My Favorite Movies

This is a crazy quilt of puppetmaster playfullness and heartfelt fun.

Extra special, about a battle for a man's soul amidst the shadows of carny life.

Make it mandatory in schools, to scare kids away from strangers, instead of the latest culturally infantalizing studio bilge they have the sheep's gall to show young people these days.

American Puritan Dysfunction metaphorized via Texas-Oil-As-Lifeblood. Over-the-top everything and lush-looking-loveliness in every frame. Take home the excitment! Get a piece of the Rock! Get Stacked! Get Bacall! As for Dorothy Malone: MEEOW!

I get sucked into the soundtrack and imagery, the discussion about film and mythology, the absolute clear delineation of that feature of some of us who sabotage our chances to break free from isolation, and end up finalizing it instead. And then there's Jack Palance. The man can do no wrong. One of my favorites, apparently no matter how many times I see it.

Kitsch, with two perfect song and dance numbers.

Loss is always chosen on some level, perhaps to return to the familiar comfort of regret.

To be seen, to be believed.

In times of plague, creatures scurry about in the night.

Visual poetry of the heart.

A series of seamless elegant cuts that move through time, and kill.

What the Batman TV series almost was, the most fun in technicolor.

Oh please, if this isn't one of the greatest horror movies ever!

Karloff is one sick freak, and so appealing.

Pantomime of impossible love.

I agree with Jarmusch, right. on. the. money.

Does this get better with age or what?

If movies from the 30s seem progressive today, what will this look like twenty years hence? This movie's on crack.

Talk, talk, and different stock. Yes. Slice of a time and place.

Best portrayal of a specific kind of mental illness. Unique.

The five hour version is one for the desert island, possibly The one if I could only take one.

A melancholy slice of overcrowded London life, where all the faces play a part.

A tender search through rage.

America, brave, lost, and impossible not to love.

Fond memories of watching on Channel 12 when I was a boy, I've always loved this warm film about a lonely optometrist, whose best friend is his dog, and who comes unstuck in time and lives part of his life on the planet Tralfamadore. Having seen it many times over the years, it was interesting to re-view it. Michael Sacks is a revelation, and the film glitters with strong performances. It also offers a few set pieces of considerable power, notably the Dresden bombing sequences. Philosophically it is somewhat prescient, as Pilgrim keeps espousing the Tralfamadorian ideal of life composed of random experiences that come and go, the best option for which is to focus on the good ones. Indeed. Though George Roy Hill is not known as one of America's great directors, he is clearly interested in great subjects, such as the idea of capturing a life within the canvas of a less-than two hour film. Slaughterhouse-Five succeeds at giving us this sense of a whole life, and the way memories echo back and forth through time and shape our present, and it does so in a complete way, fulfilling it's own meditative ambition of offering its reflection outside the bounds of linear narrative. In that sense, oddly, it is a bit of a forerunner, an early experiment in non-linear narrative, although in this case it's almost non-narrative. With the Glenn Gould soundtrack entirely of Bach, it is a lovely way to spend a thoughtful hour and forty minutes.

A donkey bell, a child's soft white hand, a donkey's soft black hair.

To hold love in your hand, then lose it.

It's the minor efforts of major importance that make the move world go 'round.

Haunted by love, the blurr of time. We pass into the unknown.

Perfect.

It's all about being more deadly than the male.

The little comedy that could. A glowing Sturges gem. "It's not the coffee, it's the bunk!"

Part of my life in this one.

Best movie to sleep by.

Such strange haunted somethings in a something haunted place that no one would believe.

The melancholy yearning for death.

Nothing quite like it.

One is never sure of anything.

Beautiful color Japanese locations and lovely Shirley.

Time is bringing this one forward, I think. The commentary on the Criterion disk is an eye-opener.

A Fuller cigar-chomper to chomp it's way right into your ever-bleeding heart, all bright-eyed and tight-jawwed, screamin' whatever else be true...

A fantastically fun and freakish Freud-fest, it's also Connery's best. And tell me there isn't some kind of weird connection with Laura Dern's dad being in Hitchcock's most Lynchian scene. It may be one of Hitchcock's most compassionate efforts.

American cinema of the latter half of the century can thank it's lucky stars for Altman.

Now THIS is pulp fiction. It has love, hate, action, violence and death. Oh yeah. And, in one word: EMOTIONS!

The eighties were not a total loss in American film fun.

You in college? University? Social sciences? Psychology? History? Lit?Watch this movie and bust a gut.

The best post-Hitchcock Hitchcock? Vertigo meets Psycho meets Marnie all in one. And Dorothy Malone too!

A documentary about The American Dream. Fun and funny, and sweetly sharp. Like good cheddar it tingles in the teeth. Go ahead, take a big bite. I dare ya!

The biggest surprise is how many surprises. Richard Basehart is amazing, Cyd Charisse affecting, and Audrey Totter bursts out of the seams. Subversive pleasures abound.

Another great from 1939. Paulette Goddard steals my heart.

No disputing great script and execution of story across the board. Ten years later how does it play? With the shock value gone, it underscores split realities. The world split into Consensualists vs. Subversives? Like many binary arguments it accomplishes a lot and covers a lot of ground. Ikea Man vs. Animal Man? Yes. And the split in social values manifests as a split in the protagonist, as Ikea Man falls for Animal Woman and is inspired to create Subversive Army to bring down The Establishment. A rather new-fangled call-to-arms reminiscent of counter-culture attacks decades earlier. In this case Werther has become Walking Death, and this time the attack comes from within, the adapted culture on the Lower Class Rungs, the Hive Males buzzing around at the base who service the Hierarchy. Meaty stuff, and at the same time, all in fun, because in the aftermath of Fight Club, what Corporate Exec hasn't allowed his Animal some Free Play? Who indeed let the dogs out? Fincher did. Woof!

Beautifully written book translates into beautifully shot and performed film. Bottom line, the story has power. Kudos to the actors, especially Tim Robbins and Tom Guiry, for bringing life to difficult characters. Everyone's great, story power does not diminish. Among best of that year, and Eastwood's best.

Uneven story, fantastic numbers, especially Wini Shaw. Isn't this final number really signifying the Nazis? I think so. A dark spectacle.

The birth of the super samurai warrior! Mifune vs. Nakadai! ROCK!

Movies, our greatest art form. Here's another example.

Basis for 12 Monkeys, also probably Wings of Desire, inspiration for David Bowie, in the end the only words that seem to really fit: "It's like a poem."

Who is Wendell Harris? Is he Douglas Street? Is he me? Is he Orson Welles? He's a Beast, I tell you, a Beast!

Basket of glittering gems, a head full of memories.

Dream the impossible, then film it...

Translates time into a timeless present along a river of wide emotion.

Decoism, drollity, and dance.

Shakespeare, Schubert, Shamus. Boxers, Bad Guys, Blame.

The past is too freakish and disturbing...

Leaving earth, next stop heaven.

Flawed thinking does not always a flawed film make.

Clever, clever.

A war story by a guy who was in the war.

Cinematic candy with formal flair. Pure joy.

Look who's become an auteur! YAY!

A steady, close drama of some power.

Funny what becomes a classic over time.

Knock-out sexy over-the-top razor-sharp funny-as-hell right on the money today more than ever.

One of the two best movies of the year.

One of the two best movies of the year.

Stupid white man.

A life as the meaning of life.

History itself writ large upon the screen.

This is one of the loveliest films about children I've ever seen, and parents, and life, and the whole damn thing. Great way to become acquainted with the warm humanism of Ozu's cinema. Captures the sweet sadness of life like few others. Keeps you laughing, even as it takes your breath away with moments of poignant awareness.

Most beautiful story with kids.

Modern movie mayhem laughs.

Like finding hidden treasure.

"Let your love lift me up..."

Oh yes, this is tasty.

Absorbing true-crime based on real case with breathtaking John Alton cinematography and surprising performance from ever-delightful Richard Basehart.

Randolph Scott reminds me of my grandfather and how I would have liked him to be. This man is The American Eagle personified, in all it's best qualities. The story is short, but packed. Like all great westerns, it's a story that works today, if only by showing us consideration in the performance of an unpretentious gentleman. And Lee Marvin is the perfect foil. But it's Gail Russell who gives the film a warm glow. She's real, and it's beautiful performance to see.

A contemporary film worth seeing. Every performance is a treat. The story is familiar, but told with an honest urgency. Arrogance tempered by realization. How precious these moments we share. As Ben Kingsley says beautifully in the features on the dvd: "We constantly need to remind ourselves that the only thing holding this planet together is love." Maybe I'll try reading Philip Roth again.

Sean Penn disappears and an era comes to life.

Speaking of cities, saw this tonight for second time. Whatever else, it's rich. As we grow old and bumble against each other and follow each other around, and hurt each other, and feel hurt, we hurtle on, and somewhere seek meaning, try to build something, try to love. Seeing Tom Noonan is a total pleasure. The structure of the writing, the tangents, the multiplicity of selves following selves, the aching desire of the self-absorbed to crawl out of narcissistic pain. There is no pleasure in that pain, no matter how sweet the sentiment. We grow old, and wear the bottoms of our trousers rolled, and measure out our lives in coffee spoons and moments of life stitched in when our schedules permit. Second time around we laughed a bit, but the sadness is unmistakeable here as it is in Kaufman's other films. Sweet, sad, eternal sunshine eternally conflicted, yearning for love, or something lost. A bit of a masterwork. A bit of us. Parts for all of us, we play.

It seems like it would be a matter of urgent importance that every world leader watch this film over and over until the message sinks in. Barring that, hopefully a few more school teachers get a chance to see it. For everyone else, don't worry, it's funny as anything. The perfect reply to Leigh's own Naked. Best of the year.

Watching this for third time, finally loved it completely, realized how beautiful it is to look at, how great the design of the story. Some do get better with repeat viewings.

Karloff is the greatest, and this is one of his greats. It's all about unattainable love. Thoughtful, and haunting, and beautifully composed. Gorgeous.

The most crackling dialogue imaginable. Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G., steal the show, though MacMurray is perfect. So's the writing. Between Cain and Chandler, can't go wrong. Ah, noir. No end of fascination.

Good clean Canadian fun, eh what? With tributes to some of my favorite movies in there, how can I not like it? Makes me proud to have been born in Winnipeg.

Finally, a great role for De Niro! Helps to love or know about the movie business. Beautiful delineation of the crisis of value between love and money, which is the modern blight, and how a man will let everything go for something that isn't worth it. Funny as hell, then touching and sad, it is based on true stories, and holds true to the events, so no varnish. One of the best of 2008.

My favorite Holmes and the best version of this story. Peter Cushing was a fastidious actor who is always a consistent pleasure to see at work. Delightful film filled with fun and detail.

Truth in film always worth a look. Seen a few Van Damme movies, liked Bloodsport, saw it when my first kid was only a notion. Ah, the late 80s. This movie's great for anyone who ever saw a Van Damme movie. Nice mix of fact and fiction, both truthful. Godard, yes, and a great soundtrack. No, I don't believe In Modern Love, and yes, None Of Us Are Free.

Hammer Films, last bastion of romantic sentiment. Surprisingly lush cinematography, strong folklore, social castes, heaving bosoms, and Oliver Reed playing young man cursed to turn into a werewolf. The cure for the curse? A woman's true love. Leonard Cohen says there ain't no cure for love, but can love cure? This terrified me when I was a kid, now I find it touching and a bit more insightful than maybe it deserves. But great.

Wow. Written by a guy named Wolf, this one's a real shapeshifter. Melodramatic, sincere, philosophical, campy, inadvertently funny, genuinely poignant, it also has blushing Hammer-style carnality and some extremely good moments with Christopher Lee. For all the weaknesses of the script, there are some incredible lines. If you love dual-nature stories, this might be a treat. As always, gorgeous to look at with lots of period motifs.

Tribute to Stephen King books, has all the feel of an 80s flick, but made in the mid-90s. Carpenter is a classic B-movie director, making some of the most fun fantasy terror films out there, from The Thing, to Big Trouble in Little China, to They Live. This one's up there, lots of late-night fun, and Sam Neill is perfect, as always.

To hell with Citizen Kane and Casablanca, this is the "Number 1 American Movie Ever Made." Where else do you get a seven minute fist fight, with one guy trying to get another guy to see what he sees? It's the eternal metaphor, perfectly embodied in pure action.

Awkward moments and simplistic psychobabble aside, this one delivers on a special level. Noir-style with gender reversal, Joan Crawford takes the role seriously and delivers. Everyone else is great too. The expressionistic elements heighten the thriller-style, but underneath it's all about how relationships can be stressful to the point of collapse. Watch it as a documentary on human emotions under stress for the human truths that inform the drama.

Undeniably great. Story, editing, acting. Ellen Burstyn's descent is incredible. Among the grimmest you'll see, but the value of such an education tale, is that after all is burned away, what remains shining in the eye is love. The relationships we love, and how they are the real value in being, the shared experiences. All other dreams fade.

Orson Welles is without a doubt The Lord Of Fun. Crafty how he out-fakes the fakes, and fakes us out. And embedded within the fun, a moment or two of sombre reflection worthy of any poet. A good reason to keep loving film.

Yes, Dick Powell's the best Marlowe. Dialogue is swell, noir style on full display, along with Claire Trevor. Lots of fun characters, classic Detective noir, one of the best.

It all began here for Hammer. This one's got 'em all: strange jealousies, egotistical madmen, insanity that by today's standards is rational to a point (until the killing starts - and even then!). Lovely color, shots as usual, dependable direction, and the great Peter Cushing doing his wonderful thing. Christopher Lee came into his own with Hammer's next film, the Horror Of Dracula, though he's fun to watch here.

Gloriously coded for subversion, later viewing shows how much the contemporary audience had no clue. Better now than it was then, more fun and funnier than anything today, and in splendid technicolor too.

Surprisingly sensual, this gloomy romance has a haunting beauty. Watched late at night when the mood is slow and the lights low, the tempo is perfect. Gothy shadows, expressionistic lighting, dream-like scenes, and affecting performances by both leads. Veidt delivers big on the torment over the conflict of body and soul, the sad ache of desire thwarted.

These are the funniest movies ever made. Doris Day was a genius whose brilliance soared when she did her thing with Rock Hudson. Impossible not to laugh at, and they get better with the years. Nothing touches them for their unique sense of humor.

Beautiful photography of figures on landscape, and of a human figure on a landscape, and the social world like the sea closing over her. Forget all that stuff about existentialism and modernity, this is about human economics motivating mating choice, and the failure of values where money is concerned.

Beautifully shot layered western. Iconic story, setting, and characters. A bit slow at times, or rather, perhaps longer than it needed to be, but deserving of it's reputation. More complex than meets the eye, references the transition era from chaos to order and the kinds of values we rarely uphold in film anymore. Wonderful movie.

Amazing on blu-ray. Visual painting that moves. Lovely turn by Nina Foch. Oscar Levant is a laugh-riot. Dance numbers are sweet, and spectacular. Ballet is famous. Story...well, it's basic. Nonstop Gershwin, great Gene Kelly fun. I love this movie.

Sweet love story, and a glimpse of life in Finland. Great bluesy soundtrack, Jarmuschey story-style, Leone close-ups, and the Heminway quotation from Sun Also Rises is a beautiful moment. Irresistible charm. Ah, life.

Whatever you do, never kill your dreams. Film is difficult to like, it is Winslet's winsome character who allows us some love, and it's important. Otherwise a scathing incision of suburban life and the modern dream. Like all good so-called period pieces, it amply speaks to today. Superior performances all around. As close to Sirk as we're going to get, and of that era.

Beautiful portrait of decadent disillusionment. Endlessly gratifying visuals, and great performances by all. Touching, sad, heartbreaking, yet exciting, and deeply satisfying, if cynical. Fellini's visions of humanity, and the intricate glories of Rome, and Nico. A great big slice of story.

Terrible movie. A masterpiece. Which is it? It's Chien Andalou meets smalltown fair sideshow. Bizarre mix of surrealist humor and camp acting. There are some extremely weird moments, drug use, nudity, and all kinds of surrealist references. Lovely weirdass stuff. A gem of sorts.

Close to great, fantastic film offers superior visuals, great characters, beautiful Boston locations. It's just great all around. Criminals, bank robbers, prick cops, it's about as realistic as it gets. And at the center of it all, one of Robert Mitchum's most endearing performances. Big heart stuff. For the eggheads amongst us, nice to see where some of The Departed's influence comes from, and of course Scorcese was doing Mean Streets around this time. A perfect fit in some ways. What a gem.

Peter Cushing is outstanding as Dr. Frankenstein, and this second in the series is one of the best. As always, attention to detail is off the charts, characters are identifiable, and Cushing is a joy. The centerpiece is Michael Gwynn's anguished performance as the "monster" in this sensitive and affecting tale.

Great American film, plain-spoken and true in all the best senses. Has extra dimension in light of There Will Be Blood, and of course Rock is great and reveals nuances in films these days. In hindsight his role is perfectly suited, and aligned. Not an epic but a family drama, it nevertheless mirrors history, and the seeds of what was to come later are amply visible. A movie to experience, and the bigger the screen the better.

A film where you end up sad to say goodbye to the cast as they are to each other at the end of shooting. Jacqueline Bissett in interview says Truffaut let actors live on film. A lovely thought. I love this film and everyone in it. Along with humor and story, it's a glimpse of how films used to be made, and the truth that there is meaning going on behind the camera as well as on the screen.

Want to try an anime series? This has medieval mayhem, sexual ambivalences, passionate triangles, intense battles, above average characters and story lines. It's probably one of the better-written series out there, but unfortunately ends without completing the entire series. That said, it has enough of a conclusion to satisfy. Fans of Verhoeven's Flesh & Blood take note, it was a direct inspiration.

So you want to try an anime series? This is one smart series, and sustains itself, for the most part through 37 episodes (at 22 min ea.). Japanese series tend to offer philosophical challenges other series neglect. What would you do if every time you wrote someone's name down in your magic notebook, they died? Would you start killing off the criminals to make the world a better place? The cat-and-mouse games would please Sherlock Holmes, despite a few plot twists that don't quite work. Unbelievably suspenseful at times.

Spending time with Bergman on his island home a short time before he died. He talks and shows us where he walks, and the view he looks at from his fireplace seat. We forget he is a master storyteller and filmmaker and see a man in his 80s, sensitive, still aware of the pain of his childhood, his parents, the culture. He is a lovely man here, full of humor. Beautiful shots of him close-up, his hands, the skin on his hands. For anyone who felt a kinship, this is close to meeting with him, to visiting him and talking and having a few laughs. Not really anything more or less than the chance to spend time with Bergman, to stand with him and see with him, in his light. And it is perfect for that.

Once I heard Resnais' original explanation all the pieces fell into place. As haunting and disturbing as Hiroshima Mon Amour and Night And Fog, yet in this the intense and impenetrable formalism evokes a sudden drop into anguished awareness, instead of mounting tragedy of the others. Beyond beautiful, the cinematography alone is unmatched. It's almost too much, and in the end, not enough. To be revisited with fuller feeling. No more words, it becomes the words, the poetry, that violates.

In hindsight, the offspring of Marienbad, with Vierny at the helm and all that formalism. At the center of the film, Dennehy in the performance to see, easy to love fiercely, as he fiercely loves. At the center of the film, the cancer of fascism destroying centers of gravity. Greenaway's warmest and most affecting, and well worth seeing.

Possibly most beautiful depiction of love ever filmed. Trauma of war and circumstance merge seamlessly with trauma of memory, revealed through unfolding process of love. Beautiful in every way, haunting, lyrical, more telling each viewing, also an important documentary record, as only great film can be. As usual, no words, no words, only cinema.

Transcendentally harrowing and beautiful, from one of the great women directors (along with Agnes Varda. More please?) Unlike Wings, the other North American release for Shepitko, the protagonist here is not a woman, but two soldiers in WWII. The key affirmation, that there are worse things than dying, weighs heavier as time away from the film grows. This one lingers and reaches deep. As with all the meanings all over the world, the universal truth: our choices count for everything. Great, great film.

Camp classic, filled with cheesy sets and hammy performances, and totally lush-looking costumes. Price takes it beyond without speaking. The revenge theme is laced with heavy doses of mordant humor. Unquestionably the progenitor of the Saw series. Totally fun when camp is what you want. Amazing to think six Phibes movies in all were planned.

Ha, from when movies could be big and splashy, and also personal, farewell love letters starring the beloved, comic book romps replete with poetry and philosophical musings, incredibly beautiful, sad, funny, and fulfill all of Fuller's emotional requirements. Gotta love it.

"You just have to want to, Marianne."

"I want to. I'll do anything you want."

"Me too, Marianne."

Wonderful.

A play-to-movie film that works very well, perhaps too well, as it is overwhelms with emotion that explodes from restraint, reminiscent of Ozu in scope, capturing a whole life within a short space. Devastating and heartwarming, with one of the great apologies in drama. Redgrave does lift this to classic status. He's wonderful. Inspires me to read the Oresteia. The noblest profession indeed.

Yes, great modern movies exist. Story, direction, insight. Korean-styled drama about lonely man torn between two lovers. The sadness of the love-addicted. The truth about love, our connections with others, isolation, desire. Stand-out acting, Phoenix disappears into stunning performance, Shaw is winsome, Koteas, as always, brings something edgy, Paltrow and Rosselini anchor it. What a great story.

Are all great films political? Hanna Schygulla plays a woman, or a country, who rises from the ashes only to repeat the errors of the past and explode at the end. Yet it works as human melodrama as well as high art allegory. Lovely characterizations, cinematography, scenes, shots, moments, and always the dance.

Are all great films political? In the interview on disk Szabo calls it a love letter to Anna. All that auteur post-modern politco-jargono-filmo-funno stuff was magnetized around Big Emotions. Once you know that, and the poetry of it all, the confusion melts away and the beauty makes sense.

"Left and Right are the same. There's no changing them! The Right because it's so cruel it's brainless. The Left because it's sentimental. Besides Left and Right are completely obsolete notions. We shouldn't phrase things in those terms."

"How then?"

...

Haven't seen this in almost 20 years, and back then it was full-frame theatrical. Now, widescreen, vivid, 4 hour version, it's like I'd never seen it. Costner's westerns are best. He's an honest and true filmmaker. This has epic grandeur of The Big Trail, as reliable as an oak table, or a standing sequoia. Gorgeous. In it people are human beings, how to be human, to love openly, whether as a group loving a person, man and beast, or man and woman. The likes of such love is rarely seen on screen nowadays, perhaps because rarely lived in the world anymore. We are the white people, after all, who fucked it up. Why should we be able to love without hindrance? But this movie remembers it is as unabashed as two creatures freely being. And for all that splendor, not a single pixel of cgi went into the poetry of the scenery. Screw the critics and the inflaters, make your westerns Kevin, I'll watch 'em!

"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on, is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever." (And why'd I have to wait until my mid-40s to know what that feels like?) Okay, that sentimental slip from Tom makes sense, given the mood of this Goth masterpiece. Alex Proyas creates a world, and Brandon Lee creates a character. It's flash and fantastic, Goth, and gorgeous. A rare bird, this one.

As in The Crow, the revenge-bitten clown in the face paint was played by a nice-guy actor who died. Accidental parallels? Perhaps. Dark Knight's clown is isolated, not the hero, not provided a reason for his being, but like Iago, a fait accomplis creature who lives to destroy. This is part of what makes Dark Knight a masterpiece of psychological realism. To understand, imagine the entire story as a dramatization of what goes on in Bruce Wayne's head the minute the woman he loves walks into the arms of another man. The entire film can be seen as the internal struggle of a jilted male, or male-based mating rage. This makes Dark Knight one of the pre-eminent contemporary comments on male-female relationships, in the grand tradition of American noir and French new wave and Scorcese's neo-noir American landscape pictures. The exploration continues on a Hollywood budget. Psychological realism is here matched by photo-realistic treatment of internal struggle, grandly externalized on the streets. This artistically signals how very real this dark clown is, and perhaps signifies a general force in male-based behaviors that we see everywhere. Again art reveals. Despite some simplistic aspects, a masterful story structure, executed with great production values that in this case enhance and support the meaning perfectly. The ultimate movie-machine movie with something to think about, which being: what exactly is going on in our own heads? Or who?

Clearly the inspiration for Miike's Box, no? A notch above, even for Bergman (it really is incredible how he manages most of his miracles in under ninety minutes). The red decor gives it warmth, while he plumbs the depths of hell in the hearts of two sisters, caught in the grip of familial resentment, while a third sister contends with dying. It's at times precisely like a Japanese horror film, a classic Kaidan, and like other great Bergman films, manages to evoke countless layers of emotional interconnection without using words to do it. He really was a bit of a film wizard. Not for the faint of heart, but recognizable to most people who have experienced deeply personal family confrontations. The performances are, as usual with Bergman directing, unflinching. At this stage the performers are like old friends to me, so seeing them in this later work was a revelation. Beautifully shot, with some breathtaking landscapes, and as always, the endless landscape of the human face. Very rich film.

I find myself lingering over it and re-watching it. It's easy to watch in parts as it is somewhat narratively heavy. It is also confusing. It is also beautiful to look at. Tim Roth has splendid moments. There are some beautiful scenes that are deeply touching in unusual ways. It is evocative and mysterious. Mysticism, time, reincarnation, the origins of language, and of course, the topic of soul love. More literature than film, it becomes, perhaps, more to do with Coppola's desire to communicate something of importance. For that alone it is worth delving into, as this clearly means a great deal to him, and that means something. It is poetic. How often can we really say that about a film these days? It shows poetic beauty and a reach for meaning of philosophical import. Impossible not to love that desire in an artist. More please.

Coppola and Eastern Europeans with special powers who love women across the ocean of time. There's a thread between this and Youth Without Youth, but important differences. Dracula is campy, monstrously budgeted, greatly acted in all the right over-the-top ways (Hopkins' Barrymore is a scream), and reflects a love for Hammer's vampires, with a dash of Polanski's wit tossed in. Pure movie fun, with eternal love as the tri-force in the middle holding it all together. Hard to take too seriously, but complete revelry to look at, and a worthy contribution to the vampiric canon.

This is a very funny comedy in the classic style, smartly written, almost a re-write of the great Day/Hudson/Randall pic Lover Come Back. Here the mysterious product is updated into a corporate espionage setting overflowing with intelligent whimsy, at the heart of which the eternal battle of the sexes. Easily some of the best lines about love penned in a long time, and the reality of what love can and cannot do for its stars is squarely featured. The trick with this one is go for the ride and appreciate how very funny it really is. Even better if you've seen the model on which it's based. A delightfully romantic confection of thriller-style fun thematically spun around a conceptual paper cone to make a modern essay on trust funny, and serious, and seriously funny.

A week or so ago A.O.Scott of the NYTimes took a look back at this one. A week or two before that I found a copy used, for far below the eBay "rare" price. Delighted at the timing, and delighted to see this again, Todd Haynes breakout feature. To call this prescient is an understatement.

We see a woman turn to safety to deal with the trap her scripted life has become, and in the process of protecting and preserving herself from the ordered world around her, she descends into a narrower and narrower crevasse of being, until she achieves the ultimate loss.

Cinematically the film is a gem, with gorgeous framing a la Sirk, and a sensitive treatment of often-difficult subjects. What is canny is how Haynes navigates through subjects it would be easy to dismiss, holding off on whether environmental illness is real or imagined, and holding off on a full critique of self-helpism, though blasting those who would profit on the malaise of others, and of course ripping away the superficial emptiness of the modern values we embrace to be safe from the task of facing ourselves within the modern scripted idiom.

As a parable for how fear can destroy life, causing a death-within-life, Safe is unmatched, and Scott is right to cite it as one of, if not the, most powerful of American films of the past 20 years. (Let's throw Fight CLub in there, shall we? And Chameleon Street...and a few others...but I digress...)

What is astonishing is how this works as a post-dated evisceration of paranoid safety consciousness in the wake of infrastructure attacks, and how defensiveness exacts it's own toll on the self-identity of a person, and by extension, a people.

Todd Haynes would go on the make Far From Heaven, an equally potent glimpse at the gaps in American expectation vs. actual experience, with even more lavish Sirkian detail, but Safe, an indie flick somewhat free from budgetary demands and studio pressure, stands out as unique, and more haunting than ever.

Without doubt one of his sharpest. Woody does Bergman's Scenes From A Marriage. Apparently when Bergman's Scenes played in Sweden on television the streets were dead because everyone was indoors watching, and the year after divorce rates across the country soared. Not so Woody's Husbands And Wives, for he offends too many, but the insights are there, as are some marvelous performances, notably by the great Judy Davis, Sydney Pollock, and a wonderful turn by Liam Neeson. And Juliette Lewis was never better. The film contains too many insights to count with ripping dialogue, and more than enough empathy to offset the unflinching revelations. It takes on new weight when we realize Woody and Mia aren't really acting but playing out the end of their marriage, and in this sense, it truly may be more documentary than fiction. Whatever else, it is guaranteed to push buttons, especially puritan ones, but like many writers and filmmakers, truth is important to Allen, at least dramatic truth. Anyone who watches this and doesn't see a mirror is blind, or too afraid to look. Great stuff, funny, somewhat sad, and in the end, human, and for that, it is in the end about love. Bravo! The films of Woody Allen are an American treasure of value to all.

In honor of Polanski being arrested by people who should know better, I decided to watch The Pianist. I've avoided it, having gone through various periods of immersing myself in holocaust material in the form of courses, books, films, and documentaries. One of the most difficult documentaries I ever saw was about the Lodz ghetto, so watching a true story set in the Warsaw ghetto was not something I craved at the time this came out. I'm glad I waited. This is a great film, filled with wonderful observations in the Polanski style. The mordant humor and naturalness of the people, and the natural cinematic style make this a real keeper. It is far more than a holocaust film, and we can be grateful that Polanski is interested in human nature as well as history. Adrian Brody was great, but the treat for me was seeing Frank Finlay. And the film really stands, with wondrous recreations, great effects, and a true directorial eye for solid scenes. Yes, the brutality is all there, and yes it was awful, but there is so much more. A real gem.

Another old favorite. The people who arrested Roman Polanski should watch this film of his and lighten up. Dry wit all over the place, and a fun gaff at Hammer-style camp. Great locations, even greater characters, the only real reason to watch this is for fun, and it really is fun. Well, love of film might another reason. Always good to watch a film that itself loves films. Best to watch late at night in winter and with sense of humor in place. People are silly sometimes, aren't we?

Marina Zenovich has put together a smart documentary. The footage is all of the period or current interviews. The facts are striking. As with all things, the truth exists in a context, and sometimes means different things to different people. But as Defense Attorney Douglas Dalton says: "People have the right to their own opinions about what happened, but the don't have the right to their own facts. The fact of Polanski leaving the country and so forth seems to have eclipsed the really important part of this case, about what actually happened in the system of justice." On this the prosecuting and defense are unanimous: the judge's choices resulted in a sham, in which Polanski was mistreated. The documentary underscores amply how the press, or this type of outside-looking-in attention can result in exaggerated negative characterizations of imperfect people, and fuel mishaps in treatment that might otherwise have been just. You know there's something to it when Mia Farrow is able to speak openly about Polanski with what seems to be fond memories and a certain amount of affection. People are human, this does not mean it is fair to characterize them in monstrous ways, or to treat them publically in ways that clearly have more to do with the justice system in America seeking to save face by catching the one that got away. As Albert Einstein said: "Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions."

A complicated film to appreciate. In the interviews someone summed it up cogently: Dirty Harry always walks a straight line. Once he makes up his mind, he acts, and he usually does what people wish they could do, but don't, hence rely on someone like Harry to do it for them. No question the decisiveness, and subversion of authority that underscores it, is part of the appeal. Part of the challenge is how earnest the film is in stating it's point. This element of discomfort lends Dirty Harry an edge over most cop flicks of it's type. One gets the feeling Don Siegel almost had a grudge. As Sydney Pollack points out in an interview on a Kubrick disk, making movies is propaganda. In that case it's tricky to know how far we can go in enjoying a film like this, that takes itself as seriously as it does. In that respect it's possible something like Get Carter (the original with Michael Caine) from the same era, carries a more believable message: there may be a darker price to pay for being Dirty Harry. That said, I've loved this movie, and Clint in it, since I was a kid. Unlike most films I've loved when young, this one fosters a greater degree of ambivalence than most. And in a way that is now also part of its appeal.

Woody Allen does La Dolce Vita to great effect. Filled with wonderful comedy, pathos, human insight and psychology. Portrays cult of Celebrity as baseless and shallow, yet in the end individual undoes his own happiness, not culture. Kenneth Branagh is Woody's Avatar to great warmth and effect. Notable performance from Judy Davis, Joe Mantegna, and Famke Janssen. Always insightful, and filled with biting wit. Shot in gorgeous b/w and most shots are filled with wall-to-wall people. Some lovely urban locales, but unlike Manhattan, landscape here is people. Wonderful record of the time, meaningful story, always worthwhile.

Stark, gritty, sleazy, super-cynical. Dark vision of American oil business in South America. In some ways this was far ahead of its time and would fit in right alonside Three Kings as a road movie through the landscape of American colonialism, except the cynicism in Clouzot's vision is so deep that no one gets redeemed. Yet is it unrealistic given circumstances? Perhaps. Almost too bleak to enjoy were it not for the incredible tension developed over the course of driving two trucks over rough terrain fileld with cannisters of nitro glycerin. The definitive film of its kind.

Serial killer movies are a peculiar genre and almost as old as film itself. M, Born To Kill, Psycho, Peeping Tom, and Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer all render the topic disturbing. Silence of the Lambs turns it into sheer entertainment. Imamura's Vengeance Is Mine is of the former type, the unsettling type, yet here the topic is framed by beautiful cinematography and a half-documentary style. It's a great-looking movie with superior performances by all, especially Ogata, who would later do great work portraying Mishima. Unique in the genre, this serial killer seems to be a product of shame, not the usual tortured-to-extremes kind of shame, but ordinary cultural shame compounded in this case by the influence, corruption, of Christian guilt added to the mix. It is an unsettling film and shows us unsettling images, but is also remarkably human in its portrayal, and Iwao is without a doubt a part of a society. He is framed by others, ordinary citizens, who also live messy human lives. It reminded me of Zodiac in style, however the mood is decidedly grimmer, bleak, and will likely leave a bad taste in the body. This is the price of watching serial killer movies, but in some cases it is worth it. An oddly compassion-invoking killer in this one, yet we also recognize the extent and futility of his misalignment. Overall a fascinating and sensitive film.

Want a horror movie? This wins best horror movie of the 70s, maybe of all time. Dawn of The Dead is the closest competition. Remarkable for several reasons, not least of which the film school aesthetic, shots lifted from Bergman and Kurosawa, all the magic time shots, half the ones from the beginning looking like album covers from the era. The nighttime scenes are dire, and the dinner is reminiscent of a Eugene O'Neill excursion into the heart of American darkness. Want to know what it's like to be a cow in a slaughtering plant? What's an out-of-work slaughterhouse worker to do? What is a modern American family to do? The link with fast food is never overtly made, but all that slaughtering goes to feeding all of us. The true horror is that this us on some level we don't quite see, a phantom-image mirror of the psyche of mass highway expansionism and all those hungry mouths to feed. A truly modern horror film, often imitated, never equalled. Offers up 1/10th the gore of half the things on TV, but a hundred times the panic. If you watch this and it gets to you, it might really get to you. Unmatched for having a real-history counterpart, Ed Gein. While the film bears little resemblance to real events, the mere idea that this stems from a true story is enough to allow the content to seep out beyond the frame. Psycho was also inspired by Gein, but for the best on Gein a little Canadian flick from the 70s called Deranged is very much worth watching. But this one's the true beast, the unforgiving and unforgettable throat-grabber. You'll never eat barbecue in Texas again.

If Rainer Maria Rilke made a movie, this one would be it. Clearly the Duino Elegies were a prime inspiration for the story of angels yearning to be human in order to sample time, and love. A.O.Scott points out prophetic nature of story, seeming to herald the coming down of the Berlin wall. Quite so! And the lovingly lofty ambition that love can show us the way to tomorrow: "You and I are now time itself. Not just the city, the whole world is taking part in our decision. We're more than just the two of us now. We embody something. We are sitting in the people's square, and it's full of people with the same dream as ours. We define the game for all. I'm ready." The Sky Above Berlin. This film has moved me since I first saw it in 1990, the year my son was born. I saw it on VHS on a small tv. Now Criterion has released a restored blu-ray and on a widescreen plasma in hi def it's like seeing a new film. There is something unique about this film. It almost shouldn't have worked, but it did. Whether it's the 1940s look of the angels or the lilting rhythm of the story, it is and isn't an "arthouse" picture. It is and isn't a non-narrative narrative. It is and isn't a European film, although I guess it really is. It is like a poem. Bruno Ganz is other-worldly. My first reaction when I first saw the film was that this really was an angel. Years later he played Hitler like no one else had ever done. Peter Falk, Solveig Dommartin, Otto Sander, Curt Bois. In the course of watching over the years they are familiar images of characters preserved in the transcript of the shared imagination. I guess I will always love watching this film with it's haunting soundtrack and diverse imagery. An urban fantasy, yet real, too real not to believe on some level, for it catches us in life. Lovely.

Wow. "He showed me how to establish contact with a source of infinite power." Perhaps it is the infinite power of Douglas Sirk's movies to excavate realities from scenarios, and emotions from audiences. This is 1950s emotion as only Sirk can do, fully absorbed in its own reality, yet relinquishing it's subconscious to the camera's eye. Subtext and technicolor landscape, Rock Hudson, Jane Wyman, and yes, Agnes Moorehead is God. And what a miracle. To not have a dry eye in the house and laugh at the same time. Is it satire? Yes. Does it believe itself? I think so. Is it earnest? Yes, on so many levels, including the obvious. A multidimensional art. Endless sighs.

Superior performances and story-telling across the board. Gorgeous to look at it, tight direction from Mann who brings out the drama. The story of an Empire, and a well-argued question, the idea of creating peace through Empire. One of the best epics ever made.

Oh yes. Now this is a documentary. A kinder Baron Cohen. Very funny in a Borat kind of way. Unlike Borat, expected. The actual targets sometimes unexpected. Doubt he'll be able to pull another one like this out of his hat. Who knows? There is no doubt an endless supply of material.

Incredibly fun and funny over-the-top massacre of common sense in the grand Hollywood tradition. Yes, this is an undoubted classic. Wonderful characters, rock-solid script, peerless effects, great cheese. They should give Oscars to movies like this, they deserve it.

These are the voyages of the starship Franchise...and yes, it's good, and positivistic. Problem? Nothing new, except perhaps new writing technologies (that are actually old, but nicely deployed in a rather elegant and seamless script), and some splendid new movie-making technologies. The real joy is the riff on past pleasures in reinvented ways, and the clever placement of this new episode firmly in an alternate past of the original series, essentially making it part of the original series, a lost episode we've only had a chance to see now. Very nice. This is to be enjoyed the most by those who love the original series. For me, that is the only series, the one I watched wide-eyed as a boy, and this becomes one of those rare moments I surrender to the new, as an homage, an artistic echo, reminding me of the passing of time as I, an old Spock, look back at the new that is writing this review. Live long indeed, and prosper.

Scorcese must love this. And funny as hell. Reminded me of Touch Of Evil, but lighter and funnier, despite the equivalent squalor. A lot of life in this one, beautiful to look at. Captures and era, and humanity, glimpse of real aspects of Japanese life in the era. Entertaining, laugh out loud at times, touching at others. Looking forward to more Immamura.

"Time waits for no one." Today I thought back to childhood on the old school field. This film opens with a girl catching a fly ball on the forehead, like I did once on the old school field. My son suggested it, his favorite anime feature. I had to see that. It's a lyrical and haunting meditation on time. She gets the power to leap back through time. It causes harm to others. Then she loses love and can't get it back. The more she tries to control people and events, the more elusive love gets. It is a beautifully rendered work, unlike anything in Western animation, using the medium aptly, giving us scenes that could only exist in animation/cgi, yet grounding the story entirely in the plausible world. It is, really, a meditation on life and our experiences, how time really does not wait, how love sometimes eludes us when we try too much to control the outcomes. If we could go back and re-make our choices to get different outcomes, what would happen? But if Makoto had said yes to Chaiki right away? Perhaps this fascinating story would not be possible. We seem to choose the more interesting stories over the straightforward ones, the more complex over the simple. In its own modest way the film aligns itself directly with references to La Jetee, Donnie Darko, Slaughterhouse Five, and even Bad Timing. One of the more poignant and at the same time heart warming films about high school romance I've ever seen. More please.

Early Disney always more interesting than later. Here we have classic case of social outcasting, shame culture behavior emanating from circus life. Plenty of dissertation available. Most telling is aging elephants living by circus master's whip, who slap their fat asses together as they close out the voice of tiny mouse calling them to take stock of their own actions and choices. It is, in barely an hour, one of the more elegant essays on the kinds of social branding that unites groups against others, especially unwanted and judged individuals. Here art raises the bar against ignorance, exciting the elephantine thinkers to consider other views than those perpetuated through consensual stroking. Why? The expanding of greater wings to hear with, to take us somewhere better than the limited social order imposed upon us by the circus master's hoops. To what end? The creation of something new.

Probably the best Hollywood depiction of the gospels. If we're going to have a westernized Christ, it may as well be Jeffrey Hunter, he is great. In some ways his performance makes the inaccuracies of New Testament bastardized texts moot. This is part of the potential power of dramatic art: to unify discrepancies and dispense with unnecessary bullshite. Nicholas Ray, of Rebel Without A Cause, brings great dramatic power to the well-crafted scenes depicting the era and political landscape of the time. It's a beautiful film, top to bottom, and the beauty of Christ's message is expressed most perfectly on film in this film. It is understandable that Scorcese looks to this when crafting The Last Temptation. Together, the two films offer much food for thought, dramatic explorations that offer a respite from normally politically-motivated interpretations. This is the saving grace of art: dramatic propaganda allows us to feel better about difficult subjects, allows us to connect outside of top-down power structures. Dramatic arts allow us the freedom to choose and be ourselves. Anyone thinking of exposing themselves to this story through film might want to take a close look here. It's gorgeous to look at on screen, and if you love the 40s era of film, you'll see a lot of old favorites turning up in intriguing performances. Robert Ryan as John the Baptist very simply kicks ass. In the end, it probably boils down to the sermon on the mount. It's a long scene, and as it begins one fears the descent into kitsch. Instead, through careful direction and Hunter's persistent intonement, embellished with carefully reflective nuance, we are drawn in. One of the truly inspiring scenes in Hollywood. A great classic. Lovely all over.

Saw when I was 13, changed me forever. From the moment Rod Serling introduces it like an episode of The Twilight Zone, it had me. Best rock movie ever made. As I was reading elsewhere, a genuine capture of the 70s rock scene. Also a delirious cinematic extravaganza of film references and gaffs. In terms of psychology, De Palma's split screen here perhaps mirrors split nature of hero, on one hand mutiliated outcast craving love and recognition from Harper, and on other, seductive impresario who's made a deal with the devil. The references to birds alone is a feast of psychoanalytic silliness in the Hitchcock tradition (Swann, Phoenix, and Winslow's mask are all birds, and the many birds throughout, rising from the ashes, harpies, etc.). William Finley steals the show playing Winslow Leach, hard-luck composer who falls in love with the girl of his dreams, who spurns him for rock fame and fortune, seduced by the villain who is responsible for Winslow's sad demise in a record-pressing machine. It just goes on and on how many associations one can make about this movie. At heart, some genuinely gorgeous pop songs, zipping across pop genres as sleekly as De Palma's narrative zips across narrative tropes from half-a-dozen Gothic fantasy elements. In its own way, this one caps the era of the music industry as it was, the rock extravaganza of Dionysian excess, perhaps even caps the 70s before even making it halfway through the decade (great art always ahead of it's time?). Forget Grease, Rocky Horror, or any other rock movie: this is the one that gives its soul to rock and roll.