Pretty Little Things: Brief Movie Thoughts, 4/10

I've been bad. Again, I let my duties slip away from me. So, as a means of getting myself back into my passion for writing (Awww!), I'm going to start updating this little personal forum with frequent installments of what I call "Pretty Little Things", i.e. my very (very) brief impressions of movies which landed on my radar in the recent days/weeks. Perhaps if I stay diligent in updating this space with these blurbs, I'll feel compelled to deliver, you know, actual criticism. However, I think these scraps of thoughts and opinions are valuable as immediate, innate reactions to viewing experience. (Sorry, but I'm no Pauline Kael with an incredible ability to synthesize the visceral moviegoing experience into words in just one sitting. Nor, it must be said, do I like to take notes during films.) So while I'm well aware these contribute to our current trend of "soundbite" criticism (a practice best left to the Jeffrey Lyons of the world), they are, as I pointed out, "gateway" posts; with time, they will expand before my very eyes and I won't even know it.

In the mean time, sit tight. And read, damn it.

Fury (1936)
Constructed as a romantic fable thrust violently into nightmarish, prickly moral parable, Fury burrows into your spine with raw intensity. Here, Fritz Lang extracts any indentifiable sense of place and also personality from the film, letting the archetypes and (disgustingly, sadly) archetypal situations speak for themselves. Ablaze with aesthetic rigor, chilling in its insights.

The Woman in the Widow (1944)
You think De Palma screened this film before writing Femme Fatale or, honestly, a fair deal of his filmography? One can hypothesize, for sure, but that noir-tinged head-buster definitely owes quite a bit to Fritz Lang's account of a middle aged man's waking life foray into homicide. Edward G. Robinson reigns in his signature hard-boiled persona to reveal a pathetic, ordinary soul. It's a oddly moving performance.

Swing Time (1936)
Second viewing, just as beguiling. I've always loved how emotionally arresting the Astaire and Rogers dance numbers were, and Swing Time is the duo's peak (from what I've seen): gorgeous songs expressed with eloquent, serious dancing by two incandescent performers. "Never Gonna Dance" is powerful, but "Pick Yourself Up" is in a league of its own.

Ace in the Hole (1951)
Sometime people confuse satire for dark comedy. This is satire in the ruthless, tar-black vein with minimal room for laughter. (When humor does bubble up, its sharp as fuck.) Prophetic in all the right (wrong?) ways, with a scary, all-cylinders Kirk Douglas performance. Now this is a "message" film.

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)
First image: Keir Dullea walks a shallow diagonal foward toward a dual swingset. A single, unoccupied swing sways. Dullea notes and walks past. This shot encapsulates the mysteries and realities of this Preminger masterpiece, as straightfoward as it is ominous. Bunny Lake consistently toys with our expectations and, more importantly, our emotion reactions and identifications even as it keeps its enigmas afloat until the gut-busting finale. Shot in stark, formidable Panavision. A must-see.

Loves of a Blonde (1965)
Second viewing, just as awesome. A refreshing mix of Eastern bloc realism and New Wave-esque visual flair, Milos Forman breakthrough film remains a bittersweet confection; the movie's laissez-faire narrative and spirited humor barely masks the shades of sadness cast upon the titular Hana Brejchova's face. (And what a ravishing face!) Few movies make as many clever yet appropriate editing choices as this one, most which dance the film's delicate line between mirth and melancholy.

The Fisher King (1991)
Call this a disappointment kissed with moments of genius and genuine feeling. I don't mind the idea of Gilliam working out his absurdist comfort zone in stretches of the movie (namely the long middle act with contrasting couples each performing a pas de deux). In its execution, however, these scenes lack the verve and spark which make even Gilliam's most uneven work tingle with excitement (see The Brothers Grimm). Still, there are myriad pleasures to be found in the acting -- especially from Bridges, definitely from Ruehl -- and some of the sequences pop.

Burglar (1987)
Genius. Okay, no. It's actually pretty lame. But this processed piece of 80s comedy cheese coasts on a rather inoffensive, sometimes goofy-fun wave due to Whoopi Goldberg's star wattage. So, no, this isn't even trashy-good but there are worse ways to spend 90 minutes. Also notable for the single best use of Bob Goldthwait in film history: squawking a string of profanities and insults at a bald bartender. While disguised as a postal worker. Okay, that's genius.

Can't Buy Me Love (1987)
Say what you will, but Steve Rash's high school-bound romantic comedy, however run-of-the-mill in conception and preposterous in its set-up, is one of the stand-out teen movies of the 80s, if only for the winning performances of its two leads and its understanding of our desparate need to fit in. Yep, there's a climatic scene between a jock and geek ending with the entire student body cheering. Yep, girl and boy fall in love, drift apart, and find each other again. But hell if Ronald Miller (Patrick Dempsey, a kid pouring his heart into the puppy-love material like its the greatest love story ever told) and Cindy Mancini (Amanda Peterson, her charisma set to swoon) aren't the two most endearing characters in the whole freakin' genre.

Married Life (2008)
Ira Sach apes Douglas Sirk and Nicholas Ray without a particle of either giant's overriding humanism. Instead, the movie's nothing more than, as one critic put it, "an ugly film about ugly people without even providing an entry point to engage with its ugliness". Even surrounded by typically fine thesps like Chris Cooper, Patricia Clarkson and Rachel McAdams, Married Life is as pretty and useful as a paper mache house.

The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1987)
The movie: fine, with some missteps in characterizations and structure. Maggie Smith: the absolute proof she's one of, if not the greatest living actress in the world. There aren't many characters as heartbreaking and ultimately gratifying to watch as Judith Hearne, and there is no other actress who could have infused her with as much sorrow and determination as Smith. Truly, a revelation.