Film

12 Films… Revisited

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Local Hero

In 2008, I participated in a meme asking one to reveal a dozen unseen films a true film buff should have seen by then; I came up with the twelve below in chronological order (all of them pre-2000).

Happily, 17 years later, I’ve seen all but two! What follows is my original text, plus updates in italics.

1. GONE WITH THE WIND (1939, director: Victor Fleming)
Arguably the most popular film of all time, I feel like I’ve seen it without ever having actually seen it–think of all the quotable lines and parodies throughout history unto infinity–and besides, who has four hours to kill? I missed it during its last theatrical release ten years ago; perhaps I’ll soon get another chance to see it on the big screen during its 70th (or 75th) anniversary.

Not Seen! I obviously haven’t found the four hours to kill, although I will soon in my effort to see every Best Picture Oscar winner before the 100th edition in 2028. The recent backlash against this film’s celebration of slavery hasn’t exactly encouraged me to make time for it, either.

2. WILD STRAWBERRIES (1957, dir: Ingmar Bergman)
I’ve always admired rather than adored Bergman; I see the greatness in PERSONA and SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE and respect at least a half-dozen other Bergman classics, but I find so much of his work too cold and austere. However, many people I know consider this film about a teacher looking back at his life in existential dread as essential, so it sits waiting patiently for me to move it out of Netflix queue limbo.

Seen at the Brattle Theater in 2015. I’ve since concluded I love nearly all of Bergman’s work starting with PERSONA and everything after but I’m unmoved by most of what came before, this film included.

3. IMITATION OF LIFE (1959, dir: Douglas Sirk) 
I went on a mini-Sirk kick two years ago, watching WRITTEN ON THE WIND and ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS in quick succession after a viewing of Todd Haynes’ loving, bold homage FAR FROM HEAVEN. I think Rock Hudson’s absence has kept me from making the time to check this one out–after seeing the other two films, Sirk w/out Hudson is in my mind unthinkable.

Seen on DVD in 2009. Hudson’s not missed! Would love to revisit after having viewed the pleasant but inferior 1934 version earlier this year.

4. HIGH AND LOW (1963, dir: Akira Kurosawa)
I almost saw this as part of the Friday Night Screening/Speaker series I worked on at BU a decade ago, but it was replaced at the very last minute by a work-in-progress-screening of Errol Morris’ MR. DEATH: THE RISE AND FALL OF FRED A. LEUTCHER, JR. with the director in person. Kurosawa is another auteur I never really “got” until I saw his somewhat atypical IKIRU a few years ago, and I’m ready to sit down and take in this kidnapping thriller.

Seen on Criterion Channel in 2020. One of my most illuminating pandemic watches. Gave it 5 stars on Letterboxd, noting how that late bravura sequence in the nightclub/flophouse was one of the most meticulous and thrilling I’d ever witnessed..

5. THE GODFATHER, PART II (1974, dir: Francis Ford Coppola)
During my first year in Boston, I rented on average four movies a week from the now-shuttered Allston Videosmith. “Film Club” members were entitled to two-for-one rentals on Tuesdays, provided you rented from a specific genre chosen every month. That October, it was “widescreen” film (funny to think that was a genre in the pre-DVD age), so that’s how I ended up watching THE GODFATHER for the first (and to date only) time. I liked it well enough, so I don’t know why I never got around to its highly regarded sequel.

Seen on Paramount Plus in 2022. I still like the original more (and have now seen it on the big screen as well), but as sequels go, not too shabby. Still have no desire to see Part III, however.

6. FINGERS (1978, dir: James Toback) 
The premise intrigues: A young man (Harvey Keitel) is torn between loyalties to the mob and dreams of becoming a famous concert pianist. I probably would have made more of an effort to see Toback’s film by now if not for the very good 2005 French remake, THE BEAT MY HEART SKIPPED with Romain Duris in the Keitel role.

Seen at home in 2011. An underseen classic and surely Keitel’s best performance. 

7. THE RIGHT STUFF (1983, dir: Philip Kaufman)
I read Tom Wolfe’s account of the U.S. space program’s early years back in 2002. This film adaptation, underrated and a flop at the time of release, has a great cast (Ed Harris, Dennis Quaid, Barbara Hershey) and a three hour running time. Oh, how I used to have a higher tolerance for lengthy flicks–ten years I ago, I remember seeing LA DOLCE VITA, ULYSSES’ GAZE and Tarkovsky’s SOLARIS (all 3 hour flicks) over the course of one Columbus Day weekend!

Seen on TCM in 2023. Gave it 4.5 stars on Letterboxd and wrote, “Maybe the best film about space travel after 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY? Apart from sections of the score, it might’ve been made yesterday.”

8. LOCAL HERO (1983, dir: Bill Forsyth) 
I never heard of Forsyth’s comedy before I moved to Boston to study film, but since then, I’ve heard nothing but great things about it. And given that I loved his neat 1987 adaptation of Marilynne Robinson’s novel HOUSEKEEPING (why isn’t that one on DVD?), I have to make time for it soon.

Seen at the Brattle Theater in 2013; rewatched on my own Criterion Collection Blu-Ray in 2019. Now one of my favorite movies, it nearly became an entry in 24 Frames. Every subsequent movie with a similar fish-out-of-water, city-to-rural scenario owes something to it, and none of them have bested it.

9. SCHINDLER’S LIST (1993, dir: Steven Spielberg)
I don’t care if it’s his mature masterpiece–I’d rather sit through the horror of CRASH again (Haggis, not Cronenberg even!) than have to watch another film about the holocaust.

Not Seen! As with #1, this will soon be part of my Best Picture Oscar winner watch; the best I can offer is that I’m looking forward to seeing it more than, say, BRAVEHEART, but honestly not by much. Happy I never have to rewatch Haggis’ CRASH, by the way.

10. WHITE (1994, dir: Krzysztof Kieslowski)
On the list because I saw BLUE and RED a decade ago but for some reason, I never got around to this one–and it even has the lovely Julie Delpy in it! At this point, I might as well watch all three in order.

Seen on HBO Max in 2021 when I watched the entire THREE COLOURS Trilogy. Easy my least favorite of that trio (Delpy’s barely in it!), but it grew on me, particularly once the narrative mutated into something unexpected.

11. PRINCESS MONONOKE (1997, dir: Hayao Miyazaki)
Out of all these unseen films, there’s absolutely no excuse for this one, given how much I love SPIRITED AWAY. Maybe the film’s action/adventure slant has kept me at bay, or maybe I don’t have too strong of a jones for anime and Miyazaki’s an anomaly.

Seen on HBO Max in 2021 a month before the previous entry (I was unemployed and had so much time for movies); a dark, beautiful epic that was pretty much what I expected; maybe it would’ve hit a little harder had I seen it before SPIRITED AWAY.

12. BUENA VISTA SOCIAL CLUB (1999, dir: Wim Wenders)
As I repeatedly discovered throughout grad school, Wenders is wildly uneven. For every WINGS OF DESIRE or little-seen masterwork like the epic, demented KINGS OF THE ROAD (another three hour film!), there’s crap like TOKYO-GA or THE END OF VIOLENCE. But this doc about Cuban musicians frequently pops up on best-docs-of-all-time lists.

Seen at home in 2013, weeks after my own trip to Cuba. Good movie, great music but at the time of this watch, Wenders was still a decade away from rehabilitating his career with his out-of-nowhere masterpiece PERFECT DAYS.

Top Ten Films: 1988

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My Top Ten Films of 1988:

  1. High Hopes
  2. Beetlejuice
  3. Hairspray
  4. Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown
  5. Running On Empty
  6. A Fish Called Wanda
  7. Dead Ringers
  8. Midnight Run
  9. The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years
  10. Landscape In The Mist

Honorable Mentions: Chocolat, Crossing Delancey, Distant Voices Still Lives, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Who Framed Roger Rabbit

For My Watchlist: Dangerous Liaisons, Drowning By Numbers, The Last Temptation of Christ, Married To The Mob, Rain Man

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I often rag on the 1980s as an underwhelming decade for cinema, and most of its Best Picture Oscar winners have proven me right (with a few exceptions, and yes, I still need to see Rain Man.) This explains why I was particularly drawn to 1988, which seems an anomaly in this period.

Look at this top ten! We have big budget studio pictures that are uncommonly witty (A Fish Called Wanda, Midnight Run), emotionally complex (Running On Empty) and exceptionally weird (Beetlejuice, my second favorite Tim Burton after the one that will likely be #1 for its respective year.) There’s also international auteur-centric filmmaking of the highest order (Almodovar’s most iconic effort, one of Cronenberg’s wildest body horror/character studies) and what remains my top John Waters film, partially because it’s the first one I saw but also for how nimbly it threads the needle between his earlier transgressiveness and his later subversive shadowing of mainstream pop culture. Theo Angelopoulos’ lyrical art film Landscape In The Mist is an outlier here, but not much more than Penelope Spheeris’ frank and entertaining LA hair metal doc (RIP Ozzy Osbourne, whose sequence in it feels like an inspired audition for his later reality show.)

At the top, however, sits the essential Mike Leigh film. Made for the cinema after a decade-and-a-half of mostly productions for British television, it’s where he perfects his long-gestating obsessions on class, family and politics (especially the scourge of Thatcherism) by focusing on three urban couples, one of which, lovingly played by Leigh regulars Ruth Sheen and Phil Davis might be his most detailed and humanist depiction of the proletariat. High Hopes doesn’t shy away from broad humor or the absurd situations often bubbling through his work, but how ever hyper-specific it comes across as a view of its time and place, it’s altogether the defining dramatic record of it.

Perhaps Roger Rabbit or The Unbearable Lightness of Being might’ve cracked the top ten had I seen either of them since the 1990s. Chocolat and Crossing Delancey, both more recent first-time watches are highlights in each of its director’s filmographies (Claire Denis and Joan Micklin Silver, respectively.) The Terence Davies film is an important one but I prefer its 1992 follow-up for how it approaches similar subject matter with more nuance and visual ingenuity. It’s more surprising to me that I’ve never made the time to see Jonathan Demme’s mafia comedy or Dangerous Liaisons than Scorsese’s controversial biblical epic although all three (along with the Peter Greenaway film) are titles I intend to watch someday. Stay tuned to see if any other year from the 1980s proves as robust as this one.

My Top 100 Films of the 21st Century

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In The Mood For Love

I could not resist submitting my own unranked top ten ballot to New York Times’ Top 100 Films of the 21st Century poll last month. Below is that top ten ranked, along with ninety other titles I would place in my own canon for the past 25 years. Below #30 or so, the ranking’s less important and subject to change (as anything ranked is, really.) I will say the order of the top three is also always in flux; given the widespread love for #2 and #3, I went with something more obscure but dear to my heart for #1.

Paul Thomas Anderson has three titles in the top 40; the only other filmmakers with as many in the top 100 are Hirokazu Kore-eda and Richard Linklater, though Wes Anderson came close (The Grand Budapest Hotel perhaps tied for #101 with a few other titles I couldn’t fit on.) I wish I had more female directors on this list (at least four made the top 20) although it speaks volumes about my current taste and interest that half of the top ten comes from Asian directors (with a few more not far behind.)

It might be risky to put the film at #4 so high since it’s so recent, but a second viewing earlier this year confirmed my initial thought that nothing else I’ve seen captures the time we live in so vividly and completely, except arguably the film at #12 which topped the NY Times poll.

I’ve included links for the movies that were part of my 24 Frames project.

  1. Cemetery of Splendour (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2015)
  2. Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001)
  3. The Royal Tenenbaums (Wes Anderson, 2001)
  4. Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World (Radu Jude, 2023)
  5. In The Mood For Love (Wong Kar-wai, 2000)
  6. Before Sunset (Richard Linklater, 2004)
  7. What Time Is It There? (Tsai Ming-liang, 2001)
  8. Yi Yi (Edward Yang, 2000)
  9. Stories We Tell (Sarah Polley, 2012)
  10. Still Walking (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2008)
  11. 35 Shots of Rum (Claire Denis, 2008)
  12. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho, 2019)
  13. There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007)
  14. Y Tu Mama Tambien (Alfonso Cuaron, 2001)
  15. Happy Hour (Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2015)
  16. My Winnipeg (Guy Maddin, 2007)
  17. Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022)
  18. Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001)
  19. Me And You And Everyone We Know (Miranda July, 2005)
  20. Cache (Michael Haneke, 2005)
  21. Ghost World (Terry Zwigoff, 2001)
  22. Memoria (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2021)
  23. Shoplifters (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2018)
  24. The Master (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012)
  25. C.R.A.Z.Y. (Jean-Marc Vallee, 2005)
  26. Best In Show (Christopher Guest, 2000)
  27. Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach, 2012)
  28. Moonrise Kingdom (Wes Anderson, 2012)
  29. The Duke of Burgundy (Peter Strickland, 2014)
  30. Under The Skin (Jonathan Glazer, 2013)
  31. Staying Vertical (Alain Guiraudie, 2016)
  32. A Serious Man (Ethan Coen, Joel Coen, 2009)
  33. Waking Life (Richard Linklater, 2001)
  34. Carol (Todd Haynes, 2015)
  35. Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2017)
  36. Tár (Todd Field, 2022)
  37. Portrait Of A Lady On Fire (Celine Sciamma, 2019)
  38. Gosford Park (Robert Altman, 2001)
  39. Aquarius (Kleber Mendonça Filho, 2016)
  40. Los Angeles Plays Itself (Thom Andersen, 2003)
  41. Holy Motors (Leos Carax, 2012)
  42. Paterson (Jim Jarmusch, 2015)
  43. Far From Heaven (Todd Haynes, 2022)
  44. Marwencol (Jeff Malmberg, 2010)
  45. Clean (Olivier Assayas, 2004)
  46. Duck Season (Fernando Eimbcke, 2004)
  47. Burning (Lee Chang-dong, 2018)
  48. The Return (Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2003)
  49. The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer, 2012)
  50. A Bread Factory (Patrick Wang, 2018)
  51. Oslo, August 31st (Joachim Trier, 2011)
  52. Grizzly Man (Werner Herzog, 2005)
  53. Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008)
  54. Volver (Pedro Almodovar, 2006)
  55. Dig! (Ondi Timoner, 2004)
  56. Morvern Callar (Lynne Ramsay, 2002)
  57. Exit Through The Gift Shop (Banksy, 2010)
  58. Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter (David Zellner, 2014)
  59. Man On Wire (James Marsh, 2008)
  60. Hedwig and The Angry Inch (John Cameron Mitchell, 2001)
  61. The Case Of The Grinning Cat (Chris Marker, 2004)
  62. After Yang (Kogonada, 2021)
  63. Amelie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2001)
  64. Call Me By Your Name (Luca Guadagnino, 2017)
  65. Drive My Car (Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2021)
  66. The Heart of The World (Guy Maddin, 2000)
  67. Quo Vadis, Aida? (Jasmila Žbanić, 2020)
  68. Let The Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008)
  69. Our Song (Jim McKay, 2000)
  70. Away From Her (Sarah Polley, 2006)
  71. May December (Todd Haynes, 2023)
  72. First Reformed (Paul Schrader, 2017)
  73. How To Survive A Plague (David France, 2012)
  74. Minding The Gap (Bing Liu, 2018)
  75. Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly, 2001)
  76. Pictures of Ghosts (Kleber Mendonça Filho, 2023)
  77. Can You Ever Forgive Me? (Marielle Heller, 2018)
  78. The Holdovers (Alexander Payne, 2023)
  79. 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007)
  80. Lost In Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003)
  81. Talk To Her (Pedro Almodovar, 2002)
  82. Boyhood (Richard Linklater, 2014)
  83. Moonlight (Barry Jenkins, 2016)
  84. All Of Us Strangers (Andrew Haigh, 2023)
  85. Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2003)
  86. The Power of The Dog (Jane Campion, 2021)
  87. In The Loop (Armando Iannucci, 2009)
  88. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (Werner Herzog, 2009)
  89. Sword of Trust (Lynn Shelton, 2019)
  90. Ham On Rye (Tyler Taormina, 2019)
  91. Mysterious Skin (Gregg Araki, 2005)
  92. Reprise (Joachim Trier, 2006)
  93. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt, 2019)
  94. Fish Tank (Andrea Arnold, 2009)
  95. Songs from the Second Floor (Roy Andersson, 2000)
  96. Perfect Days (Wim Wenders, 2023)
  97. The Happiness Of The Katikuris (Takashi Miike, 2001)
  98. Monster (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2023)
  99. Limbo (Ben Sharrock, 2020)
  100. The Beast (Bertrand Bonello, 2023)

Top Ten Films: 1955

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My Top Ten Films of 1955:

  1. The Night Of The Hunter
  2. Pather Panchali
  3. All That Heaven Allows
  4. It’s Always Fair Weather
  5. Rebel Without a Cause
  6. The Phenix City Story
  7. Les Diaboliques
  8. The Trouble With Harry
  9. Kiss Me Deadly
  10. Lola Montes

Honorable Mentions: Bad Day At Black Rock, The Desperate Hours, Marty, Ordet, Rififi

For My Watchlist: Floating Clouds, Mr. Arkadin, Picnic, The Seven Year Itch, To Catch A Thief

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Going back to the year of Back To The Future and it feels as transitional a time as it was for music, with cinema from all corners of the globe increasingly giving Hollywood product a run for its money. I’ve previously written about recent discoveries of the former (a revelatory 35mm screening of Pather Panchali late last year) and the latter (a viewing of It’s Always Fair Weather at home during peak lockdown when a scheduled screening was supposed to have occurred in normal times.)

Still, masterpiece that Satyajit Ray’s film is, the pole position goes to actor Charles Laughton’s sole directorial effort, a gothic thriller that flopped upon release but is now rightfully revered. Robert Mitchum’s “Preacher” (note quotation marks) is a delectably sinister and chilling character and performance. One could easily imagine a version of this made by Alfred Hitchcock, but Laughton imbues a tenderness that often seems beyond the former’s grasp (though his mordant comedy from the same year, The Trouble With Harry has faint traces of it); the film’s expressionistic style (particularly the high contrast black-and-white cinematography) also sets it apart from Hitch’s contemporaneous efforts (though I can’t say why To Catch A Thief is one of the few peak-period Hitchcocks I have yet to see.)

All That Heaven Allows is my second-favorite Sirk (my number one will likely top its year’s list) and perhaps his most quintessential Rock Hudson melodrama. The Phenix City Story is a startling obscurity that feels all too relevant seventy years on. It’s been too long since I revisited Rebel Without a Cause or Kiss Me Deadly but I firmly recall how iconic they are as, respectively, a teen angst character study and the hardest boiled of film noirs. Les Diaboliques could also use a revisit given my renewed appreciation of Henri-Georges Clouzot since seeing The Wages of Fear for the first time in 2023.

Given what it was competing with, I’m not mad at Marty winning the Best Picture Oscar, though it feels decidedly minor now. Not sure how high my hopes are for Picnic, though it has the enticing prospect of Kim Novak and William Holden as anchors. The Seven Year Itch is one of the few major Marilyn Monroe films I have yet to see, Mr. Arkadin one of the few minor Orson Welles ones. As for Floating Clouds, the only Naruse I’ve watched is Ugetsu which I should rewatch as well—unlike Ozu or Kurosawa, I don’t have a strong impression of him yet.

Halfway Through 2025

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Universal Language

Taking assessment of my favorite films and albums so far at a year’s midpoint might seem like an irrelevant if not entirely futile exercise, although I’ve done so annually for as long as I can remember. While often interesting and occasionally amusing to look back and see what did or did not eventually make the cut at year’s end six months later, this is above all an opportunity to take stock (and an excuse for another blog post.)

I usually see a few films at local (and sometimes international) festivals that make this cut: I’ve already written on three from this spring’s IFF Boston (see links below); On Becoming A Guinea Fowl I viewed at IFF’s Fall Focus last November and I appreciated it more after a second viewing earlier this month. Thank You Very Much is an underrated Andy Kaufman documentary that could have benefited from a wider release; Grand Tour and Universal Language are both admirably unique concoctions that I won’t forget about come year-end.

As for albums, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that at 50, many of my current faves are from artists my age or older (British jangle-pop quartet The Tubs are the youngest here by a considerable margin.) I would argue that most of these “legacy” acts are churning out some of their best work, a few of which I alluded to in the mix I posted last week. I’ll add that Doves’ Constellations For The Lonely might end up my favorite single new album since my number one of 2023. Even though following their debut Haim has made a stronger case as a singles than albums act, after two full spins, I Quit is cohering better than I anticipated it to.

Favorite Films of 2025 so far (alphabetical by title):

Favorite Albums of 2025 so far (alphabetical by artist):

  • Destroyer, Dan’s Boogie
  • Doves, Constellations For The Lonely
  • Haim, I Quit
  • Mekons, Horror
  • Perfume Genius, Glory
  • Pulp, More
  • Robert Forster, Strawberries
  • Stereolab, Instant Holograms On Metal Film
  • Suzanne Vega, Flying With Angels
  • The Tubs, Cotton Crown

Top Ten Films: 1997

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  1. The Sweet Hereafter
  2. Boogie Nights
  3. Happy Together
  4. Jackie Brown
  5. Grosse Pointe Blank
  6. Taste of Cherry
  7. L.A. Confidential
  8. Fireworks
  9. Henry Fool
  10. The River

Honorable Mentions: The Hanging Garden, The Ice Storm, Nowhere, Princess Mononoke, Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion

For My Watchlist: The Butcher Boy, Gattaca, The Life of Jesus, Public Housing, Xiao Wu

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During this great transitional year (got my BA from Marquette, moved across the country to attend grad school at Boston University), The Sweet Hereafter was a revelation. Already drawn in by all of its glowing reviews, I saw at the Oriental Theatre in Milwaukee when home for Christmas break with a friend whose motivation to watch it with me was solely due to its enigmatic poster. As eye-opening as anything I’d seen in my first semester of studying film, I watched all of Atom Egoyan’s previous six features within the next six months. Briefly a candidate for 24 Frames (I ended up writing a little about it in my essay on star Sarah Polley’s own film Stories We Tell), it still stands (along with 1994’s Exotica) as Egoyan’s peak, the place where all of his obsessions coalesced into one of the best book-to-film adaptations of all time.

Paul Thomas Anderson went on to direct at least five features I’d rank above his second one, Boogie Nights, but what a breakthrough, the real fulfillment of auteur-driven studio pictures that Pulp Fiction promised a few years earlier. To express the visceral charge of being in love with cinema and also being able to back that up with the level of your craft is still a rare accomplishment; perhaps due to its length, I don’t revisit it as often as I should (speaking of Tarantino, Jackie Brown, in my mind his last great film until Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, also applies here.)

While making my way through the Wong Kar-wai box set a few years ago, Happy Together, which I hadn’t seen since its original release was the nicest surprise, intriguingly looking forward to his masterpiece In The Mood For Love; Henry Fool, rewatched in late 2023 when nearly all of Hal Hartley’s work was streaming on the Criterion Channel is by far the best of that trilogy (and maybe his last great work?) Grosse Pointe Blank and Romy and Michele remain solid comfort-food watches (I suspect L.A. Confidential would as well); I should also revisit Taste of Cherry since I now understand its cryptic ending (on first watch, my reaction was, “Wait, what did I miss? It just… ends, like that?”) As for Tsai Ming-liang’s long-unavailable The River, at this writing it’s streaming (with commercials!) on something called Plex which may be my best option to see it again (not holding out for hope for a public screening on 35mm anytime soon.)

Somehow, I never got around to The Butcher Boy or Public Housing despite having numerous opportunities to do so (I might’ve taped the latter, one of Frederick Wiseman’s marathon-length documentaries off of PBS at one point.) Hoping to see Xiao Wu soon in kicking off a chronological watch of Jia Zhangke’s back catalog inspired by his latest, Caught By The Tides.

Top Ten Films: 1975

Chris Kriofske1 Comment
Dog Day Afternoon

Time for a new occasional feature! Enhanced by the increase in movie watching at home I’ve undergone in the past five years, I’ll pick a year from the last century (not in chronological order), list my ten favorite films, a few honorable mentions and five titles I haven’t seen but want to watch. Kicking this off by turning back the clock to my birth year—1975’s often seen as a nadir of pop culture, but as a possible refutation, look at this list:

  1. Monty Python and The Holy Grail
  2. Dog Day Afternoon
  3. Nashville
  4. Grey Gardens
  5. Night Moves
  6. The Passenger
  7. Picnic At Hanging Rock
  8. Fox and His Friends
  9. The Rocky Horror Picture Show
  10. Smile

Honorable Mentions: Jaws, Jeanne Dielman, Mirror, Mother Kusters Goes To Heaven, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

For My Watchlist: The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother, At Long Last Love, A Boy and His Dog, Cooley High, The Story of Adele H.

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Of course Monty Python and The Holy Grail would always end up my number one given the impact it had on my film vocabulary but Dog Day Afternoon is a close second. I revisited it about two years ago and noted that anyone looking to make a heist picture or a character study should retain all of it for future reference. Al Pacino should have also won the Oscar that year (Jack Nicholson, winner for One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest arguably gave a worthier performance in The Passenger, possibly my favorite Antonioni after Red Desert) and the film’s handling of his character’s fluid sexuality is decades ahead of its time.

Nashville could’ve also been a serious contender for #2 but unlike Dog Day Afternoon, I haven’t seen it in nearly two decades. I could also stand to revisit Grey Gardens although I’m staunch (S-T-A-U-N-C-H!) in the feeling that I could remember it by heart. Night Moves, a more recent first-time watch was nearly Royal Tenenbaum, PI and I hope it’s becoming more widely seen given Gene Hackman’s recent passing. May Michael Ritchie’s perceptive beauty pageant satire Smile achieve the same status once Bruce Dern inevitably kicks the bucket.

Some may scoff at Rocky Horror’s inclusion but I’ve come to appreciate it as a genuinely good film with great music and iconic performances whose only sin is that it can’t sustain such more-ness all the way through to its somewhat ridiculous final act. It’s certainly classier than the two go-for-broke stinkers Ken Russell (whose other work from this period will likely make some of my top tens!) released this year: the overrated kitsch-fest Tommy and the justly obscure Lisztomania.

Someday I’ll give Sight and Sound grande dame Jeanne Dielman another viewing; I’ve recognized its worth but have also struggled with its endurance-test construction;  I’ll likely check out Francois Truffaut’s The Story of Adele H. first or even Gene Wilder’s directorial debut which I have measured expectations for despite his singularity as a performer.

IFFBoston 2025: Part Two

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DEAF PRESIDENT NOW!

I knew nothing about Gallaudet University, a liberal arts college in Washington DC for the deaf and hard of hearing; nor was I familiar with the 1988 eight-day, student-led protest against the appointment of a non-deaf president instead of two other deaf candidates. Going in cold to a story like this is obviously the most effective way to experience it but the retelling of this incident is so well-crafted that it has that rare potential to enlighten possibly even those who lived it first-hand.

Co-directed by model/activist Nyle DiMarco, who is deaf and David Guggenheim (WAITING FOR SUPERMAN), who is not, DEAF PRESIDENT NOW! similarly feels like a bridge made to represent the deaf community and educate everyone else. While the filmmakers are privy to and make good use of an excess of archival footage of the protest (which occurred at a time when camcorders made such widespread documentation possible), it’s the modern-day interviews with the four student protest leaders that add context and resonance. Some may question the addition of voiceovers accompanying the subjects’ signing to the camera when subtitles are also present for a non-signing audience but as a concession to making a more accessible film for that very audience, it’s not a distraction; neither is the elaborate put-a-hearing-person-in-a-deaf-person’s-ears sound design. More important is how the film details this community coming together, especially viewed at an age this removed from an era in which said community was viewed much differently and often detrimentally from the outside.

This is the rare feel-good documentary that’s genuinely inspiring without coming off as cloying while also being informative and entertaining. I don’t often give films 5/5 but by successfully achieving what it wants to do and also through sheer goodwill, this one earns it.

SORRY, BABY

Movies about trauma are tricky to pull off for obvious reasons: how does one express such discomfort, anger, sadness and fear to an audience without alienating them or coming off as a weight that’s too much to bear? Eva Victor, a 30-year-old actress best known for the TV series BILLIONS takes on this challenge not only as a writer/director in her feature debut but also as its star. She plays Agnes, a college professor in a small Maine town (but mostly filmed near Ipswich, Mass.) recovering from a traumatic event whose details are only gradually disclosed. To make such a scenario digestible, Victor infuses the film with a near-caustic humor, dividing in into sections with whimsical titles, gently satirizing such events as an HR meeting with deadpan punchlines and overall gifting Agnes with a persona that leans towards the comedic self-deprecation of a humorist writer like Sloane Crosley or Jessi Klein.

As an actor-turned-filmmaker, Victor is not a revelatory talent such as Greta Gerwig or even the Jesse Eisenberg of A REAL PAIN. Her use of humor doesn’t shy away from the pain Agnes experiences but the muted tone with which she often approaches it doesn’t fully register at times. SORRY, BABY works best when she has a simpatico screen partner to play off of, particularly Naomi Ackie who as best friend Lydie brings warmth but also energy whenever she’s onscreen or the great character actor John Carroll Lynch whose one sequence in the film leaves such an impact one can sense the potential of an entire ancillary feature about his character. The missing-in-action-as-of-late Lucas Hedges also has a small role seemingly crafted to display his natural charm as Agnes’ neighbor. As for Victor, this is a good first effort that mostly works but maybe doesn’t fully live up to the buzz it has received so far. 3.5/5

PEACOCK

Matthias (handsome beanpole Albrecht Schuch) has a most unusual job “renting” himself out to temporarily be whomever one needs him to: whether a friend, son, father or dinner-date companion, he’s a willing blank slate, a cipher who can fulfill any need or role. A great idea in theory but one that has serious complications for his personal life as he can’t stop being whomever anyone wants him to be even when he’s not being asked to perform.

As a zany comedy by design, PEACOCK works best whenever it’s funny; when it tries to aim for something deeper such as pathos, it’s a little wobbly, not fully pulling off the tonal shifts needed to add depth and nuance to Matthias’ plight. Happily, it just ramps up the absurdity in its final act, arriving in a place not far off from Ruben Ostlund’s THE SQUARE, only arguably more inspired (give this to Schuch, he totally commits to the bit.) This won the audience award for Best Narrative feature at IFFBoston this year, which I did not expect but can see why: for all it does to explore the consequences that come from being a likable cipher, the film’s likability (and humor) is perhaps its greatest asset.  3.5/5

HAPPYEND

A terrific sight gag and a newfangled high concept alone do not make for a wholly satisfying narrative from writer/director Neo Sora (RYUICHI SAKAMOTO: AN OPUS). Set in the near-future (though low budget enough that one may not discern this from sight alone), high school students are subject to a Big Brother-esque AI surveillance following a prank that happens to coincide with a series of minor earthquakes portending fears of an upcoming major one. The quieter, more casual moments between childhood best friends Yuta and Kuo suggest Sora has at least learned something from the films of Kore-eda, if not how to economically tell a story. Albeit an interesting mix of humanist drama and slightly absurdist satire, HAPPYEND is less notable for its accomplishments (the sight gag is pretty inspired, after all) and more for what it could have been. 3/5

IFFBoston 2025: Part One

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Another IFFBoston, another eight movies seen. My reviews of the first four.

CAUGHT BY THE TIDES

Jia Zhangke (MOUNTAINS MAY DEPART) will never run out of ways to explore rapid change in 21st Century China or roles for his muse Zhao Tao to excel in, thank god. His latest partially distinguishes itself from previous efforts by literally going back to them, incorporating scenes and outtakes from UNKNOWN PLEASURES (2002) and STILL LIFE (2006) along with newly-shot footage to track how much China and, in particular, the Northern city of Datong has reconstructed itself between then and now in part due to the Three Gorges Dam project that the 2006 film centered on.

Using the same actors (Tao and Zhublin Li) and reediting the earlier footage (with help of some intertitles that refashion the earlier stories to relate to the current one), CAUGHT BY THE TIDES is stitched together in a way that often brings attention to its manipulation of time and space for those familiar with the earlier work, although those new to the director’s oeuvre may not even pick up on this. It’s an approach that risks confusion, but that actually might have been Zhangke’s intention. After all, time rarely travels in a straight line; the immersive, collage-like soundtrack which spans copious genres and traditions (East and West) amplifies this sense of impermanence and might be the director’s most ambitious and striking use of music to date. I now want to go back to revisit his strange, rich filmography to see how he arrived here and ponder where he might go next in detailing this world forever in flux. Rating: 4.5/5

PAVEMENTS

Where to begin with PAVEMENTS? Is it a vehicle meant to document the famed 1990s indie-rock quintet Pavement as they reunite and rehearse for a 2022 tour? A biopic of the band casting the likes of Joe Keery and Nat Wolff to play lead singer/songwriter Stephen “S.M.” Malkmus and guitarist Scott “Spiral Stairs” Kannberg, respectively? A behind-the-scenes account of the making of said biopic? A look at a stage musical about the group from its conception to its premiere? Footage of the opening of a halfway-reverent museum exhibit of copious artifacts/detritus related to the band?

Of course, the resultant ambitious collage is all of these things and many more. Supposedly, when director Alex Ross Perry (with his first feature since 2018’s HER SMELL) signed on to make a movie about the band, he was given carte blanche to do what he wanted and encouraged not to make anything resembling a traditional overview. He certainly understood the assignment as the final product is equal parts THIS IS SPINAL TAP and SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK, but that dual-comparison only scratches the surface of everything going on here.

This isn’t an approach one could use for every musical act but it is the exact right one for Pavement, who arguably never became household names because they were just too sardonic, too drenched in irony, too much willing to be a shambles rather than a dependable, accessible outfit (all of this in the long run benefiting them artistically if not commercially.) There’s footage of Malkmus referring to the band as “the slacker Rolling Stones of the ’90s” at that time, which ends up more apt a description than I could ever come up with. Appropriately, as a genre-bend, PAVEMENTS is a bit of a shambles and ideally for those-in-the-know. Still, there’s so much that’s inventive and exciting about it (especially in how it captures the band’s time and more importantly, how it shows their impact reverberating over time) that it at least gives off the impression it’s willing to reach for the unconverted in spite of itself. 4/5

COME SEE ME IN THE GOOD LIGHT

Documentaries where the subject is terminally ill are always a tough sell; the people behind this one, chiefly director Ryan White (ASK DR. RUTH) seemingly go out of their way to dispel this impression, highlighting the film’s humor in the face of impending tragedy. Of course, with a subject like poet/activist Andrea Gibson, it would be disingenuous to oversee or even ignore how funny they are in day-to-day life, an intriguing counterpart to archival footage of them intensely performing in poetry slams and one-person shows onstage. It’s not a disconnect but more of a revelation as to how our public and private personae inevitably contrast with and also complement each other.

Gibson’s ovarian cancer diagnosis in their late 40s provides the premise for White following them and their partner, Megan Falley, mostly in and around their cozy Colorado home. Laugh-out-loud conversations about such not-profound activities as fingering and obscure word choices (“octopoidal”?) are given the same weight as the spectre of death that can’t help but color everything; to do so with such intimacy and candidness endears Andrea and Megan to us considerably. Their portrait is one of life not as a series of big moments but as something given inspiration and meaning by all the random, casual ones that naturally occur in the act of simply living. While a little slick for my taste at times (particularly the score and some editing choices), I can’t deny how genuinely effective and moving this is as a whole. 4/5

THE KINGDOM

Opening with a scene so shocking and visceral that you’re best off not expecting the filmmakers to even try topping it (and they don’t), this story of a Corsican crime family set in 1995 is business-as-usual as these things go–lotsa scenes of attacks, retaliation and hiding out from both the enemy and the police. At the center is 15-year-old Lesia (Ghjuvanna Benedetti) who has mostly been shielded from the action until she’s reunited with her crime boss father, Pierre-Paul (Santucci). This relationship is the only interesting facet here and the film’s second half is better for devoting more focus to it (particularly in some tender, nuanced exchanges between Benedetti and Santucci.) Alas, the rest is mostly unmemorable, though I did note that when Benedetti cut and bleached her hair to disguise herself, she suddenly, uncannily resembled a young Aimee Mann (but without the braid.) 3/5

MISERICORDIA

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Jérémie (Félix Kysyl) clearly belongs to an extended lineage of Alain Guiraudie protagonists: craggily handsome, somewhat sexually ambiguous, a laconic wanderer, an irritant to many who come into contact with him. However, unlike the others, he’s not as passive or seemingly befuddled—rather than letting everything happen to him, he takes a decisive action that carries real consequences for his surrounding community even if the person most deeply affected by it ends up being himself.

Returning from the city of Toulouse to an isolated forest village for the funeral of a baker he once worked with, Jérémie’s invited to stay on by the baker’s wife, Martine (Catherine Frot), much to the consternation of her married son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand) and something approaching indifference (but not entirely) from neighbor Walter (David Ayala). It takes time to figure out how everyone knows each other with only traces of what their past dynamics were. About a half-hour in, Jérémie takes that decisive action; from there, the film turns into essentially a dark comedy as he repeatedly makes up stories about what happened, only for other characters to do the same including an older priest (Jacques Develay) whose motives to protect Jérémie are, shall we say, less than pure. It all becomes a sort of “Looney Tunes RASHOMON”, to borrow a phrase from Errol Morris’ 2010 documentary TABLOID.

As usual with Guiraudie, the environment influences the tone (in this case, the autumnal hues of a forest that manages to seem both inviting and quietly menacing.) The film’s rhythms also develop organically with a heightened focus that looks like a course-corrective to the everything-and-kitchen-sink approach of his inferior last feature, NOBODY’S HERO (2022). While not as ingenuous as STAYING VERTICAL (2016), this is funny and surprising enough to render any claims of Hitchcockian influence irrelevant (if anything, it’s closest to an atypical film from that director like THE TROUBLE WITH HARRY.) In the end, it’s less important whether Jérémie gets away with what he’s done and more how it shifts our perceptions of those around him. Also, look up the meaning of the film’s Latin title and ponder whether or not it’s meant to be ironic. Rating: 4 (out of 5)