One cheer before I move on to the jeers. I'm tempted to say that
The Last Black Man in San Francisco, Joe Talbot's impressive feature debut, is the first near-great film I've seen about the pernicious harms of gentrification, but I can't quite make that ringing endorsement because 1) it would involve pretending that I've made even a cursory attempt to study films on said topic and 2) I can't buy the bromance between Jimmie Fails (reportedly based on the namesake actor's own life) and Jonathan Majors' Montgomery Allen except as a tenuous link between two token black men in an increasingly white neighborhood. (For one thing they hardly talk like urban black men at all. For all the talent Joe Talbot displays in his debut the inflections of street slang seem to escape him.) But there's a reason why the film is shaping up to be one of the longest-running indie releases of 2019, with perhaps the year's best soundtrack to boot. Even if you like me can't stand Scott McKenzie's original hippie paean to the eponymous city you'll be hard-pressed not to respond to Mike Marshall's (he of "I Got 5 on It" fame) soulful reimagining of the song that turns it upside down in purpose and impact:
As you may recall this isn't the
first remarkable feature debut of the year (Blitz Bazawule's
The Burial of Kojo, on Netflix) and likely not the last. Don't be fooled by the next sky-is-falling prognostication for anyone not named Disney you might come across in Variety or mainstream publications. Independent cinema continues to thrive by any measure other than box-office receipts and it is up to us to make sure it remains that way. No pirating if you can help it (that goes for almost all of you outside the confines of Iran and other repressive regimes), spread the word, and last but not least read up on the film for further discussions!
Time for a less-than-fulsome round of housekeeping:
I'm afraid Ari Astor is turning out to be our (American and the younger generation's) answer to Yorgos Lanthimos: a cynic whose trendy misanthropy in arthouse garb flatters rather than challenges our own sense of smug complacency. Astor has said his latest feature is a breakup movie of sorts following his own personal breakup, but he fails to justify why any of us other than family and friends should care, nor does he explain why burning it all down (quite literally as seen in the movie's conclusion) is supposed to be this cathartic experience he clearly intends it to be. And his stilted dialogues even in the film's context of alienation tell me he needs to pay less attention to how people are supposed to behave than to how people actually behave.
i really dont know what i feel about this one
https://m.imdb.com/title/tt4003440/
Near or at the very top of all the things in contemporary culture I'll never understand is our sick obsession with serial killers. It's not just the moral depravity of it all that turns me off, but also this notion that we somehow can glean some insight into the human condition from these sickos' behavior.
I've refused to see any of the John Wick flicks and am not going to make an exception for von Trier's latest shock slasher just because he used to dabble in auteurism. And the guy seems more interested in producing porn these days so I doubt I'm missing out much.
Bob Le Flambeur is worth watching.
The big thing I find off-putting about Melville is this suave machismo that informs most of his works. Not even his masterpiece
Army of Shadows is immune from it; in fact one cannot imagine the film without it, despite the considerable contribution of Simone Signoret (whose character, of course, suffers a fatal betrayal in the end). That probably explains why my fave Melville feature is
Le Silence de la mer - whose male protagonist, Howard Vernon's Werner von Ebrennac, confounds the male stereotypes from the get-go - and also why I quite liked the recently restored
When You Read This Letter which, despite its clear roots in commerce (Melville reportedly wanted to prove his narrative chops as well as make enough money for his next adventures), shows the stylist nonpareil of the French New Wave eschewing his usual male-centric perspective to lend Yvonne Sanson's Irène Faugeret and especially Juliette Gréco's mysterious Thérèse Voise a richness of character rarely found in commercial melodramas:
Memento (2000)
For the second time. First saw it when it came up around 2000.
Headaches to understand it.
Watched it yesterday, and I think I caught it 75%.
I may understand it completely watching it twice again, luckily.
Cult movie
Hope this helps
Nolan's
Memento is the kind of pseudo-intellectual exercise that asks us to think of art as a puzzle to be solved rather than an experience to be lived over and over. Ditto
Inception. I've said this before but
Dunkirk is probably the first and only serious film Nolan's ever made, and though I don't care for its flag-waving I do applaud him for finally taking that next step into artistic maturity.
"Once Upon a Time in Hollywood"
in theatres, Tarantino's affectionate look at 1960s Hollywood, with a darker but secondary sub-plot. It's three hours long but the time flies as it's consistently lively and entertaining.
So teenage boys' favorite auteur has now moved on from making light of fascism and slavery for "subversive" kicks to making light of premeditated murder by a deranged cult. I suppose that's progress, but it's still absolutely mystifying to see so many supposedly grown-up reviewers continue to take this movie brat and his odious revenge fantasies seriously. I honestly cringed when the crowd broke out in gleeful laughter as DiCaprio's Rick Dalton returned with his flamethrower in that gag clearly designed for riotous lolz all around.
And even his "winking homages" (culled from one enthusiastic headline) are growing stale. A few jokey references to classical Hollywood or the French New Wave don't necessarily qualify as homages, let alone genuine on-screen critiques that change the ways you see the works in question and the world at large. That's the difference between poseurs like Tarantino and De Palma and true auteurs like Godard and Rivette.
Reportedly QT has said he'll retire following his 10th feature. Here's hoping he keeps his word. (Don't count on it, though. Movie brats like him just can't help themselves.)
Booksmart - Funny movie. Some people compare it to Superbad just with girls... I can see it, but not nearly as good. Still enjoyable, a solid 7.5
Lion King - I went to see it last night 11:50PM start time. Didn't help that the sound was fudged for the first 15 mins, we tried complaining and getting them to pause it or rewind... so finally 12:30 they started from the beginning. So I was already annoyed. I loved the animated version, but I was just a kid when I watched it. I liked this movie a lot less than I liked the Aladdin live action. It was good, it was OK. It was nothing special. I don't feel for the characters, I guess it's hard to develop characters in disney live action movies. I seriously felt way more attached to Wall-E than Simba in this movie. That being said, I still liked it. Give it a 7
You had that problem, too? I thought that was just a one-time thing me and my crowd had to stomach the other day. Didn't seem to bother them too much, though, as they readily cheered at the "Circle of Life" intro once again. (It probably helped that this was a Thursday-nite preview before the official Friday opening, so probably not the most neutral audience we're talking about.)
Anyhoo yours seems to be a widely shared impression among laymen and pros alike. Sure, the visuals are indeed spectacular (I saw it in laser IMAX 3D but may see it in Dolby again as the sound lacked a little oomph you normally hear in the latter format), but to what end? Disney clearly intended this CGI showcase to be the latest imprint of its domination of the animation market but that doesn't exactly serve the viewer, no?
I'm glad to see critics rightly calling out the media behemoth for what is an ultimately empty exercise in brand reinforcement, but I hope they can apply the same critical thinking towards less nakedly commercial efforts like Linklater's
Boyhood or Bi Gan's recent
Long Day's Journey into Night whose innovation turns out to be less than meets the eye but somehow is praised to the heavens because of where it comes from. The indie/arthouse darlings don't get a pass just because they don't break nine digits at the box office every damn time.