Thursday, November 26, 2020

HILLBILLY ELEGY: (L to R) Glenn Close ("Mamaw”), Amy Adams (“Bev”). Photo Cr. Lacey Terrell/NETFLIX © 2020

Based on J.D. Vance's popular 2016 memoir, Hillbilly Elegy has managed to become the latest lightning rod in the culture wars for its depiction of poverty in rural Appalachia. Embraced by conservatives as  a portrait of the "silent majority" left behind by the political establishment, the film has become something of a cause célèbre for Trump supporters and critics of "the left" (especially in Oscar blogger circles), who accuse the film's detractors of being "coastal elites" who look down their noses at the white rural working class.

The problem is, of course, that none of that is true. Hillbilly Elegy is, if anything, a condescending piece of victim-blaming that positions its characters as casualties of their own lack of self-control, and that the only way to overcome their circumstances is to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps and get out in order to pursue a better life. Rural Appalachia is looked down upon as a dead-end, where "getting out" is in and of itself a success story. 

The film follows Vance from childhood to college, raised in a hardscrabble existence by his indomitable grandmother (Glenn Close) while trying to help his often abusive mother (Amy Adams) overcome a crippling addiction to heroin. Through sheer force of will, his grandmother inspires him to work harder and overcome his circumstances, eventually leading him to Yale law school and a lucrative career at a prestigious law firm. It's a classic rags-to-riches story, that unfortunately comes at the expense of an entire region, throwing impoverished mountain folk under the bus as merely a circumstance that must be overcome in order to succeed in life. 

Ultimately, it's the bootstrap myth disguised and an inspiring story of a boy from the hollers of Appalachia who makes good and goes to Yale. But its measure of success and self fulfillment is shallow and short-sighted, ignoring the systemic factors cause poverty and encourage addiction. That Hillbilly Elegy has been turned into a symbol of the culture war by conservatives betrays not only their ignorance of rural Appalachia, but their utter contempt for people living in poverty. 

Although its biggest issues comes formats POV, with Vance positioning himself as the pure of heart hero who rises to the top in spite of his surroundings, the film itself looks and feels like a TV movie of the week from the 90s. Director Ron Howard was probably ill-suited to this material. Saddled with a weak screenplay that hangs its flashback structure on ham-fisted narration that often sounds like rejected ideas from treacly inspirational posters, the film sidelines its strongest performers and hangs the entire film on relative newcomers who just can't keep up. Close is acting the hell out of this, but the film itself is dull as dishwater, its over-the-top histrionics veering more into soap opera material that can't even be bothered to at least be interesting. As someone who actually lives in rural Appalachia and works directly with impoverished communities, Hillbilly Elegy often feels like a coastal fantasy of what "hillbillies" are really like. Close's performance is as close to authenticity as the film ever gets. And while Howard does his best to scrub the book's political posturing, it still reeks of the most insidious kind of classism, leaving behind a bland and lifeless film that has little to say. It's not just that the film doesn't seem to understand rural Appalachia, it's that it doesn't even seem to try, creating a self-satisfied piece of poverty porn that betrays the very people it claims to exalt.

GRADE - ★½ (out of four)

HILLBILLY ELEGY | Directed by Ron Howard | Stars Amy Adams, Glenn Close, Gabriel Basso, Haley Bennett, Freida Pinto, Bo Hopkins | Rated R for language throughout, drug content and some violence | Now playing in select theaters and streaming everywhere on Netflix.

Thursday, November 19, 2020

H.K. Breslauer's The City Without Jews premiered in 1924 with little fanfare and to even less acclaim. An adaptation of the novel of the same name by Hugo Bettauer, the film was a quietly angry condemnation of anti-Semitic sentiment brewing in Austria, and a stark warning about the effects of encoding anti-Semitism in to law. But while the film proved popular (despite notoriously poor-quality prints due to the rushed nature of its premiere), Bettauer was attacked a few months after the premiere, and ultimately murdered a year later by a Nazi, and the film fell into obscurity. It's last known exhibition was in 1933 in Amsterdam, organized as a condemnation of Hitler's Nazi party.

It wasn't until 2015 that a complete print of the film was discovered in a Parisian flea market, and subsequently restored via a crowdfunding campaign by the Filmarchiv Austria, at long last making its home video debut from Flicker Alley. The City Without Jews is something of a revelation, a small scale allegory set in the fictional country of Utopia, which is in the throes of an economic crisis. Looking for a scapegoat for their woes, the people blames the city's Jewish population, and the Chancellor (Eugen Neufeld) is persuaded by an unscrupulous Councilor (Hans Moser) to expel the Jews from Utopia. However, once the Jews are gone, the country falls into even deeper economic ruin. Cut off from the rest of the world, the Chancellor looks for a way out, which is eventually presented to him by a young Jewish man (Johannes Riesmann) whose Gentile wife still lives within the city walls. He returns to the city in disguise with a plan to save Utopia,  and return the exiled Jews to their rightful homes. 

While the film comes to a somewhat easy conclusion - its upbeat  ending somewhat at odds with the prevailing winds of the era, a fact that is all-too-clear in retrospect. But you have to respect its desire to curb rising anti-Semetic sentiment of the time by warning of the dangers of anti-Semitism (even if its argument is more from a financial standpoint than a moral one). Some have criticized the film for itself relying on anti-Semitic tropes of conniving Jews in its portrayal of the hero's rather underhanded plan to distract the Councilor and lobby the Chancellor (a controversy well-chronicled in the Blu-Ray's comprehensive liner notes), but to modern eyes this comes across as a fairly standard plot device. 

In fact, much of the film is a pretty standard affair, making it less of a long lost revelation and more of a historical curio. Still, its touches of German Expressionist inspiration and topical boldness make it a must-watch for silent film enthusiasts. That it resurfaced on the cusp of the Trump era is something of a chilling bit of serendipity, as so many of its depictions of anti-Semitic propaganda and demonization of "foreigners" for the country's economic problems ring frighteningly close to the anti-immigrant rhetoric of the modern Republican Party. Seeing it so boldly laid out in 1924 really hammers home just how dangerous and volatile our current situation is. Flicker Alley's Blu-Ray presentation is impeccable as always, reinforcing their status as one of the top tier (and oft overlooked) speciality home video distributors. From the lovely transfer to the exhaustive liner notes and special features, Flicker Alley continues to impress by releasing fascinating rarities in deluxe editions that wouldn't have otherwise seen the light of day.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

Now available on Blu-Ray/DVD combo from Flicker Alley.

Monday, November 09, 2020

Gary Cooper stars in Warner Bros.' "Sergeant York."

(Warner Archive)

Michael Patrick Jann | USA | 1999

A box office flop in 1999, Michael Patrick Jann's lone feature film, Drop Dead Gorgeous, has become something of a cult classic in the ensuing decades thanks to its darkly hilarious examination of privilege in small town America. Styled as a mockumentary in the tradition of Christopher Guest, Drop Dead Gorgeous plunges us into the cutthroat world of teen beauty pageants where contestants are literally willing to kill in order to take the crown. 

Kirsten Dunst stars as pure-hearted Amber Atkins, who finds herself competing against the murderous Becky Leeman (Denise Richards), daughter of pageant coordinator Gladys Leeman (Kirstie Allie) whose family all but owns the entire town. Also along for the ride are Amy Adams, Ellen Barkin, Allyson Janney, and Brittany Murphy (not to mention TV's Adam West), making it one of the most indelible comedic casts of the 90s. Drop Dead Gorgeous is an acidic, gleefully misanthropic comedy that pulls no punches in its razor-sharp satire of beauty pageant drama. Its arrival on Blu-Ray should be something to celebrate for the legions of fans who have discovered it on home video over the last 20 years - it's scathing wit and take-no-prisoners sense of humor have aged incredibly well (even if Alley has descended into MAGA clown world in the years since its release, almost becoming a caricature of her character here), and the film is ripe for rediscovery from new fans who continue to discover its  wickedly unique pleasures.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

(Warner Archive)

Frank Borzage | USA | 1940

Frank Borzage is perhaps one of the most overlooked great filmmakers of the golden age of Hollywood, consistently churning out darkly fascinating proto-noirs that explored the dark sides of human nature. His 1940, The Mortal Storm, dealt frankly with the rise of Adolph Hitler and the Nazi threat before the USA had even entered WWII. The film follows Germany's descent into fascism through the eyes of an average German family. Patriarch Roth (Frank Morgan) is a kindly university professor. His lovely daughter, Freya (Margaret Sullavan) is close with several of his students, including beau Fritz (Robert Young) and best friend, Martin (James Stewart). Things get complicated for them after Hitler becomes the new German chancellor, as Fritz joins the Nazi party along with Freya's brothers, and Martin resists the new political reality. It isn't long before Professor Roth's teachings that all races are biologically the same attracts the scorn of the Nazis, and the family is soon torn apart by their divided allegiances, leading Martin and Freya to attempt a daring escape with Fritz in hot pursuit.

Watching The Mortal Storm on the eve of the 2020 election as I did may not be the best idea, because despite the fact that the film ends with a glimmer of hope, it is often unrelentingly bleak, dealing frankly with the way in which the rise of Nazism not only ripped families apart, but systematically dismantled democracy and free thought by challenging facts and science as the 1930's equivalent of "fake news." In fact there are so many shocking parallels between the fascist rhetoric on display here and the modern Republican Party under President Donald Trump that the film has taken on a chilling new relevance. Released in 1940, the film appeared on American screens over a year before the USA entered the war, but it was a harrowing and clear-eyed depiction of the Nazi threat, featuring strong turns by Sullavan, Stewart, and especially Frank Morgan. Fresh off his legendary turn as the Wizard of Oz, Morgan's performance here as a kindly professor struggling to keep his family together is a thing of great beauty and sadness - full of humanity and haunted resignation over what he knows is to come. The Blu-Ray release from Warner Archive also includes the knock-out animated short, Peace on Earth (1939), an Oscar-nominated anti-war film starring some baby squirrels learning about the devastating consequences of "man's last war," which is perhaps one of the greatest pieces of animation of all time. Seek this one out.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

(Warner Archive)

Barbet Schroeder | USA | 1990

Barbet Schroeder's Reversal of Fortune is as distant and icy as Jeremy Irons' Oscar-winning performance as suspected murderer Claus von Bülow, but like Irons' inscrutable steeliness, it's also endlessly compelling. Based on the book by Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver), the film chronicles Dershowitz's appeal to get von Bülow's conviction for killing his wife, Sunny (Glenn Close), overturned based on faulty evidence presented by the state.

Along the way, however, he begins to suspect that von Bülow may actually be guilty, despite the faulty evidence that lead to his conviction. Close narrates the film as the deceased Sunny, offering no answers but attempting to keep her character central to the narrative, as this is all  really her story. But the narration often comes across as a bit contrived in an otherwise taut procedural thriller. It's difficult in the year 2020 to see Dershowitz (who famously defended the likes of Jeffrey Epstein, Harvey Weinstein, and Donald Trump in recent years) portrayed as a hero and advocate for social justice, but Dershowitz's recent past also gives the film's ending an even more ominous timbre, as von Bülow's innocence remains very much in question.

The new Blu-Ray from Warner Archive enhances the film's chilly blue hues and rescues the film from a bleary, early 90s soap opera aesthetic. The film was nominated for three Academy Awards, including Best Director for Schroeder, but missed out on Best Picture in favor of Awakenings and mega-hit Ghost, but there's something about its moral ambiguity that remains haunting and startlingly relevant.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

(Warner Archive)

Howard Hawks | USA | 1941

Gary Cooper won the 1941 Oscar for Best Actor for his portrayal of Alvin York, a hayseed ne'er-do-well from Tennessee who finds religion, turns his life around, then goes from conscientious objector to WWI hero after singlehandedly apprehending hundreds of German prisoners all on his own, in Howard Hawks' Sergeant York. It was the most nominated film at the 1941 Academy Awards, ultimately winning 2 of its 11 nominations, losing Best Picture to How Green Was My Valley (which also famously bested Orson Welles' Citizen Kane). It was also 1941's biggest box office success, its popularity no doubt stemming from the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor later that year, officially pulling the United States into the Second World War.

Sergeant York is a fairly standard Hollywood war film, tracing York's life in the Tennessee backwoods to the Meuse-Argonne Offensive in Europe. Cooper is undeniably great in the title role, but is frequently upstaged by Walter Brennan (who bears a striking resemblance, physically and vocally, to Mark Rylance here) in an Oscar nominated role as York's kindly rural pastor. The war scenes are appropriately harrowing, with the gritty muck of the trenches feeling especially evocative and palpable. The film's biggest problem is that it takes so long to get there, spending an inordinate amount of time exploring York's life in Tennessee before he's shipped off to war in the film's latter half. Hawks does well establishing York's arc from religious pacifist to accepting his role as a soldier, but he would also handle the ramifications of violence more indelibly in Rio Bravo and Red River. Sergeant York is clearly American wartime propaganda, often scoring battle scenes with jaunty renditions of "Yankee Doodle" courtesy of composer Max Steiner, but Cooper's understated performance grounds the film and delivers some solid emotional moments in a film that desperately needs some tightening. That his charisma keeps the film compulsively watchable is as much a testament to Cooper's talent as it is to Hawks' keen understanding of character development. The film has been lovingly restored in this new Blu-Ray release from Warner Archive, which sharpens the black and white cinematography by the great Sol Polito, who lends the film such an indelible atmosphere in its wartime scenes.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)


Abbas Kiarostami | Iran | 1997

A man drives across the dusty outskirts of Tehran looking for a stranger to help bury his body after he commits suicide in Abbas Kiarostami's Palme d'Or winning Taste of Cherry (1997). The first Iranian film to receive the honor, Taste of Cherry firmly cemented Kiarostami's place as a major figure in world cinema. Kiarostami never reveals the motivations behind Mr. Badii's suicidal intentions, instead allowing the audience to fill in the blanks through a series of philosophical conversations with his passengers that offer a tantalizing window into the emotional state of a man who does not appear to be a man contemplating ending his life. 

Kiarostami is a master of blending reality and fiction, melding the act of making film with the film itself in works such as Life and Nothing More (1992), Through the Olive Trees (1994), and playing with the audience's perceptions of reality in his later films, Certified Copy, Like Someone in Love, and 24 FramesTaste of Cherry is no different in that regard, playing its cards close to the vest while presenting the fleeting nature of life through the eyes of a man who is ready for it to end. The ending is ambiguous in the most lovely Kiarostami tradition, but its segue into behind the scenes footage is as exhilarating as it is disorienting. It's as if the film is on the verge of revealing all the answers of life itself, and then pulls back at the last second, returning the mystery to the audience. In doing so it attains a kind of haunting mysticism, profoundly shifting the audience's perception of reality. It's Kiarostami's finest work, and one of the best films of the 1990s.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

(Warner Archive)

William Diertle | USA | 1942

Glossy MGM historical drama chronicles the life of Andrew Johnson, 17th President of the United States, who followed Abraham Lincoln in office, by all historical accounts, managed to fuck things up royally in the wake of the American Civil War. You couldn't tell that, of course, from this heavily white-washed and lionizing account which recasts Johnson as a Southern anti-slavery crusader who sought to repair ties with the South after the Civil War, but was opposed by Northern Republicans like Thaddeus Stevens (Lionel Barrymore) who wanted to punish the rebel states.

Despite being impeached by the House of Representatives (although narrowly acquitted by the Senate), and being generally regarded as one of the worst presidents in American history, William Dieterle's Tennessee Johnson frames him as a misunderstood man of the people, a former tailor with no formal schooling who rose through the ranks of government on a platform of ensuring voting rights for all (white men) in the country. While slavery is barely mentioned, the film dismisses Johnson as being anti-slavery and leaves it at that, completely ignoring the fact that much of his political rise was on the back of a reactionary amendment to Tennessee's state constitution adopted in the wake of Nat Turner's slave rebellion in order to disenfranchise people of color. Johnson's ultimate refusal to give into Radical Republicans' demands that former slaves be granted the right to vote eventually gave rise to the Ku Klux Klan and Jim Crow laws in the South, all but cementing institutional racism into the very fabric of the nation for hundreds of years to come. 

Ignoring, for a moment, the fact that Tennessee Johnson basically gets the heroes and villains of this story completely flip-flopped, it's also extremely dull, representing the worst of MGM's glossy prestige drama instincts. There's just nothing that interesting going on here. Van Heflin is mildly compelling as Johnson, but by excising Johnson's presidency of its actual drama, in favor of this bland bit of high gloss revisionist history, it's now little more than a historical curio.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

Warner Archive releases are available at the Warner Bros. Shop or wherever DVDs and Blu-Rays are sold.
Criterion releases are available at the Criterion Shop or wherever DVDs and Blu-Rays are sold.

Friday, October 30, 2020

Sacha Baron Cohen stars in "Borat Subsequent Moviefilm." Courtesy of Amazon Studios.

The prospect of a second Borat film, coming some 14 years after the original film became a cultural touchstone back in 2006 (and long after catchphrases "Very Nice" and "My Wife" became passé), seemed dubious at best. After all, who in the year of our Lord 2020 could still be fooled by a Borat prank? The answer, unsurprisingly, turned out to be none other than Rudy Giuliani, making what once seemed like a bad idea into one of the year's most essential films.

In the original Borat  Sacha Baron Cohen pulled the mask off of George W. Bush's America in gleefully subversive ways, holding a mirror up to the country and showing us the societal rot underneath the veneer of "compassion conservatism." In Donald Trump's America, the mask is completely gone - so what, if anything, is left to parody? Cohen's targets here are much more specific but also much bigger, with Borat targeting not only Giuliani (and humiliating him in grand fashion), but also Vice President Mike Pence. The plot finds Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev (Cohen) returning to America to atone for shaming his country in his original film by presenting Pence with a celebrated monkey. Instead, Borat's daughter, Tutar (Maria Bakalova), stows away to join him on his quest, so Borat decides to give her to Pence as a gift instead.

Along the way, Borat encounters many every day Americans, and much as he does in the original film, entices them to agree and even build upon his openly racist views. When production is interrupted by the arrival of COVID-19, he bunks up with a couple of Trump supporters who espouse Q-anon conspiracy theories, attends Trump rallies and sings racist songs (much to the glee of the other attendees), and goes to a father/daughter dance where his sexually suggestive antics reveals some creepy behavior from the attending fathers. This time, however, Cohen achieves something almost more subversive than he did in the original film - he manages to find a glimmer of hope for our future amidst the grim surroundings. Rather than go along with his boorish antics, he encounters more people willing to push back against them. Whether it's the elderly Jewish women he encounters in a synagogue who provide him with a warm meal, or the kindly babysitter who watches after his daughter and gently pushes back against some of the ignorant anti-feminist views instilled by her father, or even the Republican women's meeting where the members extend warmth and compassion to the young immigrant girl - Borat Subsequent Moviefilm actually manages to display more than the worst of humanity.

Here, Cohen's targets are more powerful, and by actively seeking out bits of human kindness in the rubble of Trump's America, he actually manages to challenge Trump's hateful rhetoric not just by revealing how terrible it is (Trump has done that well enough on his own), he shows us that perhaps despite the ugliness Trump has brought out in us, that perhaps there is some good in us worth saving. That's what really sets Borat Subsequent Moviefilm away from Cohen's other, more nihilistic firebombs he's lobbed at America's hypocrisy - this film actually has a heart. His relationship with his daughter is actually quite sweet in its own way, and newcomer Maria Bakalova proves herself just as skilled as Cohen when it comes to enticing the powerful to make complete buffoons of themselves on camera. A new Borat film may have seemed like the last thing we needed in 2020, but Cohen proves that there was enough gas left in the tank to not only justify a second outing as the clueless Kazakh, but by tweaking the formula just enough, he's made it feel just as relevant and essential as it was in 2006. Not only is it deeply funny, it's also disarmingly moving - a damning yet hopeful portrait of America in 2020 that leaves us feeling that maybe, just maybe, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

BORAT SUBSEQUENT MOVIEFILM | Directed by Jason Woliner | Stars Sacha Baron Cohen, Maria Bakalova, Tom Hanks, Mike Pence, Rudolph Giuliani | Rated R for pervasive strong crude and sexual content, graphic nudity, and language | Now streaming exclusively on Amazon Prime Video.

Saturday, October 10, 2020

ELIZABETH DEBICKI and JOHN DAVID WASHINGTON in Warner Bros. Pictures’ action epic "TENET," a Warner Bros. Pictures release. © 2020 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All Rights Reserved. 

The would-be savior of cinema turned sacrificial lamb to the COVID-19 pandemic, Christopher Nolan's Tenet was at one time set to draw audiences back to theaters after months of lockdown and quarantine. Instead, its anemic box office proven to be a warning to gun-shy movie studios, who promptly withdrew most of their remaining blockbuster titles from the 2020 calendar, effectively shuttering cinemas for the remainder of the year.

There's a certain irony in Nolan, whose purist views of the cinematic experience and devotion to 35mm film borders on the fanatical, unwittingly becoming the fourth horseman of the cinematic apocalypse, yet despite the fact that Tenet was released to mostly empty multiplexes across America in the middle of a global pandemic, its still something of a fascinating mess. Despite its scale, it isn't difficult to imagine Tenet underperforming at the box office even if everything were normal. It's a twisty, galaxy brained Nolan joint in the vein of Inception and Interstellar, but it's also surprisingly insular, featuring a convoluted time traveling plot that feels more obfuscating than cerebral. Nolan has often excelled at turning mind-bending concepts into accessible mass entertainments, but Tenet's refusal to adhere to its own internal logic feels mind-blowing and more sloppily constructed.

The plot, which centers around a CIA agent's (John David Washington) attempts to thwart an international plot involving "inverted" weaponry that moves backward through time, distributed by a Russian arms dealer (Kenneth Branagh) working with an unknown force from the future, is fairly straightforward. But once the characters start moving both backwards and forwards through time, often simultaneously, Nolan's weaknesses as an action director become painfully clear. Make no mistake, Tenet is an often electrifying grand scale thriller that tackles bold structural concepts, but its execution is a decidedly mixed bag. When this thing works, it really works, but when it doesn't it's borderline incoherent.

Yet despite its flaws, Tenet is nothing if not fascinating, and Nolan's go-for-broke gamble of having two planes of action moving in different directions through time is riveting (harkening back to his breakout film, Memento), even if it isn't always cohesive. The thundering score by Ludwig Göransson takes center stage in the film's overwhelming sonic landscape, and is responsible for many of Tenet's most jaw-dropping moments. And despite many reports of "humorlessness," the film is often quite funny, trafficking in a droll kind of "blink and you'll miss it" humor that offers a welcome respite from the film's grim sense of weight. And while the threads Nolan weaves don't always successfully connect, the grandiosity of his vision is hard to shake. Tenet takes risks; they don't always pay off, but for those who have been able to experience it in a theater, it offers a return to a kind of big screen magic that home movie viewing just can't replicate. That it ultimately bites off more than it can chew is almost beside the point, but even in its imperfections Tenet is the kind of risky, unwieldy mainstream entertainment that we rarely see anymore in a time of increasing artistic homogenization. Is it the savior of cinema? No. But it's a good reminder of what we stand to lose.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

TENET | Directed by Christopher Nolan | Stars John David Washington, Robert Pattinson, Elizabeth Debicki, Kenneth Branagh, Dimple Kapadia, Himesh Patel, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Michael Caine | Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of violence and action, some suggestive references and brief strong language | Now playing in theaters nationwide.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020


(Nora Ephron | USA | 1996)

Made in the wake of John Travolta's mid-90s, post-Pulp Fiction career renaissance, Nora Ephron's Michael is a strange animal indeed. The second of two 1996 films in which Travolta stars as a man with extraordinary powers (the other being Jon Turteltaub's Phenomenon), Michael casts him as the titular archangel sent to earth for one last mission. Travolta's rude, crude take on the character is...unique, to say the least, but Ephron pulls much of the focus away from him and onto an anemic romance between jaded tabloid journalist William Hurt and wide-eyed aspiring writer, Andie MacDowell.

Michael, it turns out, can only use his powers so many times before draining them completely and returning to Heaven, so naturally a good bit of the film involves getting him to his final destination before he expires. But this happens so long before the end of the film that any emotional buildup that may result from this is squandered. Michael is, of course, the most interesting character in the film, and without him the central romance just doesn't have the power to carry the story. Jean Stapleton also shows up for an all-too-brief cameo near the beginning and nearly steals the whole show, but Ephron's insistence on doubling down on the romance as the center of Michael's quest feels anti-climactic. Michael is an unfocused mess that, despite a few highlights, is one of Ephron's weakest films.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)


(George Cukor | USA | 1952)

George Cukor directs this romantic comedy starring Katherine Hepburn as Pat, a star golfer with a major problem - she can't perform when her fiancee is around, leading her to constantly choke in high-pressure situations when he's around. Unwilling to give up on herself, she hires an unscrupulous sports agent named Mike (Spencer Tracy) who promises to rocket her to the top of the tennis circuit - but her fiancee problem remains. And it yarns out that Mike may just be able to help her with that problem too.

Pat and Mike was the seventh collaboration between Hepburn and Tracy, and remains one of their lesser films, despite top notch talent in front of and behind the camera. Coming hot on the heels of Adam's Rib (1949), one of their most successful comedies, Pat and Mike feels a bit tired, and its lackadaisical pacing feeds into the general sense of ennui. The tennis scenes are especially tedious, and the sparking wordplay that made Adam's Rib such a delight is all but missing here. An appearance by Aldo Ray as a dim-bulb jock also fails to add much color to the proceedings, and he sticks out like a sore thumb in an otherwise understated comedy.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)


(Harold S. Bucquet | USA | 1945)

Without Love isn't the strongest film that Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn made together, but it is one of their most effortlessly charming collaborations, allowing them both to play to their strength and focus on their legendary chemistry to create something that feels laid back and comforting. Tracy is a scientist helping make weapons during World War II, Hepburn is a widowed who mistakes him for a servant upon their first meeting. They enter into a marriage of convenience that slowly blossoms into a real romance as they work closely with each other over the years. Lucille Ball is also present in a small but pivotal supporting role that ultimately fails to leave much of an impression.

In fact, Without Love is often so droll and casually paced that it often seems to disappear within itself, but the care with which director Harold S. Bucquet treats the central relationship is apparent, and Tracy and Hepburn consistently shine. They make an otherwise straightforward romance seem genuine and heartfelt, even naturalistic. One almost forgets that they're longtime collaborators in real life, and Without Love makes great use of their unique relationship.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

Now available from Warner Archive.

Tuesday, September 15, 2020

It has taken 22 years, but Tsai Ming-liang’s The Hole, which premiered at the 1998 Cannes Film Festival, has finally been released in the United States, and it couldn't have come at a more appropriate time. Set in the midst of a fictional pandemic, The Hole follows two neighbors, one upstairs, one downstairs, who are forced to navigate their new reality as the ennui of quarantine sets in. Their only connection is a hole that opens up in the floor between their apartments while a technician is working on their pipes to fix a leak, soon becoming a symbol of both hope and madness.

Discovering the film in 2020 in the era of COVID-19, as opposed to its original international release in 1998, casts a different light on things. Having just gone through the an actual global pandemic during which many of us were stuck in our homes for months on end, The Hole feels less like science fiction and more within the realm of reality. Tsai's particular aesthetic, with its languid long-takes and deliberate pacing, adds to the overall sense of stagnation - its characters adrift within the confines of their own four walls where time has lost all meaning, their only human connection coming from a hole in the ground (or in the ceiling, depending on their unique perspectives) as the virus slowly erodes their sense of humanity.

The monotony of their existence is broken up only by musical sequences that pop up unexpectedly, using the drab apartment building as a background for glittery lounge numbers, as if the characters are breaking from reality within the confines of quarantine, if only for a moment. The Hole masterfully channels the existential dread of quarantine in the midst of a pandemic in ways that have proven eerily prescient. And while the virus at the center, which makes its victims exhibit roach-like aversion to light, isn't exactly COVID, there are some unnerving similarities. Tsai's Kafakaesque existential nightmare turns quarantine into a uniquely harrowing love story, its digressions into abstraction in turn terrifying and rapturous. In the age of the novel coronavirus, The Hole has taken on a new power, a glimpse into the surrealism of self-isolation that finds both profound beauty and abject horror in the face of the unknown enemy lurking just outside, whose immediacy has only become more urgent in the two decades since its original release.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

THE HOLE | Directed by Tsai Ming-Liang | Stars Yang Kuei-Mei, Lee Kang-Sheng, Miao Tien Hui-Chin Lin | Not Rated | In Thai w/English subtitles | Now playing in virtual cinemas everywhere.

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Class Action Park chronicles the so-bizarre-it-can-only-be-true story of New Jersey's infamous Action Park, a kind of do-it-yourself theme park that was so unsafe that it was responsible for countless injuries and even several deaths, earning it the nickname, "Class Action Park."

The whole thing was the brain child of Eugene Mulvihill, an unscrupulous developer who envisioned a park where the guest controlled their experience, going as fast and being as daring as they wished. The problem was that the park was designed by people who had no engineering degrees, putting "wouldn't that be cool" wish fulfillment into at the forefront of all the park's attractions, resulting in poorly designed thrill rides would result in scrapes, bruises, broken bones, missing teeth, and even death from being launched from rides or electrocuted in poorly wired water attractions.

Directors Seth Porges and Chris Charles Scott III examine the park from both a standpoint of kooky nostalgia from the point of view of former employees (many of whom were inexperienced teenagers who often ran the rides while intoxicated, if they supervised them at all) and guests who share bizarre childhood memories of the park's idiosyncrasies. Things take a serious turn in the back half, however, as they interview the family of 19 year old George Larsson, Jr. who was killed when he was launched from a faulty Alpine Slide vehicle and landed on some nearby rocks. Suddenly, the fun and games come to an end and the darker side of the film begins to come to light.

At its best, Class Action Park is an indictment of unrestrained capitalism. Muvilhill was a ruthless businessman who would beat anyone who opposed him into submission, dragging out court proceedings when injured guests sued him so that they would eventually give up. If he did lose, he would refuse to pay, forcing them to pay to have their money collected. In many ways, Action Park was the ultimate embodiment of the excesses of the 1980s, a perfect storm of capitalist greed and Reagan-era deregulatory policies. And yet the filmmakers can't quite seem to strike the balance of humor and horror inherent to the story. After it explores Larsson's death, the film struggles to return to the humorous childhood memories and snarky observations about its poor design and lax management. There's something kind of crass and a bit unseemly in the way it tries to view the park through the nostalgic lens of the "good old days when we were wild and free." to its credit, it does acknowledge the park's issues and the tragedies that for whatever reason did not shut the park down (it was in operation from 1978 to 1996), but its tonal shifts are often dizzying and don't seem to treat the subject with the gravity that it deserves.

GRADE -★★½ (out of four)

CLASS ACTION PARK | Directed by Seth Porges and Chris Charles Scott III | Featuring Chris Gethard, Jason Scott Sadofsky, Jimmy Kimmel, Johnny Knoxville, Alison Becker, John Hodgman | Not Rated | Now  streaming on HBO Max.

Sunday, August 30, 2020

The South of France becomes a deceptively idyllic setting in Jean Renoir's 1935 film, Toni, a prototypical piece of Neo-realism that eschewed the trappings of impressionism that had been en vogue with the French in the 1920s. Renoir's goal was "a style as close as possible to daily encounters," a somewhat revolutionary idea for 1935 that would ultimately endear Renoir to the New Wave filmmakers who would come along two decades later.

There's a certain pastoral quality to Toni that Renoir would later revisit in A Day in the Country the following year, yet the lovely countryside stands in stark contrast to the oppression and exploitation of foreign workers happening just beyond the periphery of the typical tourist destination. The film tells the story of Toni (Charles Blavette), an Italian migrant worker who immigrates to France seeking more stable work. Yet the lucrative jobs promised to the immigrants from all over Europe do not bring the promised prosperity, instead leading to despair and ultimately tragedy. Toni enters into a comfortable but passionless relationship with a local innkeeper, but soon finds himself drawn to Josefa (Celia Montalván), a Spanish immigrant who lives on a farm run by her uncle. Just when they're starting to fall in love, however, Toni's boss, the quarry foreman Albert, attacks Josefa and forces her to marry him. Toni, in turn, weds the innkeeper. But as life moves on, Albert becomes more and more abusive, and Toni's unrequited feelings for Josefa lead him to protect her at all costs, with tragic results.

Although the film was supported by French communists at the time, thanks to "script girl" and editor, Marguerite Houllé, who arranged a screening of the film with Renoir in the Soviet Union, it is not an explicitly socialist film. The conditions the workers of the quarry face are explicitly shown to be a vicious cycle of heartache that are clearly not the "better life" the immigrants hope for, but it isn't necessarily through direct exploitation by the capitalist class. The film is more subtle in that regard than the films the Soviets were making, but it is made very clear that dark things were going on beneath the tourist area's glossy veneer, just in the shadow of the playgrounds of the rich and famous. We are not shown, for example, the workers being directly exploited or oppressed - but the idea remains; immigrants are enticed with the promise of a better life, only to be cast aside as life moves on, the bourgeoisie blissfully unaware.

There's something quietly radical about what Renoir achieves here. He isn't painting in broad strokes or underlining his points in dark ink, but he is clearly making a leftist critique of the prevailing capitalist narratives of the day in ways that still resonate some 85 years later. There's a certain inevitability to its despair that presages De Sica's work in Bicycle Thieves and Umberto D., highlighting societal ills in such a way as to illustrate much larger points; about class, about gender inequality, and the often impossible choices facing the marginalized. The Rules of the Game would be a much sharper societal critique of the bourgeoisie for Renoir, but Toni is no less powerful for its comparative subtlety, deconstructing the attractive veneer of a world that promises everything and gives nothing but grief and heartache in return. This is Renoir at his most class conscious, subverting the narrative of opportunity for all and laying bare the hypocrisies of capitalism.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Special Features:

  • New 4K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray 
  • Audio commentary from 2006 featuring critics Kent Jones and Phillip Lopate 
  • Introduction by director Jean Renoir from 1961 
  • Episode of Cinéastes de notre temps from 1967 on Renoir, directed by Jacques Rivette and featuring a conversation with actor Charles Blavette about the film 
  • New video essay about the making of Toni by film scholar Christopher Faulkner 
  • New English subtitle translation 
  • PLUS: An essay by film scholar Ginette Vincendeau

Saturday, August 01, 2020


(Busby Berkeley, Norman Taurog, 1943)

Mickey Rooney stars as Danny, a spoiled rich kid from New York who gets shipped off to a remote, all-male boarding school out west so he can focus on his studies and get away from his hard-partying, womanizing ways. Much to his surprise, however, the first person he meets is the dean's beautiful daughter, Ginger (Judy Garland) and becomes instantly smitten.

The problem is that the arrogant Danny becomes an immediate target for the other boys at the school, who all adore Ginger, and Ginger is more than a little amused by Danny's haplessness. But everyone is forced to come together to save the school, which will be closed down unless they come up with a large sum of money in a short amount of time. The solution? Put on a show, of course - and everyone has a grand time putting on a grand, Busby Berkeley choreographed western themed musical just in the nick of time.

Girl Crazy was the last and possibly the least of the collaborations between Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland (although Rooney referred to it as his favorite in a 2007 introduction included on the Blu-Ray), but it does feature a classic George and Ira Gershwin score (featuring the iconic song, "I Got Rhythm") from the original 1930 Broadway production starring Ginger Rogers, Allen Kearns, and Ethel Merman in her Broadway debut. Still, Berkeley was fired from the film after choreographic the "I Got Rhythm" finale (which was shot first), and as a result the film never quite achieves the same effortless charm his earlier collaborations between Rooney and Garland, including Babes on Broadway, Babes in Arms, and Strike Up the Band. They certainly made for an irresistible pair, however, even if Rooney's character here isn't one of his most likable.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)


(Mervyn LeRoy, 1952)

Perhaps Busby Berkeley's last great triumph, this 1952 biopic of legendary swimmer, Annette Kellerman starring Esther Williams reunited Berkeley with director Mervyn LeRoy who directed one of his greatest pre-code triumphs at Warner Brothers, Gold Diggers of 1933.

While Million Dollar Mermaid never quite reaches the delirious Depression-era razzle dazzle of the first Gold Diggers  it's nevertheless a throwback to those Warner Brothers extravaganzas that put Berkeley on the map. Williams' climactic performance at the Hippodrome is a gorgeous Technicolor spectacle complete with multi-colored smoke, leaping water curtains, and a co-ed group of synchronized swimmers that brought a new dimension to Berkeley's highly precise style. This film would be the last of its kind for Berkeley, whose brand of big budget, sky's the limit choreography had begun to go out of fashion by the end of the 1930s, but what a breathtaking throwback it is, hearkening back to the great choreographer's glory days with a new and ravishing addition of color. The film's badly faded cinematography has been restored to its Technicolor glory in Warner Archives' glorious new Blu-Ray restoration, which brings the film's true beauty into focus for the first time in years, making it a noticable improvement over the somewhat faded DVDs derived some damaged prints that are currently on the market. Million Dollar Mermaid is truly one of the most beautiful films of the 1950s, and it's a pleasure to watch Berkeley indulge his more expressionistic tendencies with a full palate of breathtaking color. Its drama may feel occasionally overcooked (the central romance never quite clicks due to Mature's lack of charisma), but Berkeley's choreography coupled with Williams' undeniable charm (not to mention a strong turn by Walter Pidgeon) gives it the added dimension it needs to soar. Sometimes you can teach old dogs new tricks.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

Both films are now available on Blu-Ray from Warner Archive!

Friday, July 17, 2020

The Cameraman (1928) marked both the end and the beginning of an era for Buster Keaton. It was the first film Keaton made at MGM after the dissolution of Buster Keaton Studios, the independent studio Keaton had run throughout the 1920s along with producer Joe Schenck, who sold his contract to mega studio Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1928. As a result, it was the last film over which Keaton was able to exercise complete creative control, and the last film that would involve all the major crew members that had helped him make some of his greatest masterpieces. 

Keaton would later describe selling out to MGM as "the worst mistake of my life," and while The Cameraman is not among the strongest of Keaton's feature films of the 1920s (his final masterpiece, Steamboat Bill, Jr., was also released in 1928), it's the last film that contained that unique Keaton spark. MGM reportedly saw Keaton more as a star than a creative force, a sad clown to be directed rather than direct, and mostly cannibalized Buster Keaton Studios for scrap, reassigning the crew to other projects, never again giving Keaton creative control over one of his own projects. As a result, one of the greatest comedians of the silent era simply faded away, reduced to glum cameos in MGM projects, never again ascending to the heights of his earlier career.

The film centers around Keaton's titular cameraman, a tintype photographer who trades in his still camera for an ancient movie camera in order to become a newsreel cameraman in order to win the heart of the beautiful secretary (Marceline Day) who works in the newsreel office. Hijinx naturally ensue as Keaton attempts to learn his craft on the fly, with predictably disastrous results. But when a local gang war breaks out, Keaton finally finds his opportunity to impress the bigwigs, snag the job, and win the girl. Or so the thinks.

Keaton reportedly had to beg MGM's production head, Irving Thalberg, to allow him to scrap the extraneous plots thrust upon him by the studio's throng of writers, and he eventually won every battle he fought on The Cameraman  but one can't help but detect a but of exhaustion in this, the last of Keaton's major silent comedies. Just as the filmmaker's ideas were were bursting at the seams a decade earlier just before he transitioned from shorts to feature filmmaking, one can almost feel Keaton's exhaustion here. There are some lovely moments of inspiration to be found here; Keaton trying to change into his swimsuit in a cramped closet with another bulky swimmer, jumping on a firetruck to go film a fire only for it to pull back into the firehouse, filming a riot while standing on a collapsing platform without ever losing his poise - his flair for comedic timing and sight gags remain unparalleled among the great silent comedians.

Yet there's a certain poignancy here - knowing what Keaton sacrificed in order to make this film. He would never again enjoy such creative freedom and as a result his work and career became greatly diminished. It's an important missing piece in Keaton's oeuvre, but it represents a turning point in his career from which he would never recover, one last great hurrah with the gang. Its moments of whimsy and delight land with as much grace as any gag in his earlier work, but it feels very much like an artist working against the grain, finding diamonds in the rough. And although Keaton emerged from his experience making The Cameraman with his dignity mostly intact (it is a fine comedy and did well for MGM), the sacrifices he made to get it done were enormous. The ingredients are all here, but it's not quite the same, and it never would be again.

The new Blu-Ray from the Criterion Collection also includes Spite Marriage (1929), the first film made without his usual crew for MGM, which offers a fascinating contrast to The Cameraman, as well as a host of other extras.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

THE CAMERAMAN | Directed by Buster Keaton, Edward Sedgwick | Stars Buster Keaton, Marceline Day, Harold Goodwin | Now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020


(Elem Klimov | USSR | 1985)

The grim visage of young Flyora (Aleksei Kravchenko), a 13-year-old Belarusian boy who goes off to defend the Soviet Union from the Nazi invasion of WWII, is one of the most searing images of Elem Klimov's barn-burning 1985 masterpiece, Come and See.

Flyora begins the film as a young, fresh-faced boy whose playful digging in the sand to find buried weapons left by dead soldiers in a seemingly long-forgotten war almost seems like a childhood war game; two boys playing at being soldiers in a fantasy world far removed from reality. But this is no fantasy - and soon Flyora finds himself dragged from his home to join the war effort with other resistance fighters from his tiny village. By the time the film ends, Flyora has gone from boy to man, but not in the typical hero's journey sense. Instead he ends the film a gaunt, hollow shell of the boy we met - his face covered in worry lines and crows feet - as if he's aged decades over the course of two hours.

And what a harrowing two hours it is - watching Come and See is an unrelenting experience, yet it's filled with a kind of grim, haunting beauty that's hard to shake, recalling Tarkovsky almost religious sense of weight (especially in Ivan's Childhood) in its remarkable evocation of horror and utter despair. Flyora's journey from innocence to cold, hardened killer is designed to be a warning - as he eventually devolves into the very thing he's fighting against. There are no winners in Klimov's vivid wartime nightmare - it tears down everyone and everything it touches. Few films can claim such a brutal and indelible impact - but Come and See has often been overlooked by critics and audiences since its release in 1985. And yet its one of the decade's crowning glories - a war film from the ages that Criterion has helped usher out of its relative obscurity with its recent theatrical re-release and new Blu-Ray edition that places the film squarely in the pantheon in which it belongs. One of the defining masterpieces of the 1980s has finally been given the home video treatment it deserves. Long unavailable, it is now ripe for discovery by a new generation of cinephiles  as one of the greatest war films of all time.

GRADE - ★★★★ (out of four)

Now available from The Criterion Collection.


(Michael Curtiz | USA | 1948)

Doris Day made her screen debut in Michael Crutiz' delightful seafaring musical, Romance on the High Seas (1948), starring as a young woman hired by a wealthy socialite (Janis Paige) to take her place on a cruise so she can stay behind and spy on her husband (Don DeFore), who she suspects of infidelity. Unbeknownst to her, her husband similarly suspects her of cheating on him, so he hires a private eye (Jack Carson) to trail her onto the ship. Lots of mistaken identities and ensue as Carson's private eye falls for Day's plucky singer, despite thinking she's his employer's wife the whole time.

Romance on the High Seas is an easy-going crowd pleaser, and it's easy to see why Day became such a huge star - her effervescent, folksy charm feels almost effortless, and Curtiz uses it to great effect here, balancing its  farcical plot threads with ease. The Busby Berkeley musical numbers aren't really anything to write home about, and are mostly static  when compared to his grand scale choreography of the 1930s, but the film isn't the same sort of lavish spectacular, favoring intimate, diagetic  scenes of shipboard lounge singing than using music to tell the story.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

Now available from Warner Archive.


(Busby Berkeley | USA | 1940)

Busby Berkeley's High School Musical - a rollicking musical extravaganza featuring Mickey Rooney as a young drummer whose dream of becoming a drummer takes off when he organizes a high school band to compete in a competition, where he is noticed by legendary big band leader, Paul Whiteman. Judy Garland is his faithful best friend, whose unrequited love for him constantly relegates her to second place as he keeps his eye on the prize.

Rooney and Garland are full of effervescent charm, and Berkeley delivers some of his strongest numbers of his MGM period, from the ingenious dancing fruit number (reportedly conceived by Vincent Minelli) to the grand finale at Whiteman's band competition. An utter delight from start to finish that showcases Rooney as the muti-talented star that he was, and gives star-on-the-rise Garland (fresh off the success of The Wizard of Oz) a chance to show off her range. It occasionally feels like its two-hour runtime is about 30 minutes too long, but its digressions are so amiable that it's hard to say what should be cut. Garland and Rooney, along with William Tracey (The Shop Around the Corner), June Preisser (Babes in Arms), and Larry Nunn (The Major and the Minor) recreating a turn-of-the-century melodrama at a high school talent show is such an unadulterated joy and one of the funniest set pieces of Berkeley's illustrious career. Don't miss this one.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

Now available from Warner Archive.

Friday, July 10, 2020

Dwain Esper's NARCOTIC (1933). Courtesy of Kino Lorber.

Continuing their line of exploitation pictures from the 1930s, Kino Lorber and Something Weird have released two more volumes in their wildly entertaining home video series, Forbidden Fruit: The Golden Age of the Exploitation Picture.

While the last round included such notorious films as Reefer Madness and Mom and Dad, these two new discs feature four films that may be lesser known, but are no less lurid - in some cases, perhaps even more so. And while they may not be great cinema, most of them have an irresistible entertainment value that makes these historical curiosities so bad they're actually good.


Dwain Esper made multiple "issue drama" exploitation films in the 1930s, including Maniac (1934), Narcotic (1933), and the short film, How to Undress in Front of Your Husband (1937). His 1936 film, Marihuana, is as much a takeoff on Reefer Madness (1936) as Esper's own Sex Madness would be two years later. Essentially a "slippery slope" drama, Marihuana (subtitled Weed with Roots in Hell), follows the exploits of a teenage girl who dabbles in marijuana and ends up as a heroin addict who kidnaps her own child. It's as weird and wild as one may expect, and in the best Esper tradition makes little sense - divorcing each of its characters from any logical human behavior in order to push his own particular agenda. It has the distinction of being one of the most unintentionally hilarious of these sanctimonious "issues of today" films of the period due to the sheer outlandishness of its plot, but ultimately it's a slog even at 58 minutes.

Of all of Dwain Esper's moralistic exploitation films of the 1930s, Narcotic is perhaps the "best," although I use that term loosely because you know going in basically what you're going to get here. It follows the journey of a doctor whose fascination with addiction leads him onto the slippery slope of becoming an addict himself, as he "studies" drug parties and opium dens under the guise of science, before succumbing to the very vices he's researching. The finger-wagging moralism is still here, although Esper seems to latch onto something vaguely more realistic here, even if the film itself plays on cringe-worthy  stereotypes and half-truths to get its point across.

MARIHUANA -★ (out of four)

NARCOTIC -★★ (out of four)


Tomorrow's Children (1934) is an interesting curio from the "socially conscious exploitation" genre from the 1930s, that takes a rather unique look at the horrors of eugenics from a decidedly skewed lens. While most films of this kind used sex and drugs as a way to entice in audiences with a lurid premise wrapped up in a moralistic veneer, Tomorrow's Children is something else altogether, putting forced sterilizations in the spotlight from a more religious version of morality than one of bodily autonomy.

The film centers around a family of ne're-do-wells who are singled out for sterilization by the state because of rampant mental illness, alcoholism, and criminal behavior that are present in nearly every member of the family -  that is except for Alice, the family's bright, well-adjusted daughter, who is engaged to be married. Targeted for sterilization, she sets out to plead her case in court before it's too late.

The film essentially takes a stance similar to arguments used by anti-abortionists, arguing against sterilization from the point of view of "you can't play god and interfere in the reproductive process" rather than "the state shouldn't be able to control people's bodies," but as a melodrama it's actually one of the most engaging exploitation films of the period. The performances are universally strong, and the film feels less like an amateur production and more like an actual film that just happens to be on a muckraking cause.

Perhaps one of the most notorious exploitation films the 1930s, Child Bride tells the story of a teacher on a crusade in her tiny mountain community to outlaw the practice of child marriage. Most of the story revolves around her, and it takes nearly 42 minutes of the film's 62 minute running time for the film to get around to the "child bride" part of its title (a common practice among these lurid  exploitation films), but when it finally gets around one of the local hillbillies attempting to marry a 12-year-old girl, things get extremely uncomfortable very quickly. Not just because of the subject matter (clearly the film is against the practice of child marriage), but the young star spends a good 5 minutes skinny-dipping while her suitor leers at her from the cliffs above.

It's the most infamous scene in the film, which is already easily the most disturbing of the exploitation films in Kino's Forbidden Fruit series. A great many of the films have become quaint with age, but Child Bride is a different animal altogether, and when the camera begins to leer at young Shirley Mills from the POV of her pedophilic suitor, the film ceases to be a goofy grind house curio and becomes something truly, darkly exploitative. The film was banned in many cities, but enjoyed a kind of cult popularity in grindhouse theaters across the country as its reputation grew. Don't let curiosity get the better of you on this one - avoid it like the plague.

TOMORROW'S CHILDREN -★★½ (out of four)
CHILD BRIDE - zero stars (out of four)

Now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Kino Lorber!