s cast — there’s a genuine youthful thrill to Hodaka and Hina’s adventures, one driven by a boundless hope for the future that has turns out to have overwhelmingly positive effects on the environment around them. Weathering With You’s infectious soundtrack by Japanese rock band Radwimps is equally soaring, with some of the best needle drops 2019 has to offer.
Over its runtime, though, Weathering With You gradually builds an argument between self-destructive selflessness and world-destructing self-interest that traps Shinkai and company uncomfortably between two equally problematic moral extremes. There’s a compelling argument made against Hina’s drive of well-intentioned but unreasonable self-sacrifice as much as it finds a compelling purpose in her noble pursuit to protect others from harm. True to form, Shinkai is just as fascinated with the natural forces that put humans in such situations, as global warming continues to rise in apocalyptic import and humans are forced to confront their not-so-insignificant role in the way the world literally works. Shinkai acknowledges how unfair and “crazy” the world is for putting us in these awful choices — and prizes our drive to put as much good out into the world to make up for all of the bad, no matter how fleeting our rewards may be. These moments make up the best of Weathering With You, as Hodaka and Hina revel in the little eyes of their personal storms before the world returns to its naturally chaotic state.
For all of its efforts, though, one can’t help but be slightly stormy at where Shinkai decides to steer his story to conclusion. Weathering With You naturally dovetails its many storylines and themes to a fittingly cataclysmic convergence, one that nearly bests Your Name in marrying matters of the heavens and the heart. It’s a third act, though, that’s hampered by the same amount of narrative hand-waving that plagues the film’s opening sections — except with a degree of apocalyptic moral relativism that may cause some viewers to plummet out of Shinkai’s emotional highs. Weathering With You’s destruction and creation may be beautiful and rich in personal symbolism — but one can’t help but think about the other lives that hang in the balance of Hodaka and Hina’s slice-of-life story. It’s a concern that bleeds into how Weathering With You treats Hina overall— and how the film is compelled to equate her visceral trolley-dilemma choices with her choice to give up or stay with Hodaka. It’s a grand gesture, fitting for the other films in Shinkai’s filmography — but it feels slightly tone-deaf when the director chooses to make the stakes as high as he does.
However, Weathering With You’s questionable morals may not be as much of a dealbreaker for Shinkai’s more devoted fans. Some of these scenes are quite a technical achievement, and when Weathering With You works, it truly excels in ways that are truly special. I just wish that the film’s moral compass wasn’t as inconsistent as the weather of its title.
Weathering With You opens in theaters January 17, 2020 courtesy of GKids.
-
Screen Comparisons: Lucio Fulci’s HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY New 4K Restoration Versus 2011 Blu-ray
Putting the new Limited Edition Disc to the test against the old, both from Blue Underground
Blue Underground has been killing it lately with deluxe Limited Edition re-releases of some of their biggest catalogue hits like Zombie, Maniac, The New York Ripper, and Two Evil Eyes, featuring new 4K restorations, CD soundtracks, awesome lenticular slipcovers, and new bonus features on top of the previous (and often already impressive) extras. The newest title to get the deluxe treatment, and the third directed by Lucio Fulci, is 1981’s The House By The Cemetery.
The new presentation features a 4K restoration from the original camera negative, and boy is there a world of difference. Clarity and grain are much improved across the board, sometimes radically so.
The image is also “dimensionally” improved, using the full horizontal space available (versus the slight black pillarboxing of the older transfer) and usually displaying slightly more of the frame, though that varies.
Whereas the technical merits of the new transfer are inarguably superior, the color timing introduces some eye-opening differences that are sure to raise some eyebrows.
Grain/Clarity Improvement:
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration Color Timing:
The nocturnal opening sequence in particular looks wildly different even from the first shot, with a blue hue. I’ve only ever seen the film on home video, not on film, but I’m assuming this is a revisionistic change rather than a restorative choice — if so, this is a radical difference right out of the gate. It does have a more “moonlit” appearance so I can see why the choice was made.
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration This opening ends with the title sequence, which is the only part of the new transfer which looks clearly inferior to me — the new color timing trades in a naturalistic title card shot for this tightly cropped version with its crazy electric turqoise sky.
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration Aside from that outlier opening in which the colors are now cooler/blue-tinted, the rest of the film leans further into green and yellow side of the color spectrum, and for the most part look very good.
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration New Titles:
Some of the on-screen text has been redone, such as these setting titles. Besides the titles being noticeably sharper, the entire image is vastly clearer. The difference in these shots is remarkable.
Interestingly, this next “Boston” text was left off the new version altogether — perhaps because the location quickly becomes obvious.
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration Close-ups:
Some additional detail views demonstrating the differences.
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration Misc:
A smattering of some other random shots…
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration 
Top: Old 2011 Release // Bottom: New 4K Restoration
A/V Out.
Get it at Amazon:
If you enjoy reading Cinapse, purchasing items through our affiliate links can tip us with a small commission at no additional cost to you.House By The Cemetery LE Blu-ray — https://amzn.to/35JMx5f
Except where noted, all 16:9 screen images in this review are direct captures from the disc(s) in question with no editing applied, but may have compression or resizing inherent to file formats and Medium’s image system. All package photography was taken by the reviewer.
-
2019: 25 Films
Julian pays an annual video tribute to the Top 25 films of 2019
2019 was a banner year. Not only was it a hell of a year for movies, but I was honored to fully become a part of the Cinapse team and pursue film criticism in earnest. It’s been amazing covering film this past year, and as I have for the last seven years, I wanted to pay tribute to what I thought were the best films 2019 had to offer. Many of the films featured in this video have inspired wildly diverse reactions and opinions between critics and audiences alike— and I thank Cinapse for the opportunity to join the conversation. Enjoy.
The 25:
- Parasite (Bong Joon-Ho)
- Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Céline Sciamma)
- Uncut Gems (Josh & Benny Safdie)
- A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick)
- Little Women (Greta Gerwig)
- The Irishman (Martin Scorsese)
- Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach)
- Transit (Christian Petzold)
- 1917 (Sam Mendes)
- Her Smell (Alex Ross Perry)
- Knives Out (Rian Johnson)
- The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers)
- The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson)
- Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino)
- Sunset (László Nemes)
- The Last Black Man in San Francisco (Joe Talbot)
- Dragged Across Concrete (S. Craig Zahler)
- Booksmart (Olivia Wilde)
- The Farewell (Lulu Wang)
- Midsommar (Ari Aster)
- Waves (Trey Edward Shults)
- The Nightingale (Jennifer Kent)
- Ad Astra (James Gray)
- Pain and Glory (Pedro Almodóvar)
- Wild Rose (Tom Harper)
Honorable Mentions: Apollo 11 (Todd Douglas Miller), The Art of Self-Defense (Riley Stearns), The Lodge (Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala), The Death of Dick Long (Daniel Scheinert), Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis).
If you’d enjoy a stroll down memory lane, please enjoy the last few years of videos below. Thank you for your patronage, as always.
-
LES MISÉRABLES is a Cynical Yet Compelling Call to Action
Ladj Ly’s directorial debut casts a critical eye on modern life in the Paris projects that once inspired Victor Hugo
Ladj Ly’s Les Misérables documents a violent, lawless day in les Bosquets, the housing projects in Montfermeil, the setting of the Victor Hugo novel from which the film draws its title. Ly, who drew upon his experiences growing up in the Paris suburb, depicts his hometown as a place fraught with endlessly brewing tension. Special police forces patrol the streets, keeping an accusing eye on citizens who may or may not have been swept up in sectarian gang violence. Switching between the perspectives of the police, gang members, and innocent bystanders who all share some claim to Les Bosquets, Ly doesn’t seek to provide any easy answers to the generations of social conflict plaguing France. Instead, Les Misérables examines the valid reasons why those without a social voice turn to violence for expression, while acknowledging that violence as part of a cycle of retribution that must be broken at all costs.
Les Misérables opens with the induction of Police transfer Ruiz (Damien Bonnard) to the Street Crimes Unit in Montfermeil, headed by partners Chris (Alexis Manenti) and Gwada (Djibril Zonga). Despite an intimidating presence, Gwada is the good cop of the two — he grew up in Les Bosquets, and strikes up an easy rapport with those they must confront. Chris, however, is a young yet all-too-hardened veteran, quick to make crass judgments and skirt the edges of misconduct in order to do his job. Ruiz, in contrast to his two new partners, has plenty of police experience but is a total fish out of water — he’s only transferred to Montfermeil from likelier more well-off parts of Paris to be closer to his son, whom Ruiz lost in a recent divorce.
Ruiz is caught completely off-guard by Chris and Gwada’s way of patrolling — even more so when a series of conflicts involving a traveling circus’ missing lion and Bosquets kids falling under the influence of Muslim Brotherhood leads to the injury of a local kid (Issa Perica) at the patrolmen’s hands. When Chris notices someone’s drone has captured the assault on tape, Ruiz must follow Chris and Gwada through the dangerous neighborhood to prevent the footage from getting into the wrong hands.
What caught me most off guard about Les Misérables was how writer/director Ly infuses a well-worn trope of “bad cops avoiding capture” with a stunning degree of lived-in documentary-like realism. Ly has spent his life filming the squalid conditions in Les Bosquets, from his days as a youth protestor through the infamous riots of 2005 (sparked by the deaths of two teenagers running from Police) and into his career as a filmmaker, where he won a Cesar for the short that inspired Les Misérables. Those decades of experience fuel Les Misérables’ kinetic cinematography and editing, as even the most innocuous of scenes of street life become rife with the threat of explosive violence. Peace feels elusive here — scenes of immigrant kids playing football are broken with the players gossiping about the violent acts of their home villages. Even the film’s opening scenes of flooded streets celebrating France’s world cup victory feel less like a nation briefly coming together than a cumulative outbreak of mass hysteria. Like many films of 2019, Les Misérables finds its fuel in an endless reserve of social anxiety — and the inciting act of violence that closes the film’s first act feels like a long laid fuse finally being lit.
It’s the resulting two-thirds of Les Misérables, though, that provide much of the film’s challenging questions. Terrorized daily by the SCU Ruiz and his partners belong to, people like victim Issa and the de-facto Mayor tasked with keeping the peace dream of either escaping the Police’s clutches or seizing the opportunity for revenge. People like Gwada, though, join the Police in hope of personally finding a solution to the conflicts facing their hometown — even if it requires indulging torture-happy racists like Chris to do so. Ruiz, wholly new to the conflict, thinks the solutions are easy — that if people just stop the violence and corruption, they can forge lasting, productive social partnerships. But it’s never that easy — and Ly’s roving camera is more than driven to illustrate just how each of his characters fit within an ouroboros of retribution. In fitting with Victor Hugo’s novel, the sun of Les Bosquets shines and sets on the just and unjust — and people either swallow their urges for violence and endure what’s being done to them, or there comes a tipping point that may very well claim their lives in the process.
Ly more than recognizes the shades of gray that exist within the sociopolitical conflicts of his film. However, he often doesn’t recognize that same potential for complexity within his individual characters. I’m not asking to sympathize with someone as truly vile as Chris. Just that Ly’s treatment of supporting characters from the leaders of the traveling Romani circus to the brief appearances of Bosquets citizens who fall sway to potentially extremist forces feel far too cursory than the film deserves. There are so many possible side stories throughout Les Misérables — and the frantic pace that the film moves at often threatens to cast them aside in pursuit of its well-intentioned ambitions.
Despite that aspect of Les Misérables, Ly does manage to directly interrogate a sense of complacency when it comes to documenting social unrest. From Gwada’s itchy trigger finger despite being the “good” cop keeping Chris under control, to the bitter cynicism that pervades throughout everyone in Les Bosquets, it’s clear that there’s little faith in our innate ability to be “good people.” It’s hard to believe in a just world when life is constantly motivated by unjust actions. So not only do facile appeals from Ruiz seem wholly tone-deaf, its completely reasonable that others would turn to incendiary acts of violence to just be heard.
Like Ly’s inspiration La Haine, Les Misérables recognizes the addictive and destructive power violence holds. In a crucial scene, in spite of his naïveté, Ruiz does recognize how the 2005 riots failed those who participated in them. A burnt car or shop hasn’t solved anything. The same social ills continue to plague Les Bosquets and the other banlieues like it. It’s arguable that the parties fighting over the film’s central drone footage won’t solve anything from taking possession of it — they’ll only have an advantage as momentary as the peace that the World Cup victory brought in the film’s opening. A character makes a decision to act that provokes an equal, tense response from the once-peaceful Ruiz — suggesting that even the most peaceful-minded of men can’t help but resort to violence in order to maintain a fragile status quo.
So what does a film like Les Misérables have to offer when it posits nothing but a futile cycle of violence and oppression? I’ve written off quite a few films this year for their confusion of addressing their issues with actively confronting them, which results in further complacency than the call to action they aspire to. But Les Misérables, despite its rough edges and regrettable refusal to further explore individual morality, does offer what’s most deprived of its central characters — a voice. Ly recognizes the validity of his characters’ actions, while placing them in a further context that requires his attentive audience to reckon with the violence depicted in the same way. Ly also recognizes that his film can only do so much to change the world — and its up to his audience to respond accordingly to his call to action.
Les Misérables debuted in theaters January 10th, 2020 courtesy of Amazon Studios.
-
Disney Deep-Cuts: Two Cents Film Club Finds Gold with DARBY O’GILL AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE (1959)
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
You never know the movies that film history is going to pivot around.
On the surface, Darby O’Gill and the Little People is exactly the kind of forgotten movie that we’re hoping to celebrate with this series, an affable little fantasy film that seemingly left very little cultural footprint on its own.
But Darby O’Gill is a film on which quite a bit of culture rests. You see, it was this film that first alerted producers to a young Scottish actor. And it watching him charm his way through the Irish countryside in this film that convinced these producers that he might be a good fit for the little spy movie they were putting together.
That spy movie? Dr. No.
That’s right, you have the Disney movie about leprechauns to thank for the first (and maybe still best?) James Bond. Go stew on that.
Sean Connery is actually a decidedly supporting character in Darby O’Gill. The true protagonist is Albert Sharpe as, you guessed it, Darby O’Gill. Darby is a classical Irish archetype, an incorrigible storyteller who can always be found at his village pub with a pint in his hand regaling his friends and neighbors with endless tales of the times he’s matched wits with the local spirits and creatures, including the wily leprechaun King Brian (Jimmy O’Dea). To hear Darby tell it, he is forever tricking his way into wealth, only to have Brian trick it right back out of his hands.
But the fun and games end when Darby’s employer decides to replace the old man as groundskeeper (seeing as how Darby is always ignoring his duties to instead hang out at a pub and gab all day) with a strapping young fellow (that’d be Connery). Determined to provide for himself and his daughter (Janet Munro), Darby schemes to play one last trick on King Brian, and finally beat the leprechaun at his own game.
Director Robert Stevenson would go on to direct Mary Poppins, and you can see the early signs of that film’s technical innovation in the blending of the titular little people (and other supernatural elements) with the full-bodied cast members.
But how does Darby O’Gill and the Little People hold up as a film? Does it still possess some of the old magic, or is it most interesting as a footnote?
Next Week’s Pick:
Next up, we’re tackling another early appearance of a young star witht he makings of greatness — Kurt Russell is Dexter Riley in The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (1969), which is not only the first of what would become a trilogy of whimsical fantasy comedies for the actor in that role, but part of an early Disney cinematic universe. Dexter lives in town of Medfield which also serves as the setting as the original “Flubber” and “Shaggy Dog” movies. As with all picks in our Disney Deep-Cuts series, it’s available to stream on Disney+.
Would you like to be a guest in the next’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co anytime before midnight on Thursday!
Our Guests
Kevin Veighey:
I was introduced to this movie by my older brother, Needless to say, I was pretty intrigued, both because it had Sean Connery in it before he was James Bond (he also sings!) but also because my family is descended from Irish immigrants Also, the banshee scene is so incredibly realized, that It still holds up today in terms of the creepy atmosphere. Plus, seeing the grudging friendship between Darby and the King of the Leprechauns is so joyful and slightly vitriolic in the best possible way. Such an underrated gem of a movie.
I should also mention that I’ve told many people I know who are hardcore Disney fans of its existence, and they refuse to believe that it’s real. Hopefully, since it’s now on Disney+, people will start believing me about it… (@GoldenTalesGeek)
John Sheridan:
A great man once said, “Some people can read War and Peace and come away thinking it’s a simple adventure story. Others can read the ingredients on a chewing gum wrapper and unlock the secrets of the universe.” That’s how I feel about going to the movies for the first time. Ask most people and they don’t remember their first movie. They didn’t get the appeal and they never grew into it. Not movie obsessives. We know. We can see a piece of Disney schlock and have our brains rewired.
The rewiring was done for me by Darby O’Gill and the Little People. My memories of the movie itself are hazy. Haven’t seen it since the late ’70s. I remember that there was a banshee that scared the crap out of me. I remember leprechauns. I remember Sean Connery in a horse drawn cart on a dirt road at night. And I’m out. That’s about it.
But let me tell you this. A few years back, my wife and I were house hunting not too far from where I grew up. We had just seen another disappointing house and were discouraged. Driving home, we rounded a bend and time folded back upon itself. There was the movie theater I had gone to forty years earlier. Instantly, I remembered EVERYTHING. We pulled into the parking lot. The theater was closed down, but the structure remained. I told her the exact layout of the theater like I had been there last week.
Through the windows we saw the box office, just as I had described. The concessions stand. The long hallway with the doors leading into the theaters. The raised, vaulted ceiling of the lobby. It was simultaneously 1976 and 2015. I was 4 and 43. I was Dr. Manhattan. It was the single most powerful sense memory I’ve felt. Darby O’Gill and the Little People. The alpha and the omega. (@Frmertedd428)
Darby O’Gill is such a treat. This is a film filled with something we don’t really see in movies too much nowadays: Mischief. For good reason, too, because it can be a difficult thing to pull off. It needs a deft hand that’s patient enough to lead you down a path and then smart enough to pull the rug out.
Darby O’Gill does this regularly and with an ease that’s a joy to watch. In fact, I wish there was more of that mischief to enjoy. From the initial three wishes to the drinking game, there are little moments of genius that warmed my heart.
Also, this film is a good example of a Walt Disney picture. Technically brilliant (for the time, though it holds up really well), good music, fun, and some inventive storytelling that the whole family can enjoy. This is what a Disney movie should always be.
Also, it is a joy to watch a young, pre-007 Sean Connery running around trying to charm a lady with his boyish grin. (@hsumra)
The Team
When people say about a movie, ‘They don’t make ’em like that anymore’, normally what they mean is that a given genre has evolved or shifted, it’s component parts still present in the culture just maybe not arranged in the same way.
But Darby O’Gill truly is the kind of film that they just don’t make any more. A small-scale fantasy film with an entirely adult cast, where the supernatural element is localized and barely remarked upon. These sorts of fantasy films (really, more folklore than fantasy, but near enough) were once somewhat commonplace (just look at It’s A Wonderful Life as another example of this sort of shrugged-at magical realism) but have gone wildly out of style thanks to first the Cynicism Bomb of the 1970s, followed by fantasy becoming firmly entrenched as a genre for giant budgets and box office.
Darby O’Gill, character and film, is satisfied with being charming. Its emphasis on trickery and mischief over prophecy and swashbuckling give it a distinct personality within the fantasy film genre, and the special effects used to futz with various sizes are actually quite impressive to this day. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Peter Jackson pulled from this one in realizing how to properly depict the hobbits.
Nice little movie. (@TheTrueBrendanF)
I caught this film, or more accurately its latter half or so, about 25 years ago. I loved it, though with time I forgot what exactly I had enjoyed aside from the banshee. I’m pleased to know that the film absolutely holds up, and to be reminded why it grabbed me in the first place.
The movie packs in a lot of (mostly) good-natured mischief, with the old codger Darby and his long-running feud of sorts with Brian, the king of the Leprechauns. No one had gotten around to coining “frenemy” yet, but it’s a perfect approximation of the pair, who are quite fond of each other but get on by one-upping the other with assorted tricks and hijinks — but also sharing in drinks, music, and laughs.
It’s from this rather riotous throughline that the film’s last act comes out of nowhere and packs a sublime (and clever) emotional punch that cements this as a truly great piece of filmmaking that’s not only a fun romp but also ultimately about the power of love and friendships.
Between the charming characters, old-fashioned but dazzling effects, presence of Connery as a supporting character, and just being a great yarn about great yarns, Darby O’Gill and the Little People is one of the great less heralded Disney classics that deserves a wider audience. Highly recommended. (@Austin Vashaw)
Next week’s pick:
https://www.disneyplus.com/movies/the-computer-wore-tennis-shoes/4aeFUGJRUt3T
-
There’s Still Enchantment in THE LIGHTHOUSE on Blu-ray
Robert Eggers’ second feature continues to madden and mystify on home video
In following up the elemental dread of his debut feature The Witch, Robert Eggers taps into the more primal side of human nature with The Lighthouse — a film that, while a similar slow-burn to his last effort, taps into the even weirder sides of human nature, as gritty, gnarly, and gut-bustlingly hilarious as they may be.
In the film, Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe play two lighthouse keepers who succumb to madness fueled by machismo and mind-numbing boredom in the midst of their isolating duties. Compared to the grim austerity of The Witch, The Lighthouse is a far more rambunctious, frenzied film, one that uses the stillness of its pillarbox cinematography to trap its two lead actors into a cage they spend the rest of the film trying to escape. It’s also a far more hilarious film, wallowing in the absurdity of their behavior and unashamed crudeness. There might also be mermaids. There’s definitely fart jokes.
But this lighthearted humor belies Eggers’ earnest explorations of authority and identity — and how fragile the constructs that hold them both together in our minds really are. It’s not long on the island before Pattinson and Dafoe’s clearly defined relationship begins to crumble and blur like the swirls in the lighthouse’s septic tank. The two men endlessly challenge each other, gradually exposing long-buried truths and not-too-dormant truer natures. And amidst it all is the grueling weather, an endless volley of storms, floods, and other flotsam that externalizes the torrential inner insanity of our leads. It’s far from a subtle conceit — but the sheer gusto with which Eggers, Pattinson, and Dafoe bring The Lighthouse to life almost requires a total lack of subtlety. Modesty be damned in a film with as much murder, masturbation, and mayhem as this one.
After its successful theatrical run, Lionsgate and A24 bring The Lighthouse home in a Blu-ray that’s as stellar in its picture and sound quality as it is in its supplemental contents. One of the highlights of the package, though, is the degree to which the film’s English subtitles replicate Eggers’ period dialogue. Robert Eggers’ knack for replicating his settings’ contemporary turns of phrase was part of what made both The Witch and The Lighthouse such memorable and immersive experiences — and having his dialogue on easily-digestible display (verbal tics and all) allows viewers to truly appreciate and revel in this aspect of his film.
Video/Audio
The Lighthouse is presented in a 1080p HD master pillarboxed to preserve the film’s 1.19:1 aspect ratio, accompanied by a 5.1 DTS-HD Master sound mix. English SDH and Spanish subtitles are presented solely for the feature, and not for the accompanying extras.
For my money, The Lighthouse is one of the best-shot films of 2019 — and Lionsgate’s Blu-ray successfully preserves its immersive theatrical experience with this home video release. Jarin Blaschke’s orthochromatic cinematography truly shines here, rich with all the grime and texture that makes Eggers’ feature such an uncomfortable and spellbinding watch. A healthy amount of 35mm film grain never overwhelms the set’s chipped plaster or rivulets of wood grain, enhancing the film’s timeless qualities. The disc’s audio captures Eggers’ crackling period dialogue with crisp clarity, and both Mark Korven’s score and Damien Volpe’s sound design work in tandem to be deeply unsettling without overwhelming the efforts of the film’s two leads.
Special Features
- Audio Commentary with Director & Co-Writer Robert Eggers — Much like his commentary track on The Witch, Eggers provides a captivating, humorous, and humble oral history of the arduous shoot of The Lighthouse. Many interesting anecdotes are included, including an explanation of some practical trick photography, the insane period details that Eggers is proudest of that go unnoticed, and just how well-trained the film’s seagulls really are.
- The Lighthouse: A Dark & Stormy Tale — A substantial near-feature-length triptych of making-of featurettes featuring interviews with The Lighthouse’s cast and crew. It’s quite a surreal piece to watch, as all of the behind-the-scenes material is in vibrant color. Compared to The Lighthouse’s stark black-and-white cinematography, the set’s moody browns and olives feel like something out of The Wizard of Oz.
- Deleted Scenes — Five minutes of easily-removed material, bookended by their placement in the final feature.
The Lighthouse is available on Blu-ray and DVD on January 7th courtesy of Lionsgate and A24: https://amzn.to/36EmspJ
-
Two Cents: Disney Deep-Cuts Begins with a Dive Into THE BLACK CAULDRON
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
There have been great Disney animated films, and there have been terrible Disney animated films, and there have been many Disney animated films that fall somewhere between those two poles. But there is only one film that flopped so spectacularly that it threatened to kill Disney animation completely.
That would be 1985’s The Black Cauldron.
To be fair to The Black Cauldron, disaster had been brewing for a while. Following Walt’s death in 1966, Disney as a whole, and its animation division especially, struggled to regain the vigor and invention that had powered so many animated classics. And as culture in the ’70s pivoted to darker, more cynical trends, more and more the Disney brand seemed out of step, cloying, and irrelevant.
Development of The Black Cauldron, an (extremely loose) adaptation of the first two books in Lloyd Alexander’s five-book series, The Chronicles of Prydain, began in 1971, before entering actual production in 1980. The film’s production was long, expensive, and filled with creative turnover, including junking all of the work provided by a young animator by the name of Tim Burton.
When new studio boss Jeffery Katzenberg took over the company, he was already eyeing the animation department as an expensive liability no longer worth the hassle. His opinion was compounded when he sat down to watch The Black Cauldron and was mortified by the grim tone, dour color palette, and nightmarish imagery. Hoping to placate Katzenberg, a test-screening was held to let actual families and children, the eventual paying audience, see the film.
Yeah, that didn’t work out so well. The screening climaxed with waves of parents storming angrily from the theater, often carrying screaming, terrified children in their arms. Katzenberg ordered 12 minutes, containing the most viscerally disturbing imagery, be chopped from the film.
In its truncated form, The Black Cauldron was released in 1985 and promptly flopped. Katzenberg gave serious thought to closing Disney’s animation division for good, but the studio’s next film, 1986’s The Great Mouse Detective, proved a modest enough hit that Katzenberg relented. Two of that film’s directors, Ron Clements and John Musker, next directed The Little Mermaid. That film’s blockbuster success created an entire new generation of Disney-lovers and kicked off a new golden age for the studio’s animation, the after-effects of which we are still experiencing.
As for The Black Cauldron, it was largely buried. Over time, the film developed a strong cult following, whose demand for the movie eventually led to Disney finally releasing it on VHS in 1997. The deleted sequences, including the gruesome ‘cauldron born’ scene, achieved their own brand of notoriety for years.
But now, The Black Cauldron is available for anyone to watch via the Disney+ streaming service, like a stealth bomb of terror planted between The Aristocats and Wreck-It Ralph.
All these years later, how does The Black Cauldron stack up as a film, regardless of its troubled reputation? — Brendan
Next Week’s Pick:
A young pre-007 Sean Connery stars with Albert Sharpe and Janet Munro in a charming foray into Irish fantasy, mixing it up with wily leprechauns and a screaming banshee! Darby O’Gill and the Little People is a film I saw once as a kid (and just the second half at that), but absolutely loved. I’m excited to revisit it properly, and hopefully the cultural depictions, which were made in earnest and inspired by Walt Disney meeting with the Irish Folklore Commission, will hold up. — Austin
Would you like to be a guest in the next’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co anytime before midnight on Thursday!
Our Guests
Austin Wilden:
The Black Cauldron is a part of the Disney Animated Canon I’d never seen before. I remember seeing ads for it in front of other Disney features on VHS growing up and have since become familiar with its infamous place in Disney history as a movie that almost sunk the studio. It’s not hard to see why just looking at the finished project, even without the knowledge of its troubled production.
As ‘80s animated features based on classic fantasy novels go, it’s nowhere near the quality of Rankin Bass’ The Last Unicorn or even Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings. The latter sharing some stylistic touches with the animation on display here, which is as close as this movie got to keeping me interested. Then there are some points where style shift in the animation feel more like the product of a rush to finish the project during the final days of reworking it to tone down the darkness. This leads to noticeable flubs in the background art, linework on characters switching between clean and sketchy within a single scene, and some off-model moments, like the Horned King suddenly having pupils in his last scene.
With the contents of the story, it’s apparent how hacked to the bone this was in order to tone down the dark elements that apparently frightened children out of test screenings. Namely the fact it feels like the movie introduces a new comic relief character every other scene. I didn’t even find that pattern annoying as much as tiring, though some of the schtick would get an occasional mild chuckle out of me.
The Black Cauldron is a mess, but it’s not an interesting one unless you know about the troubled history behind it. Even with some of the unique elements on display, I mainly found myself bored with it. I wish I could find some hidden value or theme to latch onto, but I can’t work up much passion to even dislike this movie.(@WC_Wit)
Brendan Agnew (The Norman Nerd):
It’s easy to see why Disney thought at one time that they had something here. The Black Cauldron boasts quality fantasy source material pedigree, some gorgeous design, and a script that hit the requisite Hero’s Journey Bullet Points (albeit by butchering said source material, BUT WE’LL GET TO THAT LATER) that could have guided a rollicking fantasy yarn. And heck, when John Huston is delivering that opening prologue alongside those sumptuous visuals, it works.
Then you start meeting the characters.
I mean, Taran just sucks. They all kinda suck (which is super annoying, given that Alexander’s writing of them was charming as all get out), but Taran absolutely sucks the most, and what makes it worse is that they manage to get Eilonwy just right enough that she’s super active by ’80s Disney heroine standards, but then she’s still shackled to Taran.
Who sucks.
And he didn’t have to, none of them had to, it didn’t have to be this much of a disaster. When Disney scooped the guts out of the first two novels of the Prydain Chronicles to cobble together the skeleton of a basic fantasy adventure, they forgot that skeletons aren’t alive and their story was fucking dead even as they dumped insane amounts of money to try and cobble something together. They definitely had the pieces at their disposal, but the resulting film plays out like someone dumped the pieces on the floor and took a hammer to them until they formed a rough approximation of a picture.
Every now and then a narrative beat will land effectively or the truly astounding imagery will elevate a sequence, but mostly this movie just staggers through the motions. I know we all love a good diamond in the rough story, but there’s a reason this film got buried. (@BLCAgnew)
There are few things more interesting in cinema than seeing Disney take a swing at something new and miss so profoundly. The Black Cauldron, neatly known as the movie that almost killed the company, is one of those things.
The movie is a clear attempt to draw in all those Star Wars fans of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. Those damned teenagers and their darker sensibilities. You can see that in Taran, who is essentially Luke Skywalker in the first 5 minutes of A New Hope but for the entire damned movie (and boy, is it grating).
Similarly, nearly every character is right up there as some of the least charming Disney characters ever. The one bright spot here are small sequences of pure animated terror, which were actually more terrifying until Jeffrey Katzenberg took an axe to them.
The Black Cauldron isn’t a good movie by any definition. It’s a slog, it’s got bad characters and it’s the cinematic equivalent of Disney going into Hot Topic and coming out with the most obnoxious things on the shelf. At the very least, it’s a fascinating mess of a movie. (@hsumra)
The Team
The problem with The Black Cauldron is not that it’s scary, or bloody, or gross, or any of the other very valid things that people point to when trying to express what’s so wrong with this movie.
No, the problem is that everything in between the various grotesques is just deathly dull and unengaging. The Black Cauldron is less a story than a linear series of interactions, with characters dropping in and out of the movie seemingly at random with no sense of overarching flow and no narrative momentum. And it doesn’t help that this might be the single most unpleasant ensemble Disney ever assembled. Other people have already kicked Taran enough (he does suck, though) but, really, the entire central group are varying shades of either useless or obnoxious, as are the usually-reliable stable of colorful supporting characters. Everyone is mad and hostile all the time, and this, coupled with a color scheme that’s like moss growing on poop, makes for a monotonous experience. But, really, if you’re doing a big fantasy quest movie and you’re core fellowship never generate any sincere bond, never cohere into a family that we love and we fear for, then you’re trying to start a car with no engine.
The Black Cauldron is interesting inasmuch as it fits into the canon of fantasy films, feeling very much of a piece with the kind of dour, grimy flavor that was so frequently used in the ’80s for films like Dragonslayer or Ladyhawke. But it is only of interest as an artifact, never as a film in its own right. (@TheTrueBrendanF)
It’s been a good while since I’d watched this, and I didn’t recall much. Turns out there’s a reason for that — there’s not much meat on these bones.
That said, I may be the only one among our team who finds this kind of charming. it’s got a lot of problems, but they’re the same problems that plague a lot of the 80s and 90s animation set from both pre-renaissance Disney and their alternatives like Hanna Barbera, Don Bluth, Filmation, and even some Warner Bros and early Dreamworks. Annoying one-note characters, meandering narratives, and scattershot tone issues that often feel too gnarly for younger kids and too dopey for the older set. I’m of the age where I watched a lot of those growing up.
Forgetting the Disney classics for a moment and just comparing The Black Cauldron to its contemporaries, it’s still mid-to-upper tier. The animation is mostly great, and I really dig the creepier aspects which give it some teeth. The villains don’t have much depth, but they certainly look cool. And I do like that the furry sidekick character Gurgi even gets some surprisingly meaningful character beats.
We’ll never see it happen, but I’d truly be interested to see what a restored uncut version would look like. (@Austin Vashaw)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rORW6dxQYoQ
Next week’s pick:
https://www.disneyplus.com/movies/darby-ogill-and-the-little-people/1w3AwKM5fOPf
-
Top 10 2019 Films To Make You More Empathetic/Compassionate
“Movies are the most powerful empathy machine in all the arts.” — Roger Ebert
In 2018, I began a new tradition which I hope to continue for some time: listing out the year’s films which best generate empathy. In the years since, I began writing about film online, and especially in the years I’ve spent as part of Austin’s own Mobile Loaves & Fishes, I believe my own personal capacity for compassion has expanded dramatically. As Roger Ebert wisely relayed, movies are mankind’s greatest empathy generating art. So it stands to reason that as I soak in many of the great films of each new year, I find my own heart expanding in response to great artists’ work. As I continue in my work managing the Community Cinema at Community First! Village, I also have more and more opportunities to live out that organization’s singular mission to empower communities into a lifestyle of service with the homeless. So yeah, my daily existence almost demands a list like this.
Our country is also desperately in need of empathy and compassion. Regardless of where you stand politically, it is hard to deny that Americans are struggling to relate to one another, to genuinely wish the best for people not like them. We need to deepen our wells. We need to walk a mile in another’s shoes. The following films have the power to do just that.
It can’t go unnoticed that five out of the ten films in this list (and another two when counting the honorable mentions) were directed by women. Many are directed by, or star, a vast array of people of color as well. A big part of deepening our capacity to empathize is hearing, seeing, and getting acquainted with humans and stories that are not like our own. More women and people of color having a voice is good for all of us. It’s not just better for the artform of cinema…it’s better for humankind and our continued survival.
10: The Public [PG-13]
You just don’t see very many films about the homeless, or if an unhoused individual is featured in a film, they’re a punchline (or a punching bag). The Public’s drama unfolds around some particularly bitter cold Cincinnati nights in which a coalition of homeless folks lay claim to the public space of a heated library and declare their right to be treated with the dignity of a warm night’s sleep. It…causes a stir. The homeless folks in this film are treated like nuanced and unique individuals, which you rarely see in film, or in our local communities.
9: Jojo Rabbit [PG-13]
Elsa Korr: You’re not a Nazi, Jojo. You’re a ten-year-old kid who likes dressing up in a funny uniform and wants to be part of a club.
Tonally, Jojo Rabbit is quite a bizarre film, featuring writer/director Taika Waititi playing a young boy’s humorous imaginary friend Adolf Hitler as fervent Hitler Youth Jojo comes of age in Germany towards the end of WWII. But the film’s most dramatic punches are packed into the efforts that both Jojo’s mother (Scarlett Johansson) and a young Jewish girl hiding out in Jojo’s own house (Thomasin McKenzie) put into simply relating to Jojo as a scared and fatherless young boy. The film shows us how propaganda insinuates itself into our minds, and how true human connection can fundamentally change us for the better.
8: Mickey And The Bear [R]
It might be a trite saying, but I still find power in the concept that “hurt people hurt people.” Mickey And The Bear explores generational trauma as the incredible James Badge Dale portrays Hank, a charismatic addict and emotionally spiraling veteran being parented by his own teenage daughter Mickey (Camila Marrone). We’re rooting for Mickey to make her own way in life, out from under Hank’s abusive-but-human vice grip. Yet we can’t help but feel the challenges of father/daughter relationships, PTSD-fallout, the crippling struggle with addiction, and more. Some leveled accusations of “misery porn” at Mickey And The Bear. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. These people feel real, and these kinds of relationships are happening in homes all across our country and all around us, if not in our very own homes.
7: Becoming Leslie [Not Rated]
Leslie Cochran: Austin icon. Complex human being.
No film this year better exemplifies the Mobile Loaves & Fishes core belief that the primary cause of homelessness is a profound, catastrophic loss of family. Learn Leslie’s story and learn the story of so many unhoused people.
6: Waves [R]
What happens to a family when a loved one commits an unalterable and tragic act? The waves of the title are ripples through a typical American family (who just happen to be African American) showing what led up to a tragedy and what next steps can look like in the wake of it. Both tragic and redemptive, horrific and healing, Waves puts viewers through a cinematic wringer and taps into the powerful shared human experience of family in the process.
5: Honey Boy [R]
Otis: I’m going to make a movie about you.
James: Make me look good, Honey Boy.
Shia LeBeouf gives handily the bravest performance of his career as he serves as both writer and actor in a dramatized version of his own childhood experience. LeBeouf portrays a dramatized version of his own father (James), allowing actors Noah Jupe and Lucas Hedges to portray dramatized versions of himself (Otis) in different time periods. Much like in Mickey And The Bear, Honey Boy explores the nuance and complexities of abusive relationships with our parents in an illuminating and nuanced way.
4: Ernie & Joe: Crisis Cops [TV-MA]
“You might be broken…but you’re fixable.”
Ernie & Joe: Crisis Cops is a no-frills documentary illuminating the work of the mental health unit of the San Antonio police department that uses de-escalation tactics to address the needs of the citizens they encounter. It’s not a politically inflammatory film, staking no ground in the “black” vs “blue” lives matter movements. It’s not hero worship either, as Ernie and Joe are shown to be damaged individuals just like you and me. The film simply chronicles the compelling and HIGHLY successful tactics of approaching law enforcement through a mental health lens. If our society is going to continue to rely on first responders to address mental health crises (a concept that needs further evaluation), this film shows revolutionary tactics for humane encounters between officers of the law and people in crisis. May this approach spark a movement.
3: A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood [PG]
“You love broken people. Like me.”
In a stroke of brilliance, especially after last year’s excellent documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor? perfectly captured Fred Rogers’ essence, Mr. Rogers (here portrayed compellingly by America’s Dad Tom Hanks) plays a supporting role in this dramatized film. Matthew Rhys plays lead character Lloyd Vogel, a journalist tasked with writing a fluff piece on Mr. Rogers who instead finds himself changed by his encounters with a man who is genuinely good. As Vogel is forced to confront his broken relationship with his distant father, the reconciliatory power of Mr. Rogers’ message is wonderfully displayed.
2: Just Mercy [PG-13]
“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
“The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned.”
― Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and RedemptionNo film this year better celebrates the innate value of each human life than Just Mercy, a powerful dramatization about the life and work of Equal Justice Initiative founder Bryan Stevenson. Stevenson represents poor death row inmates who might not have gotten fair trials in a United States justice system that favors those with privilege and power. Again, regardless of personal politics, there’s no doubt that our justice system disproportionately impacts people of color and that death sentences are far too often found to be imposed on the innocent. Timely, compassionate, and unafraid to hold a mirror up to us all, Just Mercy is powerfully convicting cinema that begs us to make major change.
1: A Hidden Life [PG-13]
“…for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” ― George Eliot, Middlemarch
The overall best film of 2019, and perhaps one of the greatest religious films ever made, Terrence Malick’s A Hidden Life shows us plainly the abiding goodness of a loving family stewarding their land and contributing to their community, and the deep cost of personal conviction when a loving husband and father refuses to be conscripted into Hitler’s army. A Hidden Life shows the cost of drinking the cup of Christ better than almost any film in history. By showing the true story of one “forgotten” man and the great personal sacrifice he made to save his own soul, we’re compelled to ask how far we would be willing to go to save ours. Can I take up a burden so great? Can you? Can we collectively accept that self-sacrifice is mandatory if any of us have any hope of salvation?
Honorable Mentions
Her Smell: Elisabeth Moss gives the performance of the year as a spiralling punk rock star whose addictions and megalomania have ruined every relationship in her life, and who just might have the strength to change.
Chernobyl: The best television of 2019 dramatizes the tragedy of the nuclear meltdown and more importantly shows the profound cost of state-driven lies becoming truths that must be enforced by mid-level common people. Lies are poison when they become public policy. We must be better, or this will happen again.
Little Women: If you just need your soul to soar, or you just want to fall in love with a family brimming with goodness and love, look no further than Little Women.
Fast Color: A superhero film like no other, which posits that the future will be both black and female…and that that will be okay.
And I’m Out.
-
Don’t Let HUSTLERS Get Lost in the Shuffle
One of the best films of the year is out on Blu-ray
Hustlers has remained on my mind since I first saw it in September. There’s much to celebrate about Lorene Scafaria’s work: the original twist on a heist story, the feeling of sisterhood among the women involved, the powerful performances, that flawless pole dance by Jennifer Lopez to Fiona Apple’s “Criminal.” These are among the reasons the film is near the top of my end-of-the-year best list. It’s the only title I’ve seen four times in 2019, and there’s something new to notice and appreciate in each consecutive viewing.
Although Jennifer Lopez’s Ramona has become part of any awards conversation (and deservedly so!), other facets of the film seem to be forgotten or ignored. Scafaria’s witty and emotionally complex screenplay, adapted from a NYMag article by Jessica Pressler, shows the women’s hunger for power and money and how it affects the close ties between Destiny (Constance Wu) and Ramona. Todd Banhazl’s cinematography keeps Destiny’s point-of-view in mind.
Production designer Jane Musky came up with such a distinct look that the nightclub used for filming kept her re-design (the real owner of the club appears as the man who pays Destiny on her first night). Costume designer Mitchell Travers created the memorable looks of the film, from Ramona’s shimmering pole-dance get-up to the bloodied outfit Destiny wears to take her daughter to school to the fur coat the two women share on the first night they meet.
Hustlers is unique in tone and subject matter, at least among this year’s other releases. Where else can you see a joyous club scene, set to Usher’s “Love in this Club”? (Scafaria said this moment of the shoot “felt like a Renaissance painting.”) The Universal Blu-ray package is light on bonus features — besides a fun commentary from the writer/director as she expresses thanks to her cast and crew throughout — but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth owning… for many future viewings to come.
Special features on the Universal Blu-ray combo pack:
- Audio commentary from director Lorene Scafaria
- Trailers for other Universal titles
