Waterloo Bridge (1931, James Whale)

I'm pretty certain James Whale is one of my favorite directors. Potential pulp trash like "Frankenstein", "Bride of Frankenstein", and "The Old Dark House" were elevated to near-masterpieces (and in the case of the latter, a true masterpiece in my humble estimation) thanks to brilliant screenplays and Whale's wonderful, tasteful direction and sensibilities. "The Invisible Man" is still one of the best science fiction films ever made, and quite possibly the best Wells adaptation around, with the possible exception of "Island of Lost Souls". "Remember Last Night?" is a daring, hilarious, fascinating slice of unexpected social satire in the guise of a mystery-comedy, and remains woefully under-seen.

"Waterloo Bridge" is yet another immensely satisfying Whale film, and while (this being his second film) his technique is not at the same level as some of his later films, the film is still directed tastefully and often creatively, and is very well-shot as well. This was a pre-code film and hence I imagine is less sanitized than the 1940 Vivien Leigh/Robert Taylor version of the story. Mae Clarke is absolutely incredible here as a chorus girl-turned-prostitute who meets a naive 19 year old Canadian in wartime London. The writing is fantastic and the film, while melodramatic, is also subtle and tasteful in many regards. The humor (which is present in nearly all Whale films) is a lot of fun, and doesn't clash with the otherwise serious tone of the film.

"Waterloo Bridge" avoids the pitfalls of many melodramas by remaining a very human story about love at its core. The ending is really over-the-top, perhaps even a bit laughable, but it doesn't ruin what came before: a really great pre-code melodrama, and another exceptional film directed by James Whale. It's a good production (although the Waterloo Bridge set is not very convincing now, of course) with excellent direction, good cinematography, great writing, and a wonderful cast, especially the two leads Mae Clarke and Douglass Montgomery, but also the wonderful character actor Frederick Kerr in a smaller, more humorous role.

The Heart of the World (2000, Guy Maddin)

Like all Guy Maddin's films, "The Heart of the World" left me, well, speechless. I'm rarely insightful, usually articulate, but I can never write well about a Guy Maddin film. That Jonathan Rosenbaum wrote a whole essay on this film is not surprising, but it does leave me in awe. A wacky narrative featuring the usual Maddin love triangle, this is six and a half minutes of pure joy. The genius of "The Heart of the World" isn't its wackiness or the technical and stylistic qualities of the film, it's that it's not a bit of showboating, but a fascinating experimental success- what Maddin has done is made a whole feature in six minutes. Most short films are short because that's how they were written, that's how much material the filmmakers had and wanted to make. "The Heart of the World" could have easily been a feature. In fact, it has a more interesting 'plot' than a couple of Maddin's actual features (especially "Brand Upon the Brain!" for me). Rosenbaum suggests this might be the world's first 'subliminal melodrama'. That's a better description than I could come up with. I watched the movie twice in a row but I have a feeling I'll be watching it many, many more times. I absolutely loved this film, but not enough to eclipse "Elimination Dance" as my favorite Canadian short, though "The Heart of the World" is almost unquestionably the greater accomplishment. I prefer Maddin's features "My Winnipeg" and "Careful" to this, but again, it's the staggering accomplishment of this film that makes it so worthy of awe. How many filmmakers have done montage better?

Punch-Drunk Love (2002, Paul Thomas Anderson)

"Punch Drunk Love", in its own intimately tense manner, puts any of the famous scenes in "Magnolia" or "There Will Be Blood" to shame, and those two movies in their entirety as well. Far from any sort of lull in PTA's career, is a tight, compelling, fascinating film throughout, and the anamorphic cinematography by Robert Elswit is brilliant (with gorgeous, judicious use of lens flares- I like them to begin with but when you have a lens flare which expresses more emotion than almost anything else in the movie, THAT is something special), and Anderson's direction thoroughly assured, with a very interesting and controlled color palette. I hope to write a lengthy essay on this film at one point, there is certainly a lot of food for thought in both the visuals and the screenplay. It's just a formally fascinating film in every scene, and while I particularly loved the lighting of the film, the camera-work (including some extremely elaborate stuff which must have been very hard to pull off), and the sound design were incredible as well. Quite contrary to its reputation among some, this is a movie which is just phenomenal because it's so short and minimalistic and restrained in so many ways, which somehow isn't too much of a contrast with the rather bizarre story. Sandler's performance is terrific and he was given a great character, and the film is actually very emotionally compelling and mature (certainly far more so than something like "Magnolia"), and is made even more unique by (saving the best for last) Jon Brion's score.

Band of Outsiders (1964, Jean-Luc Godard)

"For latecomers arriving now, we offer a few words chosen at random... Three Weeks Earlier. A pile of money. An English class. A house by the river. A romantic girl."

The recipe for the most effortlessly cool movie ever made. It's the sort of thing Tarantino has been trying to make for what seems like an eternity, what "Pulp Fiction", in occasional bursts, comes close to being. But that movie is too self-conscious, tries too hard. That's not to suggest that Godard wasn't conscious of what he was doing when writing this film- all writers are, we have to be. But I don't think Godard was trying too be cool, I think he just was. It's a cheap crime flick, according to some nothing too interesting at all, a rehash of "Breathless", and even some of the other New Wave giant Truffaut's movies... "Jules and Jim" and "Shoot the Piano Player" have been mentioned.

But that's all part of this film's charm. Godard, a favorite of mine, can be awfully pretentious and HAS been awfully pretentious. If you're consistently making experimental movies you think are challenging, if you are always changing your mind on what constitutes good cinema, if you're obsessed with quotes and references and philosophy and philosophers, you're bound to be pretentious on occasion. "Band of Outsiders" is a pulpy crime flick with great wit, fun characters, good performances and a well-told story, and that's all it is. It's a great film because it's great at being what it is.

The screenplay is glorious. The dialogue is gold, the narrative momentum never slows down, we know all we need to know about these people and their goals, and the movie's irreverent, hip air is a thing to behold. Or experience, rather. Great photography by Raoul Coutard. Everyone knows the best bits: the minute of silence, the dance scene, the visit to the Louvre. Depth is not needed in this sort of movie, it's a romp, plain and simple (though one with some amount of complexity- you can read it as Godard examining the need for escapism, specifically in the form of cinema, among other things). A glorious delight from start to finish and one of my favorite films. Unforgettable, still Godard's best film.

Détective (1985, Jean-Luc Godard)

This is why I love Godard. He turned a 'commercial' project he did in order to get financing for "Hail Mary" into one of his most enthralling late works, a sleeker, leaner, funnier, lighter version of the sort of film Godard made after the 60's. The film follows four different 'stories' in the Hotel Concorde Saint-Lazare in Paris, where the entire film is set. Something of a deconstruction of the detective film or film-noir on paper, but the film is more formally interesting than it is story-wise (though its 'narrative' is often very amusing and overall very entertaining). Although critical reviews of "Detective" seem to be positive (all the ones I can find anyway, including Variety and the New York Times among others), the film is overall not too popular, and from my experience not too well-liked by Godard fans either. Shame as well because the fact that "Detective" combines some of the zip and light humor of Godard's early work with the more experimental sensibilities of later Godard films doesn't mean this is in any way lacking as a filmic experiment. It's gorgeously-shot with superb, intricate mise-en-scène, and features some of the most interesting and complex editing in any Godard film, but what really steals the show is the sound, which is an entire world all on its own. The visual splendor of the film is not only complimented, but overshadowed by the creative sound editing and mixing, genius use of music, and aural gags and puns. Dedicated to Edgar G. Ulmer, Clint Eastwood, and John Cassavetes, "Detective" is one of Godard's best, and likely his most criminally under-appreciated. It does ask for a patient, observant audience willing to listen carefully, but rewards that patience with great comic energy and some fascinating and beautiful aural experimentation. One of the best casts Godard ever worked with as well.

Jekyll (2008)

It's one of the most brilliantly engaging, twisted, hilarious, morbidly fascinating pieces of television writing in ages. "Jekyll", very unlike Steven Moffat, also falls apart a bit at the end. At least, it does if you consider it a stand-alone mini-series. That Moffat has written a second series of the show does not matter if it never appears on our television screens, and it appears from interviews and such that Moffat regards the second series as a 'sequel' to this, which suggests this should be able to stand alone. And it does, for the most part. The final episode, however, solves most of the questions and gives satisfying answers to the questions so brilliantly posed by Mr. Moffat during the first five episodes... then goes and throws in a few new questions, including one huge mystery posed by the epilogue of the series, one which causes the answers which previously made sense to be questioned, and yet is worked so intricately into the fabric of the elaborate plot Moffat lays out that it is impossible to ignore or dismiss as a cheap sensationalist shock moment. It would be an effective teaser for an upcoming series if the upcoming series were anything approaching a certainty, but since this was, to some extent, supposed to stand alone it is a tragically poor ending, beyond the initial jolt of the moment.

There is so much going on in "Jekyll" psychologically, so much going on in the writing, layers of meaning and layers of narrative devices being used at all times, that one could write a dissertation in many different fields in Humanities, Social Sciences, and Sciences on just six episodes of television. That is impressive, but almost not as impressive as Moffat taking a literary classic with huge popularity and truly making something that is almost entirely his own from it. This is not an 'adaptation', this is pretty much an original script with characters (and not even really that) and a central plot (and not really even that) we're familiar with. It is originality in a field of unoriginality, and proves with great finality that modern-day adaptations don't have to be dull. There's no point in even comparing this to Stevenson, whose story had different concerns and a different ideology. Jekyll and Hyde here serve as the basis of a different (and much more modern) exploration of duality than in Stevenson's novel.

With his "Doctor Who" episodes and with later series of "Coupling", Moffat displayed a knack for being clever with structure and with story. His scripts have always worn their complexity on their sleeves, which is great when the thing works organically and completely. "Jekyll" is five episodes of absolutely some of the most dazzling, brilliant storytelling ever on television, and one of the most unique takes on a literary classic I can think of, then... Maybe, just maybe, Moffat tried to be too clever and lost the thread a bit. There are several plot issues, but let's not bother with those. Hopefully we will see what Moffat had in mind for the second series in some form. If left unproduced, perhaps the scripts will somehow find their way online. As it stands right now, "Jekyll" is 97% of an astonishing television classic, and that 3% is a lot harder to ignore than you'd think.

Undertow (2004, David Gordon Green)

A Southern Gothic fairytale directed by David Gordon Green and shot by his regular DP Tim Orr and scored by Phillip Glass with a cast of superb actors young and old. Doesn't that sound too good to be true? The critical consensus when the film was originally released, bar raves from Jonathan Rosenbaum and Roger Ebert and positive notices from other reputable sources such as the New York Times, Village Voice, AV Club, and Chicago Tribune, seemed to suggest, basically, that it was. Lots of talk about David Gordon Green and Southern Gothic being a clumsy fit (totally ludicrous suggestion), there being no real movie beneath the allusions and style (banal critic-speak), and more banal critic-speak dismissing the film as a derivative mess.

I suppose my opinion is no more valid than that of those who dismissed the film, but "Undertow" strikes me, with five viewings of it under my belt, as David Gordon Green's best and most interesting film. The characters are well-developed within the ideals and ideas of the story and film. My fiancée's biggest problem with the film was the characterization of the villain played by Josh Lucas. He shows up snarling and menacing and remains so for the movie, given clear motivation but hardly 'well-developed'. However, the movie seems to be perfectly content with following the traditional style of the Southern Gothic story, the chase movie, and the fairytale. This villain might not be the best-developed in film history, but he works within the story.

The screenwriters, director David Gordon Green and co-writer Joe Conway (an English teacher apparently, you can tell just by watching the movie), write their characters to fit within a certain ideal, and as such one could argue that most of the characters in "Undertow" are mythic figures more than characters, with the focus being largely on the two brothers at the core of the story, played by the immensely talented young actors Jamie Bell and Devon Alan.

The film's predictability appears to be an issue for many but I like how earnest Gordon Green and his cast and crew are in telling this story. I like that there's no cheap hipster irony. The reason it's predictable is that it's been done a thousand times before, but clearly nobody involved thinks there was a problem with doing it again. Where I disagree with several critics and IMDb reviewers is on the idea that "Undertow" doesn't distinguish itself from those which came before. I disagree. All a film needs to distinguish itself is quality, and "Undertow" has plenty of that. It's remarkably well-written, outside some narrative confusion, and Tim Orr's gloomy Southern Gothic imagery match perfectly with what is easily Phillip Glass' most underrated score, and one of his very best overall, creating a stark, beautiful atmosphere. David Gordon Green again focuses more on ambiance and character, but also seems more interested here than in his earlier films in telling a single story, but does so with a decisive preference for story over 'plot'.

Perhaps the victim of unfair and incorrect expectations, "Undertow" seems to have at least held on to a relatively high reputation, and hopefully will be remembered in the future for the masterpiece it is. Looked at for what it is, a fanciful tale of the bond between two brothers and their journey together, including numerous episodic encounters along the way (again the fairytale aspect comes into play) and not really the gritty chase film some critics seem to have mistaken it for, "Undertow" is a unique triumph. A tour-de-force from a director below the age of 30 blessed with class and sophistication and intelligence and a cinematographer and composer and cast who seemed destined to make this film.

Generation Kill (2008)

Proof that "Generation Kill", the miniseries produced by HBO films and written by David Simon and Ed Burns, their first project after the end of their television landmark "The Wire", a series which is completely incomparable in quality and scope to anything which has come before or since, is too intelligent to be concerned with simplistic political sloganeering, blind patriotism, or taking an anti-militaristic stance is the reaction which the political extremes have had to it. Any person with far right views I've spoken to or read on the internet has said similar things: this movie emasculates the marines and turns them into bleeding heart liberals (presumably because the film, and I will be referring to this as a film from this point onwards because it's definitely as much a film as "Berlin Alexanderplatz" is, has the guts to portray them as having compassion for wounded or killed civilians), and any person with far left views I've spoken to has apparently found the film to be immoral, presumably because it portrays men who spew violent, racist, homophobic, and misogynist invective as human beings.

In fact, "Generation Kill" is the farthest thing from either celebrating the military or being anti-militaristic. Like on "The Wire", David Simon and Ed Burns are on the side of the working class, as Kent Jones in Film Comment points out, and they have no interest in making a moral judgment on the nature of the work they're portraying, whether it's teaching, politics, drug dealing, or invading a country. Like Simon went beyond portraying drug dealers on "The Wire" to transporting us to their world and showing us their own problems, their own moral standards, their own worries and concerns, and introduced us to their own vernacular, he does the same with the marine corps in "Generation Kill". Like "The Wire", this is cunning and clever drama: it is political without taking sides, concerned with the inefficiency and bad planning coming 'from above' but without putting the blame on any individuals. It portrays people, some less likable and morally or politically correct than others, but people.

The only thing keeping "Generation Kill" from truly being a military version of "The Wire" is that its comparatively limited scope- it takes place within the first, 'triumphant' week of the invasion, and focuses pretty much only on one group of people. I'm entirely convinced that Simon could have written a thoroughly engrossing and fascinating drama about the Iraq war which extended past these five days, one which would have taken us past the marine corps into the lives of the other military units involved in the invasion, and the higher-ups as well, as he did starting in season 3 in "The Wire". As it stands, this is not a limitation of the power which "Generation Kill" holds, but a masterstroke in its success of making its point: every element which has made the situation in Iraq so chaotic was present in a latent form from the beginning. The film is not even really making a moral judgment of the war in Iraq, if anything it supports a well-executed version of it: most of the Iraqis we see, nearly 90% of them, are incredibly grateful, at least at this early stage, for being relieved of Saddam's rule.

Moreover, no American marine or any Iraqi is portrayed simplistically as a 'bad guy' or 'good guy', not even the bloodthirstiest of the Americans, and this writing is brought to life admirably well by the mostly perfect cast and the excellent direction and production value (it is obviously not a big-budget Hollywood film, but it still achieves real authenticity in almost every regard- the closest I came to disbelieving it was when a few Iraqis were portrayed as darker-skinned than any I've seen). The closest thing to a villain in the film is Saddam himself, who makes no literal appearance outside of posters on the streets, but then again he is pretty much the closest thing to a movie 'bad guy' in reality.

"Generation Kill" is, like "The Wire", ultimately a workplace drama about workplace politics. That the stakes are higher and that the innocent are killed even more often than they are on "The Wire" is irrelevant to the writers. This may make "Generation Kill" boring to those accustomed to and expecting a more standard war film, one which attempts an anti-war or pro-war statement. Like "The Wire" again, what the viewer is left with in the end is only a dislike of unnecessary violence and casualties, and a portrayal of the toll they take on those involved in either perpetrating the violence or those related to the victims. Both "The Wire" and "Generation Kill" are dramatically built on disappointment and disillusionment with the system in place itself, and like "The Wire" it is all about bad decisions, mistakes, and the rare good decision. The film ends with a montage and a song, much like every season of "The Wire", and with its subtle summation of the hours gone by and its emotional impact it cements David Simon's status as one of the greatest and most important writers of our time.

Pet Sematary (1989, Mary Lambert)

"Pet Sematary" has one thing many of King's better works don't have: a great ending. A great final act, too, which is where a lot of other King novels fall apart a bit. This one really comes together. It's a good story too, a disturbing one, and one of the saddest examinations of a family falling apart, a theme King is fond of. Especially because unlike something like "The Shining", there was no strain on the familial relationships at the beginning of the story. Still, it's not one of King's better novels because there's some notably bad prose ('time was slipping through his hands like something that had been greased' is a particularly egregious example of this), but for the most part it's really very good, and it's a great example of how you can write a horror story which doesn't even really become one until nearly halfway through.

"Pet Sematary", the film, is around as good, and is definitely one of the better King adaptations. The screenplay, written by King himself, is terrific, with all the additions and subtractions from the source material making total sense, and no dialogue that stood out as particularly bad to me. Even more pleasingly, most of the psychology at play in the book is present in the filmic version, and I'm becoming increasingly confident that King is the best person to bring his own work to life on the screen as a screenwriter. Even "The Stand", a miniseries I thought dreadfully poor as far as the direction and the general production went, was generally pretty well-written.

The film's major flaw is the acting, with the only really good performance coming from Fred Gwynne, who played Judd. King is a master of atmosphere, and very rarely do the settings his stories play out in come to life well on screen. As many problems as I (controversially) had with "The Shining", Kubrick's Overlook was every bit as good as King's Overlook. Likewise, Mary Lambert and the cinematographer do a great job making this film as effectively creepy as it is, and the pet cemetery and burial ground are tremendously well-realized. Also, the climactic stages of the film could not have possibly been done better. The whole last half hour is absolutely one of the creepiest bits of film ever made.

Had the film featured a better overall cast and had a better-realized Zelda, it really could have been one of the best horror movies ever made, but I found it immensely satisfying in its own right, and Gage Creed makes every other creepy child in cinema history look cute and cuddly in comparison. "I've got something for you, mommy".

The Shape of Things (2003, Neil LaBute)

Until I watched "The Shape of Things" a few hours ago my only exposure to acclaimed modern playwright Neil LaBute were a few clips of Nicholas Cage's apparently horrible performance in LaBute's apparently abysmal remake of the unforgettable British horror classic "The Wicker Man". With my interest in theater, modern theater specifically, growing rapidly with every passing day, it was inevitable that I would sit down and watch a Neil LaBute film, one adapted from one of his own plays for the screen.

"The Shape of Things" is a further extension of my lucky streak with recent movie picks, as I have either really liked or loved all of my past six film viewings, and this film belongs in the latter group. A comedy so dark I felt guilty for laughing, a film so dramatically compelling and ultimately devastating that I was left literally close to tears by the end of it. It's easy to see how many could really, really hate this movie. It's cruel, misanthropic, bleak, its sense of humor is twisted, and it's really not 'fun' at all.

Although I'm sure some will disagree, "The Shape of Things" is one of that rare breed of film I like to call the 'night-ruiner'. LaBute's screenplay, which is probably almost exactly the same as his original play, is a deft, clever, interesting examination of a number of things: friendship, how easily influenced we can be, how we perceive each other, the nature of art, and more, but works ultimately thanks to its emotional impact. A play (or screenplay) of this sort never amounts to anything if the characters aren't compelling and from start to finish these characters most certainly are. Adam is the lead character, played excellently by Paul Rudd in one of the more demanding roles he's taken on, and along with Gretchen Mol's character Jenny he's really the only decent character in the film. Frustratingly naive, but nice enough. All the performances are good enough for the material, and LaBute's direction is very basic but effective enough. I can definitely see how he could fail when taking on a bigger project not adapted from his own work, but I'll wait and see for myself.

Sure, nobody's going to call this a masterpiece of subtlety anytime soon, but lots of great drama is in-your-face, and this is rich enough that when a character stands up and speaks to us for several minutes about some of the things the film is about it doesn't feel dumb or unnecessary, but fairly effective and interesting. There's other stuff the screenplay and the film doesn't shove in our face, and the last half hour probably works because it's so upfront about things. It's a very theatrical presentation, and probably works better in that setting, but the film is still a fast-paced, well-written, and fairly enthralling examination of human behavior and how we look at each other.