laurenspierre Reviews

Femme Fatale (2002)

De Palma's contemporary noir is an unapologetic triumph of visual storytelling

[8/10 · 30 December 2023]

Brian De Palma's "Femme Fatale" could be considered a form of cinematic rebellion, a bold departure from the confines of Hollywood and critical expectations. It's the first film the director crafted outside the U. S., and with the burden of studio constraints and endless supervision lifted, one can sense a feeling of liberation in the creative indulgence that permeates every frame of this film.

Returning to his beloved genre, De Palma creates a modern film noir, weaving an intricate plot laden with double-crossings and, of course, the quintessential femme fatale. Some might argue that the film prioritizes style over substance, but that critique would miss the point - in this film, the style is the substance. And by God, what gorgeous style it is.

The movie stands as a testament to De Palma's brilliance as a visual storyteller. The first +40 minutes unfold with minimal dialogue, yet the narrative remains crystal clear. The film opens with a 20-minute heist sequence at the Cannes Film Festival, accompanied by legendary composer Ryuichi Sakamoto's winking riff on Ravel's "Bolero." If all heist movies would be directed with this much technical bravura, I might just give that hackneyed genre another chance. That thrilling opening may be the standout sequence of the film, but De Palma barely gives the viewer any room to breathe, as it's just one stunning set piece after the other. Employing signature stylistic elements, such as split screens, split diopters, unconventional camera angles, hypnotic long takes, clever editing, and extended slow-motion sequences, De Palma throws everything but the kitchen sink at the audience to create a visual feast that captivates from start to finish.

Rebecca Romijn-Stamos delivers a standout performance as the titular femme fatale, Laure Ash (or later, Lily Watts). In another life, she would have made a great Hitchcock heroine. She is blond, smart, and sexy, a duplicitous seductress who plays every man around her like a fiddle. Laure, a contemporary incarnation of the classic noir archetype, can be wickedly cruel and appears to be deeply nihilistic, yet we find ourselves rooting for her. In true noir tradition, she is surrounded by other corrupted characters with double agendas, such as a voyeuristic photographer (it's a De Palma film after all), two vengeful criminals, and a mysterious lady friend.

The third act reveal, which I can imagine being a point of contention for many viewers, may feel like a cop-out, but it's the sort of cheesy twist that somehow works within the context of this film. The story shouldn't be taken too seriously here either way. As the plot becomes increasingly convoluted and we lose track of its many intricacies (again, true to the noir tradition), the narrative becomes secondary to the film's primary focus - the art of storytelling itself. This film isn't about the story; it's about how the story is told.

In conclusion, "Femme Fatale" is quintessential De Palma, for better or worse. Adored by fans as a triumph of visual storytelling, it may face dismissal from detractors for its perceived lack of conventional substance, like character development or thematic depth, its ridiculous plot, or its ostensible male gaze towards women. Do not be fooled though by this master of deception. "Femme Fatale" may be deftly disguised as sleazy, soft-core Eurotrash, yet behind the veneer of gratuitous nudity and a pulpy plot unmistakably lies filmmaking craft of the purest quality. It's an utterly cinematic experience that demands appreciation for its unapologetic commitment to visual storytelling, which is ultimately what film as a medium is about.

Infinity Pool (2023)

Brandon Cronenberg delivers another twisted and surreal nightmare, but lack of focus keeps 'Infinity Pool' from being a truly great film

[7/10 · 28 December 2023]

With Possessor (2020), Brandon Cronenberg announced himself as an exciting new filmmaker with a singular creative vision. It was one of the few films that succeeded in legitimately disturbing me, with its intriguing high concept and truly terrifying nightmarish imagery. Shortly after that, I saw his debut feature, Antiviral (2012), which I also liked for its ability to evoke a hauntingly dreadful, but not completely unrealistic vision of a dystopian future. Needless to say, I had been looking forward to seeing Young Cronenberg's new feature, Infinity Pool (2023), ever since I first heard about it. After finally seeing it, this film further confirms to me that Brandon Cronenberg, early in his hopefully long career, has already developed his own distinctive style. Brandon has obviously been inspired by his illustrious father David in some ways (elements of body horror, outbursts of abrupt and explicit violence), but there are plenty of personal touches that signify Brandon's own unique vision (these near future, high-concept sci-fi stories with unparalleled surreal and nightmarish imagery, recurring themes like questions of identity and class inequality etc.).

Infinity Pool takes place on the fictional island of La Tolqa, where James Foster (Alexander Skarsgard, reliable as always) and his wife Em (Cleopatra Coleman) are enjoying an all-inclusive beach vacation in a luxury resort. They befriend Gabi (Mia Goth, who has portrayed same outrageous 'horror villains' this year) and Alban Bauer (Jalil Lespert), a deadly accident occurs, and James gets sucked into the resort's perverse subculture of hedonistic tourism, reckless violence and surreal horrors. Like I mentioned, I really am the target audience for the sort of macabre, hallucinogenic nightmares that Cronenberg conjures up in his films and he really delivers here in that regard. There is some truly weird and disturbing stuff going on in this film and you're never quite sure if what you're watching is "really happening" or some demented, drug-infused nightmare James is having (especially as he starts to indulge in a "local root drug" together with the hedonistic 'cult' he has fallen in with).

The film also manages to touch on many interesting themes, like the predatory nature of luxury tourism in third world countries, questions of memory and identity, the way the rich can just buy off any sort of accountability for their actions and the nihilistic hedonism and ever-increasing appetite for new thrills of these ultra-rich. But at the same time, Cronenberg kind of fails to bind these different narrative and thematic threads together into one cohesive thesis statement. While I was utterly captivated by the madness unfolding on screen ("enjoy" may not be the correct term, given the many appalling occurrences that were taking place), I eventually began pondering, "Where is all this chaos leading too?" Unfortunately, an answer never materialized for me as a central vision never quite came into focus. It's almost as if Cronenberg had too much on his mind for one film and he never quite could make all these different ideas gel in a completely satisfying manner. I thought the director did an outstanding job of walking the tightrope between throwing all these different concepts and creative images up on the screen while stile adhering to a clear central vision in Possessor, which I consider to be his masterpiece so far. There was a clear method to the madness in that film, which I couldn't really decipher here.

Still, with his third feature, Brandon Cronenberg delivers further proof that he is not just a clone of his father, but a spellbinding filmmaker of his own. Admittedly, his singular brand of surreal, perverted sci-fi stuff is right up my alley, but love it or hate it, it is hard to deny that Brandon Cronenberg has emerged as a unique voice in the current filmmaking landscape. His intrepidity to alienate large portions of his audience makes him never less than interesting, and in turn results in captivating cinema for the small segment of viewers that is prepared to go along for the ride. If the director can continue to create these same uniquely deranged and lurid nightmares, but in support of a more focused vision with a clearer central theme, another masterpiece undoubtedly awaits us. In any case, I'll be interested to see what he does next.

Psycho (1960)

Psychoanalysis: Peek Beyond the Curtain to Discover a Cinematic Landmark

[10/10 · 22 December 2023]

"Well, a son is a poor substitute for a lover."

Have to bump this one up to 5 stars. After this rewatch, as part of my ongoing Hitchcock marathon, I can now confidently say that Psycho is my favorite film of the master and that it sits firmly in my top 20 films of all time. The number of memorable quotes, indelible images and iconic scenes is quite frankly insane (wink, wink), and yet, Psycho amounts to more than the sum of its exquisite parts.

There really is no other film like it, from the unique way it is structured, to its visual inventiveness, and the complex psychology of it. Indeed, Psycho's bold and successful experimentation when it comes to both the arts of storytelling and filmmaking must be applauded. However, this is not just an "important" film, merely a piece of academia to be studied by film scholars. The reason these creative visual techniques and the revolutionary story structure are still studied after all these years is, after all, because THEY WORK. So even if you don't care about actively analyzing Hitchcock's technical and narrative innovations, Psycho will still take you on a cinematic joyride, as it is just an utterly engrossing and immensely entertaining film.

The synopsis of the film: Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) embezzles 40k from a rich client at the bank where she works and subsequently goes on the run with it. This is, of course, the greatest red herring in the history of cinema. Everything that's going on with the cop following her and the used car salesman, then the storm hitting, checking in at the Bates Motel and Marion's drawn-out conversation with Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), which then seems to make her change her mind. Through this meticulous, slow build-up, Hitchcock demands our full investment in Marion's predicament, but of course, none of that matters anymore after THE SCENE.

The shower scene in Psycho. Probably one of the most well-known (and most referenced) scenes in film history, and I got nothing to add. The screeching violins and the quick editing, conspiring to make every 'film cut' feel like a 'knife cut', it's just so very, very good. I can't imagine what it must have been like to see this in theaters in 1960 (which goes for the whole film really).

The subsequent scene, while not as iconic and formally inventive, is just as effective in conveying some crucial story and character elements. As we see Norman methodically cleaning up the mess, his mind racing while still acting calm and collected, we realize he's been here before. In a minutes-long wordless sequence, we get to see every painstaking detail of the cover-up, up until the dissolution of the car in the swamp (another great visual moment), and it all feels oddly satisfying. On an unrelated note, I feel like Vince Gilligan must have watched that scene A LOT, because it reminded me of those extended wordless set pieces he used to create in Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul, where we just watch men at work, usually executing some complicated scheme, the intricate details of which are only slowly revealed to us.

Back to Psycho. It's as if another film begins during that clean-up scene, as the story definitively shifts from Marion Crane to the film's real protagonist, Norman Bates. We realize now that we have been taken for a ride by that sly Mr. Hitchcock with the whole money theft storyline, as the true crux of the film slowly comes into focus: what is going on with Norman Bates? What about that domineering mother? What other unspeakable events have taken place in that motel and in that large gothic house towering over it? The answers are more horrifying than we could have imagined, revealed (partly) during the masterful climactic sequence, through some memorably ghoulish imagery.

My only small gripe with this film upon first viewing was the part right after that, with the psychiatrist explaining everything we just saw at a rapid-fire pace, as if he was tasked with wrapping up the film in a couple of minutes. This time around, the exposition dump didn't even bother me, because A) although it still feels like a somewhat clunky bit of storytelling, I also feel the explanation is necessary to fully unpack the film's final twist and its inherent complex psychology and B) I knew what was still coming: one final high note to end the film on. And sure enough, we get that deranged voice-over as the camera slowly zooms in on Norman's/Mother's face. One final lurid image to be imprinted on the viewer's mind, with Norman's creepy face and smile superimposed on Mother's skull.

Anthony Perkins' portrayal of Norman Bates is, of course, another key to the success of this film. I truly believe he gives one of the great performances of all time here. He imbues what could have been a stereotypical 'horror movie villain' with creepiness, charm, vulnerability, intelligence, loneliness and desire, all at once.

Obviously, there is so much to unpack psychologically with this film, it makes your head hurt. Once Norman Bates' true nature is revealed, the murder retro-actively becomes an incredibly layered act: on a surface level, it is of course Norman killing Marion, with the act of murder possibly being a metaphor for rape (Norman is clearly shown to be attracted to Marion physically). But as explained by the psychiatrist, it is in fact Mother taking over, triggered by Norman's arousal and (sexual) desire, and it is really her who kills Marion. Finally, I felt as if it was also Norman killing Mother (again), represented by Marion, as she is also having an affair with a married man (surely this is no coincidence). I won't dive into any more of the complex psychology at play with Norman Bates, as this character is already one of the most studied subjects in 'Psychoanalysis' (pun very much intended).

One could say that Psycho invented 'elevated horror' before horror itself even existed as a real genre. In addition to having a complex and layered main character, the film boasts a stunning cinematography and maintains a tense atmosphere throughout, while relying on prolific visual techniques to evoke visceral reactions from the audience. Today, that's basically what we would refer to as 'elevated horror'.

In conclusion, Psycho is one of my favorite films and a landmark in the history of cinema. If Hitchcock's radical formal inventiveness alone isn't enough to ensure it of that status, consider that Psycho remains one of the most daringly creative films of the 20th century on a narrative level as well, in the way it so boldly broke the established conventions around story structure and incorporated complex psychology into a 'simple horror story'. Not to mention its 'killer twist'. Finally, add to that Bernard Herrmann's iconic score (I can't believe I almost neglected to mention the film's legendary music in this already overlong review!) and an all-time great 'horror villain' (albeit an unconventional one) performance by Anthony Perkins and you have, with Psycho, not only one of the most influential films of all time, but also a film that still holds up today as one of the best ever made.

Strangers on a Train (1951)

A Hitchcock thriller with a whole lot of style, but ultimately lacking in depth

[7/10 · 13 December 2023]

I watched "Strangers on a Train" once before and remember, while certainly feeling entertained, not being particularly crazy about it back then. In revisiting the film as part of my Hitchcock marathon, expectations were high, considering its esteemed reputation for being one of the director's best works. Although my understanding of Hitchcock's cinematic language and appreciation of his visual inventiveness has grown since that first viewing, the overall impact of the film, unfortunately, still didn't resonate as strongly with me as it seems to do with almost everybody else.

As has been highlighted by many others, the movie boasts several brilliant set pieces that showcase Hitchcock's filmmaking brilliance. I think about the whole murder sequence, from the misdirection in the tunnel, using shadows and screams, to the actual deed being viewed through the lenses of the victim's broken glasses. Later, there's some intricate crosscutting between scenes of a tennis match and a character reaching for his lighter in the sewer, which elevates these ordinary activities to an almost unbearable level of suspense. The film's climax at the carnival is another testament to Hitch's ability to create high levels of tension from seemingly innocuous settings.

In "Strangers on a Train", rich-kid-with-daddy(-and-mommy)-issues (a Hitchcock trademark) Bruno Anthony approaches tennis pro Guy Haines with his theory for committing the "perfect murder" (another director trademark). One of the film's strengths lies in the performance of Robert Walker: he portrays Bruno Anthony as a charming, manipulative playboy who is gradually revealed to be a full-blown lunatic.

However, in my opinion, the narrative falls short in fully exploring the potential of the intriguing premise (the "murder swap"). Hitchcock's best works usually add some element of (moral or other) ambiguity, complex psychology or a plot twist that completely upends our perspective and the way we think of certain characters. "Strangers on a Train" doesn't have that additional layer of complication. The characters lack the depth and complexity that elevate Hitchcock's best works. Bruno Anthony is a psychopathic villain without any redeeming qualities (and a possible Oedipus complex). Guy Haines, in equally straightforward manner, is presented as an uncomplicated hero: he doesn't seriously consent with Bruno's plan for the murder swap, even though his wife is clearly shown to be a manipulative monster who cuckolds him. Guy is an upstanding citizen who just had the bad fortune of meeting the wrong stranger on the wrong train, his innocence never in doubt.

In the Hitchcock's pantheon, "Strangers on a Train" falls into the mid-tier for me. While I could better appreciate the technical finesse this time around, the film ultimately failed to really strike a chord with me beyond its visual bravura. The absence of extra intrigue, whether through engaging character development, interesting thematic elements, or unexpected plot twists, prevents it from being in the upper echelon of Hitchcock's work, occupied by classics like "Vertigo", "Psycho", "Rebecca", "Notorious", or the in many ways similar, but more richly layered, "Rope". Despite some captivating moments , "Strangers on a Train" remains a film where the technical brilliance outshines the narrative and thematic depth.

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

Sunset Boulevard: a journey into Hollywood's heart of darkness, headed by Gloria Swanson's layered acting masterclass

[9/10 · 7 December 2023]

As the movie capital of the world, Los Angeles has always managed to capture people's imaginations. This goes all the way back to the early 20th century, when the advent of the big studios brought about the first Golden Age during the roaring '20 and Hollywood became the center of the film industry. Film became in fact an industry, presenting itself as a 'dream factory', selling to the public the idea of the American dream. This industry was built on bonafide stars, good-looking men and women with whom the audience could identify and who, in their pictures, overcame obstacles to achieve success. Stars like Norma Desmond (or Gloria Swanson, for that matter). In selling the public their dreams, Hollywood has attracted many hopefuls in search or their own American dream. People from all over the world with dreams of being in front of (or sometimes behind) the camera, of becoming the next big star and seeing their name up in lights. Up until this day, Los Angeles is a lightning rod for hordes of aspiring actors/actresses or other artistic hopefuls. Obviously, Hollywood itself is in no small part guilty of sustaining its own myth. Most films about 'the movies' perpetuate this romanticized version of Hollywood as a magical place where dreams come true and anything is possible "if you just want it enough".

Sunset Boulevard, however, takes a somewhat different approach: through the story of a would-be screenwriter and a washed-up movie star, it offers us a blunt examination of the dark side of Hollywood, a cruel industry with a short memory that stifles creativity and ambition and is quick to dispose of its expendables. We follow B-movie screenwriter Joe Gillis, unable to sell his work and struggling to make ends meet. He is ready to go back to his hometown in Ohio, when a fateful incident makes him stumble upon the decaying Sunset Boulevard mansion of faded silent-movie star Norma Desmond. All but forgotten by the movie-going public and living in isolation, Norma is delusional, believing that fans are still longing for her and that she will make a triumphant return to the big screen. She proposes Joe to move in and help her finish the script that will propel her back into the spotlight. Initially reluctant, but ultimately seduced by the comfort of Norma's wealth, Joe agrees and basically becomes her gigolo.

With its brutal dissection of an equally ruthless industry, Sunset Boulevard doesn't so much deconstruct the Hollywood myth as shatter it completely. It looks into the gaping mouth of the monster, one that chews up its stars and spits them out whenever it's done with them. Former stars like Norma are abandoned, neglected by studio executives and the public alike, desperately clinging to their glory days and longing to return to the spotlight. Norma roams the ruin that is her mansion like a vampire, a relic of an older time, in search of a purpose in a fast-changing world.

This the fate of the lucky few, the talented people who in addition were fortunate enough to once achieve such success. For the other 99%, the common suckers like Joe, who are either untalented or unlucky, Hollywood is simply a place where dreams go to die. They are never even chewed up by the monster in the first place, but rather spit out immediately. In the world of Sunset Boulevard, these are the people that end up on a bus home to Ohio, their heads hanging in shame. Either that or they become gigolos for middle-aged, mentally disturbed former movie stars, one false move away from ending up face down in the pool of a broken down mansion.

Gloria Swanson's gloriously outlandish performance is fully deserving of its iconic status in film history. Her histrionics and over-the-top facial expressions are perfectly suited to the (once) larger-than-life star of the silent movie era, Norma Desmond. She gets to deliver classic lines like "I AM big, it's the pictures that got small." Or, when Joe suggests that her script needs a bit more dialogue: "What for? I can say anything I want with my EYES." The fact that this was a comeback role (sorry, a RETURN) for Swanson, who in real life was one of the grand dames of Golden Age Hollywood and star of many Cecil B. De Mille's films, obscures the line between fact and fiction. This meta-aspect adds a fascinating extra layer of intrigue to her performance and the film's commentary on Hollywood's shameful treatment of its talent. "Without me, there wouldn't be any Paramount Studio", Norma Desmond's claims at one point in the film, but it might as well be Gloria Swanson herself speaking.

Swanson's flashiest scene (in a movie full of them) comes at the very end, in an epilogue that is both compelling and deeply tragic. As Norma is about to be arrested for the murder of Joe, she has lost all touch with reality and has disappeared fully into her own dream world. The last scene of the film is transcendent. As Norma comes down the stairs, her descent into madness is complete. A look of insanity in her eyes, she stares directly into the camera, addressing "those wonderful people out there in the dark." At this point, I got literal goosebumps. Such a chilling ending, utterly devastating, but perhaps also somehow some sort of perverted tribute to the allure of the spotlight and the magic of the movies? In any case, for me it is up there with the greatest endings of all time.

Finally, a word on this film's legacy. It is interesting to see how Sunset Boulevard inspired more films to look at Hollywood through this darker, more cynical lens, like The Player, Birdman, or my all-time favorite film, Mulholland Drive. Sunset Boulevard was undoubtedly a huge inspiration for David Lynch. There are little references throughout his filmography (FBI-agent Gordon Cole!), but specifically the parallels with his own magnum opus are remarkable. There are many plot and thematic similarities and even the title is a nod to this film. Most importantly, just like Sunset Boulevard, Mulholland Drive offers a scathing criticism of the soulless nature of Hollywood and the destructive effect that the movie industry can have on ambitious and talented people. The general concept of an (aspiring) actress in search of an illustrious career on the big screen, gradually growing more disillusioned, before finally giving way to insanity, is the same, but being the singular filmmaker that he is, Lynch of course put his own uniquely nightmarish twist on it. With Mulholland Drive, David Lynch pretty much made it a wrap for the 'cynical exploration of the dark side of Hollywood' subgenre, effectively making it pointless for anyone to have another stab at it. However, it is probably safe to say that Mulholland Drive would have never been made, had it not been for Sunset Boulevard (by Lynch's own admission, it is one of his favorite films ever made).

Obsessed with Vertigo (1997 TV Movie)

Very dense documentary offers fascinating look at both the making and restoration of Vertigo

[7/10 · 3 December 2023]

This is a succinct, made-for-TV documentary about the making and restoration of Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958) that is decidedly more compelling than your average "making of" bonus feature.

A voice-over narration and short interviews with Hitchcock collaborators reveal some interesting nuggets about some of the general ideas and little details that went into making this film. It was very interesting to hear the thought process behind some of the decisions made in creating this endlessly intriguing and influential film.

What adds an additional layer of intrigue to this documentary is that the material about the making of Vertigo is interspersed with a look at the process of restoring the film to its original state. This is something I had never really thought about, but in the case of Vertigo, this was apparently an essential undertaking, as only deteriorated prints of the film were circulating in the early 1990s. People watching these faded copies of the original could not appreciate the film in its full glory, and without the efforts of these restorers, Vertigo might have been lost forever. Fortunately for us, Robert A. Harris and James C. Katz took on the expensive and time-consuming process of restoring this film. Indeed, it is clear from what we see here that film restoration is painstaking and laborious work. But the results are remarkable. The passion these people have for film is undeniable and the service they have provided invaluable. These guys are heroes!

Overall, this short documentary is loaded with information. I felt like the mixture of background on Hitchcock's career, behind-the-scenes info about the making of Vertigo and a detailed look at the restoration process maybe might have merited a feature-length documentary. But as it stands, this dense 29-minutes documentary is definitely worth checking out for film buffs.

Hardly Working (2022)

Obvious and repetitive jokes make promising premise run out of gas quickly, misguided attempt at social commentary adds insult to injury

[2/10 · 3 December 2023]

Focusing on the daily lives of the NPC's (Non-Playable Characters) in a video game seems like an original concept for a fun short film. However, 'Hardly Working' wasn't it. I did enjoy about the first two minutes, but much like the existences of these NPC's, the humor in this (overlong) short is just way too one-dimensional. The same joke is repeated over and over as the 'comedy' grows stale at an astonishing pace. Video games contain glitches and continuity errors, we get it. Even more grating is the unrelenting presence of an unbearably smug voice-over, which tells us exactly what we can already see happening on the screen (presumably for comedic effect), while occasionally throwing in some pseudo-intellectual musings that are supposed to make this a commentary on the numbing nature of capitalism. These comments come across as overly didactic and conceited, all while not being nearly as clever as intended.

The whole thing feels like a TikTok reel stretched out to short film length and even at 20 minutes, 'Hardly Working' considerably overstays its welcome. It pisses me off, because this feels like a misguided waste of an interesting premise. But maybe I'm overrating its potential and this was just always meant to be a 5-minute YouTube video rather than a fully realized short film.

Aqueronte (2023)

Filmmaking bravura transforms ordinary boat trip into a mythical journey

[7/10 · 3 December 2023]

Anything can become true cinema in the hands of a gifted filmmaker.

'Aqueronte' has no conventional story to speak of. It's just a heterogenous group of people with different backgrounds, stories, concerns and goals coming together for transportation across a river on a ferry. Director Manuel Muñoz Rivas takes this ordinary setup and transforms the boat trip into an epic journey through a display of pure filmmaking skill. From that long, hypnotizing opening shot, with the camera slowly moving through the misty landscape as the ferry departs, the tone is set. As the scenery changes throughout the boat trip, Rivas plays with the different lights, shadows and sounds to create poetic visuals and a hypnotic atmosphere. We are guided through the different phases of the day as this journey of seemingly mythical proportions continues. Is this ferry trip a metaphor for the crossing of the River Styx? This interpretation seems to be confirmed late in the film as the figure of Charon, the boatman who was tasked with guiding the dead across the River Styx in Greek mythology, is explicitly referred to in dialogue.

If isn't clear by now, 'Aqueronte' moves at a very deliberate pace and nothing really 'happens', so if you prefer films with a conventional narrative, you won't find anything you like here. And despite being under its spell for the most part, even I felt like things did drag a little in the middle portion of this short film. But ultimately, the good far outweighed the bad for me. This is slow, atmospheric cinema, a creative blending of image and sound that doesn't necessarily contain any obvious message or explicit commentary, but nonetheless manages to leave a unique impression on the viewer.

Rope (1948)

Although not quite a masterpiece, Rope is a daring exploration of style and substance from the Master of Suspense

[8/10 · 3 December 2023]

I generally like "real time", "single take" films (Birdman, Victoria, and the more recent Boiling Point spring to mind), so it was very cool to see what is presumably one of the first attempts at that particular style of filmmaking, executed by the legendary Alfred Hitchcock no less.

A quick bit of research reveals that this movie was in fact shot in 10 takes, ranging from 4 minutes to just over 10 minutes. The transitions between those takes are quite easily spotted, as Hitchcock alternates between having the camera zoom into a dark object, totally blacking out the lens, and making more conventional cuts. This little "deception" (if you could even call it that) to make it seem as if the film consists of one continuous take didn't bother me at all. After all, what is a film but a series of illusions being played on the viewer?

'Rope' is undeniably still the result of a filmmaker who is eager to experiment with the medium and who has confidence in his stylistic prowess. However, when watching films that are considered radically innovative and highly influential, I sometimes find myself appreciating their inventive nature more than really loving them. But with 'Rope', Hitchcock delivers a film that is stylistically inventive while being utterly compelling as well. It's a case of style enhancing substance, as I enjoyed this film for more than just its technical bravura.

About that technical bravura though. The long takes may give this film the feel of a recorded stage play but calling it that would be selling it short. The camerawork is awe-inspiring here, not only in how it navigates the different players and spaces within the single location setting, but also in its framing of certain objects or people in order to manipulate the viewer and generate tension from seemingly ordinary situations.

In addition to the virtuoso long takes, there is also great use of color and lighting in this film. 'Rope' was Hitchcock's first color film, and he seamlessly integrates this added opportunity for visual flair into his trademark style, especially during the suspenseful climactic sequence, where you have those red and green neon lights flickering outside the apartment window. The reflection of these neon lights tinges the proceedings with a hint of surrealism (something Hitchcock would later return in Vertigo). Furthermore, the movie lasts 80 minutes and appears to take place in "real time", but the time frame it is covering is longer. For example, the actual dinner lasts only 20 minutes in the film and the sunset happens way too quickly. Though I am not technically proficient enough to discern exactly how this effect was achieved, I'm pretty sure it involved some inventive way of lighting the scene. The film ultimately concludes with a breathtaking final frame, a remarkable combination of perfect composition and vibrant colors. The exaggeratedly stilted look of that frame adds to the feeling that you're watching the re-enactment of a painting.

To my surprise, I found out that Hitchcock himself later dismissed his experimentation with 10-minute takes in this film as a stunt. Like I mentioned earlier though, I found much more to latch onto in this gripping film than just an appreciation of the innovative filmmaking. All the actors shine in their respective roles, and I thought the 3 central characters had great chemistry. Thematically, it fascinated me how obviously fascist philosophies, like the idea of murder as a privilege of the superior few to do away with inferior beings, are openly discussed only 3 years after World War II had ended. Hitler is even mentioned by name. The blunt way in which the sociopathic Brandon repeatedly talks about the "intellectually superior individuals" and "inferior beings whose lives are unimportant" first struck me as darkly humorous, a satire of how preppy, private-schooled, upper-class brats think of the rest of the world. There is some slick screwball dialogue at other moments that seems to hint at that comedic approach. But the repeated discussions about superiority, followed by that final moralizing monologue by Rupert made me realize that Hitchcock is in fact issuing an explicit warning about the dangers of such philosophies. It is probably exactly because this film came out right after WW II that a genuine fear of fascist ideologies still looms large over 'Rope'.

Unfortunately, that ending is the one thing about this film that didn't work for me. First, it is clearly established that Rupert is the one who has planted his theory about murder being justifiable for a few "superiors" in the boys' head and that Brandon and Phillip put his idea into practice mostly to impress their former headmaster. When we hear them discuss the topic at the party, it first seems as if Rupert is being facetious, but he goes on to explicitly state that he is not kidding. But later still, when he finds out his former pupils have put his theory to the test, Rupert makes a 180-turn, saying that they "twisted his words". He goes on to give a big heavy-handed, moralizing speech that spells out the exact noble principles that we are supposed to take away from the film. I didn't like that sudden shift into didactic moralization and the fact that it comes as the result of such a strange and inconsistent character turn kind of muddied the social commentary for me. I think I would have liked the film better had it indeed been that sharper dark satire I first thought it was intended to be, with Rupert as the half tongue-in-cheek, half serious instiller of fascist ideologies in rich and spoiled upper-class brats. But given the broader context at the time of the film's release, its more explicit approach to that dicey topic is certainly understandable.

Overall, watching 'Rope' was a very enjoyable experience. As a fan of films that use long takes (be it one continuous take or multiple longer ones), it was cool to see the film that undoubtedly influenced many of them. Despite Hitchcock's own dismissal of his visual experiment as a 'stunt', 'Rope' emerges as a daring exploration of style and substance. In addition to the technical mastery, the film boasts excellent performances from its main cast and includes some surprisingly open discussion of fascist ideologies, offering us a glimpse into post-World War II anxieties. The unsatisfying ending, with its inconsistent character turn and heavy-handed moralization, keep the film from being a legit masterpiece in my book, but 'Rope' remains a compelling and largely successful cinematic experiment from a master storyteller unafraid to challenge stylistic and thematic conventions.

Blow Out (1981)

Blow Out is De Palma at his peak, a perfect fusion of style and substance

[9/10 · 24 November 2023]

While I didn't dislike it upon my first viewing, I had a much greater appreciation for Blow Out during this revisit, as part of my ongoing Brian De Palma deep dive. Perhaps I got too caught up in the details of the conspiracy plot during that initial watch, whereas now, having become more familiar with De Palma's work and personal trademarks, I just marveled at all the creative stuff he is doing in this film. The tone is set from the beginning with a long tracking shot, in which De Palma knowingly leans into his image of sleazy, slightly perverse voyeur. This opening sequence is then revealed to be a film-within-the-film and it kind of made me regret De Palma has never directed a straight-up '80s slasher movie. There are a couple more of those engrossing tracking shots and plenty of the director's visual trademarks, like some split screen action and many of his patented split diopters. Halfway through the film, we get to treated to a stunning 360° shot when Jack discovers his tapes have all been erased. And finally of course, there's that masterful climactic sequence, set during the Liberty Day celebration. It's a classic De Palma set piece, one of his very best, containing some of the most potent imagery of his entire career.

Narratively, Blow Out centers on audio technician Jack Terry, who unintentionally records the sound of a car accident which might have been murder. John Travolta sinks his teeth into this character who becomes slowly obsessed (a thematic director trademark) with exposing the truth. The conspiracy plot is firmly rooted in post-Watergate paranoia, and the prominence of audio tapes as the key to uncovering the truth is surely no coincidence. The film contains some undeniable social commentary about hypocrisy in American politics, loss of innocence and our society's resulting cynicism (by the time Jack has put all the pieces together, nobody seems to care anymore about what really happened). The absolute gut punch of an ending brings these points home by virtue of some incredibly powerful and indelible imagery, followed by a crushing epilogue (talk about cynicism!). The way Travolta delivers the haunting last lines of the film sent shivers down my spine.

Furthermore, Blow Out seems to be a personal film for De Palma, in that it deals with the intricate details of making and editing movies (manually syncing up image and sound to tell a story). Through the display of Jack's growing obsession with his tapes, De Palma shows us how obsessive he is about his own craft. So, on top of the stylistic prowess I had come to expect from De Palma, he adds quite a bit of thematic depth in this film, ranging from socio-political commentary to a more personal reflection on his passion for making movies.

In conclusion, Blow Out is the result of a perfect marriage between style and substance, its plot and themes ideally suited to De Palma's artistic sensibilities. With a full-on display of pure filmmaking craft, De Palma creates a taut psychological thriller, which offers a commentary on the hypocrisy, paranoia and cynicism in post-Watergate America, as well as a meditation on the filmmaking process. Blow Out now sits firmly in my top 3 De Palma films, along with Carrie and Scarface, indicating a versatility that signifies the director's incredible range.

Obsession (1976)

Obsession offers a glimpse into De Palma's own cinematic fixations

[7/10 · 19 November 2023]

It's pretty amazing how a guy with a Hitchcock fetish, an appetite for visual experimentation and an ever so slightly perverted mind can have made such uniquely compelling films.

While Brian De Palma has never exactly been shy about his influences as a filmmaker, this has to be his work that most overtly and specifically references that of Alfred Hitchcock. For where the impact that 'the Master of Suspense' had on De Palma is evident throughout his filmography in terms of stylistic choices and recurring themes, 'Obsession' (which might as well refer to De Palma's relation with Hitchcock, maybe even 'Vertigo' in particular) borrows heavily from the master on a narrative level as well. It is even said that Hitchcock was furious when De Palma decided to make this film, as he thought it was virtually a remake of 'Vertigo'. While 'Obsession' cannot be called a remake of that seminal Hitchcock film in any literal sense, the many parallels between the two films are undeniable and, in the documentary 'De Palma', the director unabashedly acknowledges that he and 'Obsession' co-writer Paul Schrader came up with the idea for their film after revisiting 'Vertigo'.

Both in terms of its story and its central themes of identity, loss, love and yes, obsession, 'Obsession' is basically 'Vertigo' with some shades of 'Rebecca' sprinkled in during the latter part of the film, culminating in a lurid finale with a perverted, Freudian twist that could only have sprung from the warped mind of De Palma (although Park Chan-Wook has come up with one or two of those throughout his career). Still, despite its apparent lack of originality (in terms of its content at least), the film managed to grab my attention from the start and kept me captivated all the way through to that twist ending, which is mostly a credit to the stylistic prowess of De Palma and the haunting score by frequent Hitchcock collaborator Bernard Herrmann (who did the score for Vertigo as well). With his inventive camera movements (the camera seems to be endlessly circling at times, which has an almost hypnotizing effect on the viewer) and often jarring camera angles, De Palma keeps things visually interesting. These creative elements, combined with the great use of atmospheric shooting locations New Orleans and Florence, create a dreamlike, melancholy atmosphere, which is further amplified by the movie's lighting.

After having started a bit of a deeper dive into his filmography, there is no denying the gifted director that Brian De Palma is stylistically, and it makes for films that are never less than interesting. Even though he wears his cinematic influences on his sleeve for all to see (in addition to multiple Hitchcock films, 'Obsession' also seems to draw inspiration from Nicolas Roeg's 'Don't Look Now' and Giallo horror), De Palma is talented enough as a filmmaker that he can skillfully weave these different influences together and still create something new and original. Because of his singularly playful visual style, De Palma's films always end up having their own distinct personality, despite their often-obvious reference points. After having been through Hi, Mom!, Carrie and Obsession over these last few weeks, coming up next up in my Brian De Palma 'oeuvreview' will be a rewatch of Blow Out. And I guess I'll have to give Vertigo another look now as well.

Goodfellas (1990)

A personal appreciation of Scorsese's cinematic triumph

[10/10 · 11 November 2023]

The time has come to finally do what's right and bump up my favorite film from my favorite director to a full 5 stars. Martin Scorsese has made many legitimate masterpieces, but like many, I would say that GoodFellas embodies best what he is all about as a filmmaker. It's a New York set gangster epic about the Italian-American mafia, a milieu that has always fascinated Scorsese. It's a rise-and-fall narrative, the kind of story he has told peerlessly throughout his career. And it's Scorsese himself operating at the peak of his cinematic powers. Never are Scorsese's stylistic trademarks better at display than in this film, from the voice-over narration (breaking the fourth wall at the very end) and the perfectly timed needle drops, over the montages set to 50's doo-wop music (early in the film) and classic rock hits (later on), to the freeze frames and the overall dynamic editing, it all mashes up beautifully to create a perfectly flowing film with an infectious energy.

There's just so many classic moments that are etched into the history of cinema. The freeze frame of Henry's face as the voice-over narration begins ("As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster"), followed by a needle drop of Tony Bennett's 'Rags to Riches'. "Funny How?" The iconic long tracking shot into the Copacabana, set to The Crystals' 'And then he kissed me'. The 'Layla' montage where everybody connected to the Lufthansa heist gets whacked. Henry standing up from the witness booth in court and walking towards the camera to directly address the audience. Tommy shooting at the camera. Seeing all those classic moments back just brought a smile to my face.

Another thing I love about this film is that it's so funny. Now you could say: what do you mean funny? Well, it's funny, you know. It's funny, it's a funny film. Well, funny how? What's funny about it? Just, you know, it's funny. How they tell the stories, what? There's that iconic scene of course. Or the scene where they're on their way to dump Billy Batts' corpse and stop by Tommy's mother (played by Scorsese's real life mother Catherine!), who insists they have some food, followed by the smash cut to them casually having some pasta (the editing is brilliant throughout this film, thanks to Scorsese's long-time collaborator, Thelma Schoonmaker). The whole 'family' congratulating Henry on getting out of his first pinch. Just the general behavior way these Italian-American wise-guys act and talk in this film never fails to make me laugh.

By the way, I feel like it's such a lame critique to say that "Scorsese is glamorizing the lifestyle of these mobsters". First, judging a film by its supposed (lack of) morality is such a boring way to look at it. Furthermore, saying that he glamorizes the mafia is mostly a compliment to Scorsese's prowess as a filmmaker, as the whole point of the first act is to show us how the still very young and impressionable Henry gets seduced by the seemingly glamorous lifestyle of these gangsters. Scorsese is just so damn good at that, he almost beguiles us too.

The whole discussion actually reminds me of Trainspotting, another one of my all-time favorite films, which also gets criticized sometimes for glamorizing its thorny subject (drug addiction). In that film, main character Mark Renton says: "people think about the misery, the desperation and death, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise, we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not stupid. At least, we're not that stupid."

It's the same with the gangster lifestyle: of course, there's the violence and death, but there is obviously also a certain allure to the way they live. Otherwise, they wouldn't do it. Mobsters don't follow any rules, they do and take whatever they want to, whenever they want to. There's the money, the superficial glitter and glamour and even an apparent sense of camaraderie amongst these 'Good Fellas'. And yes, Scorsese uses every cinematic trick at his disposal to showcase these enticing aspects of the mobster lifestyle, because that's what Henry sees and what draws him in. Now because he is such a supremely talented filmmaker, in making us look at these gangsters through Henry's eyes, Scorsese can almost convince us too that this is perhaps truly an enviable life (before of course pulling the rug in the second half). That's why the Copa tracking shot is so brilliant: Scorsese shows us in about two minutes how Karen could so easily get swept up in all the glitter and glamour of Henry's lifestyle, to the point that she's willing to ignore all the red flags that come with it.

However, despite all the money and the flash and the fun, Scorsese eventually shows us as well that the good times can't last, as sooner or later, the chickens come home to roost. We see the brutal violence and its consequences, the paranoia and the ruthless backstabbing. Especially the supposed feeling of friendship between these wise guys is brutally undercut, as they either start killing each other or ratting on one another to save their own skin. All of this is presented with the same cinematic bravura by the way. There's even another parallel with Trainspotting there, as all the main characters either end up succumbing to their addiction or backstabbing each other.

Both GoodFellas and Trainspotting are movies that portray their characters and their lifestyles with plenty of stylistic flourishes AND without easy moralization, which rubs some people the wrong way. However, it's still clear there's only a couple of ways these stories can end and most of them are depressingly hopeless. Just because Scorsese and Boyle don't outright condemn their characters doesn't mean they idolize them either. I didn't exactly come away from my multiple viewings of GoodFellas wanting to be a gangster, just like I have never wanted to try some heroin after watching Trainspotting for the umpteenth time.

It's all there in Henry Hill's final words: "Anything I wanted was a phone call away. I bet twenty, thirty grand over a weekend. Didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. When I was broke, I'd go out and rob some more. We ran everything." Even though his actions through a life of crime eventually caught up with him, to the point that he had to choose between ratting out all his 'friends' to the FBI or getting killed by those same friends, he's still nostalgic for his former life, lamenting how "Today everything is different; there's no action, have to wait around like everyone else. I'm an average nobody, get to live the rest of my life like a schnook." And although we certainly don't feel any sympathy for him, we get it.

Just like the director is firing on all cylinders here, so are the actors. Ray Liotta was born to play baby-faced gangster Henry Hill; his narration is pitch perfect as well. The iconic Robert De Niro is effortlessly cool as the cold and calculating Jimmy Conway (that slow-motion shot of him smoking at the bar as he decides he's going to have a bunch of his 'associates' killed is glorious), while it's Joe Pesci who has the flashier role here as Tommy DeVito. The way Pesci turns on a dime from joking prankster to violent psychopath is chilling. Both De Niro and Pesci would of course go on to play very similar roles in Scorsese's other '90s gangster epic, Casino.

It's simple really: when I think of Martin Scorsese, I think of GoodFellas. Here's a director, who had already displayed his grasp of a variety of styles, themes, and stories (and thus had already made many great movies), finding the perfect match for his stylistic sensibilities, in terms of story, narrative form, actors, everything. Amongst the many great films he's made, GoodFellas is Scorsese's magnum opus and would serve in many ways as a blueprint for some of his later films (Casino, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Irishman and even Killers of the Flower Moon come to mind). It's one of the movies that made me fall in love with the movies about 10 years ago and will forever be one of my favorite films to return to.

The Universal Theory (2023)

Die Theorie von Allem: a wonderful cinematic odyssey through noir, Hitchcock and surrealism in the Swiss Alps

[9/10 · 9 November 2023]

A spontaneous decision to squeeze in one more film at Film Fest Gent made for one of my most enjoyable discoveries of the festival. After watching this B&W German film noir hommage, at a film festival, on a Tuesday afternoon, I jokingly said to my girlfriend (who I had been dragging along from film to film for three days) that she had now officially become a cinephile. Surprisingly however, I seem to be part of a rather small minority that absolutely loved this film, be it amongst those cinephiles or more casual movie go-ers.

In my opinion, Die Theorie von Allem wonderfully combines influences from many different genres to become something entirely new and exciting in its own right. The film most obviously borrows elements from film noir for most of its runtime (both in terms of plot and aesthetics), before giving way to a more surreal, almost Lynchian atmosphere in its final act. There was just so much to like for me in this film, from the many noir references to the gripping sequence where the protagonist literally goes through the rabbit hole, but the one thing that stood out to me was the absolutely gorgeous B&W cinematography. Filming this in black and white was an obvious stylistic choice to fit the typical noir material, but it also turned out to be surprisingly well suited to the decor of the film. The B&W shots of the stunning Alpine landscapes offer an original, mysterious and equally ravishing perspective on the imposing beauty of those high Swiss mountains. From the first shot of the film (after a short prologue in color), with a completely black background and more and more small flakes of snow slowly falling down the screen, I was completely hooked.

In short: Die Theorie von Allem starts off as a pitch perfect film noir hommage set in the Swiss Alps, gradually mixes in some classic Hitchcock thriller elements, before ultimately slipping out of our reach like an elusive Tarkovsky dream. By the end it's more Meshes of the Afternoon or The Mirror than The Third Man or Vertigo (it's certainly no coincidence that the film is preceded by a quote from avant-garde legend Maya Deren about myths, fact and fiction). Given that I love all of these influences, I guess I was the perfect target audience for this film, which did effectively make for an immensely satisfying experience watching it on the big screen at Film Fest Gent. The odds are pretty big that I'll be rewatching this on some dark and cold winter evening to soak in its dreamlike atmosphere and take in its beautiful imagery once more.

Omen (2023)

Although not quite the surreal fever dream I expected, Augure is still an promising debut from a talented new voice

[6/10 · 6 November 2023]

The screening of Augure that I attended was originally supposed to include a Q&A with director Baloji, which was cancelled because he was ultimately unavailable. This was unfortunate, since I found myself to be feeling particularly unsatisfied when the end credits started to roll. I reckon it could have been very interesting to hear the director talk about his film, to shed some light on some of the choices he made in its realization.

The film begins with a dream sequence, featuring a mystical figure roaming the desert and plenty of surreal imagery. I feel like I'm watching The Holy Mountain and I get excited, because this is what I was hoping to see. Based on what I had read about Augure (and on that opening scene), I was expecting a Jodorowsky-like riff on African folklore and mysticism, an intoxicating blend of surreal tableaus and visual symbolism. There are definitely some inspired dream sequences (like that prologue), which actually did really remind me specifically of Alejandro Jodorowsky's work (the mysticism, symbolism and colorful surrealism), but in spite of this I ultimately found the film to be disappointingly bound to reality by its frustrating allegiance to a conventional narrative style with a clear central plot (and even a clear B-plot).

I guess this is my main frustration with Augure: every time it dips its toe into the realm of the fantastic or the surreal, it's completely compelling, but those dream sequences are too few and far between and as a result, the already limited narrative threads that bind them are spread very thin. The film feels somehow too prosaic, whereas its real strength lies in Baloji's talent for visual poetry, especially given the subject matter that lends itself to this more unconventional way of storytelling (the cultural clash between traditional folklore/mysticism and rational modernism). It's almost like Baloji wanted to tell his story in his own original and visually rich style, but also did not want to scare away mainstream audiences too much by abandoning conventional narrative style.

When the title eventually appears on screen and the film is suddenly over, I'm taken quite aback, my reaction being more of a shrug ("was that it?") than that excited mixture of elation and bewilderment after just having witnessed something completely unique and original ("holy smokes, what did I just watch!?").

As I'm writing this, I'm starting to feel like this review may seem a bit harsh, but that is only because I had such high hopes for this film and effectively did see some glimpses of potential greatness from a talented new filmmaker with an own unique voice. There is definitely a lot of promise in Augure, so I'll be excited to see what Baloji does next. I hope he compromises even less and goes all-in on his creative strengths.

Hi, Mom! (1970)

Early De Palma and De Niro collaboration takes viewer on a uniquely bonkers rollercoaster ride

[7/10 · 2 November 2023]

I was not prepared for this film to be as batshit crazy as it.

This is six years before Taxi Driver, but it might as well have been Robert De Niro's audition tape for that Scorsese classic, as we see him here in one of his first roles, portraying an extremely disturbed Vietnam veteran in this early feature by Brian De Palma.

Hi, Mom! Begins as a twisted version of Rear Window, if the James Stewart character would have been an aspiring porn director/actor played by Robert De Niro. There is a horrifying, "I can't believe they did that" sequence with him joining a black theatre, performance art, urban guerilla group. And it ends with De Niro going full Travis Bickle.

This film is incoherent to the point of being more a series of skits than a fully realized narrative feature. It has a very offbeat, deeply cynical sense of humor and shifts from being very funny to extremely disturbing in the blink of an eye; often it's both at the same time. De Palma satirizes sensationalist media, our obsession with sex and violence and puts on some film some of the most provocative material regarding race relations in America that I've ever seen.

For some people, Hi, Mom! Might be an unfocused mess of a movie. For others, it may be an exhilarating and bold masterpiece. I think I sit somewhere in the middle, but in any case I won't forget it anytime soon.

The Royal Hotel (2023)

Kitty Green's follow-up to gripping debut surprisingly lacks genuine thrills (or new insights) despite promising set-up

[5/10 · 2 November 2023]

Following up her stellar debut feature The Assistant (2019) with The Royal Hotel (2023) feels like a step back for Kitty Green.

The former was set in a supposedly ordinary office environment, as we followed a day in the life of Julia Garner as an assistant in a movie production company. That film only gradually reveals its true identity, as we experience in first person the constant barrage of subtle micro-aggressions Garner's character has to endure from her (mostly) male colleagues. Due in large part to its very effective, naturalistic, almost documentary-like observational style, The Assistant unfolds like a claustrophobic thriller, while making some pointed comments about harassment and power dynamics in the workplace, amongst other things.

The Royal Hotel again features Julia Garner, alongside Jessica Henwick, as Hannah and Liv, two Canadian girls on vacation in Australia. They quickly find themselves short on cash and decide to take a job at a downtrodden dive bar near a remote mining town, hidden deep somewhere in the Australian outback. Safe to say, the clientele of this bar isn't exactly woke to the #metoo movement. Therefore, unlike in The Assistant, it's clear to the audience from the get-go that our protagonists are working in a potentially dangerous environment, as the micro-aggressions of the former film make way for much more overt harassment here.

The problem is that The Royal Hotel never really goes in any particularly surprising or interesting directions from there on. What happens in this film is exactly what you would expect based on its setup. Every night, the miners come into the bar and as the drinks flow in abundance, almost all of them behave inappropriately to some degree towards Hannah and Liv. Some are 'just' making sexually explicit jokes or yanking their tail in other ways, some are catcalling them, others become downright aggressive when their boorish attempts at 'flirtation' are ignored. There's a guy who seems a bit smarter and more refined than the others, there's another guy who's shy and polite, but in the end they both turn out to be dicks as well. I kept waiting for the film to go somewhere unexpected, which would maybe kick things into next gear, but it never really does.

The unexpected thing about The Royal Hotel may actually be that the continuous threat of (sexual) violence never really materializes. Just as the film seems to build towards a climax during one particularly 'eventful' night at the bar, the danger is averted at the last moment and nothing really comes of it. The film teases the possibility of a more terrifying conclusion, but never really evolves into full-on horror, which in a way feels like a waste of the potential of the Australian outback as a great setting for a horror movie.

I am also a bit puzzled about what is supposed to be the social commentary in this film. Tending bar in a town in the middle of nowhere, where time seems to have stood still and the populace mainly consists of miners who have been cut-off from society for too long and therefore don't know how to properly interact with women, probably doesn't pose the safest work environment for two young girls? You know, because these "manly men" might bring out the worst in each other and when you throw copious amounts of alcohol into the mix, they basically start acting like primates? It's just doesn't seem like Green reaches any particularly new or insightful conclusions here, especially since she explored the same themes of toxic masculinity and group dynamics with much more nuance and to much greater effect in her previous feature.

I wonder if I am being too harsh here and if I might have felt differently about both films, had they been released in reverse order. But as it is, The Royal Hotel just felt disappointedly bland after the bombshell that was The Assistant.

Troy (2004)

Troy may be flawed, but is ultimately as fun and entertaining a historical epic as you could hope for

[6/10 · 28 October 2023]

Rewatching this was a fun flashback to my classical languages courses in high school, where we would read (parts of) these classical literary works like The Iliad in their original language (Greek or Latin), thoroughly studying the themes, characters, motives, cultural significance and so on. Often there were modern pieces of pop culture thrown in to demonstrate the lasting impact of those works, like how one teacher would show us The Usual Suspects and connect that film to De Bello Gallico through their similar use of an unreliable narrator (Julius Caesar -> Keyser Söze, think about it!).

I had a lot of fun during those classes, translating and interpreting those stories, comparing the way stories are told through different mediums etc. In hindsight, I would even (partly) credit this classical languages portion of my education for instilling in me a bourgeoning interest in different kinds of culture and (maybe even more so) learning some of the principles to apply when interpreting films, books or plays.

All of this to say that during Greek class, we would read The Iliad, dissecting the different themes of the story, doing character deep dives on Agamemnon and Achilles and analyzing the roles of the many Gods and their significance in Greek culture. In this case of course, the companion piece was an obvious choice and so we would watch scenes from the movie Troy that corresponded with certain passages of the book and analyze how the text was translated unto the screen.

This was my first time watching Troy since those Greek classes about 15 years ago and honestly, I was prepared to hate it. Having seen many, many films since that first viewing, I have learned a fair bit about my own preferences and I know from experience that sprawling, historical epics are usually not something I really enjoy watching. I just get tired from the mind-numbing violence, the big, corny speeches, the melodrama and just the overall self-seriousness of it all. That being said, I sat down, watched the full Director's Cut of Troy (which runs for a hefty 196 minutes) and even though all of that stuff is in there, I still kinda liked it.

This is a big budget blockbuster about a war of mythical proportions, so there are obviously going to be some extensive fight sequences, but I was pleasantly surprised at how this film actually takes its time to lay out the most important themes, conflicts, characters and motives from the text and gives its story room to breathe before getting to those big action set pieces. It pits Agamemnon and Achilles against each other from the very beginning and makes it clear throughout what drives these two self-obsessed men: one is fueled by an insatiable greed and lust for power, the other is obsessed with building his legacy and being remembered as the greatest warrior who ever lived. As far as I can remember, this is the central conflict at the core of The Iliad and this film addresses it in a satisfying manner. Furthermore, we understand how King Priam has blind faith in the will of the Gods and the impenetrable high walls of Troy, which ultimately dooms his beloved city. We get to know Hector as a reluctant warrior driven by love for his city and his father. And Paris is exposed for the whiny little brat that he is.

The film is obviously far from perfect and there are many grievances to be found if you are so inclined. For example, there are a still a great many liberties taken with the original text. On the other hand, this can be expected and is probaby even preferable when adapting a 3000 year-old poem (which was initially passed along solely as an oral tradition for generations) into a feature film. There are some dumb and tired 'Hollywood movie' tropes though, which is most evident with the character of Briseis, who is turned into a love interest for Achilles. I remember the capture of Brises as actually being part of the conflict between him and Agamemnon, but turning her into a damsel in distress to be wooed by Achilles' deep philosophical thoughts feels grating. I won't spoil it, but I also immensely disliked the bit of historical rewriting they had her do at the end of the film (that was just too big a liberty to take with the 'original' story in my opinion). Additionally, there are definitely some of those aforementioned big, cheesy speeches and dumb lines of dialogue here, with some of the actors hamming it up a bit too much while delivering them.

I would say however that overall, the good outweighs the bad in Troy. The film takes its time to set the stage and does about as good a job of developing its characters as one could reasonably expect from a big Hollywood blockbuster like this, while still delivering all the obligatory bombastic action. There are some iconic set pieces with the battle between Hector and Achilles (Hectooorrr!!!) and the big climax inside the walls of Troy as standouts. Both sequences are gripping and actually make an emotional impact, precisely because we have gotten to know these characters and understand what drives them. So as far as big budget historical epics go, Troy provides a pretty fun and entertaining ride without dumbing things down too much, making its +3 hour runtime seemingly fly by.

El Conde (2023)

Larrain fails to deliver on intriguing premise with El Conde, a dull satire lacking in bite

[4/10 · 23 October 2023]

Augusto Pinochet, the infamous Chilean dictator who died in 2006, is actually still alive (or more accurately, undead) today as a 250-year-old vampire with a continuous appetite for human blood. It's the outrageous pitch of El Conde, the new film by Pablo Larrain. Unfortunately, the Chilean director doesn't manage to squeeze enough genuine comedy or intrigue out of his intriguing premise and as a result, this surprisingly uninspired and dull satire never lives up to its potential.

I guess a film that employs the metaphor of Pinochet as a literal bloodsucker who continues to feed of the people of Chile was never going to be very subtle in its commentary, but the attempts at satire in this film felt broad, repetitive and just overall lazy. Because the characters are all presented as one-dimensional, grotesque monsters (some even literally), the one-note jokes at their expense quickly become tired. There's a lot of "look at these dumb, awful people talking so bluntly about the terrible things they've done", which didn't strike me as particularly piercing commentary in the first place and doesn't exactly become funnier when repeated ad nauseam. Ironically, it feels as if the satire in this particular vampire movie lacks bite (I should probably apologize for that lazy joke myself).

Consequently, I was feeling rather indifferent about the film up until the baffling third act, in which the film devolves into outright farce, as a particularly ridiculous reveal is made and the story builds to a completely over the top climax. Like I mentioned, the satire prior to that point hadn't exactly been subtle or sharp, but the hard left turn into pure ridiculousness felt jarring. At this point the film had completely lost me and I was just waiting for it to end.

One thing I did like about this film was the B&W cinematography. I'm not sure this stylistic choice was made for a particular reason, although I could imagine it to be in reference to the classic vampire (or other monster) films from the 1920' and 1930's. In any case, the film sure does look good, especially during some of the scenes when one of the vampires (it eventually turns out Pinochet is not the only undead predator) is flying over the country. Its visual splendor was therefore pretty much the only redeeming factor of this film for me.

However, I still have to conclude that overall, El Conde turned out to be a disappointment. I had high expectations for this film, based on its original premise, but the concept is executed in rather boring fashion and the satire is disappointingly bland and obvious. Furthermore, it was always going to be a difficult task to effectively balance the dark subject matter with fantasy/horror elements and outright comedy and unfortunately, Larrain fails to achieve that delicate balance here, before completely losing his grip on the material in a baffling final act.

Lucky Number Slevin (2006)

A smug copycat of a movie that thinks it's way smarter that it really is

[4/10 · 19 October 2023]

An extremely slick and annoyingly smug Tarantino/Ritchie-knockoff that insists on proving it's the smartest kid in the room. In the first fifteen minutes or so, about five different plot threads are thrown out that (surprise, surprise) turn out to tie in together, in a plot so convoluted that the last fifteen minutes of the film are spent explaining every last detail to the audience. In fact, the whole thing is ridiculously contrived and not nearly as clever as screenwriter Jason Smilovic seems to think it is. When yet another twist is revealed at the very end, through a flashback which unintendedly veers towards parody (OMG she's still alive! Whhaaatttt she was wearing a bulletproof vest!!), you can only roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Then there's the "witty gangster dialogue" that is clearly inspired by the movies of Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie. But where the funniest exchanges in those films appear to have an effortless, almost improvisational feel, nothing in this overwritten film flows effortlessly. What's worse, the banter just isn't that witty either. Furthermore, the film also doesn't have the frenetic pace and fast-cutting editing that turns some of those Guy Ritchie gangster flicks into such thrill rides. What's left is a completely derivative product, devoid of any personality of its own. This in and of itself shouldn't necessarily have to mean that it's a bad film (there are fun 'copycats' out there), were it not for that fact that it also does everything considerably worse than its inspirations.

At least the actors are all in and having fun, with Morgan Freeman and Ben Kingsley hamming it up as two rival crime lords straight out of a comic book. The conversational "zingers" are delivered by those Freeman, Kingsley and protagonist Josh Hartnett with a knowing smugness, which unfortunately overestimates the cleverness of the material. If only the people involved in making this film would have let the audience in on some of the fun that they were all so clearly having.

Insidious (I) (2010)

An entertaining horror film - doesn't reinvent the wheel, but does enough to keep you interested (and scared)

[7/10 · 19 October 2023]

Insidious is the third film in my (reverse order) mini-marathon of James Wan horrors after Malignant (which I loved) and The Conjuring (which I hated). It starts off as basically the same film as the latter: Renai (Rose Byrne) and Josh (Patrick Wilson) are a young couple with small children that has recently moved into a new home, when one morning, their oldest son Dalton doesn't seem to wake up. Turns out he's in a "sort-of coma" (it's unlike anything the doctors have ever seen!). When other weird stuff starts to happen around the house (old-timey children running around, things moving around on their own, banging on doors at night etc.), Renai starts to become convinced that their new home is being haunted by malevolent presences. And unlike your average horror movie protagonists, the family doesn't ignore the obvious signs and actually moves houses. But when the problems don't stop after they have moved, they call in the help of two young ghostbusters and, later on, a psychic called Elise. Stop me if you've heard this before.

But this is where Insidious starts to diverge from The Conjuring (I know it was released before that film, but I watched them in reverse order). My biggest problem with The Conjuring was that it uses the "based on a true story" angle to legitimize its horrors. It tries very hard to claim its paranormal phenomena as being of this world, by using a "real life case" of "real life paranormal investigators" Ed and Lorraine Warren. And the more deadly serious it got in its treatment of the paranormal, the more ridiculous (and less scary) I found the whole thing to be. Insidious, on the other hand, makes no attempt to claim its supernatural presences as part of our world. An explanation for the strange occurrences that have been happening to the Lambert family is offered by Elise, in which esoteric phenomena like astral projection and out-of-body experiences are mentioned as well as another dimension occupied by spirits and demons ("The Further"). It's a very exposition-heavy few minutes and of course it's all silly nonsense, but at least it's original and fun and it firmly sets the film in its own fictional universe where we gladly suspend our disbelief and accept that anything can happen.

A detail that I liked is that we don't have to go through the tedious business of the protagonists doubting each other or the imminent danger itself. When Renai tells her husband that she can feel the evil presences in their new home, Josh is initially skeptic, but just a few minutes later (after a particularly eventful night) the family are seen moving houses. Again when Elise explains her theory about Dalton being trapped in the Further: Josh's (very normal) first reaction is to call her out for being dangerous and exploitative (as one would), but after being confronted with a piece of evidence (one of his son's drawings that is a bit too specific to ignore) he is quickly persuaded.

Ultimately, Insidious' main goal is to scare the bejesus out of you and it absolutely achieves that. From the opening credits scene (which I really liked) the filmmakers do a good job of establishing a creeping sense of dread that slowly gets under your skin, balanced with some more classical jump scares. While I rolled my eyes at the abundance of clichés in The Conjuring, even these more "traditional" scares in Insidious just worked for me. Then there's the intense finale, which may run just a bit too long, but is extremely unnerving anyway. The whole set piece inside the Further is a beautifully realized nightmare, with some seriously creepy imagery that gives this dark realm an appropriately surreal feel.

In summary, Insidious is an entertaining horror film by James Wan that doesn't reinvent the genre, but offers an original twist on the classic haunted house story. It does a good job of building its own world, while maintaining a tense atmosphere throughout and sporadically making you jump out of your seat. The film thankfully avoids annoying horror movie clichés to extend its plot, like the protagonists who are oblivious to the dangers around them. Finally, there's a satisfying (if slightly overlong) climax, in which some indelible images are exhibited that'll be burned into my retinas for some time to come. Overall, I'd still rate Malignant higher: that film just went completely balls to the wall, which made it ridiculously enjoyable to me. And although this film certainly doesn't look bad, the cinematography of the former was even better in my opinion. But I definitely liked Insidious a whole lot better than The Conjuring, which was completely unoriginal, took itself way too seriously and didn't manage to entertain or scare me at all.

The Swan (II) (2023)

The most powerful of Wes Anderson's Dahl shorts - a beautiful and touching work of art

[8/10 · 19 October 2023]

Out of the four Wes Anderson adaptations of Roald Dahl short stories released on Netflix last week, I have watched three so far and The Swan is the clear standout to me. While I didn't necessarily dislike Poison, I thought the source material just wasn't that interesting, with the message laid on a bit too thick. I liked The Rat Catcher slightly better, but that was in large part due to the outstanding performance by Ralph Fiennes. However, the overall feeling I had while watching these short films was one of indifference. Nothing about them really surprised me, they were kind of exactly what I expected Wes Anderson adaptations of a short stories to look like. I should add that I'm a huge admirer of Wes Anderson and his unique brand of filmmaking. I have seen all his films at least once and he hasn't made a 'bad one' yet in my opinion. But after both Asteroid City earlier this year and now these two shorts left me rather underwhelmed, I was starting to wonder if I was growing maybe just a bit tired of the patented Anderson style.

After watching The Swan, those doubts can be put to bed: Wes Anderson, while continuing to be a master at the pure, visual craft of filmmaking (to be fair, this was never in doubt to me), also still has the ability to surprise and elate me with his films. Because while all the idiosyncratic elements and stylistic flourishes of an Anderson film are still there in The Swan, it also achieves something which I can't really recall another one of his films do (to this extent anyway): it moved me.

The Swan, told as the story of (and, in a bit of inspired storytelling, by) Peter Watson, grows surprisingly disturbing before ending on a very touching note. The symbolism of an innocent and vulnerable boy as a white swan is perfect and I know we mainly have the source material by Roald Dahl to thank for that, but Anderson manages to really enhance this metaphor by presenting it visually in such stunning fashion. The image of the young boy standing on that branch, wearing the bloodied wings of the dead swan, is of such haunting beauty. And that final image, with adult Peter laying on the ground and young Peter looking over him, as seen from the perspective of the mother, just felt so poignant. There are many more wonderfully creative visual touches, like for example how we don't see the actual train during the railroad sequence, just consequent pictures of how it grows bigger and bigger from Peter's perspective as it approaches. But the big difference with the other shorts for me was that in this one, these directorial flourishes worked in service of a darker and more powerful story. And so what we get in The Swan is an example of style and content enhancing each other to create a profound viewing experience.

Renfield (2023)

Inspired Cage performance wasted on hideously bad comedy

[2/10 · 19 October 2023]

An infuriating film. You got the tantalizing prospect of Nicolas freaking Cage as Dracula, with Cage somehow exceeding the impossible expectations that arise from that promise. It's the role he was born to play, one that benefits greatly from his typically expressionistic acting style and trademark manic energy. Cage is visibly savoring every line of dialogue he gets and it should come as no surprise that he absolutely steals every scene he's in. Unfortunately this legendary Cage performance is completely squandered in an atrocity of a film that has no idea what it wants to be: a kind of half-serious, but tongue-in-cheek attempt at treating a contemporary topic like co-dependent relationships, an action movie about a renegade cop fighting for revenge against an almighty crime family, or a complete farce with broad "did that just happen" comedy, outlandish performances and over-the-top violence. There is one through-line though: it's all painfully unfunny.

It might have been an interesting idea, informed by our 21st century sensitivities, to diagnose the relation between Count Dracula and his servant Renfield as a "toxic relationship", but the joke is run into the ground before the movie's halfway done by an overreliance on the self-indulgent and cringeworthy voice-over by Nicholas Hoult's Renfield. For some reason there's also an incredibly trite subplot that seems to come from another script altogether, with an honest cop trapped in a corrupt system, set on avenging her dad's death at the hands of the crime family that controls the town. This lazy attempt at forcing melodrama into the story is not just completely unoriginal and unengaging, but also entirely out of place in a movie where everything (including this plot itself) is played as total farce. Literally every character in this film is a caricature (even the over-the-top violence seems to come straight out of an old Tom and Jerry cartoon), so when the film suddenly veers into melodrama, or even worse, tries to deliver a m-e-s-s-a-g-e, the tonal shifts are enough to give an unsuspecting viewer whiplash.

It doesn't exactly help that the actress portraying the female cop (I cannot even remember the character's name), Awkwafina (had to look that up too), is impossibly unconvincing and remarkably incapable of inspiring any sort of emotion other than severe irritation. She seems to confuse acting with shouting and her presence in this film is an attack on both the eyes and ears. She annoyed the hell out of me every time she was on screen and I truly do hope that I never have to see her again in any future films.

Shame on everybody involved in this turd of a movie for wasting an inspired Nicholas Cage performance. As another reviewer suggested: collect Cage's scenes into a supercut and be done with it. It would make for a better film than this embarrassment.

Poor Things (2023)

Poor Things is defiantly original, both visually striking and though provoking in equal measure - a true cinematic masterpiece

[10/10 · 19 October 2023]

"She's like nothing you've ever seen"

The same can be said for this film, which I saw at Film Fest Gent in a packed theater. It was the 5th film of the day for all of us there, but the audience was lively and exuberant. And it's no wonder, since Poor Things is nothing short of a monumental achievement: it is at once the funniest, smartest, best looking and most entertaining film of 2023. With its radical inventiveness and audacious creativity, this masterpiece may turn out to be viewed as a cinematic milestone by future generations. At the very least, Poor Things is Yorgos Lanthimos' magnum opus and deserving of instant classic status.

The plot outline for Poor Things could be described as Frankenstein with a modern, feminist twist, with Godwin 'God' Baxter (William Dafoe) assuming the role of the doctor who brings Bella Baxter (Emma Stone) back from the dead. As an adult woman equipped with the brain of an infant, Bella is blessed with the intense curiosity and sense of wonder that only a newborn can have. She quickly develops a will of her own and it isn't long before she escapes her imposed confinement (shades of Lanthimos' debut film Dogtooth) by running off with smarmy lawyer Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo) on a journey of exploration of both herself and the world.

I cannot say enough about the breathtaking cinematography and spectacular production design of this film, which is quite frankly atypical of what I'd had to come expect from a Lanthimos film. Not that his previous films have looked bad, but "visually striking" is just not what pops up first when calling to mind his films. The first act, which takes place at Dr. Baxter's mansion, is filmed in gorgeous black and white (a nod to the original Frankenstein adaptation perhaps?) and already displays some bold artistic choices, such as the frequent use of fish-eye lenses to create distorted images. But it is once Bella embarks on her adventure into the outside world that we realize we're not in Kansas anymore. Stunning visuals of luscious sets and amazing costumes in impossibly vivid colors light up the screen, as we discover an exaggeratedly artificial world through Bella's perspective, being one of childlike bewilderment.

Emma Stone gives a career-defining performance as Bella Baxter. When we first meet her, Bella is less a person than a stumbling 'creature' equipped with the vocabulary of a child. Stone does an excellent job of portraying Bella's development towards becoming a 'real person', by gradually improving her grasp of language and her manner of walking, to name just a couple of things. She also convincingly sells the incredible character arc that Bella goes through during this film. It's a physically and mentally demanding role, the kind of performance they usually hand out Oscars for.

William Dafoe is perfectly cast as mad scientist Godwin Baxter, who looks more like the monster of Frankenstein than the doctor that created him. Dafoe unsurprisingly does a fantastic job here, knowingly leaning into the absurdity of the story with some of his delivery, but still playing his character sincerely.

A special mention has to go to Mark Ruffalo as Duncan Wedderburn here, the impossibly suave globetrotter and self-proclaimed ladykiller who brings temptation into Bella's life and takes her into the wide world. Ruffalo chews the scenery, playing Wedderburn almost as a parody of the archetypical smooth womanizer and delivering his lines with visible glee. But his histrionics actually suit the arc of his character perfectly, as he is eventually driven to utter madness by Bella's insatiable taste for sexual and intellectual exploration and the often irrefutable logic she uses to explain her actions and dismiss his complaints.

However, Poor Things doesn't only overwhelm with its abundance of style and larger-than-life performances, it has something to say too. As Bella, with the voraciousness a child, develops a taste for both sexual and intellectual gratification, the film cleverly uses her unbiased perspective to ask seemingly logical questions about some of the the established gender roles and class roles she perceives in the world around her. Who would have thought that Yorgos Lanthimos, the Greek director known for his idiosyncratic style, which often expresses a cynical worldview through pitch-black, deadpan comedy, would be the one to deliver not only the most visually dazzling film of 2023, but also the most piercing critique of the patriarchy and established gender roles? (looking at you there, Barbie)

Time will tell if Poor Things will be heralded as the game changer that I personally envision it to be, but at the very least we can just be happy that such a defiantly original and wonderfully creative film was made to be consumed by a mainstream audience here in 2023. As long as this kind of uniquely cinematic experience continues to exist, we can look optimistically at the future of the medium. Go see this film!

Mr. Jealousy (1997)

Mix of different influences makes for an enjoyable, if unmemorable comedy

[6/10 · 25 August 2023]

Mr. Jealousy (1997)

If you were to ask your AI bot of choice to analyze this film, the algorithm used to describe it would look something like this:

• 10% Wes Anderson:

The first 10 minutes are like the beginning of a Wes Anderson film with less attention to aesthetic formalism.

• 40% Woody Allen:

Clearly and by his own admission Baumbach's biggest influence. This film especially borrows heavily from Annie Hall, in that it's about a relationship between two neurotic and insecure intellectuals from the NY upper-middle class, which is ultimately doomed because of their self-sabotaging tendencies. It also shares the same sort of nostalgic atmosphere that permeates Annie Hall and there is even a director cameo that seems like a direct homage to a scene from that film. Despite the parallels in style and subject, the dialogue is never quite as sharp as that of those early Woody Allen films.

• 30% Whit Stillman:

A group of late twenties-, early thirties intellectuals who aren't quite ready to be real adults yet and talk endlessly about their issues in heavily stilted dialogue. Also, Chris Eigeman. He is amazing and makes every film he is in better.

• 20% Screwball comedy:

There are cases of mistaken identity that keep getting more absurd until it inevitably all comes to a head, resulting in a big, comical confrontation with all the main characters involved. This brand of comedy is something Baumbach would return to in Mistress America (more successfully in my opinion), where he managed to infuse the climactic confrontation with the manic energy needed to pull off a successful screwball climax. It helps of course to have Greta Gerwig be the center around which the other characters gravitate.

Ultimately, what you end up with is a film that doesn't seem completely sure of what it wants to be. 'Mr. Jealousy' teases the possibility of a darker film, a character study of a person with pathological trust issues. However, the film never really delves deep enough into its main protagonist's psyche for that. Despite the potentially dark subject matter, the tone is kept rather light by focusing on the chaos and the comedy that ensue from the characters' ill-advised actions, culminating in the a sitcom-like showdown where everything is revealed. But then again, the build-up to this moment lacks the frenzied energy of a true screwball comedy and so the payoff isn't really there on a comedic or a dramatic level.

So in the end, 'Mr. Jealousy' is an entertaining and easy to digest (romantic?) comedy that never really reaches the heights of those sharper and wittier influences it so clearly wears on its sleeve.

Dames (1934)

Berkeley is at his most surreal in Dames, which pokes fun at growing puritanism of the time

[8/10 · 25 February 2023]

Based on what I had read, I was expecting for Dames to be a letdown after the successful 1933 trio of 42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933 and Footlight Parade. But my concerns turned out to be unwarranted, as this is quite an entertaining and clever film. Dames was released in 1934, when the infamous Hays Code began to be more rigidly enforced. As a result, it might lack some of the more overt eroticism and obvious innuendo of those earlier films, but it still manages to sneak in its fair share of titillation and 'subtler' insinuations. The film even acknowledges the growing presence of Hays Office-like organisations in its plot and gets most of its comedy from ridiculing these self-righteous guardians of morality.

As per the template for these early '30s Warner Bros musicals, that plot is paper thin and mostly an excuse to put on a couple of kaleidoscopic Busby Berkeley extravaganzas at the end of the film. WB regular Guy Kibbee has a bigger role here than usual as Horace Hemingway, who has to suck up to his multimillionaire cousin-in-law Will Hays - er, I mean Ezra Ounce (Hugh Herbert). Ounce is visiting his cousin Matilda (Zasu Pitts) to assure himself that his inheritance will be in the hands of good, upstanding relatives. He has dedicated his life to 'raising American morals' through a nationwide campaign, which includes boycotting 'vulgar entertainment' like Broadway shows. Of course Mathilda's daughter Barbara (a once again mind-numbingly dull Ruby Keeler) aspires to be an actress and is in love with Jimmy Higgens (Dick Powell), the family's 'black sheep' who is writing his own Broadway show (called "Sweet and Hot"). Joan Blondell supplies the film with a bolt of energy as Mabel, an ambitious showgirl who blackmails Horace into financing Jimmy's show. Blondell once again steals the show with her perkiness and snappy one-liners.

Dames pits the young, 'immoral' artists against the old, 'upstanding' high-society snobs. The former are presented as talented and ambitious, while the latter (especially Ounce), come of as a bunch of hypocritical and bumbling buffoons who faint at the thought of a man and woman sleeping in the same bed, but have no trouble downing bottles of 79% alcohol-based 'medicine' to treat their hiccups or using violence during their protests. The comedy at the expense of these moralists isn't exactly subtle, but then again it doesn't need to be in order to expose the ridiculousness of their old-fashioned ideas of good, American morals. The plot may be silly, but fortunately the action moves along pretty quickly and not much time is wasted in getting to the climax (a problem with some of those earlier WB musical outings). And Berkeley once again delivers, with another wild finale that feels like a 30 minute acid trip. There are many opportunities to get offended here (for people who are into that sort of thing), starting with a number called "The Girl at the Ironing Board", which has Blondell (sort of) singing about how she loves to do her man's laundry and being courted by a bunch of men's underwear. The song has its tongue firmly up its cheek, however, poking fun at the classical idea of the the perfect Victorian woman. This of course flies right over the heads of Ounce and co., as they applaud the traditional virtues at display in this song.

Believe it or not, "The Girl at the Ironing Board" is actually the least wild number of the three-part finale. The penultimate number has Dick Powell crooning "I Only Have Eyes for You" to Ruby Keeler, which apparently translates to "I See You Literally Everywhere" as this is where it feels as if the drugs are really starting to kick in. First Powell starts seeing Keeler's face on subway posters, then we see a bunch of photo's of her face bouncing around and eventually dozens of Keelers are dancing in perfect unison, before coming together to once again form her face. Finally, the camera zooms in on her eye, through which the actual Keeler enters. These visuals are pretty hallucinatory in and of itself, but the fact that they went with Ruby Keeler as the woman for Powell to be obsessed made it feel like a but of surrealist comedy to me. Keeler is once again just so terribly bland in this film. Especially when she shares the screen with Blondell, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, it just becomes painfully obvious how completely devoid of personality her character is. After watching her in four films, I am now convinced that there must have been some obscure conspiracy at play to make her a star, as I really have no other explanation for her continued appearances in these films. Her acting is wooden, she can't sing and she dances with all the grace of a rumbling elephant. I guess that made sense for the plot of 42nd Street, but why these others films continu to feature her in central roles just baffles me.

Moving on, I bet that viewers who were offended by "The Girl at the Ironing Board" will just love the last big song, the titular "Dames". By today's standards, this number is obviously outrageously sexist as it claims that "all everybody goes to see a show for are those cute and cunning, young and beautiful dames". Everybody who has seen a couple of his numbers knows Berkeley might have agreed with that statement and so this is exactly what we get treated to during this song: young, beautiful, scantily clad women forming perfect geometrical patterns (another Berkeley trademark) and at one point, getting flung towards the camera with a big smile on their face. This number again ends with a very trippy sequence, lending the whole thing a surreal feel. And after all the madness that has unfolded, the film gets its point across one more time: Kibbee and Herbert end up wasted and loving the 'filthy' Broadway show they're supposedly boycotting, but in his drunken stupor Herbert accidentally initiates their scheduled revolt anyway, which causes a brawl at the theatre. The two end up behind bars, but having discovered how much fun showbiz can be, they end up drinking and partying with Blondell.

Overall, Dames is definitely not the lesser entry in the Berkeley canon that I was expecting. It successfully pokes fun at the moral panic that gripped Hollywood at the time, while playing by its new rules. Combined with the ever present sexual innuendo in the Berkeley numbers and the above mentioned ending, the whole thing is basically just a big middle finger to the Hays Office. In my opinion this makes it a relevant piece of film history. But even if you don't care about all that, it's worth watching just to see Berkeley at his trippiest, surrealist best.