From the Repertory | 8/10/17

My reviews of some notable recent Blu-Ray releases of classic and catalogue titles.

THE CRIMSON KIMONO (Twilight Time, 1959)

Looking back on the original 1959 marketing for The Crimson Kimono, one might be forgiven for mistaking it for some kind of racist exploitation film. The posters screamed "YES this is a beautiful American girl in the arms of a Japanese boy!" as if it was meant to make the audience clutch its pearls and buy a ticket to see just what on earth could have possessed such a nice white girl to kiss a Japanese boy instead of a white boy.

The film itself, however, is nothing like that. Naturally, the idea of a white girl and a Japanese boy was a bit scandalous in 1959, with WWII not quite 15 years in the rear view mirror. But director Samuel Fuller sought to provide a deeper exploration of racism and the inherent societal expectations of love. He wraps his tale of forbidden love in a crime story, in which two cops (one white, one Japanese) fall for the same sketch artist while on the trail of a murderer who shot a stripper down in the street. It's a sordid, hard boiled crime drama, with hints of film noir skirting around the edges. But at it's heart, it's a love story - one in which the decidedly white woman only has eyes for the Japanese man. While the studio tried to pressure Fuller into making the white male lead into a jerk in order to give her a reason to fall in love with the Japanese man, Fuller resisted, insisting that she needed no other reason than that she preferred him to the white man. The resulting film is a fascinating exploration of racial tensions at the time, especially in the wake of WWII, when Japanese Americans still were not fully trusted.

Fuller added yet another layer to the story, however. Because he is so used to racism, the Japanese cop assumes his partner's jealously over his relationship with the woman is due to racism, when in fact it was due to his own feelings for her. Fuller also wanted to explore "reverse racism," something our more modern sensibilities have lead us to understand doesn't exist. Fuller, and most of America at the time, may not have understood the difference between racism and prejudice, but he managed to make compelling drama out of the idea that anyone can feel hate, especially when they are conditioned to be hated by the majority. One might feel queasy about such a plot in today's political climate, but Fuller treats the material with dignity. The Japanese man's mistrust of his lifelong best friend is borne out of the way he has been treated by a society that does not trust him. While Fuller doesn't quite go that far into the themes he tackles (this was, after all, 1959), it's a surprisingly astute exploration of race relations of the time. Fuller was inspired by D.W. Griffith's Broken Blossoms, a film even more problematic by modern standards (less so, perhaps, than Griffith's The Birth of a Nation, but I digress), but I'm a firm believer that art should be judged by it's own time, not by our's. The Crimson Kimono is a noir-ish thriller with the heart of a social drama, making for a fascinating genre hybrid that showcases Fuller's innate ability to make films that were so much more than the sum of their parts.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX* (*BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK) (Twilight Time, 1972)

Woody Allen's uproarious adaptation of Dr. David Reuben's 1969 self-help bestseller, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) is an episodic comedy that takes titles of Reuben's chapters (Allen famously never actually read the book) and turns them into comedy gold. Covering such questions as "Do Aphrodisiacs Work?" and "Are Transvestites Homosexuals?," Allen finds the humor in sex with his trademark neurotic wit.

Like most anthology films, some are stronger than others, but Allen is clearly having a blast playing around with different genres, from sci-fi/horror in "Are the Findings of Doctors and Clinics Who Do Sexual Research and Experiments Accurate?" (a take-off on The Blob in which villagers are terrorized by a giant man-eating breast) to the game show format of "What's my Perversion?" (imagining a game show in which celebrity contestants try to guess the guests' sexual fetishes), to the Antonioni-inspired "Why Do Some Women Have Trouble Reaching an Orgasm?" (in which Allen's wife can only achieve orgasm in public places).

But the two highlights here are the final segment, "What Happens During Ejaculation?," a hilarious, Inside Out-esque adventure that imagines the brain a giant command center (lead by a deadpan Burt Reynolds) preparing the body for a sexual encounter, and "What is Sodomy?," a surprisingly tender short starring Gene Wilder as a doctor who has fallen in love with a sheep.

In "What Happens During Ejaculation?," Allen stars as a sperm, imagined here as a paratrooper about to leap into the unknown, facing imminent deployment as the body's various organs work together to complete the sexual encounter. It's easily the funniest segment of the bunch (not to mention the most creatively inspired), even if the previous segment felt like a more natural denouement.

"What is Sodomy?" is perhaps the most famous segment, and it's not difficult to see why. It tackles a shocking and even revolting subject with such humanity that it's difficult not to be moved by it. Wilder's performance is so gentle and so affecting that it's easy to forget that we're watching a film about bestiality. The episodic structure of the film may dampen the film's over all impact, but "What is Sodomy?" is the one that lingers, even after the other segments have faded away. A lot of that is due to Wilder, who finds something strangely tender in an an extreme situation. That is, perhaps, what is most notable about Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask - it's ability to take the most absurd sexual situations, and make them somehow relatable. We all have our perversions, and Allen is here to find the humor and the humanity in one of our most sacred and widespread obsessions.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL (Criterion, 1962)

A social faux-pas becomes the total unravelling of civilization in Luis Buñuel's devastating upper-class satire, The Exterminating Angel. The bourgeoisie was a favorite target of Buñuel's, and they were never more savagely lampooned than they were here, trapped in a room after a dinner party, unable to leave because of a simple breach of etiquette that causes them all to lose their grip on reality.

Buñuel confines them in a social trap of their own devising, caught in a web of absurd social mores from which they cannot escape, bound by baseless niceties and classist prejudice created by a senseless social order. And it is only when they turn to equally baseless superstition in which they have absolute faith that they are able to escape (if only temporarily). That they immediately get stuck once again, this time in a church, is no coincidence. Not only is Buñuel satirizing the upper class here, he's also turning a withering eye upon the church, and the blind faith in an institution that ultimately traps its faithful in a confining social and spiritual construct.

The Exterminating Angel takes the surrealism of Buñuel's earlier works and turns it into a kind of comic absurdity. While Buñuel actively eschewed any kind of rational interpretation of films such as his debut work, Un Chien Andalou, he boldly uses his surrealist sensibilities in service of an incendiary message, creating a darkly hilarious evisceration of a social order that no longer has any basis in reality.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

GHOST WORLD (Criterion, 2001)

Have you ever felt like a movie was made just for you? Like the filmmaker somehow understood everything about you and made a film with you in mind? Ghost World is that for me. I was 15 when I first saw it, and it was a revelation to my teenage mind. I showed it to everyone I knew. I showed it to my family. I showed it to friends. After I grew up I showed it to my wife. One day, when they're older, I will show it to my children. But none of them ever seemed to appreciate it the way I did. And while I know it is a film with a fervent following, Ghost World feels like it's mine, something that speaks directly to me in a way no one else can understand. Which is fitting, somehow. That is part of its magic and its beauty, I think - its ability to speak to and for those who don't quite feel at home in mainstream society. While I wouldn't say that necessarily describes me - I've always felt a certain disconnect between popular culture and societal standards, and the things I find worthwhile.

I like to think I've grown up since then, but there's just something so special about it and it's rebellious spirit, railing against the lack of authenticity in a soulless culture that has forgotten what really matters, always in the pursuit of empty consumption. Thora Birch, Scarlett Johannson, and Steve Buscemi have never been better, and the screenplay by director Terry Zwigoff and author Daniel Clowes remains one of the most biting yet sensitive portrayals of misanthropy ever seen on screen. It's characters are in search of authentic human connection, but most importantly they are in search of themselves - desperately looking for a niche in a world that insists on putting them into boxes. Ghost World is so good it hurts, and remains to this day one of my all-time favorite films.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

PRIZZI'S HONOR (Kino Lorber, 1985)

A mafia hitman and his new wife discover that they have each been hired to kill the other, in John Huston's penultimate film, Prizzi's Honor. Angelica Huston won an Oscar for her performance as a mafia daughter with a crush and a vendetta. The narrative meanders a little but, but Jack Nicholson and Kathleen Turner are in top form. Nicholson's working class thug is a thrilling departure, although the love story between he and Turner never really congeals enough to make the drama compelling. A dark comedy, to be sure, but it all ends on a surprisingly dour note that it never quite earns.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

SILKWOOD (Kino Lorber, 1983)

Meryl Streep received the fifth of her many Oscar nominations for portraying Karen Silkwood, a whistleblower at a nuclear facility who died under suspicious circumstances in 1974. Her story comes to life in Silkwood, Mike Nichols' conventional but undeniably compelling drama that hits all the notes one expects from these "one person vs. the corporation" films, but does so with a kind of grace that keeps it from being too plodding or preachy.

The film is overlong, and takes a while to get to the point, but there's something admirable about the way it takes its time to setup the characters and their particular circumstances. Streep is reliably excellent, as is Kurt Russell as her boyfriend, and Cher as their roommate. A top notch cast, and a strong, Oscar nominated script by Nora Ephron and Alice Arlen, keep Silkwood from sliding into cliche "Lifetime movie of the week" territory.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

STALKER (Criterion, 1979)

What to make of Andrei Tarkovsky's enigmatic science fiction masterpiece, Stalker? At once a haunting religious allegory and a chilling dystopian vision, Stalker is truly an experience like no other.

Ostensibly a film about three men attempting to journey to the site of a purported alien crash, Stalker's eponymous character is a guide who takes travelers deep into the heart of what is only known as "the Zone," in order to find a fabled Room that is said to grant people's innermost desires. Along the way they face deadly traps and shifting passageways designed to thwart them on their way to happiness, and only the stalkers can see them safely to The Room. Is he a prophet, leading people to the promised land? Is he a false prophet, playing on their hopes and dreams? Is he just a misguided man with misplaced faith?

Stalker dares not only to question religion's role in our world, but to pose the question - "even if our faith in God is in vain, was it still in service of a greater good?" Is a lie an evil even if it brings joy and hope? And what if, in the end, it turns out to be true? Shot in gorgeous, golden sepia, and later (in the Zone) in lovely, muted color, Stalker is a masterwork like no other. The new Criterion Blu-Ray is absolutely flawless, bringing each golden shot to breathtaking life. Like all Tarkovsky's films, it is a slow, deliberate work. Yet not a shot or a sound is wasted (the use of sound here is especially stunning). It's like something out of a dream, guiding us through a haunted, desolate landscape that eerily presages the Chernobyl disaster that would occur seven years later. It's a mesmerizing, utterly un-categorizable work that is undeniably the work of a master artist at the peak of his powers.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Blu-Ray Review | "Ugetsu"

I first encountered Kenji Mizoguchi's Ugetsu when I was a sophomore in college, sometime around 2005. While I had been interested in film for years already, college really helped expand my horizons. I was just beginning to take classes for my film studies minor, and my school library was stocked full of Criterion DVDs. I was in heaven.

I was unfamiliar with Mizoguchi at that point in my life. I had no knowledge of his silent films, or early social dramas like Sisters of the Gion and Osaka Elegy (something I have remedied in subsequent years). But Ugetsu was one of those rare films that immediately became one of my all-time favorites. I was in awe of Mizoguchi's craft, and it made me hungry for more.

Ugetsu came at the peak of Mizoguchi's career - he won the Golden Lion three years in a row for The Life of Oharu (1952), Ugetsu (1953), and Sansho the Bailiff (1954), a trio of masterpieces that showcase a consummate artist at the height of his powers. For this reviewer, however, Mizoguchi never topped Ugetsu, a haunting, supernatural love story that is as beautiful as it is tragic.

The film is a combination of Japanese ghost stories, one about an aspiring samurai who forsakes his family to pursue his dream, leaving his wife to take up prostitution to make ends meet. The other is a potter fleeing war with his family, who is seduced by a mysterious noble woman who turns out to be a ghost. Released eight years after the end of WWII, Ugetsu is as much a cautionary tale as it is a medieval legend.  Weary and plagued by war, these peasants give in to lust and greed, seeking a better life but ultimately waylaid by their own desires. Mizoguchi explores their fate through mesmerizing long takes and a quiet, eerie atmosphere, awash in fog and foreboding. Pay close attention to where he places his camera - unblinking, never judging, but always displaying a deep compassion for its characters humanity. The first time I saw Ugetsu, I wept profusely. Yet even in its tragedy, Mizoguchi finds a strange and otherworldly beauty.  Its use of the supernatural almost feels more metaphorical than literal - representing a man always chasing dreams rather than paying attention to what is right in front of him.

Ugetsu is a masterpiece. Not just one of the finest examples of Japanese cinema, but one of the all time classics. Mizoguchi's craftsmanship remains unparalleled, providing a deep and powerful exploration of human folly that achieves an almost mystical status. Like watching an ancient folktale being born right before our eyes, it remains one of cinema's most uniquely beautiful experiences. The long-awaited Criterion Blu-Ray adds no special features to the original 2005 DVD, but the new 4K restoration is absolutely breathtaking, and worth the upgrade for any fan of the film or the filmmaker. While Criterion has faithfully released Blu-Ray editions of Sansho, Oharu, and The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum, in recent years, the arrival of an HD transfer of his greatest work is cause for celebration.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Special features include:

• New 4K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray 
• Audio commentary by critic, filmmaker, and festival programmer Tony Rayns 
• Kenji Mizoguchi: The Life of a Film Director, a 1975 documentary by Kaneto Shindo 
• Two Worlds Intertwined, a 2005 appreciation of Ugetsu by Masahiro Shinoda Process and Production, a 2005 interview with Tokuzo Tanaka, first assistant director on Ugetsu 
• Interview from 1992 with cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa 
• Trailers 
• An essay by film critic Phillip Lopate (Blu-ray and DVD) and three short stories that influenced Mizoguchi in making the film (Blu-ray only)

From the Repertory | 6/22/17

1492: CONQUEST OF PARADISE (1992, Kino)

For a film that clocks in at over two and a half hours, Ridley Scott's 1492: Conquest of Paradise feels strangely rushed. Chronicling the first two voyages to the New World by Christopher Columbus, 1492 has a lot of ground to cover. Clearly in a hurry to get to the actual voyage, Scott never really gives the film time to breathe, or the sense of discovery and adventure to feel truly momentous (despite a glorious score by Vangelis).

Ignoring for a moment the fact that the film is basically a hagiography a man who in reality was a brutal murderer (it shifts blame for Columbus' atrocities to Adrián de Moxica), the film is either too long, or not long enough, depending on how you look at it. Scott is just trying to cram too much in here, and the result feels hurried, like a wildly historically inaccurate Cliff's Notes account of the Columbus story. On the plus side, the film is lovely to look at, beautifully shot by Adrian Biddle (although the Blu-Ray presentation feels a bit lackluster) and sumptuously designed by production designer Norris Spencer and costume designers Charles Knode and Barbara Rutter. And did I mention how amazing Vangelis' score is? It feels like it's building a legend, yet the film itself often feels like it's racing to catch up to its own ambition. Scott is a magnificent visual stylist, but 1492: Conquest of Paradise fails to dig deeper into its protagonist's mindset. It casts him as a simple dreamer, but ignores the actual history and ramifications of his "discovery." The result is a beautifully constructed drag that never seems to become the grand epic it truly wants to be.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

INFERNO (1953, Twilight Time)

Roy Ward Baker's Inferno is a lean, mean piece of work. The tale of a widely disliked millionaire who is left for dead in the middle of the desert by his wife and her lover after falling and breaking his leg, Inferno is a grueling character study that follows his struggles to make it back to civilization.

While Baker is best known for directing A Night to Remember, along with a host of B-horror pictures, Inferno is a unique beast all its own. Released in 3D in 1953, the film avoids most of the hokey visual gimmicks that were a hallmark of the 3D craze during the era, instead focusing on its protagonist's growth during his time in the desert. A vain, aloof, selfish man, he discovers new depths to himself as he struggles to survive. At first, it is a desire for vengeance keeping him going, but he soon discovers that he has much more to live for than he ever realized.

The central performance by Robert Ryan is excellent. While the film itself hasn't survived in the best condition (even on Blu-Ray, much of its Technicolor cinematography has faded to a pale blue), it remains a tautly directed thriller featuring well drawn characters and a compelling plot. The phrase "they don't make 'em like this anymore" has become a cliche, but in this case it's true - they really don't. 20th Century Fox didn't invest much in 3D after this first foray into the already waning craze, but this was no throwaway exploitation film. It's a gritty ode to the resilience of the human spirit, and the capacity for great change in the face of great adversity.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

THE MAN IN THE MOON (1991, Twilight Time)

The Man in the Moon marked both the film debut for young Reese Witherspoon, and the final film for legendary filmmaker Robert Mulligan. Mulligan is perhaps most famous for helming To Kill a Mockingbird, in The Man in the Moon, he paints another indelible portrait of a young girl coming of age in a small southern town.

Witherspoon is nothing short of remarkable - a natural talent from the very beginning. As a 14 year old girl feelings the pangs of first love in the form of an older boy who has eyes for her sister instead, Witherspoon delivers a fully realized and wholly believable performance that heralded the arrival of a major talent. Mulligan's sensitive direction feels like an anachronism, something out of the 60's rather than the 90's, but the resulting film feels so natural, so lived in, it's like a time capsule in the best possible way. It's a slower paced film about a slower way of life. We watch young Witherspoon learn and grow, and feel as if we have become  a part of this close-knit, rural family. It's a beautifully crafted look at childhood romance and the pain of learning life's hard lessons. Few filmmakers have captured the American south quite like Mulligan, and The Man in the Moon is his graceful, deeply moving farewell.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN (1978, Twilight Time)

Nick Nolte stars as a Vietnam veteran who finds himself smuggling drugs from Vietnam back to the States for a war-addled photographer (Michael Moriarty) and his wife (Tuesday Weld). The wife, it turns out, has become an addict while her husband was away, and Nolte finds himself drawn to her as they run away from a gang of thugs out to steal the drugs for themselves.

Released only 3 years after the United States withdrew from Vietnam, effectively surrendering the country to the North and ending the war, Who'll Stop the Rain has a melancholy, world-weary air, as if the continuation for the war for those who lived through it was all but inevitable. Nolte is fantastic, as are Moriarty and Weld (not to mention Anthony Zerbe as the cooly calculating villain), but the film itself is something of a mixed bag, occasionally feeling likely a cheaply constructed thriller using Vietnam as a selling point. Still, director Karel Reisz (The French Lieutenant's Woman) brings a wider sense of tragedy to the proceedings, as a long and grueling war continues to claim victims long after it's over.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

THE YEAR OF THE COMET (1992, Twilight Time)

A wine historian and a charming rogue go on the run in pursuit of the world's most expensive bottle of wine, which is also being in pursued by a band of criminals who believe it contains a formula they need to complete a new fountain of youth drug. The plot is silly, of course, but there's a certain charm to Peter Yates' and William Goldman's caper. Unfortunately, it's brought down by wooden lead performances that just can't sell the film's inherent outlandishness. Beautifully shot by Roger Pratt, and featuring a lovely score by Hummie Mann, but they're in service of a film that's just a bit too silly for its own good. Goldman's script features some sparkling one-liners, but the film's mix of action and romantic comedy often comes off as contrived rather than charming. Still, while it may be less than the sum of its parts, many of those parts are surprisingly entertaining, especially as the film nears its climax.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

From the Repertory | 5/16/2017

A recap of some of the last month's new and notable Blu-Ray releases.


ANOTHER WOMAN (1988, Twilight Time)
Among Woody Allen's dramas, Another Woman is perhaps one of the least known. Yet, in my opinion, it is his finest dramatic achievement, one that steps away from the almost self-conscious emulation of Ingmar Bergman in Interiors and asserts Allen as a dramatic force all his own. Sure, Bergman's influence is all over this thing (it's shot by Sven Nykvist for God's sake), but rather than be a slavish recreation of Bergman's style, Another Woman feels much more completely Allen's.

Gena Rowlands gives one of the most remarkable performances in the Allen canon as a college professor whose work on her novel is interrupted by the sounds of sessions from the psychiatrist's office next door wafting through the air vents. Propriety propels her to block off the vents at first, but soon she becomes enamored with the drama unfolding next door, as she listens to the struggles of a young woman whose life begins to mirror her own. She soon begins to see her life as the sham that it is, having reached 50 years old and having much less to show for it than she though. From her philandering husband (whom she stole from another woman), to her unwitting flirtations with other men that have threatened to destroy relationships, she left a path of emotional destruction in her wake without ever being self-aware enough to see it.

Another Woman is a fascinating character study, mostly free of Allen's trademark neuroticism, yet ripe with some of his most astute introspection. At first, the narration seems distracting, but by the end it becomes clear how vital it is as a window into its protagonist's soul, her story spilling onto the pages of the novel she is writing. The chilly distance with which Allen directs feeds directly into the her own detachment from humanity, something which slowly breaks down over the course of the film. It's a brilliant work, one that often doesn't get the credit it deserves, even among Allen's devotees. While Crimes & Misdemeanors and Hannah and Her Sisters have their champions, when it comes to Allen's dramatic output of the 1980's, in my opinion Another Woman has no peer.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

THE FORTUNE COOKIE (1966, Twilight Time)
Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau star in Billy Wilder's acerbic insurance fraud satire, The Fortune Cookie. A comedic riff on some of the same themes that drove Wilder's Double Indemnity, The Fortune Cookie tells the story of a cameraman (Lemmon) who suffers a mild concussion after being hit by a football player while filming a game form the sidelines. His brother-in-law, known as "Whiplash" Willie (Matthau), is an unscrupulous, ambulance chasing lawyer, who convinces him to fake more serious injuries in order to sue his employer and the football team for 1 million dollars.

Matthau would go on to win an Oscar for his performance as the fast-talking Willie, and it's easy to see why. This was the first collaboration in what would become a lifelong friendship for Lemmon and Matthau, and their chemistry here is readily apparent. While it doesn't have quite the same impact as Double Indemnity, but Wilder's dark comedy cuts deep, taking no prisoners among lawyers and insurance men - both sides using ethically dubious tactics for the sake of money, neither taking stock of the man at the center of the madness. There's a dark sort of melancholy at the heart of the film, readily apparent by the film's rather downbeat finale. But it's also deeply, almost painfully funny. The saddest part, however, is perhaps the fact that nothing has changed. Wilder remains as much ahead of his time as he was of it, skewering human foibles with a withering eye.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

TAMPOPO (1985, Criterion)
The term "food porn" is often used to describe films or TV shows that showcase delicious-looking food, and does not usually refer to actual pornography featuring food. Juzo Itami's Tampopo, however, skirts that line with its unusual blend of eroticism and culinary delights. Billed as a "ramen western," Tampopo follows two itinerant truck drivers who happen upon a struggling ramen shop, and set about helping the shop's widowed owner improve her skills to become the greatest ramen cook in the land.

An ecstatic celebration of food in all its forms, Tampopo shifts back and forth from Tampopo's quest to have the best ramen shop, to tales of sexual exploits involving a gangster's food fetish, and a group of young women taking an etiquette class who get an unexpected lesson in how to eat ramen.  It's a wild and uniquely Japanese culinary fantasia, but it's also not particularly cohesive. Its disparate elements don't always add up, and often distract from the main narrative. It's undeniably mouth-watering, and its exploration of the eroticism of eating is particularly memorable, but the individual elements never really add up to a satisfying whole. Nevertheless, it's a hard film to watch and not leave hungry.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

YOU'LL NEVER GET RICH (1941, Twilight Time)
Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth star in this delightfully frothy musical romp about a choreographer (Astaire) who falls in love with a beautiful dancer (Hayworth), after having to pretend to be in love with her thanks to one of his his philandering producer's schemes to hide his infidelity from his wife. Before things go too far, he ends up drafted into the army, but finds himself reconnecting with his former flame through his producers continued machinations.

While the plot is somewhat disjointed, it's ultimately beside the point. What people are here for is to see Astaire and Hayworth dance - and dance they do. Unfortunately the numbers are few and far between, relying instead on Astaire and Hayworth's comedic chops and considerable charm to carry the convoluted plot. Still, it's hard to go wrong with this pair, and while the dance numbers don't have the energy and verve of a Busby Berkeley number, it's easy to see how this film made Hayworth a star. Plus the crisp black and white cinematography is dazzlingly rendered on Twilight Time's new limited edition Blu-Ray. You'll Never Get Rich is a film that's easy to recommend based on its stars alone, and the jazzy Cole Porter score makes for a toe-tapping good time.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

From the Repertory | 4/23/17

New and recent Blu-Ray releases, week of 4/23/17.

ANATAHAN (1953, Kino Lorber)
The final film by the legendary Josef von Sternberg, Anatahan tells the true story of 12 Japanese soldiers who are shipwrecked on a remote island in the Pacific in the waning days of WWII. Unaware that the war has ended, the men begin to fight a war of their own, torn apart and driven to near madness by their affection for the island's single female inhabitant, the lovely Keiko.

The men refer to her as the "Queen Bee," and to themselves as the "drones," but their devotion soon devolves into jealousy and murder, slowly stripping away the humanity of each of the island's inhabitants. The dialogue is completely in Japanese, without subtitles. The dialogue is interpreted by an unseen narrator, who is one of the castaway soldiers. The effect of the ever-present narrator is somewhat alienating, but it also cements Von Sternberg as a decidedly non-Japanese observer - an outsider looking in.

The film was originally released in censored form in 1953, before Von Sternberg's preferred director's cut finally saw the light of day in 1958. It contains a surprising amount of nudity for a film of the time (more of which is documented in outtakes available on the new Kino Blu-Ray), but it feels natural and even integral to the plot. One can easily see how the men, trapped on the island with only one woman, were driven to madness by their own toxic masculinity. The film itself is both hampered and helped by its omnipresent narration, almost as if we are looking at a great film through a window or a filter. This adds a thematic layer to its structure, but its almost Brechtian alienation effect is at times distracting. Nevertheless, it remains a fascinating formal experience, and a deeply personal project for Von Sternberg.

Grade - ★★★ (out of four)

BEHIND THE DOOR (1919, Flicker Alley)
"I told him...that if I ever caught him I'd skin him alive; but he died before I finished... Damn him!"

There are few films from the silent era as startling or as darkly gruesome as Irving Willat's Behind the Door, a WWI revenge thriller released only one year after the Great War ended. The film follows Oscar Krug (the extraordinary Hobart Bosworth), an American taxidermist who has the misfortune of having German heritage just as the USA declares war on Germany. Attacked by the neighbors he once called friends, Oscar volunteers for the military, and is made captain of a ship. Distraught, his wife stows away on the ship in order to stay with him during the war. When his ship is torpedoed by a U-Boat, the two are cast adrift in a lifeboat, only to be rescued by an enemy vessel. Rather than save them both, the U-Boat captain takes Oscar's wife, and casts him back out to sea to drown, sending Oscar on a bloody quest for revenge.

Despite the fact that some of the film remains lost, Behind the Door is a harrowing experience. It may tame by today's standards, but it's hard to deny the visceral impact of its horrific climax. Willat pulls no punches when it comes to the horror that awaits the U-Boat captain at Oscar's vengeful hands. The film was something of a sensation at the time, quickly gaining an infamous reputation for its grim subject matter. Yet there is a tenderness underneath its bloody exterior. At its heart, Behind the Door is a love story, one that continues just as strongly after death. Willat stages action sequences with a true master's eye - the scene in which the townspeople attempt to kill Oscar for his German heritage is especially thrilling, illustrating the depth of the suspicion and bigotry that was directed at those of German descent (some things, it seems, never chance). The restoration on the new Flicker Alley Blu-Ray is simply stunning, utilizing illustrated placeholders to take the place of the missing scenes, helping the story continue almost seamlessly. Behind the Door is a forgotten treasure, a haunting tale of love and vengeance that stands as one of the most gruesome and disturbing films of the silent era.

Grade - ★★★½ (out of four)

COMES A HORSEMAN (1978, Twilight Time)
Alan J. Pakula took an archetypal Western scenario and placed it in the latter days of World War II, as two warring land-owners are suddenly faced with a new threat when agents from a major oil company threaten to take their ranches for the natural riches underneath. At first, you almost don't notice that Comes a Horseman takes place in 1945 rather than the 1800's. The characters lead a simpler way of life, fighting over land rights for their cattle. Jane Fonda stars a Ella Connors, a rancher who teams up with a fellow landowner named Frank 'Buck' Athearn (James Caan) after his partner is gunned down by ruthless cattle baron, J.W. Ewing (Jason Robards). Ewing has been after Connors' property (not to mention her hand in marriage) for years, and is determined to live up to his legendary father's accomplishments, and is willing to stoop to any means to get his way. But when the oil company comes knocking, Ewing and Connors find themselves unlikely allies in a battle for their very way of life, even as Ewing seeks to make a deal with the devil.

Comes a Horseman is ultimately a tale of can-do American resilience, even in the face of soulless corporate expansion. While the story is a classic Western structure, Pakula doesn't give us typically defined heroes or villains. We first meet murderous cattle baron Ewing as he is burying his son, who was killed in action in WWII. It is a tender moment, later undercut by his reprehensible actions, yet Pakula is making a point that he is a human too, not some mustache-twirling visage of evil. All the characters are struggling to carve out a living on the American plains (breathtakingly photographed by the great Gordon Willis), and Pakula treats them with all with humanity. They are holdovers from a forgotten way of life, facing obsolescence through encroaching modernity. The film also features a fantastic, Oscar nominated turn by Richard Farnsworth, making the transition from stuntman to character actor, in a quietly towering performance.

The film itself is a bit of a mixed bag. It moves in fits and starts, and the ending, while a stark reminder of the resilience of the American west, comes out of left field. It's undeniably a solidly crafted drama, beautifully shot and acted, but it never quite seems to figure out where it wants to go or what it wants to be, reaching a violent climax that feels strangely unearned, even by the standards of the western archetypes it seeks to emulate.

Grade - ★★½ (out of four)

HOW TO STEAL A MILLION (1966, Twilight Time)
The great William Wyler, never one to get stuck in any one particular genre, tried his hand at the caper film in 1966's How to Steal a Million, an effervescent romantic heist picture starring Peter O'Toole as a charming society burglar and Audrey Hepburn as the uptight daughter of an art forger.  When Hepburn's father loans out one of his forged sculptures to a museum, he soon realizes that the museum plans to have it professionally inspected before it is insured, thereby putting not only his reputation as an art dealer, but his freedom in jeopardy. In order to save her fathers, Hepburn plans a daring heist with the help of O'Toole's charismatic rogue, whom she caught attempting to steal one of her father's forged Van Goghs from their living room.

The two stars a clearly having a grand old time, and the film gets great mileage out of their boundless charm. Wyler wisely allows O'Toole and Hepburn to command the screen, letting How to Steal a Million coast on their combined magnetism and elegance (buoyed along by a sprightly score by John Williams, here credited as "Johnny Williams"). Over the course of his long and storied career, Wyler proved himself a master chameleon, adept at almost any genre he touched. How to Steal Million is no different, a graceful and fleet-footed caper that is light, frothy, and oh-so-delicious.

Grade - ★★★ (out of four)

MOBY DICK (1956, Twilight Time)
Gregory Peck stars as the legendary Captain Ahab in John Huston's solid 1956 adaptation of Herman Melville's classic novel, Moby Dick. Perhaps a more straight-foward approach to the story than Melville's more philosophical text, Huston does a remarkable job of capturing a sense of time and place, not to mention the existential dread at the heart of the work. Peck is in fine form as Ahab, while Friedrich von Ledebur is also excellent as the cannibal, Queequeg.

Yet the real star here is cinematographer Oswald Morris (Lolita), who shot the film with a washed-out color scheme that almost looks black and white, evoking paintings of the sea from the 1800's that inspired the overall visual style of the film. It's beautifully capture on Twilight Time's Blu-Ray release, which restores the film's unique color palate for the first time in decades. The film's visual effects also hold up surprisingly well. While the crew frequently struggled with the whale (not unlike the crew of Jaws would nearly two decades later), but the sparing use of the animatronic creature elevates his status as more of a mythic idea than an actual living being. While it ultimately loses some of its narrative drive in the middle section, Huston's take on the Great American Novel is surprisingly light on its feat - a thrilling portrait of single-minded obsession that still resonates today.

Grade - ★★★ (out of four)

THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK (1971, Twilight Time)
The title of The Panic at Needle Park refers to a time when heroin supplies were running low in New York City's infamous "Needle Park," leading addicts and junkies to turn on one another in order to score their next fix. Al Pacino made his film debut in Jerry Schatzberg's harrowing film, as a heroin addict who introduces his new girlfriend to a dangerous world of drug addiction that threatens to destroy her life. It sounds a bit like an after-school special, with a "don't do drugs, kids" sense of moral propriety, but that's not what this film is at all. There's an almost documentary-like sense of realism at work here. It's raw, gritty, and most of all, painfully honest. It provides no easy answers for its characters, no trite moralizing or judgement. The film simply drops us into these characters' lives, then pulls us back out again without any real sense of resolution.

Of course, there is no real resolution for these characters. They feel completely authentic and the performances are uniformly excellent. It's easy to see why Al Pacino went on to become a major star - he's magnetic here, and totally believable. It's a tough sit, often feeling aimless, which is a result of its verite-like style. And while it sometimes seems to be spinning its wheels in 70's-era miserablism, it's hard to take your eyes of the central performances, and the truly alarming descent into the ugliness of addiction at its core. It feels like something out of a time capsule; a portrait of a specific place and time, capturing the lives of the people of Needle Park in the 1970's in a deeply human, and sometimes heartbreaking, way.

Grade - ★★★ (out of four)

PEYTON PLACE (1957, Twilight Time)
"It's about time you learned that girls wanna do the same things as boys. And they have the right to know how."

Based on the controversial best-seller by Grace Metalious, Peyton Place would go on to become a long-running prime time soap opera. But not before being turned into a sumptuous, Oscar-nominated film, which captured all of the drama, romance, and sordid secrets of the small New England town of Peyton Place. Sure it's sudsy, but what delicious scandal it offers up, examining the lives of a small town in 1941, in the months leading up the outbreak of World War II.

The film doesn't have a single overarching story, choosing instead on focusing on various Peyton Place citizens and their individual stories, as they navigate life in a judgmental, conservative town. Girls fall in love with boys they can't have, a new progressive principal threatens to shake up the school, and gossip nearly ruins lives, as war looms in Europe, far away from their tiny problems. While toned down from the novel, the film explores topics that were pretty hot-button in 1957, from sexual education, to abortion, to rape. Yet despite its heavy subject matter (and 2.5+ hour running time), Peyton Place remains remarkably light on its feet, ingratiating the audience to small town life, and giving each character, no matter how small, a rich life of their own. It makes us feel a part of this charming but old-fashioned community, and it tweaks their close-mindedness in an ultimately warm and loving way. It's not the incisive social commentary of, say, Douglas Sirk, but there's something undeniably enchanting about the stories it tells. Once you fall in love with Peyton Place, you may never want to leave.

Grade - ★★★½ (out of four)

Blu-Ray Review | "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg"

Jacques Demy's swooning, brightly colored ode to the bittersweet pain of young love is just as potent, honest, and relatable as it was 53 years ago. Often dismissed as being lightweight (a criticism also lobbed at its recent spiritual successor, La La Land), in reality, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is anything but. It somehow manages to be both sad and joyful at once, a celebration of first love and a sobering dose of reality to counter the starry-eyed fawning that comes with it.

The film made Catherine Deneuve an international star, and it's not difficult to see why. She luminous in this, a bright, wide-eyed young woman who matures over the course of an hour and a half. We can almost see her grow before our very eyes. As Geneviève, the teenage daughter of an umbrella shop owner who falls for Guy (Nino Castelnuovo), a young mechanic with few prospects, she practically embodies innocence and naivete. But when their whirlwind romance is interrupted by a military draft, and the requisite promises to wait and write every day, her journey to adulthood begins.

The letters, of course, become less frequent, and new suitors begin arriving on her doorstep. Pregnant with Guy's child, and hounded by her well-meaning mother's insistence that she seek financial security, Geneviève is forced to make difficult choices that will determine the course of both of their lives. When Guy returns from the war and discovers that Geneviève has moved on without him, he finds new love in the most unexpected of places.

Demy paints a picture of a young couple in love, torn apart by circumstance, before eventually drifting apart and finding other people to settle down with and start a family. The fires of passion eventually give way to the comfort of the safe and familiar. And yet, Demy never judges his characters or suggests that they are settling. They are merely growing up, growing apart, creating new lives of which the other cannot be a part. It's a beautifully sad, yet strangely uplifting and hopeful romance, one that has no illusions about the realities of young love, but treats it with dignity anyway.

The influence of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg continues to be felt, from the films of Wes Anderson to the aforementioned La La Land, to even films like Lars Von Trier's Dancer in the Dark. Demy's use of color is almost revolutionary (not to mention the fact that every line of dialogue is sung, like an intimately scaled opera) - blossoming with the young lovers, before fading into more muted shades after they grow apart and start families of their own. Beneath its colorful exterior (gorgeously rendered through Criterion's stunning Blu-Ray transfer), there's something painful and almost raw about its emotional frankness. Yet Demy's outlook is never anything less than hopeful, embracing the romantic delirium of first love, while honoring the beauty and the strength of second love. The Umbrellas of Cherbourg may revel in its own artifice, but it is through that cinematic fakery that it captures the spirit of young love - filled with passion and fire, but never quite grounded in reality. Demy sends his two lovers soaring before bringing them back to earth, and the effect is at once wise, rapturous, and heartrending. It's pure perfection.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from The Criteron Collection.

Special features include:

• 2K digital restoration, with 5.1 surround DTS-HD 
• Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray 
• Once Upon a Time . . . “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg,” a 2008 documentary 
• Interview from 2014 with film scholar Rodney Hill 
• French television interview from 1964 featuring director Jacques Demy and composer Michel Legrand discussing the film 
• Audio recordings of interviews with actor Catherine Deneuve (1983) and Legrand (1991) at the National Film Theatre in London 
• Restoration demonstration Trailer 
• PLUS: An essay by critic Jim Ridley

RiverRun Award Winners 2017

The theaters are closed, the projectors have been shut down, and RiverRun 2017 is a wrap. The festival closed out last night with a screening of James Gray's phenomenal new film, The Lost City of Z, but not before the winners of the 2017 jury awards were announced. I'm glad to see the love for The Ornithologist and Quest, which were my favorite films playing in competition at this year's festival. As always, the winners are an eclectic and diverse group of films, each unique and worthy it its own way. Next year will mark the 20th annual RiverRun Film Festival, but before we put 2017 to bed and look forward to next year's milestone, here is the complete list of this year's winners:

AFTER LOVE

NARRATIVE FEATURES COMPETITION

Best Narrative Feature Award  AFTER LOVE / France / Belgium (Director: Joachim Lafosse) —
The Peter Brunette Award for Best Director – Narrative Feature was presented to: João Pedro Rodrigues, THE ORNITHOLOGIST / Portugal / France / Brazil
Outstanding Performance – Bérénice Bejo (AFTER LOVE)
Best Screenplay – Raja Amari (FOREIGN BODY)
Best Cinematography – Pablo Paniagua (DARK SKULL)
Visionary Award – DAYVEON / USA (Director: Amman Abbasi)
Human Rights Award – WINDOW HORSES / Canada (Director: Ann Marie Flemming)

RiverRun’s 2017 Narrative Features jurors included: Brian Belovarac, Clint Bowie, Lisa Lucas, and Epiphany Huffman.

QUEST

DOCUMENTARY FEATURES COMPETITION

Best Documentary Feature: QUEST / USA (Director: Jonathan Olshefski)

Honorable Mentions — Documentary Features were presented to:

SACRED (Director: Thomas Lennon)
FOREVER PURE / UK / Israel / Russia (Director: Maya Zinshtein)
THE ISLANDS AND THE WHALES / UK / DENMARK (Director: Mike Day)

RiverRun’s 2017 Documentary Features Competition jurors included: Caroline Breder-Watts, Jason Gorber and Dolly Turner.

WAITING FOR HASSANA

SHORTS COMPETITION

Best Documentary Short: WAITING FOR HASSANA / Nigeria (Director: Ifunanya Maduka)
Honorable Mention: SOURTOE: THE STORY OF THE SORRY CANNIBAL / Canada (Director: Daniel Roher)

Best Narrative Short was a tie and presented to:
APOLO81 / Spain (Director: Óscar Bernàcer)
WEG MET WILLEM / Netherlands (Director Willem Bosch)
Best Student Narrative Short: THE DAM / Australia / (Director: Brendon McDonall)

RiverRun’s 2017 Narrative Shorts jurors included: Gregory Von Hausch, James E. Duff, Summer Shelton and Andrew Mirmanesh.

Best Animated Short: LOVE / Hungary / France (Director: Réka Bucsi)
Best Student Animated Short: LETHE / UK (Director: Kat Michaelides)

RiverRun’s 2017 Animated Shorts jurors included: Jake Armstrong, Joy Buran and Noelle Melody.

PURPLE DREAMS

AUDIENCE CHOICE AWARDS
Altered States - 11:55
Documentary - UNREST
Narrative - LITTLE WING
Best Overall Score (with a 4.97 out of 5.0) - PURPLE DREAMS

Soundtrack Review | "Power Rangers" (Brian Tyler)

The original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers TV series was one of my first introductions to the idea of leitmotifs. I remember being aware that the heroes had a specific theme, the main villains each had their own themes, and even the bullies, Bulk and Skull, had their own specific musical identity. I was keenly aware of these melodies, and used them whenever I would play with my Power Rangers action figures, providing my own soundtrack to whatever story I came up with.

While the music from the original series wasn't anyone's idea of a great score, it made quite an impression on my young mind. Brian Tyler's score for Lionsgate's new reboot is only based around a single new theme for the Rangers, the rousing anthem made me feel like a kid again. That old magic was back.

Tyler's score doesn't have quite the same diversity of motifs as the original series did, but he makes up for it by crafting one humdinger of a main theme, first introduced in the aptly titled "Power Rangers Theme" and revisited frequently throughout the score. The rising chord progressions are a familiar structure for film score fans, but just try not to feel the hair on your arms stand up when Tyler really kicks the theme into high gear in tracks like "Megazord" and "It's Morphing Time!," which also throws in some 80's-style synths reminiscent of Giorgio Morodor, or more recently, Daft Punk's Tron: Legacy. On the whole, the score has a darker tone than the almost sprightly themes of the original series, reflecting the teen angst that permeates the film. Tracks like "Birth of a Legend," "Metamorphosis,"and "The Morphing Grid feature an almost melancholy acoustic sound, but one that never strays to far from optimistic. Power Rangers is certainly more serious than the TV show, but it thankfully never takes itself too seriously.

SABAN'S POWER RANGERS. Image courtesy of Lionsgate.

As a result, Tyler plays it mostly straight in the score, even as the film sometimes plants its tongue firmly in its cheek. Tyler helps balance the moments of levity by never allowing them to fall into parody, imbuing the film with a sense of gravity. "Confessions" offers a contemplative version of the main theme, as the five teens finally start to open up to each other about their own painful pasts. The Morodor-style synths return in "Goldar," which is also one of the score's most heart-pumping action tracks, and "The Zords," providing a pulsing bass line rather than taking focus. The villain, Rita Repulsa, also gets her own slithery identity in "Rita," comprised mainly of pulsating strings, before building to a thunderous crescendo.

But the moment everyone is waiting for, of course, is the integration of the original series' catchy theme song, "Go Go Power Rangers," which finally bursts forth triumphantly in "Let's Ride," a moment that was ultimately replaced by the actual vocal version of the song in the film. Tyler uses the theme sparingly, not unlike Ludwig Goransson's score for Creed, holding back the classic theme until just the perfect moment - in this case the emergence of the Zords as the rangers head off to fight the monstrous Goldar. Tyler reprises the original theme in a more complete version in "Go Go Power Rangers - End Credits," but the score's real emotional climax comes in "Hold the Line," which accompanies the moment when the Rangers truly begin to work together as a team, just before uniting to form the Megazord.

The album itself isn't in chronological order, but the arrangement is nevertheless a fully realized and satisfying experience, providing grand scale heroic anthems as well as a nostalgic sense of childhood wonder. It may not break any new ground, musically speaking, but it's a hell of a lot of fun. I loved every minute of it.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Now available on digital platforms from Varese Sarabande, and available on CD April 21st.

Blu-Ray Review | "Being There"

After the death of his beloved employer, known only as "the old man," a simple-minded gardener named Chance (Peter Sellers) is thrust out into the world, his only knowledge of life outside his garden coming from the television programs he watches religiously. After her limo accidentally backs into him, he is taken in by Eve (Shirley MacLaine), the wealthy wife of well-connected businessman, Benjamin Rand (Melvyn Douglas, who won an Oscar for his performance). The Rands mistake Chance's childlike naivete for profound insights into life and politics. Benjamin, who is dying but is a close friend and adviser to the President, introduces Chance to the Commander-in-Chief, and soon his musings are gardening become the cornerstone of the President's economic policy. Chance unwittingly becomes a national celebrity overnight, as his simple outlook on life turns into a refreshingly uncomplicated philosophy in a world obsessed with political intrigue, drama, and detail.

Much like its lead character, Hal Ashby's altogether wonderful Being There, out this month on Blu-Ray from The Criterion Collection, is something of a blank emotional slate onto which the audience can project its own feelings. Chance is essentially a child, probably somewhere on the autism spectrum, uneducated and illiterate, yet he stumbles into the halls of power almost without question from the powers that be. He becomes a "flavor of the moment," and America becomes willing to give the keys to the kingdom to a man who is wholly unqualified and without the proper understanding of how the government, or the world in general, works. Sound familiar? In that regard, Being There feels eerily prescient (at the time it was interpreted as a comment on the rise of Ronald Reagan...oh how far we've come). It's also a comment on race in America that still rings true today. "It's for sure a white man's world in America." exclaims Louise, the black maid who raised Chance, and is the only one who knows who he really is. "Look here: I raised that boy since he was the size of a piss-ant. And I'll say right now, he never learned to read and write. No, sir. Had no brains at all. Was stuffed with rice pudding between th' ears. Shortchanged by the Lord, and dumb as a jackass. Look at him now! Yes, sir, all you've gotta be is white in America, to get whatever you want."

There's a lot to be said for Being There's commentary about the ease in which Chance rockets to unwitting (and unearned) political stardom, but he is certainly no Donald Trump. There's no malice in his actions, no intent to deceive or lie to anyone. He simply doesn't understand what's going on around him, while everyone else ascribes whatever they want to his vague pronouncements. There's a kindness and sense of childlike wonder about him that really gives the film its sense of charm. In fact, by the end of the film, Ashby has turned chance into a kind of Christ-like figure, as he literally walks on water in the film's final shot. In that regard, Chance's rise to prominence is not necessarily meant to be a bad thing. He opens people up, and connects them with a simpler, less complicated view of life, which humanity in all its wisdom has turned into a series of neurotic political maneuverings. "Life is a state of mind," goes the final line of the film, and indeed, Being There seems to have little use for those who unnecessarily complicated with needless concerns and made-up human dramas. Therein lies the real beauty of the film - Chance's rise is both positive and negative, bringing out the best and the worst of human nature.

Whether or not his influence is good or bad is never really explored, and ultimately left up to the audience. Ashby wisely places the ball in our court, leaving us to interpret it as we will. It's both a critique of a world that allows such a man to achieve such a prominent role in American leadership (where even the most unqualified of white men is allowed to soar to the top of the food chain), and a celebration of his good-natured, completely non-cynical outlook, standing apart from the high-speed neurosis of modern American life. Being There is, like Chance, whatever we want it to be. It's a beautiful enigma (given life through Caleb Deschanel's evocative cinematography, gorgeously rendered on Blu-Ray), both heartwarming and melancholy - a film that has gone on to influence such films as Rain Man and Forrest Gump. Yet it has somehow stands apart in its refusal to sentimentalize its story. The result is something magic and otherworldly, a film that closed out the 1970's with a knowing smile, mourning that which was to come, and celebrating an unassuming antidote to the decade's increasing sense of materialism and political polarization. And it feels more essential now than ever.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection.

From the Repertory | 3/30/17

Capsule reviews of new Blu-Ray releases:

CHILLY SCENES OF WINTER (Twilight Time)
Originally released in 1979 as Head Over Heels, Chilly Scenes of Winter was re-released in 1982 with a new ending and sporting the original title of Ann Beattie's novel on which it was based. Billed as a "romantic comedy," it's actually much more subtle and downbeat than what one would general consider a rom-com. John Heard plays a professional who falls in love with a married woman, who just happens to be having marital troubles with her husband. When she decides to go back to him, however, that sends Heard into an obsessive tail-spin.

Chilly Scenes of Winter covers some pretty dark territory in relationships, although its tone remains mostly light. It's naturalism is perhaps its greatest asset. There's never any malevolence in the characters' actions, but it feels like such an honest exploration of the kind of all-encompassing infatuation and the tricky waters of romantic attraction. Every choice rings true. In fact it feels so normal it almost loses its dramatic thrust, and Heard's occasional fourth-wall-breaking asides seem out-of-place with the rest of the film. There's not a lot to hang on to here, but it is marvelously performed.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

INTERIORS (Twilight Time)
In his first dramatic film, Woody Allen paid homage to one of his greatest cinematic heroes, Ingmar Bergman. Indeed, every frame of Interiors seems almost haunted by Bergman, from Gordon Willis' chilly cinematography, to the hushed, portentous atmosphere, it certainly feels like a lost Bergman film, even if it often lacks the legendary Swedish director's depth.

The story of three adult sisters whose family is torn apart by their father's sudden abandonment of their controlling mother, Interiors has all of Allen's existential crises without any of his trademark comedy. The result is hit and miss, often as self-consciously somber as it is engrossing. The performances are the highlight here, each one is a standalone highlight, even if Maureen Stapleton is a mid-film shot of adrenaline. It's dramatic elements may feel a bit disjointed, but Allen's mastery of dialogue and character detail keep Interiors from slipping too deeply into self-seriousness.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

THE LOVE WITCH (Oscilloscope)
Anna Biller's deliriously entertaining ode to the over-the-top erotic horror films of the 1960s, popularized by the likes of Jean Rollin, Dario Argento, and Mario Bava, is one of the most stunning and flawless genre homages I have ever seen. Not even Tarantino has so closely replicated a genre film like this. It feels completely authentic, like something out of a time machine. The Love Witch absolutely nails the atmosphere of those erotic giallo films that were so prominent on the exploitation circuit at the time. From the vibrant colors, to the soft-focus cinematography, to the music, to the framing, to the presentational performance style, everything about The Love Witch hums not only with a reverence for its influences, but with a feminist verve all its own.

While many of these films existed mainly to titillate with the promise of bare female flesh (rarely delivering on their own lurid premises), The Love Witch turns the concept on its head. There is certainly flesh to spare, but Biller isn't letting the audience off the hook here. Her story of a young witch whose desperation for love leads her to develop a sex potion designed to give men what they want, believing if she fulfills their sexual fantasies it will translate into love, resonates with more sophisticated flair than much of its exploitation brethren. Instead of making them fall in love, the potion drives them mad, causing them to commit suicide. It isn't long before the men of the town bring out their figurative torches and pitchforks in an effort to kill the witch. It's an alluring and engaging allegory for modern sexual politics, where women give into the fantasies of men, only to be punished for it later by a society that fears the very sexually liberated women it claims to champion. I loved every minute of this film. As a fan of Rollin and Bava, I was especially impressed by the Biller's fidelity to the genre. She clearly has a strong understanding of what made these exploitation films what they were, and how to use their structure to achieve a greater thematic depth. The Love Witch is a veritable orgy of sinful cinematic tropes, re-purposed and re-imagined for a new time by an artist working at the top of her game.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

PINOCCHIO - Signature Collection (Disney)
"Always let your conscience be your guide."

I feel like Pinocchio is often overlooked in the Disney canon. While "When You Wish Upon a Star" has become the de-facto Disney theme song, the film itself almost stands in the shadow of its predecessor, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, which has the distinction of being the first feature length animated film. Disney had a lot riding on the follow-up, and the result is one of his finest achievements.

It's surprising how dark this thing is. Pinocchio is a warning to children as much as it is a charming piece of entertainment, and the results of Pinocchio's misbehavior are occasionally terrifying (what child didn't grow up thinking lying would make their nose grow?), with nightmarish imagery that makes for some of Disney's darkest moments. While much of this kind of thing wouldn't fly today (the smoking, the drinking), it makes Pinocchio's journey that much more harrowing and his redemption all the more moving. It's a beautifully animated work whose enduring message of simple goodness continues to resonate, anchored by some of the most endearing characters and sidekicks that Disney ever created.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

STANLEY & IRIS (Twilight Time)
I've always felt that John Williams' score for Stanley & Iris is one of his most overlooked gems. It's small scale, unassuming, based only on two simple, straightforward themes, which it repeats for most of its short running time. But that's not unlike the film itself - small, lovely, earnest, never spectacular but always charming. Stanley & Iris, the final film by the great Martin Ritt, is anchored by two graceful performances by Robert DeNiro and Jane Fonda as the eponymous duo; Stanley, an illiterate cook, and Iris, a factory worker who decides to help him learn to read.

The film has a kind of quiet dignity about it, as Iris helps Stanley regain his confidence through finally learning to read, a handicap which has held him back his entire life. They fall in love along the way, of course, and the film has very little in the way of conflict or drama. But Ritt explores the crippling impediment of illiteracy without turning it into an "issue drama," quietly crafting a tender and heartfelt love story that coasts along on the strength of its stars magnetic and lived in performances. It's the very definition of a "nice" film, never offending, never offering emotional fireworks, but hitting its notes with Ritt's soft-spoken grace.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

Review | "Power Rangers"

The original "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers" series is one of those pieces of my childhood of which I am under no rose-colored illusions about its quality. A goofy recut of the hit Japanese series, "Super Sentai," managed to turn a single formula (evil alien creates monster, Power Rangers overpower monster, evil alien makes monster grow, power rangers call on Megazord to defeat monster) into an 800+ episode phenomenon. Yet looking back on the series' roots, it's clear what a campy, goofy property this really was. Gritty reboots of 80's and 90's properties are all the rage right now, capitalizing on millennial nostalgia for the movies and shows they grew up with.

As a childhood fan of the show, I approached the remake with trepidation. Would it be a pointlessly gritty retread, the kind of edgy-for-edginess-sake reboot that tries way too hard to appeal to newer, more jaded generation (far too cool for the brightly colored camp of the original)  while capitalizing on millennial nostalgia? Or would it be just a silly as its predecessors?

From L to R: Naomi Scott as "Kimberly," RJ Cyler as "Billy," Dacre Montgomery as "Jason," Ludi Lin as "Zack" and Becky G as "Trini" in SABAN'S POWER RANGERS. Photo credit: Kimberley French.

Interestingly enough, director Dean Israelite (Project Almanac) walks a fine line between both scenarios. His Power Rangers is under no illusions about how goofy its premise is, and as a result never takes itself too seriously. It's certainly a more grounded take on the material, without the over-the-top camp that made the original so singularly bizarre. But it it manages to keep its tongue planted firmly in its cheek without being an ironic parody of itself. It knows it's silly, and embraces it; charting a new path and a  new tone without straying too far from the foundations it was built upon. The rangers are still five "teenagers with attitude." In this case, five screw-ups who land themselves in detention before finding themselves in a quarry one night where they discover 5 mysterious power coins that appear to give them super powers. Underneath the quarry, they stumble upon an ancient spaceship, where a robot named Alpha 5 (Bill Hader) has been waiting with an alien named Zordon (Bryan Cranston), who is trapped in the walls of the ship. Zordon tells them that they have been chosen to be the Power Rangers, destined to protect the world from Rita Repulsa (a delightfully over-the-top Elizabeth Banks), a former ranger from Zordon's own prehistoric team, who seeks to resurrect her monster, Goldar, and destroy the world. In order to defeat her, these five teenagers from all different walks of life must rely on each other, because only together as one team can they defeat the evil sorceress and bring peace to the world.

Power Rangers' theme feels especially timely. It was certainly always there (if a bit on the nose in its color assignments), but in the 2017 take there's a very blatant theme of strength through unity, where people of every color and creed must put aside their differences and come together for the common good to become something much better than themselves. The team is nothing without any single one of its members. The plot is pure superhero pulp, of course, but Israelite has a clear love for this material. Zordon, Alpha, Rita, Goldar, and the Rangers may only bear passing resemblance to their Clinton-era counterparts, but the un-pretentious spirit of the original series is alive and well - only new and improved.

Trini (Becky G, left) and Rita Repulsa (Elizabeth Banks, right) in POWER RANGERS. Photo Credit: Kimberley French

Sure, it's got more dutch-angles than you can shake a stick at, to let us know how edgy and new it is, and the 5 rangers are mostly bland and anonymous (Me and Earl and the Dying Girl scene-stealer RJ Cyler is the only real standout as the autistic Blue Ranger Billy Cranston), but there's just something so refreshingly un-ironic about it. Sure, it's a major visual departure from the TV series, but it really needed to be to be taken seriously. It's also practically a feature length advertisement for Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, but the product placement is so hilariously random and winking that it works in spite of itself.

That's part of what makes Power Rangers so deeply entertaining - its refusal to be a gritty, serious-minded take on something so ridiculous, and its equally admirable refusal to condescend to that same material. Israelite is fully aware of how aggressively un-cool the original show is to modern sensibilities, but he doesn't leave its sense of humor behind. Those who didn't grow up with the show may find it a bit silly, but you almost have to admire the gleeful abandon with which it dives into this universe. It's a somewhat radical re-imagining, but it just works, managing to pay homage to its roots while crafting a new version of the familiar mythology. It's a wildly entertaining piece of fan service that has no illusions about what it is or what it's doing, embracing its inherent ridiculousness with an infectious sense of fun and excitement. It's a kids' movie for children of the 90's, and fans really couldn't have asked for more. This critic, for one, loved every minute of it.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

POWER RANGERS | Directed by Dean Israelite | Stars Dacre Montgomery, Naomi Scott, RJ Cyler, Becky G, Ludi Lin, Bryan Cranston, Elizabeth Banks, Bill Hader | Rated PG-13 for sequences of sci-fi violence, action and destruction, language, and for some crude humor | Opens today in theaters nationwide.