Quick Takes, April 2025

Sophie Thatcher in Companion

Drew Hancock's Companion, a Sci-Fi thriller, is a clever feature debut from the writer/director. For a B movie about sex robots running amuck, the film is surprisingly witty and well acted. Hancock's direction remains assured and arch even as the body count rises. Sophie Thatcher (Heretic, Yellowjackets) continues to show why she she is a rising lead. Jack Quaid is a suitably odious villain. In support, Lukas Gage, Rupert Friend, and Harvey Guillén serve the premise nicely.

Fans of the mini-series Adolescence should check out a 2021 feature from star Stephen Graham and director Philip Barantini that is also done in one continuous shot. Boiling Point pictures a London chef (Graham) whose life is coming apart at the seams. I'm a little ambivalent about the value of one shot features, but, as with Adolescence, the compelling performances help to obscure the project's melodramatic contrivances. Currently streaming on Tubi.

Bill Gunn's Ganja & Hess, from 1973, is an indie vampire flick that has deservedly gained cult status. The picture is not really a Blaxploitation film or a horror film, though elements of these two genres are among the many ingredients contained within, but a poetic meditation on Afro-American identity. The titular Dr. Hess Green (Night of the Living Dead's Duane Jones) is torn between the spiritualism of his African roots and American Christianity. His vampirism represents his psyche's alienation and bifurcation. Perhaps fittingly, an uneven film, but also a haunting one.

Mike Mills' Thumbsucker, from 2005, is a coming of age dramedy with, as the title implies a few quirks. An adaptation of Walter Kirn's novel (he also wrote the novel that the film Up in the Air is based on), Thumbsucker adroitly pictures adolescence as a time when the young try on varying personas while searching for their true self (or selves). Nothing earthshaking, but the accomplished cast is a treat: including Lou Taylor Pucci, Vincent D'Onofrio, Tilda Swinton, Kelli Garner, and Vince Vaughn. Keanu Reeves is perfectly cast as a New Age dentist.

Uberto Pasolini's Nowhere Special is a film of heart-tugging social realism, my bête noire, that snuck into US release a few years after it opened in Britain. James Norton plays John, a window washer and single father of a four year old boy, who must find caregivers for his son after learning of his impending death. Norton is adept at tracing the Kübler-Ross arc of his character, but is not roughhewn or sickly looking enough to embody his role. Little Daniel Lamont has big eyes, but no affect. The supporting players usually register and Pasolini knows where to place his camera, but this is is a dispiritingly tasteful movie about death. John's search for adoptive parents to raise his child brings forth the mildest of social satire. John eventually knuckles under and accept the guidance of kindly civil servants. Harrumph and blech!

J Lee Thompson's Taras Bulba is a misbegotten Cossack epic set in the 16th century. The look of the film is colorful, the film was shot in Argentina, but the dramatic impact is nil. At times, the film, thanks to Franz Waxman's rousing score, resembles a musical rather than a combat film. Yul Brynner even warbles a few bars. The main problem is the casting of Tony Curtis as the son of the title character who is played by Brynner. Now I was not a math major, but Brynner was only five years older than Curtis. Curtis is supposed to be eighteen or so when he leaves his homestead to go to college in Kiev and subsequently falls in love with a Polish princess. Curtis is just too old to play juvenile romantic ardor like he did in The Black Shield of Falworth. Both Curtis and Brynner get to show off their physicality in their roles, but flail when intoning the sententious codswallop rendered by a phalanx of screenwriters. Taras Bulba is inane, but not always dull. 

Gordon Douglas' Young at Heart is a 1954 vanilla musical adaptation of the 1938 film Four Daughters, though this time with one less daughter. Doris Day and Frank Sinatra are top-billed in this Warners film, but Sinatra doesn't show up till 45 minutes into the picture and the pair share only one duet. Day's numbers are as anodyne as the plot, but Sinatra gets to warble three classics: "One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)", "Just One of Those Things", and "Someone to Watch Over Me". Otherwise. a negligible entertainment featuring Ethel Barrymore, Dorothy Malone, Gig Young, Robert Keith, and Alan Hale Sr.

Craig Johnson's The Parenting tries for a balance of comedy and horror. The film is never scary and rarely comic. A bland script strands such talented players as Lisa Kudrow, Brian Cox, Edie Falco, Parker Posey, and Dean Norris. The younger leads blend into the, admittedly nice, production design. Instantly forgettable.

Sinners

Michael B. Jordan as Stack and Smoke

I liked Ryan Coogler's new film, Sinners, his best and most personal film since Fruitvale Station. The film is a musical vampire flick set in the Mississippi of 1932. Michael B. Jordan, in his fifth film with Coogler, plays twin brothers, Smoke and Stack, who journey back to their home town after a lucrative sojourn in Chicago. They are set upon opening a juke joint, but soon must contend with the Klan and a passel of vampires. Jordan is a delight, fully relaxed in the heroic mythos of his dual roles. The production design is outstanding, handsomely evoking the period while also looking lived in. I particularly appreciated the supporting performances of Omar Miller and Delroy Lindo.

That said, I did not love the film. I dug the film's use of blues and folk songs (though the performers taking a writing credit on Wild Mountain Thyme seems a stretch), but thought Ludwig Göransson's score was as overbearing as his one for Oppenheimer. The female supporting roles Coogler has drawn for the film are ridiculously one dimensional. Also, I don't know how the vampires fit into the rather jumbled cosmology of Sinners. Jack O'Connell provides a vivid turn as the alpha vampire, but the creatures reason for being remain murky. Sinners is primarily a parable about Afro-American survival in the US with the sinners finding exultation Saturday night on the dance floor and solace at church on Sunday morning. The vampires are much more drawn to the music of the juke joint at night than gospel in the morning light, but there is no devil in a film that is full of the devil's music.

I think Coogler bit off more he could chew in Sinners, but salute him for his originality and daring in an era of corporate retreads. Sinners does contain one bravura moment where the musical performers in the juke joint conjure spirits of disparate musicians from the past and future who join in the jam, all links in the chain of the blues. The Buddy Guy cameo is also a nice touch. All in all, though, I prefer another recent film which merges music with the supernatural, The Devil and the Daylong Brothers. That picture is a B movie through and through, but is slightly more coherent and less bloated than Sinners.

The Count of Monte Cristo

Pierre Niney

Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière's The Count of Monte Cristo is by far the most accomplished version of the 1844 chestnut. Now that's saying something, since there have been around twenty film version of the Dumas' novel and over thirty television adaptations, including a 1975 television film starring the recently departed Richard Chamberlain. The nearly three hour length of this version allows the filmmakers the amplitude to fully capture the flavor and texture of this Romantic potboiler. Nearly all prior film versions have had to eliminate major supporting characters and incidents in order to get a running time of two hours or so. The 2024 film does eliminate some minor characters, but preserves many key elements, such as the subplot concerning an infant buried alive and Eugénie Danglars' lesbianism, that add extra richness to the film's splendid tableaux.

The director/writer/producers add one key character to the plot and it is a welcome addition that fits in with the colorful nature of the tale. This character adds transvestism and a shipwreck to a story replete with thrilling elements: duels, secret passageways, hidden treasure, disguises, sword fights, and a prison escape. The Dumas work is often thought of as escapism, but there is as much of a critique of French society in this tale as you will find in Balzac and Hugo. It is not insignificant that the three major villains of the piece represent three of the pillars of French culture and their attendant corruption: the justice system, the military, and capitalism. The villains are all superbly etched by their portrayers here, as are the female characters who are given a little more agency than usual while not being made to seem modern. Best in show is Pier Francesco Favino, a lauded Italian actor with little notoriety in this country, as Abbé Faria, Edmond Dantès savior in prison. 

Pierre Niney, best known in America for portraying the titular role in Jalil Lespert's Yves Saint Laurent, portrays Dantès with a little less romantic dash than usual and I think this is purposeful on the part of the filmmakers. Abbé Faria's parting advice to Dantès is an admonition to balance justice with mercy, advice Dantès generally ignores in his quest for vengeance. The reader and audience usually ignores this admonition because the recounting of Dantès' attaining his vengeance is so exciting. However, there is an implied criticism in Dumas' portrayal of Dantès' cold ruthlessness that this film retains which is often glossed over in other adaptations. This is just one of many reasons why this version of The Count of Monte Cristo rises well above similar handsome period pieces.

Queer

Drew Starkey and Daniel Craig

Luca Guadagnino's Queer is a relatively faithful, yet unsatisfying adaptation of the William Burroughs' novella. The film follows the arc of Burroughs' alter ego Bill Lee's relationship with a younger and less besotted American emigre. Daniel Craig plays Lee and he almost makes the film watchable. Whether flying high on heroin or suffering from withdrawal, Craig deftly illustrates the ups and downs of a man who is hooked both on smack and the object of his desire. That said, Craig looks too solid and healthy to be a junkie. Drew Starkey, as the object of Lee's desire, fails to make a purposefully underwritten character come alive. He is all object with no subject or back story. The Mexico City of the first part of the film is a ridiculously idealized Interzone awash in primary colors. What is lacking is the seediness and squalor that one finds in Burroughs' prose. I did like the CGI backgrounds that Guadagnino employs, giving the film the look of a 1950s diorama, because it ties into Burroughs interest in hallucinogens and magick. 

After a torpid beginning, I did find that the picture picked up a little when Lee and his companion travel to Ecuador in order to search for ayahuasca. Lesley Manville has a nice turn as a batty botanist who guides the boys on a ayahuasca trip. However, the trip culminates in a ridiculous naked pas de deux between Craig and Starkey that is as risible as the dance numbers in Guadagnino's Suspiria. The main problem with Queer is that Guadagnino seems to want to turn the book into a Queer Romance for today. However, Burroughs may be the least Romantic writer of the previous century. Thus, the project seems watered down and defanged. It all looks too pretty. The feeling of degradation that Lee experiences because of the relationship is barely touched on. The film hints at the end about Starkey's character being a CIA agent, but this feels like a tacked on attempt to bring in another of Burroughs' major themes: paranoia. All in all, Queer is a very misguided film that is a superficial approximation of the Burroughs' prose.

            

The Monk

Pastor and Flock: Vincent Cassell in The Monk

Dominik Moll's The Monk received a mixed reception when it was released in France in 2011 and New York in 2013. I think it was a tad bit underrated, a common fate for Mr. Moll's films. Certainly there is a clash between the cool irony of Moll and the hysterical moralism of the source material of this film, Matthew Lewis' The Monk: A Romance. However, I think Moll has seized upon the very datedness of the book in order to film a tale of Gothic horror not dependent on CGI overkill. Moll even films the novel in a dated style, replete with irises and superimpositions, to signal that this tale is in a time distant from modern sensibilities when Christianity had, temporarily, displaced Paganism in the West.  

Lewis' book was first published in 1796, just two years after Ann Radcliffe's influential Gothic Romance, The Mysteries of Udolpho. Lewis was a fellow traveler of the English Romantics, pals with Lord Byron and The Shelleys. The Monk is set in early 17th century Spain at a Capuchine monastery. A charismatic monk named Ambrosio is drawing followers with his impassioned sermons. Demonic forces take note and send an emissary to lead Ambrosio to temptation. The film eliminates some, but not all, of Ambrosio's fiendish deeds after he embraces sin. Moll would have had to make a six hour miniseries to film all of the book, so important supporting characters, like "the Bleeding Nun", are jettisoned. Still, most of the novel's transgressive elements are retained: including Satanism, rape, murder, transvestitism, and, most beloved by the Romantics, incest. 

Moll starts his film differently than the book. In the film, we meet Ambrosio taking the confession of depraved noble who revels in having ravished his niece. The character, who we later learn is Satan, is a fur clad wolf among the sheep, attempting to distract the shepherd from his flock. Satan is much more fanciful in the novel. Moll's change is to remind a modern audience that evil exist amongst us and does not just emanate from the underworld of Lewis' novel. I liked Moll's shots of the parishioners enraptured by Ambrosio's sermons. Ambrosio is a star to the masses in an age when the Catholic church had a stranglehold on what passed for media. If anything, Moll has ameliorated the anti-Papistry of the source material. Lewis' work, like that of Ann Radcliffe, drips with the rabid foam of hysterical hatred for the Pope and his minions. There is biting criticism of the Catholic clergy in the film, but it is measured and, typically for Moll, rational.

                                   

?

I also dug Moll's use of myrtle, sacred to Pagan love goddesses. Seymour Cassell is unusually restrained as Ambrosio, leaking out the faintest whiff of charisma. I adored Déborah François as Ambrosio's unholy temptress. All in all, The Monk is a thoughtful take on a genre that often descends into the craven and obvious.         

Away From Her

Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent

Sarah Polley's Away From Her, adapted by Polley from the Alice Munro short story The Bear Came Over the Mountain, received almost universal praise upon its release. Despite this, I dragged my heels in seeing it. Perhaps the film's story, in which a long term married couple deals with the ravages of Alzheimer's disease, hit a little too close to me as I face my own dotage. Regardless, I finally took the plunge and was confronted by a thoughtful film with a number of tremendous performances. Julie Christie was rightly hailed for her wonderful performance as a woman bravely facing her own mental decomposition. However, the entire cast is first rate, including Gordon Pinsent as her husband and also Olympia Dukakis, Michael Murphy, Wendy Crewson, and Kristen Thomson.

There is a Canadian reserve to her work that has always kept me from totally embracing Polley's directorial efforts. However, restraint and reserve are perhaps exactly the qualities needed to tackle a wrenching topic like this. The devasting tracking shot of Pinsent first visiting the nursing care facility, with Wendy Crewson expertly mouthing a canned introductory spiel, is a model of directorial control. This is mostly an actor's film in which the strength of the material frees the director from displaying a heavy hand. The touches Polley does indulge in, though, like a circle dolly to emphasize a remembrance of a shared past or slow dollies in and out to heighten the impact of a character's emotions, yield fruit. Certainly, Away From Her is one of the more memorable films released in 2007.

Indiscreet

Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman

Stanley Donen's Indiscreet, from 1958, is a relatively successful adaptation of Norman Krasna's play, Kind Sir. That romantic comedy premiered on Broadway in 1953 starring Mary Martin and Charles Boyer. The play has just six speaking parts and rarely leaves the heroine's drawing room. It seems a throwback to the romantic comedies of Noel Coward and Philip Barry. Perhaps this is why, in the era of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams, the play seemed old hat. Brook Atkinson in The New York Times dismissed it as "trivial theatre that is spasmodically entertaining." The paying public was equally lukewarm and the play closed after 166 performances.

Except for a sequence following his lovers as they traipse through London at night, Donen does not attempt to open up the material. Of course when you have two leads with charisma of such seismic magnitude as Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant, who needs scenery. This was the first onscreen reunion of the two since Notorious. The locale of the play was changed from New York to London to accommodate Ms. Bergman's European commitments. Donen does utilize some snappy English interiors, particularly the Garrick Club and the Painted Hall at the Old Royal Naval College, but the action of this light comedy is mainly played on the cusp of Ms. Bergman's boudoir. Grant plays a talented bounder who pretends to be unattainably married. This makes the ladies yearn for him all the more I suppose and Ms. Bergman's character, an actress, falls in one fell swoon. Happily, Grant's character is equally ga-ga and gets to display it, at the Painted Hall, as he assays a Scottish jig. Despite his attempts at appearing ungainly, he performs with suave adeptness.

Ms. Bergman, in her first screen comedy (unless you count Intermezzo), is equally a joy. More rich in experience than burdened with age, she radiates delight. It is this feel of love's effervescence that is Donen best contribution to the project. He keeps things light and bubbly even when Bergman is vowing revenge on the lying, conniving Grant. There is a playful feel to the film's celebration of artifice that helps paper over the screenplay's hokey assumptions. However, I'm not sure an audience today would cotton to Krasna's pre-feminist view of a wedding ring as a woman's ultimate goal. That and a clinch for Bergman and Grant are what we get at the end of Indiscreet, a film in which the supporting cast is, for once, superfluous. Still, there was enough of the stars' old rizz to vault Indiscreet into its year's top 20 in box office.  

Hell Drivers

Stanley Baker

Cy Endfield's Hell Drivers, from 1957, is a tough minded and exciting black and white British flick about lorry drivers. Stanley Baker stars as Tom, an ex-con who finagles a job with a trucking concern. Under pressure from management and a villainous foreman named Red (Patrick McGoohan), the truckers drive at breakneck speed on their appointed rounds, usually ferrying gravel from a local quarry to construction sites. Tom is befriended by an Italian driver named Gino (Herbert Lom) who has eyes for the trucking firm's bookkeeper, Lucy (Peggy Cummins), but she seems to prefer Tom. This B film is unusually gritty for a British picture of this period, heralding the working class dramas that would be ascendent during the coming "Angry Young Men" era.

Enfield, who co-wrote the script along with John Kruse, was an American who fled to the UK in 1951 because of the Red Scare. His Marxist leanings are evident, though not stressed, in Hell Drivers. We eventually learn that Red is in cahoots with management to keep labor costs down and profits up by maximizing the loads each driver carries while endangering the truckers (and fellow travelers) by urging them to flaunt traffic laws. Capitalism, in Endfield's view, is inherently inhumane because it prioritizes profits over people. Yet, one can enjoy Hell Drivers regardless of one's political orientation because Endfield is such a superb director of action sequences. As with his most commercially successful film, Zulu (also starring Stanley Baker), Enfield demonstrates that he is adept at heightening the impact of his action sequences even when saddled with a limited budget.

The acting of the four principals in Hell Drivers is top-notch, as are the contributions of the supporting cast. Indeed, a number of the supporting players would go on to have significant film and television careers: including Sean Connery, Gordon Jackson, Jill Ireland, and David McCallum. I first saw Hell Drivers some decades ago and was pleased to find how well it held up after a recent viewing. However, I've yet to see a good print of the film. If ever there was a unsung movie that demands to be reissued by the Criterion Collection or another concern in a buffed up condition, it is Hell Drivers.     

Les Herbes folles

André Dussollier and Sabine Azéma

Alain Resnais' Les Herbes folles (Wild Grass) is an adaptation of Christian Gailly's novel L'Incident that was released in 2009. The film is a cockeyed study of a late age l'amour fou between Georges (André Dussolier) and Marguerite (Sabine Azéma). The two meet after Georges finds Marguerite's stolen wallet in a shopping center parking lot. Georges becomes fixated by Marguerite and, even though she rejects his advances, ends up stalking her. Marguerite is initially horrified by this, she even calls in the police to get Georges to desist, but ends up becoming similarly infatuated and ends up stalking Georges in turn. The two, with the help of family and friends, end up finding a suitable rapprochement. 

A summary of the plot, however, does little to capture the Gallic flavor of the film. The picture starts with fixed shots of grass that has sprung up in the cracks of pavement. We next see the feet and legs of pedestrians as they move hither and tither. As the adventures of Georges and Marguerite confirm, the stasis of flora is in counterpoint to the movement of the fauna. Likewise, the emotional states of people in the film fluctuate and do not remain fixed. Resnais also creates a counterpoint between his main characters, both of whom are portrayed by longtime collaborators (Azéma was the second Madame Resnais). Georges is unemployed and married. There are hints that some sort of misdeed has led to the end of his career. He is very bourgeoise and a bit OC. His character is associated with the color blue. Marguerite is single and works as a dentist. She is more of a free spirit than Georges, there always seem to be dirty dishes next to her sink in contrast to Georges' immaculate living quarters, and she even pilots small aircraft as a hobby. Her character is associated with the color of her Orphan Annie type hair, red. 

Of course, these signposts of Cartesian dualism don't guarantee that viewers will enjoy this film. Resnais' humor is extremely rationalist and very hit and miss in Les Herbes folles. A police interrogation done in burlesque style falls flat, as do the stuck zipper and dental discomfort gags. Resnais attempts at grounded humor are in conflict with his personality. Has there ever been a film in the history of the cinema less grounded than Last Year at Marienbad? Resnais tends to view his characters at an icy remove. That's why there are so many crane shots in Les Herbes folles looking down upon the characters as if the French bourgeoise were laboratory mice. Thus, watching this film may be an alienating to some, but the film is rewarding on a number of levels. 

The acting, of course, is superlative. Resnais does indulge Ms. Azéma a bit, but can you blame him? The supporting cast gives what could seem like a superficial affair some texture, especially Emmanuelle Devos as Marguerite's business partner and Mathieu Amalric as a police officer. Édouard Baer is wryly apt as the narrator. I also appreciated Resnais' use of the Cinemascope format in the film. He pushes characters in cars to one corner of the frame, causing us to view the characters in monologue as to be encased in their own thought bubbles. Resnais use of whip pans has a snappy insouciance. The main element in the film that I haven't touched on is that whatzit, picture above, known as the cinema. 

The film is replete with film references and gags. The most obvious is Resnais overlaying Fin over Georges and Marguerite's first kiss as the Fox logo music plays: the Hollywood ending. The French ending seems a reference to Jean Grémillon's Le Ciel est à vous which also is concerned with a female aviatrix. I responded to Resnais' use of Mark Robson's The Bridges at Toko-Ri, particularly Georges' different attitude towards it as he has aged. Resnais recognizes the dream like state of the theater going experience in which a suspension of disbelief lets us be at one with the collective unconscious. A suspension of disbelief is also the best way to experience Les Herbes folles which flows with many unconscious currents. It is an aging artist's serene meditation on what fools we mortals be. 

In a Violent Nature

                   
Chris Nash's In a Violent Nature is an extremely gory horror film that, while it falls short of being a satisfying picture, displays promise. A group of youngsters partying in the woods find a gold locket in a disused shed and pocket it. This resurrects a long dead perp who arises from his grave to stalk and kill those he believes have stolen his beloved memento. That's about it plot wise and the film's longueurs are sure to alienate a lot of viewers. Long stretches of the flick are dolly shots with the camera positioned behind the vengeful fiend as he slowly comes upon his victims. This maximizes the film's mood of dread, we usually see the victims before they realize what calumny is about to befall them, but it also gives the film an uncannily meditative feel. The viewer is forced to follow the protagonist in his relentless quest, passing by and ignoring the gorgeous scenery of Ontario.

The victims are barely sketched as characters. There is a long circle dolly sequence around a campfire that gives us a glimpse of them and the back story of the legendary killer. The sequence may seem unnecessarily showy, but it serves a few purposes. It serves to camouflage the dramatic inadequacies of the cast of this B movie. More importantly, it serves as a contrast to the vertical tracks of the killer. The vertical movement of the camera behind the camera emphasizes his solitary single mindedness. The circular track of the young people around the campfire emphasizes their sense of community. It is Nash's attention to visual detail that intrigues me, though I will admit that Nash's direction of dialogue is mostly woeful. A long monologue that functions as the film's coda pretty much stops the picture in its tracks. Still, there is enough intriguing footage in In a Violent Nature to make me look forward to another feature from Mr. Nash. 

Wicked

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande

I will admit that I was not predisposed to enjoy Jon M. Chu's film version of Wicked, but I will cop to finding the end product to be watchable. I found Gregory Maguire's source novel to be a interesting twist on the Baum universe. The musical, however, I consider a slog, chiefly due to Stephen Schwartz's pedestrian score. The teacher in charge of the glee club at my children's school was a fan and, thus, I was forced to hear numbers from it annually for about a decade. The tunes never have won me over. Schwartz displayed little melodic range in Godspell, but the rah-rah energy of that score and youthful vigor of the cast made for a palatable evening when I saw it on the stage in 1973 or so. Besides Wicked, Schwartz followed up Godspell with Pippin and a number of dreary songs for DreamWorks animation features. I'm not going to enumerate his flops. The number of memorable tunes he has written are scant. Of the tunes for Wicked, the only one I can remember is "Popular" and that is probably due to its ubiquity.     

I'm also not a big fan of director Jon M. Chu's work, though I will admit that his fondness for bold color schemes makes him a pretty good fit for this film. That said, the enormity of this production does not make it a good opportunity for the personal vision projects that this aging auteurist craves. The film bogs down in its expositional and transitional scenes. The choreography of the dance sequences is mediocre and Chu's camera placement for these sequences is worse. Wicked, especially because of its boarding school sequences, resembles the lesser Harry Potter films in that it seems an advertisement for a future theme park rather than a fitting setting for a fantastical story. Chu, like Chris Columbus before him, shoots the sets nicely, but at the expense of his players. The supporting players are fairly anonymous because of this with the exception of Jeff Goldblum as the Wizard. Michelle Yeoh and Peter Dinklage's attempts to vocalize are mercifully brief.

So what the heck did you like about this film, Biff. Chiefly, the casting of Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. They warble nicely and have a better chemistry together than with their potential romantic interests. Ms. Grande is a particularly good choice for the vain and bubble headed Glinda. I also liked the inclusion of Wicked alumni Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel in the show within a show sequence that gives us some backstory. A nice touch for fans of Wicked. I'm not one, but this film version could have been a lot worse.       

The Best of Val Kilmer

1959-2025

                                        "There are a thousand ways to play any role"    

                                                                                                                                   1)     Tombstone                      George P. Cosmatos, etc.                          1993

 2)     Heat                                    Michael Mann                                          1995

 3)     Kiss Kiss Bang Bang                   Shane Black                                  2005

 4)     Top Secret!                                 Abrams - Zucker                              1984

 5)     Alexander                                      Oliver Stone                                  2004

 6)     True Romance                                Tony Scott                                   1993

 7)     The Doors                                      Oliver Stone                                 1994

 8)     Red Planet                                   Anthony Hoffman                          2000

 9)     The Salton Sea                                D. J. Caruso                                2002

10)    Wonderland                                    James Cox                                  2003

It is remarkable, beginning with his debut in Top Secret!, how many of Kilmer's top-billed films were flops or financial disappointments. Even in an industry notorious for its worship of mammon, though, the respect for his obvious gifts meant that he never lacked work. Not that he made it easy on himself, as he himself copped to in a loopy memoir entitled I'm Your Huckleberry. Certainly. his on set contretemps with directors, especially with Joel Schumacher on Batman Forever, hurt his reputation in the industry. His filmography after 2005 is dotted with almost as much direct to video dreck as those of Nicolas Cage and Bruce Willis. 

Still, even in such mindless entertainments as Red Planet and Kill The Irishman, Kilmer could provide astonishing moments. He did not have the career of a Tom Cruise, but he is a much better actor than that empty vessel. I also enjoyed Kilmer's work in Real Genius, Willow, Kill Me Again, The Ghost and the Darkness, The Saint, At First Sight (in which he plays a blind masseur...), Spartan, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, The Snowman, and both Top Gun films. 

What Did the Lady Forget?

Michiko Kuwano

Yasujirō Ozu's What Did the Lady Forget?, from 1937, is a slight and short, yet engrossing domestic comedy. Komiya is a mild-mannered medical professor who is hen-pecked by his wife, Tokiko. Their domestic routine is upended by the appearance of their niece, Setsuko (Michiko Kuwano), who is visiting from Osaka. Setsuko's behavior and appearance, she wears Western style clothes while smoking and drinking openly, is an affront to the more traditional femininity displayed by the housewives in Tokiko's bourgeoise circle. They live a life of circumscribed routine that Setsuko finds stifling. She gets Komiya to loosen up a bit, he agrees to take her to a geisha house, and assert himself more in his relationship with his wife. Tokiko, for her part, responds positively to her more self-assured husband and domestic tranquility and equilibrium are regained.  

If that summary was all there was to What Did the Lady Forget?, then it wouldn't be all that different from most other domestic comedies of the 1930s, be they made in Japan or Hollywood. However, the exactitude of Ozu's camera placement and mise-en-scene is breathtaking. Scattered amongst the bric a brac on the screen, we see and hear repeated signs of Western influence upon Japan: baseball, Marlene Dietrich, Johnny Walker, Vat 69, Frederic March, William Powell, etc. Ozu also perks up this fairly staid  and set bound affair with little doodles of life as it is lived: lingering over a boy throwing a ball at a wall or Komiya playfully balancing a newspaper. 

What really sets this film apart is Ozu's inventive use of the of the fields of view within the frame. Almost every shot utilizes the foreground, middle ground, and background. The virtuosity displayed is not an end in itself, but is used to comment on the action. When Setsuko stumbles through the house after a drunken revel, from background to foreground in a fixed shot, she is literally and figuratively upsetting the domestic order. A later shot from the same angle, of the lights going off in the house, celebrates the repair of that domestic order. When his characters go out of doors, Ozu's tracking shots express the exhilaration of people moving freely.

Some of the acting is constrained by conventional nature of the story. Komiya's meekness and Tokiko's dourness are overly typed. That makes Michiko's transgressive performance as Setsuko seem all the more like a breath of fresh air. It is obvious that Ozu was entranced by this refreshing new type of woman, though the scenario suggests she might just have to knuckle under when she accepts the proposal of her suitor. The ruptures that modernity would cause to traditional Japanese society would be further explored by Ozu in his post-war work, but What Did the Lady Forget? is a harbinger of things to come. Sadly, Ms. Kuwano's contributions to Japanese cinema would be cut short. She would die from the complications of an ectopic pregnancy in 1946. She was only 31.