kstephens Reviews

Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)

Still kind of wonderful

[8/10 · 1 August 2022]

I saw this in the theatres when I was 19, and I related to Keith Nelson: his hangups, his insecurity, self-consciousness. It probably cemented the deal when I saw Mary Stuart Masterson's tomboyish Watts, a little gangly, pixie cut (with dark roots), all surface-level bravado despite her many tender and vulnerable moments in this film. (That she reminded me a lot of an ex-girlfriend at the time caused me some difficulty!)

I only know the details about this movie I read on this page, but I get the idea of John Hughes's 'Pretty in Pink' do-over. I wanted Duckie to get Andie too! My feeling watching this again in 2022 is that Mr. Hughes wanted to put down a less comedic statement about teenage life. He wanted *not* to laugh off all the pathos one feels in high school...and his script succeeds. This is lovely, observant and truthful writing. John Hughes was the sympathetic tuned-in voice of adolescence which has rarely been recaptured in film. We miss him...

And Howard Deutch was an excellent choice of director. The feeling of the movie is subdued (unlike my memory of it) and it deftly captures familiar teen territory with nuance. Even when you have stereotypes like Hardy Jenns or Duncan, Deutch never plays up the one-dimensional tropes. It helps that Eric Stoltz gives a heartfelt performance throughout, defusing the "Ducky-ness" of the situation. Lea Thompson is effective as well.

Though I am now old enough to be the parent of any of these characters, I still respond to the romance, the nuance, and deep feeling of this story. It has aged very well and unfolds its truths with confidence. (How many 80's films can say this?)

And, after all these years, I still have faith that Keith and Watts and Amanda lived good lives...and each found happiness in the most satisfactory way.

The Other Side of the Wind (2018)

Welles' Final Film is a Series of Disguises

[6/10 · 17 November 2018]

I was unbelievably excited when I heard that Orson Welles's final film opus, THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND, was going to be completed, thanks to Netflix and the work of devoted friends like Frank Marshall and Peter Bogdanovich.

Well that film has now arrived... And what is the verdict? From the perspective of Welles fans and completists, there is gratitude: that the director's multi-faceted, layered, and hyperkinetic longterm project has been realized in a way that feels complete and consistent with him, and possibly not far-removed from what Welles intended. I say this because some of the stylistic feats of his previous F FOR FAKE - mixed media, energized editing, several ideas spinning all at once - can be found here, which suggests at least some of the DNA of later Welles.

From a moviegoer's perspective, this is a film that reaches and doesn't quite grasp. It is successful in eliciting what Welles was seeking through the project: an expose of toxic masculinity, the betrayal of friendship, and the playfulness of sending up Euro art cinema and the New Hollywood. (Many of these themes are outlined in Morgan Neville's companion documentary, THEY'LL LOVE ME WHEN I'M DEAD.) But the long duration of the project, its catch-and-grab compilation, and Welles' own sensibilities from his years in Europe, combine to present a somewhat diluted satire. Perhaps this is the difference between ANY conceived film idea and its execution...especially when financing issues intervene.

John Huston, a filmmaking marvel in his own right, is never less than compelling as Jake Hannaford (as he is in every reel he appears in in CHINATOWN). He conveys layers of success mixed with self-deception, of secrets and grandiosity. He is as hated as he is loved. In fact, he is not a perfect analogue with Welles...because it is hard to believe Welles ever evoked the same kind of contempt which this character does! As a version of himself, Peter Bogdanovich is not quite as convincing as Brooks Otterlake. Bogdanovich would become quite a good actor (looking at his later work in THE SOPRANOS, for example), but, here, it seems like he is uneasy portraying a mirror of himself. Indeed, the whole thing was a little incestuous: Peter's perpetual houseguest was gently mocking him and his career success here.

The film is well-edited and executes perfectly what Welles intended (by design), but its mock-documentary style is no longer revelatory...as it surely would have been if completed at least three decades earlier. It also reminds a little of Robert Altman, especially with its large cast and freeform, intermingling dialogue.

I think it is too basic to refer to the film-within-a-film as softcore pornography. It is beautifully-shot and choreographed, if unlike anything else in Welles's filmography, but it is also less nuanced than the "art" films it appears to be skewering. Despite this, Robert Random is quite good as the smitten young man. Though Oja Kodar, despite her exotic beauty, brings little else of substance to her performance. (I liked her better as "herself," firing off the rifle at the party!) It's understandable why Welles wanted her in every frame of his film - but she was arguably a better muse than a big-screen femme fatale.

So, we have a film which is neither a study in formalism, nor in the traditional elements of the director's best work. It is a disguise, adopting the documentary and arthouse genres to generate moments of pure cinema. And it does succeed at this. Though the overall results are, at best, mixed for a first-time viewer. (This is not to say re-watching won't reward a diligent movie fan; I suspect it will.)

However, this feels more like a curio for Welles fans than a standing testament to his greatness as a filmmaker. By all means, watch it. But be prepared for something more like an experimental genre exercise than a definitive Welles film.

The Alfred Hitchcock Hour: Triumph (1964) Season 3, Episode 9

Muddle in the Jungle

[2/10 · 28 May 2018]

I came here looking for clarification after seeing "Triumph" and am relieved to see others are as confused as I am!

It would be one thing if the twist had been earned, but you folks are right: this comes out of nowhere. We are given the motive for the turnaround at the end in terms of old Brother Thomas, but what about the young wife? Is she really leaving her husband for the old man?

Presumably all this was done to conceal the murder of the old woman, Mary. But the unearthing of the casket would prove in an instant that this was NOT the young missionary's wife! (Even if her face had been gashed to such a degree as to make her unrecognizable...) If you really wanted to obscure the identity of the body, you'd fare better with some sort of Indian beetle that eats away the flesh...and actually SHOW this in the episode!

The other thing is...why didn't the young missionary's wife simply call out her husband's name when she heard him and saw him shooting Brother Thomas? That would stop him in his tracks and he would drop the gun. Catastrophe averted!

This said, Begley is decent in a role he may not have been perfect for. And Jeanette Nolan is excellent as she usually is in any role she took. I thought watching it, "Why wasn't she a big movie star?" Not even Bette Davis could have done better!

A nice tense atmosphere, and complex things happening in the script with the characters...but an ending that 'capsizes the boat'. Almost literally!

The Designated Mourner (1997)

Words are flowing out like endless rain...

[5/10 · 29 November 2015]

I quote the Beatles lyric in my summary, and so the words are flowing in this 1997 film adaptation of Wallace Shawn's play, at the time simultaneously being performed in the David Hare staging of this play on London's West End.

When I first saw this on screen in some art house theatre, I was deeply impressed. Probably because the mood of intimacy one experiences in a stage presentation had been so successfully transplanted to the screen. Or so I thought at the time.

A 2015 re-screening of this film reveals a cripplingly top-sided series of monologues, devoid of panache or invention. A better choice for this film might have been Steven Soderbergh or Jonathan Demme who have both masterfully translated Spalding Gray monologues into unique movies. However David Hare, veteran of esteemed stage productions, brings nothing especially visual or memorable to this celluloid record of Shawn's play. It is three head-on characters in monologue, and the success of each depends on how capably the actor in question can carry the weight of Shawn's impenetrable thickets of dialogue.

Miranda Richardson, an actor of impressive pedigree, feels largely left to the wolves with Wallace Shawn's sketchily-conveyed account of a splintering family set against a country in political meltdown. Any texture in the performance of Judy is owed to Richardson herself, coloring in some of the numerous blank spaces left by Shawn's writing. David de Keyser, as occasionally irritating patriarch Howard, fares a little better...and has a couple of nice moments.

But best of all - and surprisingly - is famed stage/screen director Mike Nichols as Jack, a self-involved, unrepentant hedonist, who watches the real off-screen drama as a disaffected observer, pronouncing wryly on the fortunes of his estranged wife Judy and father-in-law, Howard. Shawn's dialogue is unwieldy, but Nichols masters it with relative ease. If "Jack" in the play seems to be the voice of Shawn himself, then it perhaps takes a personality as big as Nichols' to punch the words, to give them meaning and purpose...all with a sort of aloof superiority.

It really is splendid to see Nichols back in his milieu some thirty-five years after the end of his acclaimed partnership with Elaine May. Especially in the light of his passing, this must be seen as a wonderful personal document of the way the director moved and spoke in daily conversation. Yes, he's performing a character, but the barriers between actor and role seem less pronounced here than if, say, Alec Baldwin had performed the part. Nichols - I presume - graciously lent his mannerisms to Jack to enrich the performance. It was easy for him (maybe it was all he knew how to do), and it gives the character of Jack an added weight & dimension. This is a fellow we feel we know, or have encountered somewhere in our lives.

As written elsewhere, the film's closing moments become profound, and Nichols carries off the last intimate speeches with enormous delicacy. But it's hard to rely on the final five minutes to rescue the ninety previous ones of leaden-paced speech-making with little else to compensate the viewer. (Though at no point did I want to put a loaded gun to my head!) Wallace Shawn's play may indeed be better than I am giving it credit for being. But the flat visual concept and execution of this film unfortunately influence the viewer's reception of the source material. On that score, this is a non-recommend.

However, if you are an admirer of Mike Nichols' work, and want to perhaps steal 94 minutes with one of Broadway's & Hollywood's most celebrated and respected personalities, then this is definitely worth your curiosity. Mike Nichols is the reason for the 5 out of 10.

Lovely, Still (2008)

Tender Love Story with an Element of Drama

[8/10 · 27 January 2012]

I am both a Martin Landau and an Ellen Burstyn fan, so I was especially looking forward to seeing them act. I expected formidable acting muscle, sparks, confrontations: things befitting their Actor's Studio origins. What instead greeted me was a Landau so frail and docile...and frightened. His character, Robert Malone, is a man who treads warily and uneasily through life. He is a single man, and we assume he has simply been unlucky in love. Burstyn is the loving, open-hearted, yet lonely, woman who sweeps into his life one Christmas and changes it forever. One thing about Landau in this film: the actor looks shockingly aged, and I'm sure this has been deliberately used by both the filmmaker and Landau himself as a sort of effect to win us over to sympathy for Malone. Yet I had no doubt that this is a consummate performance. Landau, in life, is likely vital and engaged whereas Robert Malone, as I have said, seems on the brink of terror nearly every moment of his day. (The "wakeup" sequences are especially effective conveying this.) The love story plays out in an even-handed way. Underneath this blossoming love, of course, is the shadow of mortality. There occurs--over two-thirds into the film--a dramatic event that I won't reveal or spoil, but it causes the viewer to look back over events that occurred and reflect on them...in a rewarding way. The drama is never cheap nor unjustified. I come away with satisfaction and admiration for the unexpected performances, for the tender core of the film, and for a fresh perspective on the elderly that is anything but cloying or cliché. This movie is in fact--particularly with the presence of Death hanging over events (as another character in the film)--as gripping and occasionally breathless as any thriller.

Match Point (2005)

Woody Allen's Surefooted Noir

[8/10 · 31 March 2006]

Some delightful things are happening in Woody Allen's new movie and, even though there are points of similarity with previous films in the septuagenarian's filmography, this is a red-blooded, raw, and--yes--refreshing addition to his cannon.

It was always questionable whether Allen's blend of comedy and drama (even tragedy) was effective or legitimate in a filmic sense. He did great WOODY ALLEN movies, didn't he? And no one was particularly dazzled by the ambitious filmmaker's sleight of hand. His "thesis" was never accepted by the filmgoing public as completely valid...even early in his career, starting with the Bergman pastische, INTERIORS, in 1977; the desire of the director to wear masks and disguise his work or dress it up were always--at once--recognized as posing. Eventually, the hallmark dramedy of Allen's peculiar variety became all his own. This was best exemplified by 1989's CRIMES & MISDEMEANORS, where the balance was, in fact, perfect, and Allen's weighty moralizing was leavened with fey one-liners and sight gags.

Which brings us to MATCH POINT. This is Allen's most confident and controlled direction since (at least)1999's SWEET AND LOWDOWN and, like its closest cousin, CRIMES & MISDEMEANORS, MATCH POINT again asks whether morality and human desire are acquaintances....or complete strangers.

Allen's first grace note is placing the story in modern London, and cinephiles cannot help but remember that Hitchcock, in the twilight of his career, returned to London for the salacious murder-mystery of FRENZY. The analogy is apt since Allen firmly inhabits the other Master's realm of suspense, leaving the viewer to wonder if Allen's best amalgam of comedy and tragedy resides here... in a resurrected brand of film noir: both highly artificial and heightened in its store of cinematic effects. There are also echoes of Patricia Highsmith (Hitch's collaborator on STRANGERS ON A TRAIN), particularly in the chance meeting of two attractive young men, the motif of tennis (Hitchcock again), and in Chris Wilton's dark, rather Ripley-like anti-hero (Highsmith).

Allen's second success is in the writing and casting of Chris Wilton: a vain, selfish, greedy, and overly-ambitious young man (just as those great 1960's and '70's film anti-heroes used to be!) played with surly abandon by a post-Elvis Jonathan Rhys Meyers. His work is engaging and spirited, and there's an animal-like cunning there reminiscent of a young Malcolm McDowell. Because Allen makes Wilton our protagonist and point of identification, we have no choice but to root for one of the coldest users to come our way since Highsmith's Ripley. This is not pure noir since there is little redeeming in Chris, but the structure (no spoilers!) closely follows all the convolutions of a noir where our young, morally-compromised, "hero" gets himself into a mess, tries to extract himself, and gets in even deeper as a result. How Allen ends the film is one of the confident masterstrokes which makes MATCH POINT such an engaging entertainment. (I saw it in a crowded theater and the audible gasps of appreciation at its suspense were the highest compliment that can be paid a director.)

Along the way we have wonderful character performances by Emily Mortimer as the clueless fiancée, Brian Cox as the benevolent papa, and a pair of sterling comic performances by Ewen Bremner and James Nesbitt as the clever detectives. (Even Scarlett Johanssen provides the right notes in her portrayal of Nola.) It's all well-blended with the sort of location detail that enhanced many New York-based Allen movies, as well as a moody soundtrack soaring with the arias of Verdi. The dialogue, even spoken by British accents, doesn't entirely lose Allen's resonances, but this is a small complaint, and one of no great importance, in the tight unfolding of this suspenseful noir story.

This was the right movie for Allen to make at this point in his career. He comes to the material as both a film fan, and as a proved auteur, who can use reliable cinematic effects to create a true suspense highlight in a long and already-impressive filmography.

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Charmless PRIDE a Miscast Muddle

[5/10 · 22 November 2005]

Thank goodness no fiber of Jane Austen's being is extant on the planet to bear witness to this, the least successful adaptation of her most famous novel.

An Austen enthusiast, I had misgivings when I entered the theater to see this film. Alas! they were sorely justified.

The problem, I suspect, is that director Joe Wright took pains to avoid the 1995 mini-series adaptation of this famous book...totally missing its single best screen translation. And the memory of that version is the single biggest hurdle to the film-goer here some ten years later. So what's the problem, you ask? In a word: Keira. Miss Knightley is almost too beautiful to be believed and, at times, the soft cinematography framing her seems best suited--with her in it--to a soap commercial. Previous Elizabeths weren't necessarily bereft of beauty or assets, but the earlier filmmakers were smart enough to cast actresses who would slowly grow on and win over an audience--to work the sort of magic on us that Elizabeth works on the aggrieved and lovelorn Darcy. Keira (bless her!) is a fine actress, but she seems to contain none of the tempestuousness found in a Greer Garson or Jennifer Ehle. She is out of her depth here. She merely sighs and looks off placidly, her big eyes almost eerily space-alien-like.

Matthew MacFadyen ("Hey, it's the dude from SHAUN OF THE DEAD!!") plays a stern, yet impenetrable, Darcy, and he--like Keira--gives us no qualities to dig for and slowly warm to. He must secretly rue the day Colin Firth ever laid his eyes on the 1995 script.

The supporting cast, however, is unimpeachable. Brenda Blethyn gives us a meddling and endearing Mrs. Bennet (though several decibels below Alison Steadman's screeching and haranguing--and comically masterful--Mama). Tom Hollander's Parson Collins is a dull and odious popinjay; Claudie Blakley's Charlotte is sweet; Dame Judi Dench's Lady Catherine gives the marvelous Barbara Leigh-Hunt's portrayal a run for its money. And Donald Sutherland gives us a wise and warm-hearted Mr. Bennet...which is liable to put a lump in the audience member's throat in the final minutes of the film. If there's justice, he'll be nominated for his work here.

The cinematography is beautiful, and Wright attempts some artful and interesting moments (including Eliza in her swing), yet the film ultimately falls flat. The last third, instead of being painstakingly rendered, as in the BBC mini-series, feels compressed, and there are elisions and collisions of scenes and text--by screenwriter Deborah Moggach--which have an artificiality to them. (See Elizabeth's revelation of Lydia's misfortune.)

Hindered by some miscalculations of casting, this version's necessity to telescope such a beautifully-intricate work of art cripples it, and, unable to support the weight of its maneuvers, the film topples into implausible dullness. The tacked-on ending also feels wrong. Austen got it right the first time: never show us the characters beyond that magic point of completion. It merely becomes pointless voyeurism.

The Quiet American (2002)

This movie's a first-rate pressure cooker!

[8/10 · 30 August 2005]

Having just seen a telecast of this 2002 movie (I saw it theatrically at the time), I was again reminded of how wonderfully and subtly-etched this historical suspense drama truly is. On the surface, it is about the rivalry between two men: one a British journalist who has planted himself in French Indo-China and grown lethargic and somewhat indifferent to the daily chaos around him, and the other an ambitious American doctor--the "quiet American" of the title--who is enthusiastically setting out on a program of medical reform in the embattled region. How these roles gradually shift and change throughout the movie is what makes this such electrifying entertainment. Truths are revealed, and Thomas Fowler (Caine) begins to realize that it is immoral to remain detached, that true survival lies in making judicious choices. Caine, of course, represents the old French colonialism of Vietnam, and Brendan Fraser represents its slick salvation...the eventual American decision to overstep its guarded role of peace-keeper in Communist-infiltrated Southeast Asia. The performances are uniformly strong, and I believe this is Caine's best role in years. He acts with restraint and precision, his face a carefully-kept mask that gives away none of the turmoil, even when his own love life is in tatters. Fraser is also good, on the surface cheerful and reliable, but opaque, difficult at times to read. These performances are perfectly in keeping with the slowly-building, ominous tone of the movie as Vietnam itself leaves the comparatively-innocent colonialist era and moves into another in which there will be much suffering and bloodshed. Graham Greene's story is a wonderful puzzle, rich in implication, which involves the viewer. And, at the center of the film, is a love triangle. In this movie, the silences count. It is the things that are not said which become the most important.

The Fog of War (2003)

Errol Morris's Best Movie

[9/10 · 15 February 2005]

I am a big fan of Morris's: his voice-over on marginally-related/archival images, his free-flowing editing style which almost seems to have been achieved in a Zen state it is so seamless, his system which allows the subject to gaze steadily into the eye of the camera lens, the hypnotic use of music, and his undeniable morality--he is not afraid to accuse or challenge his subjects. Up until now, Morris's best achievements (in my opinion) were THE THIN BLUE LINE, A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME, and the oddly-riveting GATES OF HEAVEN. Here, Morris has pigeonholed one of the most intriguing and elusive figures of modern U.S. history, former Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara, the figure who motivated the Vietnam War being labeled "McNamara's War" by the press. So, does he have anything to say, this faded figure of '60's politics? You bet he does! And Morris pays him the great honor of allowing him to state his case, recovering the trail nearly eclipsed by history, as he recalls his rise under General Curtis Lemay in the Pacific Theater of World War II (and the dismaying, formerly little-known firebombing of Tokyo), the transformation of the Ford Company under his aegis, his reluctant acceptance of JFK's appointment of him to his highest office in politics, the turnaround created in the wake of JFK's assassination and Johnson's slow decision to escalate in South Vietnam. Morris augments McNamara's unsentimental testimony with archival military footage, graphics, still photos, and a fine, moody Phillip Glass score. Like a spider spinning a web, Morris creates connections and intricacies previously unimagined. And, while assiduously staying out of McNamara's way, Morris still points the documentary to one unavoidable question: how personally culpable was McNamara in enabling one of the worst moments in U.S. foreign policy? McNamara, even in the final reel, is reluctant to say...but Morris's case has been made quite eloquently. More importantly, there are lessons to take away from Vietnam, and they've never been more relevant to events happening right now. McNamara is an intelligent subject, and a man humble enough to know that true wisdom comes from constant reassessment of the past. Morris allows us to sit as jury: judging these mistakes of the past, allowing us to assess the potential disasters of events today, and determine--each of us--our own individual courses of action. This is not simply a good movie; it is an important one. And one you're not soon likely to forget.

Red Dragon (2002)

Worthy prequel to "Silence"

[16 October 2002]

I was probably in the right frame of mind when I saw this movie. I had no real expectations (HANNIBAL was the film that elicite those expectations) and was looking only for entertainment. I should say that I am a big SILENCE fan and was therefore surprised and delighted that RED DRAGON was so visually consistent with the earlier Jonathan Demme masterpiece. Not just the visuals, but the tone and mood of this film were also faithful to the first. I also happen to be a big fan of MANHUNTER (the first adaptation of RED DRAGON years before SILENCE was made) and was pleased that this scipt--well-crafted by Ted Tally--occupied its own space and explored the characters and character dynamics differently. Of course how could we complain to have MORE screen time from Anthony Hopkins's delightful cannibal! Brett Ratner obviously owes a debt to Demme's earlier work, yet still managed to tell the story stylishly and with his own signature touches. He did a fine (though probably keenly reverential) job and he can feel that all the bumps and challenges along the way were worth it. This is a tight, compelling story that nicely complements SILENCE and works with the strengths of that movie: Hopkins's restrained, leonine, menace, a sense of peril for the protagonist, the well-observed mechanics of FBI procedure. And the cast! How can we not enjoy Ralph Fiennes's articulate portrayal of a monster like Dolarhyde or Emily Watson's guileless yet sensual Reba? (You have to love a movie where Phil Hoffman's sleazy performance is just the icing on the cake!) My only regret is that we couldn't see Scott Glenn reprise Jack Crawford. He was one of SILENCE's best strengths. All together, though, this was a worthy last entry in the "Hannibal" trilogy and a nice balance to the previous excesses of HANNIBAL.

Barcelona (1994)

A life-affirming diversion for "thinkers"

[27 May 2002]

I have not looked at this movie in over a year, yet it is still so fond to my recollection...that I have to stop here and share my thoughts.

First, this is a genuinely warm film and some of the sunniness of the setting, I think, permeates the mood it creates and the feeling that is left with the viewer. And this is despite the sterility of Ted Boynton's work and the comparable hollowness of his sales "ethos." I know what people say about Whit Stillman's films (ie. that they are peopled with talking heads and not much feeling is generated)....but this is absolutely NOT the case with BARCELONA. In spite of Ted Boynton's pragmatic and brainy approach to life, he is still shown the value of love and life...and learns some of the humility he has been so sorely lacking. It has to do, also, with his consciousness of being a foreigner: he has lowered his expectations to the point where the slightest display of kindness (by Montserrat and her friends) is a revelation to him. I think anyone wanting to work abroad should see this film first!

There is much to admire in here: the crispness of Stillman's dialogue, the excellent performance by Taylor Nichols and his comic, verbally-sparring, exchanges with Chris Eigeman. It teaches us to never lose our wonder and become complacent when becoming established in a foreign country. It offers a lesson to intellectuals and would-be intellectuals everywhere that there is still plenty to be learned where the human heart is concerned. I liked this movie a lot and rate it as Stillman's clearest and most entertaining work to date.

Tuesdays with Morrie (1999 TV Movie)

A wonderful lesson in life.

[11 September 2001]

I admit I was cynical in finding and watching this movie. Beforehand, I felt Oprah's influence would veer the film in a certain direction and it would represent the worst aspects of the TV movie: being treacly, and unrealistic. But Jack Lemmon's presence ensured my interest. (This, after all, was the illustrious actor's last performance.) I was rewarded by a clear-eyed, stirring, and often moving depiction of one man's dignity and the gift of living he bestows on a younger man. Both Lemmon and Azaria lock on to their parts with conviction, and I felt a real loving friendship existed between the men. I learned from this movie: lessons about communication and ideaology. It is a rare gem, honestly portrayed, and further proof (as if we needed any!) of Jack Lemmon's unique and breathtaking talent.