The Dark Glow of the Mountains (1984, Werner Herzog)

"The Dark Glow of the Mountains", available on DVD in a collection of some of Herzog's lesser-known documentaries and shorts, is an uneven but fascinating doc, and while it is perhaps not as good as it could have been given how it features the great mountain climber Reinhold Messner, who climbed all 14 8000 meter peaks between 1970 and 1986, and was the first to climb Mt. Everest without oxygen tanks (he used small oxygen bottles, but repeated the ascent in 1980 on a tougher route without any oxygen whatsoever), it is still a fascinating and unique sort of documentary, examining the psychology it takes to get people interested in doing this sort of thing.

It's a Herzog doc so you can expect two things right off the bat: some stunning images and some inane contrivances. Herzog made a couple of documentaries where he didn't feature such contrivances, but this is not one of them. Essentially he sets up a conversation with the subject and asks about something he thinks affected their psychology then gets the reaction from them. This may be a standard documentary technique, but Herzog most certainly scripts many of these scenes in his movies, or possibly just tells the subject what to say. It's obvious and distracting and unnecessary, as the movie itself does nothing but discuss the exact same things discussed in that conversation here, but still Herzog feels compelled to include this scene to make things ultra-obvious for the audience. For a director so often seen as an art-house favorite he sure seems like he's pandering sometimes.

In spite of that one big flaw, this is an excellently-shot and structured film, and one which provides some insight into Messner's character and psychology. It's interesting and fairly short, but I can't help feel that Herzog didn't accomplish as much as he should have done here. Still a fascinating and completely unique document.

From Russia with Love (1963, Terence Young)

"From Russia with Love" really grows on you. I didn't like it the first time I saw it, only tolerated it on my second viewing, but since have enjoyed it thoroughly on all subsequent viewings. Although I'm a bigger fan of "Dr. No" I think than many others, "From Russia with Love" is a better overall effort, mostly thanks to the sharp and witty script. This movie is funny, charming, sexy, thrilling, and fairly well-plotted, although I don't particularly care for the way it was wrapped up.

Sean Connery is a great Bond, that's not even in question, but it's so striking how especially good he is in these first two films. There's a real enthusiasm here and it feels like more than just professionalism. Likewise, Terrence Young directs the film very well, as he did with several other Bond features. The film moves at a fast pace and is never remotely boring.

I think what's impressive and different about "From Russia with Love" is that it features Bond as a spy rather than an action hero. Sure, the action here is spectacular but it's not the main focus of the film, and although Bond is not a realistic character as far as espionage fiction goes, I find the more humble and simple entries in the series to often be better.

"From Russia with Love" is the first Bond film scored by John Barry. No further comment is necessary, as Barry's Bond scores are consistently brilliant and are simply legendary, and it goes without saying that this is a major improvement over the "Dr. No" score by Monty Norman.

"From Russia with Love" is certainly one of the better Bond entries, and one that is a more focused and complete entry than most of these films. It has some problems, sure, but it's still one of the better entries even if it began the tradition of veering away from Fleming's Bond.

Sleuth (2007, Kenneth Branagh)

Calling this film a 'remake' is not only misleading, but also incorrect. Harold Pinter had never seen Anthony Shaffer's play performed or seen the classic 1972 film version directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, starring Caine and Laurence Olivier and penned by Shaffer himself. The 1972 version of "Sleuth" is an epic, 138 minute long battle of wits and egos, and is generally pretty much flawless.

2007's 86 minute long "Sleuth" is about as different as could be. Pinter wrote this script from scratch, using Shaffer's original stage script as the basis for it, and this is obvious right from the beginning. Anthony Shaffer was an immensely talented thriller writer ("Sleuth" was one of three truly great screenplays he wrote, the other two obvious standouts being "The Wicker Man" and Hitchcock's "Frenzy"), but other than using interesting subtexts, he was not exactly an intellectual writer. Pinter, on the other hand, is precisely that- an intellectual. Pinter does not write thrillers with subtext, he writes material driven almost entirely by thematic content which loosely fall in certain genres. What Pinter has done here is taken Shaffer's clever battle of wits and turned it upside down, making the dark subtext of battling male egos and perhaps even fetishism the main driving force of the film. This is a darker, more intellectual "Sleuth", one far colder than Shaffer's vision. It is distinctly Pinter's work.

The film is most interesting visually in the first half, where we are introduced to this cold, hi-tech version of the old country house we remember from the first film. The art decoration and set design in this film are simply fabulous and suit Pinter's vision perfectly. We see several shots through Wyke's surveillance equipment, establishing his cold, distant view of the world, alone in his large, empty residence. After the opening act, the film occasionally seems awkwardly-shot and I do have to question the use of the 2.35:1 screen format. It worked in the original film but this version seems to be going for a more depressing, claustrophobic feel and the width works against it, particularly as closeups become more common towards the end of the film.

I have no major qualms with Pinter's variation on Shaffer's play, but it is by no means superior. This concise and to the point version is much darker and more mean-spirited than the original play was. It starts at ugly and just gets uglier from there. Some may consider this a comedy, but there is little humor here, and the script is not too concerned with coming off as witty and dives straight into the battle of egos part, substituting ugly, straightforward insults for the witty degradation Shaffer's version had. Michael Caine and Jude Law are both excellent here, but neither are as inspired as Olivier and Caine were in the 1972 version.

I mentioned earlier that this was a darker, more intellectual "Sleuth". That is certainly true, but that does not mean that it is a better "Sleuth". This film is much more flawed than the previous film version was, and though it is a good, interesting, and different take on Shaffer's play, it doesn't measure up to the the 1972 film. On its own, as a standalone film, it is quite good, though not among 2007's best.

This Man Must Die/Que la bête meure (1969, Claude Chabrol)

Following a number of fairly mediocre efforts from the early to late sixties, Chabrol got right back on track with the excellent "Le Biches", and followed that film with "Que la bête meure", an intensely involving revenge drama with the emphasis on psychology and character over action and violence.

The film opens like any revenge thriller would (albeit probably better-shot and acted than most of them), with a child being killed in a hit and run and his father vowing to track down and kill the perpetrator. The tale slowly becomes more and more psychological, however, and ends up being a variation on a Greek tragedy, as others have noted. Chabrol is rarely content with following the expected routine (when he is his films can be dismal), and "Que la bête meure" is far from routine, as we end up spending more than an hour with the all the main characters in place and even together most of the time. The script is carefully written to avoid plot issues (outside of the contrived and silly first clue the main character gets, I can't think of any major issues I had with the script), and the dialogue is as deliberately orchestrated as Chabrol's direction is, building the suspense and drama gradually.

After the nearly continuous camera motion in "Les Biches", Chabrol takes a different approach to this film. It's less stylized and more natural, with the shot composition never feeling contrived as it sometimes did in Chabrol's immediately preceding effort, although there is some very good and very deliberate work around when we first meet the villain. Chabrol also uses close-ups to great effect, particularly in the scene late in the film with Paul and Charles on a sail boat.

What is striking about "Que la bête meure" is that while it deliberately builds suspense it also refuses to work as a thriller, and this is most clearly seen towards the end of the film when we get the standard twists but they're so subtle and low-key that one barely pays attention to them. The plot doesn't really matter here, the film is about much more, about the moral implications of revenge, about the nature of man, and it does well to apply these preoccupations to its characters so that we are never far removed from the emotions they are going through, in particular the main character Charles, played by Michel Duchaussoy.

After a string of disappointing features the last two years of the sixties saw two strong efforts from Claude Chabrol which helped keep him as relevant to cinema as he is. "Que la bête meure" is not a perfect film, and it may not even necessarily be a great film (although I think it qualifies), but it is engaging and enjoyable and far from empty. It leaves one thinking about it well after it has finished playing.

The Sinister Urge (1960, Ed Wood)

"The Sinister Urge" is proof if any was ever needed that Ed Wood was a completely and utterly inept writer and director. He does, of course, have a surprising number of fans who actually like some of his work ("Bride of the Monster", I have to admit, isn't really all that bad of a film), but "The Sinister Urge" is so chock-full of Ed Wood clichés (redundant dialogue, amazingly bad acting, and taking hypocritical preaching to a whole new level are but few of the features of this film).

I've seen "The Sinister Urge" several times in its "Mystery Science Theater 3000" version, which features some of the funniest and most seemingly random riffs in the history of that show- one scene features Mike and the bots breaking into song... but I won't spoil that for you. Tonight I watched this film without their aid and it is a prime example of complete cinematic incompetence. From start to finish the script is unbelievably bad, not even in an earnest "Plan 9" sort of way- there's only the occasional laugh here, unless you can find humor in something so pathetically horrid. Similarly, Wood is incapable of even a second of flair in his direction of the film.

There are people in this world who will tell you with a straight face that this is a fine film, an indictment of the seedy world of pornography (oh let's face it, compared to what we have going now, the porn industry in 1960 was one big huge convent). These people are absolutely, unequivocally NUTS. One only has too look at Wood's filmography to see that he had already written several smut films, including notorious early nudie Western "Revenge of the Virgins", prior to this film's release.

"The Sinister Urge" is one of the most boring, plodding, miserable excuses for a film in all of cinema. I'm not a big fan of picking on Ed Wood, to be honest, but this is proof (along with the many other films of his that aren't widely known) that Wood is an astoundingly incompetent director.

The Old Dark House (1932, James Whale)

I recently wrote a mock review of Ben Stiller's "Tropic Thunder" (a film I did not like) in which I facetiously said that "I have just seen a movie that's so awesome it raises awesomeness to a whole new level then proceeds to be so awesome that it raises awesomeness from that new level to another new level of awesomeness and proceeds to do this until I found myself in awesome heaven.".

I never thought I'd use that in an actual review, but it fits this comedy/horror masterpiece from James Whale too well for me to miss the opportunity. "The Old Dark House" is perhaps the one film which I can watch over and over and over again and not tire of, the one film which suits all my moods, and it is a film which hits the right notes for 72 minutes and doesn't miss a beat. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect at doing what it wants to do.

The plot (based on J.B. Priestley's debut novel "Benighted) has a cast of diverse and quirky characters descend on a very creepy, very old, very dark house in order to escape the storm raging outside. Inside they meet the family that occupies the house and many laughs and scares follow. That's all you should know before seeing this, because it's too much fun when you learn of the house's secret.

Not only are these characters brilliant, but the cast is an absolute dream! You're saying I can watch Ernest Thesinger, Charles Laughton, Melvyn Douglas, AND Boris Karloff in the same movie? Not just any movie, either, but a James Whale 'old dark house' movie? My life is complete. I've always loved this movie, but I've tried pretending it's not a truly great film for too long. It is! It's a masterpiece from start to finish, a brilliant comedy of manners, an atmospheric and spooky tribute to the 'old dark house' genre (of which "The Bat Whispers" is another favorite), and a film that is so expertly photographed by Arthur Edeson ("The Maltese Falcon", "Casablanca", that is so brilliantly directed by the legendary James Whale, that is such a riot throughout that I find it hard to believe that anyone could possibly dislike this film.

Expect a pure horror film and you might be disappointed. I expect that is the reason this isn't as popular as some other Universal horror features. "The Old Dark House" is, to me at least, the best film of the lot, and is just such an uproariously hilarious comedy and such a brilliantly self-referential tribute to the genre that I simply must count it as one of precious few films that I consider perfect. A real favorite, and boy is Ernest Thesinger beyond brilliant here or what?

Dracula (1931, Tod Browning)

I am a fan of the Dracula story and mythology, find Stoker's "Dracula" a memorable and eerie work, and directed and wrote stage productions based on the Hamilton Deane play from the 1920's (altered by Balderston for the 1927 New York run, in which Lugosi first played Dracula) in high school and university, and as you may have already guessed I have few if any issues with the script for the film (it is certainly not in any way faithful to Stoker's novel outside of the very basic plot, however, but that does not affect its quality in my opinion).

What makes "Dracula" a mildly interesting diversion as opposed to the classic it could have become is Browning's awkward and stiff direction in his second talkie. I enjoy many films by Browning and "West of Zanzibar" is nearly a masterpiece, but his work here is transparent and uninspired. Simply comparing this film to the Spanish-language proves how flat it is and how much it lacks cohesion due to the terrible editing. George Melford's direction in the Spanish-language version, shot on the same sets and released in the same year, is so superior to Browning's work that you begin to wonder why Universal didn't switch directors once they saw footage Browning shot.

What the Spanish-language version doesn't feature, however, is Bela Lugosi. It does star Carlos Villar as Conde Drácula, though, and the less said about that monstrosity of a performance the better. Lugosi is still quite possibly the definitive Dracula, and so many moments here capture him in all his glory. "Dracula" is worth seeing not simply because it is a film with an important legacy but merely for Lugosi's take on the Count. He really is superb here. Dwight Frye's Renfield is also excellent.

"Dracula" is far from a perfect film. It's also pretty far from being the sort of classic many claim it is. It really is nothing more than a middling, average filming of a great play with a great lead performance. Thankfully the script and acting save this film from the inexplicable ineptitude of Browning's work here, and the sheer lack of cohesion in the flow of the film.

Blue Collar (1978, Paul Schrader)

"Blue Collar" opens with a masterful title sequence which introduces us, quickly and effectively, to the harsh world our characters reside in and to the nature of the conditions in the factory they work in. The opening sequence is set to Jack Nitzsche's "Hard Workin' Man", introducing blues music to us right off the bat, music that not only makes up basically all of the music in this film but can be seen as a motif or even a character in the film.

It's amazing how confident and mature Paul Schrader is as a director at this point. Of course, Schrader had already written the massively acclaimed "Taxi Driver" by 1978, but contrary to what one might expect it's his confident and sure handling of the pace and mood in "Blue Collar" that is truly the highlight of the film, not the screenplay penned by Paul and Leonard Schrader, granted the screenplay is in itself quite terrific. Schrader is already a mature director who understands the rhythm of a film.

Going back to the use of music in this film, it isn't so much the score itself by Jack Nitzsche (which is, don't get me wrong, solid blues) that's impressive, it's Schrader's handling of the music and sound in general in this film that makes it work so well. First off, the choice to go with a blues score is inspired in itself, as the nature of the music so perfectly captures what these characters are going through. In addition, the score is most noticeable during scenes where the film appears to be commenting on the futility of the characters' struggle and the misery of what they're going through. Where many films would use music to 'enhance' big, dramatic scenes, Schrader's "Blue Collar" makes the wise decision to use it during low-key scenes. There are several scenes that don't feature any music at all, these being some of the more important scenes. Note the scene where Smokey gets trapped in the paint room, absolutely no music, just the cold sound of the machinery (expertly mixed, might I add), which is far creepier and more effective than any score could be at that point. Similar use of sound occurs a few minutes before the end when Harvey Keitel's character Jerry is being chased.

The acting here is uniformly superb with Keitel possibly giving his best performance (or at least one of them), and Richard Pryor offering what must be recognized as one of the finest performances of the 70's by anyone. Really, who knew Pryor had this sort of skill when it comes to dramatic acting? Yapphet Koto, a beloved character actor, does a fine job in rounding out the cast for the main three characters. Again, Schrader must be credited for directing his actors so well. It's well-known, of course, that the three leads hated each other and actually broke out in fistfights between takes on occasion. Perhaps that created a sort of demented chemistry between them.

The screenplay by Schrader and Schrader (Paul and Leonard) is a fine, fine piece of writing, sort of the daytime factory-worker version of the crude-yet-poetic "Taxi Driver" screenplay. Oddly enough, it's also the source of the few major flaws in this film, as it can come across as fairly heavy-handed in certain scenes. If there's one thing I'd definitely do differently with this film, it's the final shot, which would have been terrific had this been a comedy.

All in all, a great film in its own right and especially impressive as a directorial debut from Schrader. Very memorable.

Ben-Hur: A Tale of The Christ (1925, Fred Niblo)

This much lesser-known version of the Ben-Hur story from 1925 was the most expensive silent film ever made and benefits greatly from MGM's ability at the time to make films that looked amazingly grand and epic and still somehow manage to today. Even after seeing William Wyler's 1959 version and even with the advancements of modern CGI, the 83 year old "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" still looks unbelievably impressive with its massive sets and thousands of extras.

The mythos that has surrounded "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" among film buffs over the years has reached a status almost as grand as the film itself. The deaths, bribes, and other stories surrounding the movie and in particular the famous chariot race sequence do nothing to detract from the film (although they do distract one from it) but instead increase one's fascination with the production. I'm not sure if there are any comprehensive books written on the film but I must seek one out eventually.

The story doesn't need to be discussed because everyone knows it. It's an entertaining story that's really quite hard to do wrong and this movie is more entertaining and exciting than any other version I've seen. The theatricality demanded from silent film enhances the nature and feel of the story.

This film was directed by Fred Niblo, famous for the Douglas Fairbanks vehicles "The Mark of Zorro" and the inferior "The Three Musketeers" and also director of several memorable silent films such as Greta Garbo vehicles "The Temptress" and "The Mysterious Lady" as well as "The Red Lily", an absolutely brilliant film by 1924 standards that is sadly hard to get a hold of (except on Turner Classic Movies which shows it on occasion). Niblo lost his way in the sound era but is on top form here directing this massive production. Of course, the chariot race deserves all its fame and recognition and remains exciting, vibrant, and captivating to this day.

The restoration on the DVD released in the four-DVD set released in celebration of the 1959 film is spectacular as usual from the Turner team with the original (and well-chosen) tints and the exceptional Technicolor sequences restored. The film is in the public domain so I expect there must be some form of cheap black & white only copy which I urge anybody reading this to avoid watching. Another reason to watch this restored version is the terrific score by Carl Davis performed by the London Philharmonic orchestra.

As good as William Wyler and Charlton Heston are, I'll take this Fred Niblo and Ramon Novarro over the 1959 version any day. A thrilling, captivating silent epic and one of the great silent American films.

American Graffiti (1973, George Lucas)

The first time I saw "American Graffiti" I dismissed it as visually striking but empty. Several viewings later I have come to appreciate it as Lucas' masterpiece and one of the best films of the 1970's, a film with a real sense of maturity and understanding of this phase in life, and one which features so many colorful and interesting characters who all feel real or relevant even today. "American Graffiti" is so much more than just a nostalgia piece, and remains far, far superior to the many movies it inspired, which ARE empty and lack the substance and strength of character this had. Even the acclaimed ones like "Dazed and Confused" are exposed for what they really are when compared to this film.

Haskell Wexler is credited as a visual consultant on this film, and given that I cannot find any information on the credited cinematographers (who are only credited on one other film) I must assume that he had a lot to do with how this film looks, as it does seem very much like his work. It really is absolutely gorgeous, and given how hard it must have been to light the sets where the film was shot, completely on location, quite a remarkable aesthetic achievement. It's stylized, but not in a manner that makes the film look improbable or unrealistic, and it is one of few American films from the 1970's which consistently looks beautiful, where one can pause the film at any point and find an evocative or beautiful image.

George Lucas was still a good director at this point, of course, and he tells this story remarkably well. I don't think there's anything here that I would have done differently, and it is almost unquestionably his finest achievement as director. Even when you take away all the great shots in this film there's still a rich and well-told story. There have been numerous films like this, chronicling the experiences of a group of seniors just after or just before the end of high school, but none even begins to approach how perceptive and intelligent "American Graffiti" is, and how well it captures the emotions many of us felt at that age.

"American Graffiti" is a special film that is unlike any other although it has been copied many times. It is not just great entertainment, it is a film that captures human nature like few others, and one that is as striking on an emotional level as it is on a visual level. A simply outstanding film.

24 Hour Party People (2002, Michael Winterbottom)

It would be unfair to dismiss "24 Hour Party People" as a biographical look at Tony Wilson. It's so much more. It's a celebration of music, of a lifestyle, of a bygone era. It also plays like a Greek tragedy, albeit substantially more fun, but there is no shortage of darkness and tragedy in the film. The shifts in tone are particularly remarkable, as the film veers from its usual dry, sardonic tone into real pathos and examination of the dark side of almost any phenomenal success.

I'm not completely nuts. I'm not going to claim that "24 Hour Party People" is a visual masterpiece, or a film which achieves more with its characters than most accepted 'masterpieces' of cinema when it comes to depth. I'm not going to argue that it feels as complete an artistic achievement as one of the better films by a cinematic 'master'. Wait, what am I talking about? That's exactly what I'm going to argue. "24 Hour Party People" is as perfect as a film can get, not because it achieves the visual perfection of one of Kubrick's finer films, not because it marks a turning point in cinema history, but because it sets out to be exactly what it ends up being- a hilarious, darkly satirical and yet affectionate look at one of the biggest 'scenes' in music history, some of the best bands, and the man behind it all, Tony Wilson. A minor player in his own life story. This is one of the most purely enjoyable films ever made.

It all unfolds with a sort of inspired madness. The very first scene shows the charismatic, arrogant, and somewhat self-important Tony Wilson hang-gliding for a television report, then turning to the camera after that's over with and saying "You're going to see a lot more of that sort of thing in the film. I don't want to say too much, don't want to spoil it. I'll just say one word: 'Icarus'. If you get it, great. If you don't, that's fine too. But you should probably read more." It's not only a terrific line, indicative of the sort of dry wit much of the dialogue achieves, but also telling of what the film is going to be like. J.R. Jones of the Chicago Reader was one of the less infatuated major critics with the film (but still gave it a definitely positive review, which should give you some indication of just how well-received this film was by critics), and labeled Coogan's Wilson a a pedantic narrator, describing his story as having little narrative momentum of its own. I like to think that's sort of the point, and Wilson himself makes a point to mention in the film that it's not a film about him.

The highlight of the film, arguably even more than Frank Cottrell Boyce's screenplay, is Steve Coogan as Tony Wilson. As everyone reading this probably knows, Coogan based his famed Alan Partridge character on Tony Wilson's career as a television reporter, so he's really playing a variation on Alan Partridge here. What's amazing about Coogan's performance is that he manages to draw even this Partridge fan into Tony Wilson's world so much that I didn't care about any similarity. It's still a stunning comic performance, and excellent during the darker, more serious scenes in the film as well. I'd go as far as saying that it's one of the best male performances of the decade. The rest of the cast is too large to go through one by one, but everyone is excellent here, some going for a sort of slightly altered impersonation of the real-life person they're playing, some creating their own version.

A point of criticism often aimed at "24 Hour Party People" is inaccuracy. The film is gleefully inaccurate, and I fail to see how that's a problem. We didn't need a pedantic, touch-on-all-bases film about Factory Records, because Factory Records would never have made such a movie had they ventured into film production. This is exactly the sort of loose-knit and yet tightly-written film that is needed to capture the energy of the music and the movement. Boyce's screenplay goes through dozens of characters, none of which don't feel real, it's got enough pompous and arrogant philosophizing to turn off even the worst pseudo-intellectual, but it makes it work simply because it's got a sort of self-mocking sense of humor. The points Wilson makes by referencing history and philosophy are valid, but it would be at odds with the sort of film this is if they weren't written with the wry wit the rest of the film is, and if they weren't delivered so wonderfully by Coogan. The film is shot on video, and uses a hand-held style which far from inhibiting the film as it arguably does with some other Winterbottom films, just suits it perfectly. That doesn't mean there aren't some scenes which are explosively extravagant visually, because there are, and they are beautiful.

"24 Hour Party People" feels like a complete artistic achievement. It captures the energy of the music, the feel of it, the basis for the movement so well, but also succeeds at providing a well-told summary of the story of Factory Records, the Hacienda, and Tony Wilson. As far as I'm concerned it's one of the most enjoyable films ever made, and one of the most consistently successful. I don't think there's anything here that falls flat, it's all quite brilliant, from the first scene to the final shot.