New Movie Reviews

Out of the Past Review

March 31, 2016 by JD Hansel

In contrast to the western, film noir is more like my cup of tea. I’ll take the visual style of noir over the visual style of the western any day of the week. It’s so dark, smokey, dramatic, theatrical, and mysterious. How could a saloon girl compare to a deadly, spunky femme fatale? How could a singing cowboy compare to an eerie saxophone? Film noir has a special charm about it that I appreciate, but I haven’t actually watched many films in the genre (if any) all the way through, until I finally saw Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past. This picture is a good example of what film noir has to offer to the history of cinema, but what it presents is both the good and bad aspects of the genre.

This is, in its own way, a very interesting movie. It still strikes me as “tederesting” more than captivating, but it is very easy to get lost in the world of the film. The structure is surprisingly pleasant, because the first act or two is/are done almost entirely within a flashback. The plot does take surprising twists and turns, and it handles the twists and turns well . . . for the most part. Eventually, as can happen with noir, the plot becomes unintelligible. It gets too difficult to tell who’s who and why each of them is doing what he/she is doing. As it turns out, the characters are also unsure of what’s going on, and they are surprisingly struggling to know why they are doing what they are doing.

I wish to elaborate on the subject of motivation, because it is an important subject in art and philosophy that I have yet to address in a movie review, and this is the ideal motion picture for beginning this discussion. In fiction, deterministic fatalism is generally treated as a pleasant view of life – the good side is predestined to beat the bad side, and the chosen one simply must save the day because the prophecy says so. While I am not a fatalist, I am a determinist, which is to say that I stand by the evidence that our thoughts and actions are determined by subconscious brain activity we cannot control, which leaves us without freedom of will (in that we are not the source of our own intentions and desires). That being said, I would obviously much rather live in a world in which we do have free will, and the fact that this cannot be is troubling. This movie exemplifies how the genre of film noir uses this troubling predicament to make good drama.

Kathie is the femme fatale with a lot of bad habits, from shooting people without sufficient reason to being a compulsive liar. When challenged for her actions, she persistently claims that she didn’t want to do what she did – she had to, and she couldn’t explain why. In my film history class, the professor explained why. Noir is fascinating because it shows the consequences of living in a world with not only determinism, but fatalism, in that the characters have certain actions that they must commit regardless of their intentions, and they have no control over whether these actions will be good or bad. This is, when pondered, a rather terrifying concept, which brings all the fiction that celebrates “destiny” under serious scrutiny. As annoying as it was to repeatedly hear Kathie’s rejection of responsibility for her actions, this did make me realize that there is a certain kind of conflict that I want to see far more of in cinema: the struggle for freedom in a world that cannot have free will. This subject may very well be the most captivating concept that any work of art could discuss, at least in my opinion, and I wouldn’t have even thought of it if not for Out of the Past.

Overall, this movie is fine. It’s true that I couldn’t fully appreciate the characters, and it’s true that I found the ending a little unsatisfactory. I found it rather slow at many times, particularly in the last act, and I could not keep track of the chaotic plot-line (which was more of a plot-scribble) if I were well paid to do so. However, it does provide a bit of entertainment, and can even be surprisingly thought-provoking, so I give it a pass.

The Twelve Chairs Review

March 16, 2016 by JD Hansel

No, not Spaceballs. Not Blazing Saddles. Not even The Producers or Young Frankenstein. Mel Brooks insists that his best film is The Twelve Chairs. Not too many others seem to agree, but I can understand why he makes this claim. Is this my favorite Mel Brooks film? No, I still reserve that spot for High Anxiety. It is, however, a beautiful example of a wonderfully written and perfectly performed chase movie that captures the essence of fun.

My first exposure to this movie was the theme song. One day, I was trying to find a song that would perfectly express my daily anxiety, pessimism, and general expectation that everything in my life would go wrong, so I naturally sought the song “High Anxiety” from High Anxiety. When I purchased this song, I found it was actually cheaper to buy Mel Brooks’ whole greatest hits album, which happened to come with a song I’d never heard of – “Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst.” I naturally just had to hear this song, and it was just as satisfying as one would hope – it perfectly captured my feelings about living. I then realized just how crucial it was that I saw The Twelve Chairs. My hope was that the song would be part of a huge, extravagant, over-the-top musical number a la “The Spanish Inquisition,” but alas, this movie does not have such an extreme, flamboyant tone.

This film is sort of a change of pace for Brooks, in part because it’s one of his only G-rated films, but also because it’s not trying to parody anything – it’s just an adaptation of an old novel. However, this makes it a much safer choice to show the younger members of the family (although it is not completely clean), and it also means that the side of Mel Brooks that we see here sticks to a strong story led by likable characters, which happens to thrust the characters into very chaotic situations. In a way, it’s a little more down-to-earth and believable than a lot of his other works, but at the same time, it gets so, so wild and crazy that it makes Spaceballs seem tame. For someone expecting Men in Tights or Young Frankenstein, this may be a little disappointing, but I can completely see why Brooks considers it to be his best work.

Rather than trying to throw crazy, “cartoonish” jokes at the audience the whole time, and rather than trying to put a twist on things that have been parodied to death anyway, Brooks managed to get an enormous amount of comedy from a small cast and a simple premise, while keeping the story first instead of the jokes. One of the best moments in the film is surprisingly when we see some very dramatic tension between two of the main characters, and because it comes in the middle of such a silly movie, it’s actually one of the most powerful moments in all of cinematic drama. The ending, while not as climactic as I had hoped, has a lot of heart to it, and better yet, it handles the heart in a way that even I, the hater of all things sappy, can really, really enjoy. It just puts a smile on my face.

As is usual by the time that I have reached the last paragraph of a review, I am left with only a few miscellaneous thoughts about various aspects of the movie, which in this case might hopefully persuade readers to find a way to see this rare work of genius. There is not a single moment, at least to my memory, when this movie is boring, and there are very few movies that can get such praise out of me. The whole production is perfectly paced, the story is marvelously structured, and the performances are exactly what they ought to be. I would go so far as to say that Mel Brooks’ acting in this movie is funnier than his acting in any other (Muppet Movie-inclusive). I still wouldn’t say that this is my favorite Mel Brooks film, as it doesn’t quite have that special, unique distinction about it that a Young Frankenstein or a Spaceballs has (which is to say that the movie’s cast and setting lack a unique collective personality that sets the world of the film apart from ours). I must also reiterate the lack of satisfaction in the conclusion of they’re chase, because the story has a twist ending of sorts which I find devastatingly underwhelming. What I will say is that I can never argue with anyone who claims that this is Brooks’ best work; for it truly is a masterpiece.

The Crime of Monsieur Lange Review

February 29, 2016 by JD Hansel

I certainly don’t know French cinema well – at all – but the name Jean Renoir did sound familiar, most likely because he’s a very important figure in the history of cinema. Being the globally-ignorant American teenager that I am, it’s hard for me to tell just what it was about Renoir that made him so unique or important. That being said, I was pleased by the one film of his that I’ve seen, The Crime of Monsieur Lange. Sadly, however, I would have to classify this film by a new term I’ve finally invented – tederesting – a combination of tedious and interesting. This describes a work of art that has many elements that peak the viewer’s interest, make the viewer curious, or impress the viewer just enough that he/she is willing to put up with how tedious or boring many elements of it are, and I think this new word is exemplified quite well by this movie.

If I may, I’ll go ahead and spoil the big twist in the movie, largely because it’s very predictable anyway. An evil businessman is reported dead, and the people in his publishing company come together to make ends meet, and while they end up making the company even more successful than before, it looks like their happiness is going to come to an end when it turns out that the businessman is still alive. Apparently, this is supposed to present a strong socialistic message, but I just see it as a standard “greedy man = bad, selfless friends = good” kind of story. Again, I do find the twist predictable, but the way Renoir reveals the twist (multiple times, actually, each retaining its dramatic effect) is certainly masterful. The story doesn’t seem quite focused enough for my tastes, but there are still many elements of it that I like, from the moral questions it brings up, to the perfect portrayal of the villainous Batala, and to the theme of an author becoming the hero he’s written. According the reviews I’ve seen on the internet, this film has a very good pace, but I must have missed that part while I was sleeping. The story simply doesn’t have enough surprising or suspenseful twists and obstacles to fill its already measly 77-minute running time, but that somehow doesn’t keep it from being remarkably fascinating.

The Motorcycle Diaries Review

February 22, 2016 by JD Hansel

I debated about whether or not I would review this film. Keep in mind, I do not (at this time) review documentaries, mostly because I think approaching something that tries to accurately capture real history – or accurately capture a real person’s perspective on his/her history – is perhaps too great a task for me. Assessing historical accuracy has never been my forte, and I I’m not sure how to review a story if that story is an unchangeable matter of fact. Still, this movie is clearly not a documentary – it’s a fascinating “what if” movie that shows what a young, idealistic, quickly-evolving Che Guevara might have been like on his road trip through South America. When viewed as such, it’s really quite fascinating.

This film breaks one of the rules of storytelling in a way, which polarizes the audience in terms of strength, effect, and maybe even aesthetic distance depending on what knowledge of Che the viewer has at the onset. Generally, movies are very focused on set-ups and pay-offs, always making sure that every moment the audience sees will make the following scenes (and/or the previous scenes) more meaningful. This film, however, is designed as a sort of prologue or prequel to the infamy of Che Guevara, so the set-ups for the irony, and arguably for the importance of each scene, are in all in the knowledge that the viewer supposedly has of what Che would become. Fortunately, because I saw this movie in a film class, I was informed of Che’s legacy, controversy, and infamy, so I really enjoyed the movie. However, had I not known who Che is, I would not have been able to enjoy the movie nearly as much – perhaps I would have hated it. While I do think that this is a fun story that succeeds at opening up one’s mind to new ways of looking at history and the world, I must withhold my praise to some extent because the movie works best as a supplement to a separate story that the audience is left to figure out for themselves.

Still, after a tiny bit of research, this is a really different kind of road trip comedy that can be really enjoyable.

Alexander Nevsky Review

February 17, 2016 by JD Hansel

I haven’t reviewed many foreign films yet. I know I’ve done my fair share of British movies, but Amelie and Passion have been my only reviews of films in foreign languages (to my memory). I’m going to change this. I expect to be bouncing around the globe for my next few reviews, and a good way to start a world tour of cinema is with Eisenstein. Seeing as how this man’s work is taught in every film class, I was hoping that Alexander Nevsky, his classic 1938 epic about a war hero in the 1200s, would be a bit more … well, epic.

I’m faced with a serious problem here because this film has brought to the surface a conflict between my ideology and my views on art. It has been my strong opinion for quite some time that a work of art should not be judged by its message alone, but by how well it conveys it. For example, someone might agree with the general message or theme in God’s Not Dead, but he/she should still recognize that it’s a remarkably horrendous piece of angel dung. Similarly, one does not have to be a racist to appreciate D.W. Griffith’s contributions to the cinematic arts as seen in Birth of a Nation. In music, I can appreciate old rock songs that focus on men who don’t seem to be exceptionally respectful towards women. (I should note that I’m not referring to particularly misogynistic songs, but instead songs such as “The Wanderer” or “Lightnin’ Strikes” that take infatuation to a rather uncomfortable level of objectification. However, in all fairness, some songs from this time by female artists – The Chordettes’ “Mr. Sandman,” for example – seem to indicate that this kind of attraction went both ways at the time.) The key thing about song lyrics, however, is to be watchful of songs that are actually character studies, and often consequently period pieces, which are written and performed from the perspective of the character being analyzed and explored (not necessarily the artist’s view).

It only makes sense, then, that I would have to approach Alexander Nevsky with the same stance, focusing on the craft more than the conclusion, but alas, I am unable to appreciate anything about this film because I am so overwhelmed by its disgusting ideology. I have spent much time pondering this, and I think I have realized a few factors that have been at play in my analysis of art. The first factor is the way the film sees itself. This may seem odd, but I think that movies nearly always have a way that they “feel” about their own contents, and while 2001: A Space Odyssey has a very conceited view of itself, Dr. Strangelove clearly thinks that the events it displays are absurd, and it critiques them for such. So, Eisenstein could have made a movie that analyzed the people of the time period objectively (without sharing in their perspective or criticizing them), and he could have made it as a critique of their ways, but instead he played along with their loony nationalism and gave them the operatic choir they desired. Secondly, if a work of art has a serious flaw in its point of view, I can still appreciate it as art if it supplies enough other elements that make me respect it in a different way. “My Sweet Lord” redeems itself, and I therefore greatly appreciate it, but “Anaconda” offers no such merit, and therefore leaves us only with the words to be analyzed.

Lo and behold, there may not be as much contradiction in my views as I had feared. I do think that Eisenstein did put together a work that is quite impressive, but not to the extent that it redeems its dogmatic, propagandic nature. To its credit, it surprised me by taking a sharp turn in the way it handled the awkward (and somewhat sexist) storyline of the men who made a girl choose which of them would be her husband. As it turns out, one of the men decides that he would rather be with a different woman – the one who fought bravely and competently in the battle. This not only gives us a strong, courageous female character to enjoy, but also takes away a touch of the “shallow” feeling in the film’s romantic affairs. Still, the redeeming quality throughout is bravery, and since I am no fan of bravery, I cannot comply to Eisenstein’s persistent demand that I wallow in the imagined elegance of prideful war.

Modern Times Review

February 11, 2016 by JD Hansel

It’s really quite fitting that Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times gets the review that follows my review of Brazil. Each one is a crazy comedy that can get rather over the top, but each one is also a social commentary with something to say; namely, these films express frustration with the faulty technology that’s being thrust upon them. This is somewhat noticeable when the Tramp has to work with a conveyor belt that goes too fast, and he ends up getting carried by the conveyor belt into the giant gears that run the machinery in the factory where he works. However, when this attitude is most obvious is when the Tramp is strapped into a machine that feeds the factory workers lunch so that they don’t need to take a lunch break – which sounds just like something Gilliam would have loved to put into Brazil had the idea not been taken already – and of course, it goes berserk. This kind of a film is to be expected from a man who had been very popular in the silent era, but now had virtually no choice but to make sound films (Modern Times being his first go at them). This movie is fascinating because it shows what happens when the man who had universal appeal in silent cinema tries to make a part-talkie so he can adapt to… well, “modern times.”

Overall, I’d say Chaplin did a good job. The story isn’t all that coherent, but since this film comes from an early time in the history of feature-length narrative film, and because the movie had to be tailored to fit the Tramp’s style, I’m willing to be quite forgiving about that. As long as the comedy and the characters work, and as long as sound is used well, I think this movie did what it needed to do; I’d say these goals were all achieved. I was quite surprised by how much I enjoyed Ellen, his leading lady, who brought a lot of energy and excitement to the picture. I was very fascinated by Chaplin’s depiction of the depression, which made me feel like I was looking at an entirely different world from our own. While I don’t think the musical number towards the end is particularly enjoyable, and although I get bothered by how the film jumps around from one situation to a completely different one, I recommend this movie to anyone who likes part-talkies and loves big laughs.