Andalusian God
Another caricature drawing of a favorite film director: Luis Bunuel.
“Mystery is the essential element in every work of art.”
Bigger Picture: 2012 in Film
BEST NEW FILM 2012
Moonrise Kingdom
I was surprised how much I enjoyed this, having been disappointed and bored with Wes Anderson’s films after ROYAL TENENBAUMS. Joyous filmmaking, easy introduction for younger viewers to the true pleasures of cinema beyond cgi-beasts and spandex triggered explosions.
Runners Up:
Beasts of Southern Wild
Kind of Southern Werner Herzog, dramatic, visceral and moving. Ending goes on a few beats too long, explaining the obvious, but overall a fine film.
Take Shelter
One of the best takes on premonition since Nicolas Roeg tackled Daphne Du Maurier, this features a typically strong performance by Michael Shannon. A realistic film with a smartly oblique approach to the unknown.
Melancholia
Never quite again reaches the heights of its stunning opening, but when viewed in the right mood, it can remind you of the possibilities of science fiction in exploring not only societal and cultural issues, but also emotional ones in the manner of Tarkovsky.
Le Havre
Aki Kaurismaki can still knock out gorgeous, funny and moving films, and while this doesn’t reach the pitch-perfection of MAN WITHOUT A PAST, it’s a colorfully gentle modernization of French poetic realism.
Honorable Mentions: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy / The Guard
BEST OLD FILM 2012
Feeling lazy, thus just a brief commentary on these. Enjoyed most of these more than any film on the above list, with the possible exception of Moonrise Kingdom. Vigo’s L’Atalante is just wonderful, Kurahara’s Warped Ones was a jazzed-up ball of pure energy, La Promesse was the first film from the Dardanne brothers I’d seen, and while I’m not usually a huge fan of deeply realistic films, this one hit a homerun. Cocteau’s Orphee, Kurosawa’s Rashomon and Dreyer’s Passion of Joan of Arc all deserve their accolades. I prefer Rashomon to SEVEN SAMURAI by a long shot, though for me DERSU UZALA remains my favorite Kurosawa film. Orphee
L’Atalante
Runners Up:
La Promesse / Warped Ones / Orphee / Rashomon / Passion of Joan of Arc
BEST DOCUMENTARY 2012
In a field of many fine docs we saw this year, Chilean Nostalgia for the Light was impossible to beat. Moving, poetic, informative and unusual. Les Blank’s doc on the making of Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo was one I’d wanted to see for 20 odd years, and it was exactly what I’d hoped it to be.
Nostalgia for the Light
Runners Up:
Burden of Dreams / Anvil / Jiro Dreams of Sushi / Exit Through the Gift Shop / Kon-TIki
BEST B-MOVIE 2012
Pontypool was the first Bruce McDonald film I’d seen in a looong time (loved his early road movies Roadkill, Highway 61, Dance Me Outside), and it was a delightful Burroughsian minibudget semi-Zombie film where the virus is transmitted through sound. When Eight Bells Toll was an attempt in the late 70s to establish Anthony Hopkins as a maritime James Bond with fun results. Arabian Nights with Sabu, Jon Hall and Maria Montez was more than a little goofy, but it was energetic and snappy and engaging in a way that would be totally impossible these days. And finally, The Woman in Black with “Harry Potter” was a great little surprise in the best creepy hammer-style retro filmmaking.
Faint Praise
We just watched the third film in the Swedish phenom started by THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (a glorified TV movie with the aspirations of an art film). It wasn’t as good as the second film (THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE) which, due to lowered expectations, had been fairly entertaining thriller fare. But what was most interesting about THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET’S NEST was its consistent color scheme. Almost every scene in the film is flooded or accented in a combination of blue with orange or blue with deep golds:
While the mechanics of a courtroom drama lack interest for me, even when made more exotic by setting and language, I was impressed and engaged by the use of these colors. It’s too bad we didn’t have a bottle of tequila to go with the film. If this had been made into a drinking game (another good drinking game would be the spotting of dartboards), we would have finished it in the first half hour and downed a case before the fat bastard was nailed. That might even have improved the film as a result.
So whether it was a subtle nationalistic point on the part of the production (Sweden’s blue and yellow flag), or simply a thoughtful juxtaposition of complementary colors, I don’t care. It made an average film more enjoyable.
Great Movie Books, Part 1: Steven H. Scheuer
Movies on TV and Videocassette by Steven H. Scheuer
We were the first family on the block and at my school to get a VCR when they came out en masse in Finland in the early ’80s. My dad bought a silver top-loading Panasonic with a corded remote control. This was back when consumer electronics were still built to last, and we certainly put this remarkably constructed machine through some hoops. We would drive to neighboring cities if we heard there was a store that carried tapes, and we would be regulars at all the rental shops within a 20-mile radius around our home.
We mostly watched action films. We saw, yes, all the Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson films, but we were not very discriminating. All a movie needed to be was “entertaining.” This meant watching dubbed Italian spy films starring Henry Silva, Fred Williamson or Stacy Keach, oddball British comedies, Yugoslavian war films, and martial arts movies from somewhere in the Orient, featuring leads with names like Bruce Li. As long as there was movement on the screen — running, chasing, shooting, jumping, tackling — we watched it. Given that most tapes were either originally in English or dubbed into English, this is also where I learned my second language.
It wasn’t very long before the volume of available movies became impossible to master. Fortunately for us, a film and TV magazine, Katso (“Look”), started publishing an annual guide to films on video. It categorized the films in genres (Drama, War, Horror, Comedy, Thriller, etc.) and had a star rating system that was accompanied by pithy one sentence reviews. Never a religious person, I made this guide my personal bible. I would pore over the pages, read the reviews, compile lists of films I’d seen and rate them myself in a filing system of small index cards. I’d compile charts of films I wanted to see and then divide these obsessively into lists to carry around with me to the stores.
By the mid-’80s I would ride my bike for miles, or take the train to Helsinki (a 20-minute ride), and spend hours scouring any shop that looked like it might have some obscure gems from tiny VHS labels in a back room. I came across quite a few, including a tiny sewing shop that memorably carried a copy of a Lupin III animated movie. The cover proclaimed “better than James Bond,” which it was indeed if only by virtue of its novelty. I had never seen a Japanese animation, and at the time it was shockingly entertaining. [And no, it wasn’t the Miyazaki directed sequel. It was the original 1978 film that opened with our intrepid titular thief and rascal escaping from an ancient pyramid by riding a motorcycle down a tight walker’s rope.]
All of which brings me now to Scheuer’s book. Along with a Leonard Maltin Video Guide of the time, it was my first film book purchase back in 1986 or so. There was no question or competition regarding which of the two was the better compendium. Although Scheuer’s book contained some sloppy information (as later noted by Bill Warren, for whom I have great respect), it was infinitely more in tune with my movie tastes than the Maltin book. Maltin’s reviews were boring at best, never daring and often ignorant of films outside the mainstream. Scheuer’s reviews, on the other hand, were funny and spot-on. His opinions — even when I disagreed with them — were knowledgeable and opinionated.
When the final volume of this series came out — Movies on TV and Videotape 1993-1994 (in the Fall of 1993, I think) — I should have grabbed five copies. I had bought the new edition every year and would wear out each beyond repair by the time the next volume popped off the publishing chute. When only the Maltin book was published in the fall of 1994, I was beyond disappointed. I didn’t realize the series had been canceled, so I kept visiting the bookstores, requesting they order it and asking around. The Internet was up and running, if just barely, but my meager telnet, ftp and fidonet connections didn’t secure an answer for me.
So all I had left were the remains of the previous year’s Scheuer book. The cover had been taped several times over until it fell off. The rest of the book (around 1,300 pages) was divided into three or four chunks with loose pages tucked in between the remaining pages. All marked up in pencil, highlighter and sticky notes, I continued to patch up this last edition with glue, tape and rubber bands over the next several years. It held its place on my shelf until finally reduced to a stack of loose paper too difficult to maneuver.
Eventually, I got confirmation there would be no more in the series and so moved disappointedly onward. I would buy copies of the Maltin book because it was useful for the data if not the reviews, but never without thinking of the infinitely superior Scheuer book. I’ve tried the VideoHound guides and Halliwell’s books, as well as any other that came along, but not one ever came close to the brilliance of Scheuer’s.
Rest In Peace.
LIST OF FIVE: NEW FILMS OF 2010
Coming up with lists is always a fun exercise. I don’t like ‘Best of’ lists, however. I don’t trust absolutes in any shape or form.
As for the number, ten may be obvious, but it takes me less than 30 seconds to come up with several where it’s already a few too many.
Thus five. Five is reasonable. If you don’t chain yourself to a wall by using the word ‘best,’ it even turns manageable and we get to cycle back to fun.
FIVE NOTEWORTHY NEW FILMS SEEN IN 2010:
The Secret in Their Eyes
Nimbly mixing genres, this Argentine film is superbly scripted, acted and executed. Intelligent and exciting with one of the most astonishing single shot sequences ever filmed.
Timecrimes
Small, complex time travel drama from Spain featuring a most disagreeable lead character. Memorably offbeat.
Winter’s Bone
Some of the praise for the film should go to its original author, Daniel Woodrell, who has been quietly crafting minor masterpieces for the last 25 years. Of course, however good the source material may be, it’s well-nigh impossible to make it work as well as it does here.
Rogue
A stunningly beautiful ozploitation thriller with no stars, a tough and smart script, a haunting ambient score, expert tension and a giant killer crocodile.
The Secret of Kells
And just to mess with my own absolutes, here is a double feature that immediately pushes the list of five to one of six. Two gorgeous animated features from Ireland and Japan, both of which run circles around any Hollywood produced digimation, and manage to engage, terrify and enchant in equal doses.
Faint Praise
We just watched the third film in the Swedish phenom started by THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (a glorified TV movie with the aspirations of an art film). It wasn’t as good as the second film (THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE) which, due to lowered expectations, had been fairly entertaining thriller fare. But what was most interesting about THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET’S NEST was its consistent color scheme. Almost every scene in the film is flooded or accented in a combination of blue with orange or blue with deep golds:
While the mechanics of a courtroom drama lack interest for me, even when made more exotic by setting and language, I was impressed and engaged by the use of these colors. It’s too bad we didn’t have a bottle of tequila to go with the film. If this had been made into a drinking game (another good drinking game would be the spotting of dartboards), we would have finished it in the first half hour and downed a case before the fat bastard was nailed. That might even have improved the film as a result.
So whether it was a subtle nationalistic point on the part of the production (Sweden’s blue and yellow flag), or simply a thoughtful juxtaposition of complementary colors, I don’t care. It made an average film more enjoyable.
![Great Movie Books, Part 1: Steven H. Scheuer
Movies on TV and Videocassette by Steven H. Scheuer We were the first family on the block and at my school to get a VCR when they came out en masse in Finland in the early ’80s. My dad bought a silver top-loading Panasonic with a corded remote control. This was back when consumer electronics were still built to last, and we certainly put this remarkably constructed machine through some hoops. We would drive to neighboring cities if we heard there was a store that carried tapes, and we would be regulars at all the rental shops within a 20-mile radius around our home. We mostly watched action films. We saw, yes, all the Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson films, but we were not very discriminating. All a movie needed to be was “entertaining.” This meant watching dubbed Italian spy films starring Henry Silva, Fred Williamson or Stacy Keach, oddball British comedies, Yugoslavian war films, and martial arts movies from somewhere in the Orient, featuring leads with names like Bruce Li. As long as there was movement on the screen — running, chasing, shooting, jumping, tackling — we watched it. Given that most tapes were either originally in English or dubbed into English, this is also where I learned my second language. It wasn’t very long before the volume of available movies became impossible to master. Fortunately for us, a film and TV magazine, Katso (“Look”), started publishing an annual guide to films on video. It categorized the films in genres (Drama, War, Horror, Comedy, Thriller, etc.) and had a star rating system that was accompanied by pithy one sentence reviews. Never a religious person, I made this guide my personal bible. I would pore over the pages, read the reviews, compile lists of films I’d seen and rate them myself in a filing system of small index cards. I’d compile charts of films I wanted to see and then divide these obsessively into lists to carry around with me to the stores. By the mid-’80s I would ride my bike for miles, or take the train to Helsinki (a 20-minute ride), and spend hours scouring any shop that looked like it might have some obscure gems from tiny VHS labels in a back room. I came across quite a few, including a tiny sewing shop that memorably carried a copy of a Lupin III animated movie. The cover proclaimed “better than James Bond,” which it was indeed if only by virtue of its novelty. I had never seen a Japanese animation, and at the time it was shockingly entertaining. [And no, it wasn’t the Miyazaki directed sequel. It was the original 1978 film that opened with our intrepid titular thief and rascal escaping from an ancient pyramid by riding a motorcycle down a tight walker’s rope.] All of which brings me now to Scheuer’s book. Along with a Leonard Maltin Video Guide of the time, it was my first film book purchase back in 1986 or so. There was no question or competition regarding which of the two was the better compendium. Although Scheuer’s book contained some sloppy information (as later noted by Bill Warren, for whom I have great respect), it was infinitely more in tune with my movie tastes than the Maltin book. Maltin’s reviews were boring at best, never daring and often ignorant of films outside the mainstream. Scheuer’s reviews, on the other hand, were funny and spot-on. His opinions — even when I disagreed with them — were knowledgeable and opinionated. When the final volume of this series came out — Movies on TV and Videotape 1993-1994 (in the Fall of 1993, I think) — I should have grabbed five copies. I had bought the new edition every year and would wear out each beyond repair by the time the next volume popped off the publishing chute. When only the Maltin book was published in the fall of 1994, I was beyond disappointed. I didn’t realize the series had been canceled, so I kept visiting the bookstores, requesting they order it and asking around. The Internet was up and running, if just barely, but my meager telnet, ftp and fidonet connections didn’t secure an answer for me. So all I had left were the remains of the previous year’s Scheuer book. The cover had been taped several times over until it fell off. The rest of the book (around 1,300 pages) was divided into three or four chunks with loose pages tucked in between the remaining pages. All marked up in pencil, highlighter and sticky notes, I continued to patch up this last edition with glue, tape and rubber bands over the next several years. It held its place on my shelf until finally reduced to a stack of loose paper too difficult to maneuver. Eventually, I got confirmation there would be no more in the series and so moved disappointedly onward. I would buy copies of the Maltin book because it was useful for the data if not the reviews, but never without thinking of the infinitely superior Scheuer book. I’ve tried the VideoHound guides and Halliwell’s books, as well as any other that came along, but not one ever came close to the brilliance of Scheuer’s.
Rest In Peace.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/febd7b5eb4e7e5fbce5c86455005650c/tumblr_mlz80puiMl1qh5wh7o1_500.jpg)
Great Movie Books, Part 1: Steven H. Scheuer
Movies on TV and Videocassette by Steven H. Scheuer We were the first family on the block and at my school to get a VCR when they came out en masse in Finland in the early ’80s. My dad bought a silver top-loading Panasonic with a corded remote control. This was back when consumer electronics were still built to last, and we certainly put this remarkably constructed machine through some hoops. We would drive to neighboring cities if we heard there was a store that carried tapes, and we would be regulars at all the rental shops within a 20-mile radius around our home. We mostly watched action films. We saw, yes, all the Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson films, but we were not very discriminating. All a movie needed to be was “entertaining.” This meant watching dubbed Italian spy films starring Henry Silva, Fred Williamson or Stacy Keach, oddball British comedies, Yugoslavian war films, and martial arts movies from somewhere in the Orient, featuring leads with names like Bruce Li. As long as there was movement on the screen — running, chasing, shooting, jumping, tackling — we watched it. Given that most tapes were either originally in English or dubbed into English, this is also where I learned my second language. It wasn’t very long before the volume of available movies became impossible to master. Fortunately for us, a film and TV magazine, Katso (“Look”), started publishing an annual guide to films on video. It categorized the films in genres (Drama, War, Horror, Comedy, Thriller, etc.) and had a star rating system that was accompanied by pithy one sentence reviews. Never a religious person, I made this guide my personal bible. I would pore over the pages, read the reviews, compile lists of films I’d seen and rate them myself in a filing system of small index cards. I’d compile charts of films I wanted to see and then divide these obsessively into lists to carry around with me to the stores. By the mid-’80s I would ride my bike for miles, or take the train to Helsinki (a 20-minute ride), and spend hours scouring any shop that looked like it might have some obscure gems from tiny VHS labels in a back room. I came across quite a few, including a tiny sewing shop that memorably carried a copy of a Lupin III animated movie. The cover proclaimed “better than James Bond,” which it was indeed if only by virtue of its novelty. I had never seen a Japanese animation, and at the time it was shockingly entertaining. [And no, it wasn’t the Miyazaki directed sequel. It was the original 1978 film that opened with our intrepid titular thief and rascal escaping from an ancient pyramid by riding a motorcycle down a tight walker’s rope.] All of which brings me now to Scheuer’s book. Along with a Leonard Maltin Video Guide of the time, it was my first film book purchase back in 1986 or so. There was no question or competition regarding which of the two was the better compendium. Although Scheuer’s book contained some sloppy information (as later noted by Bill Warren, for whom I have great respect), it was infinitely more in tune with my movie tastes than the Maltin book. Maltin’s reviews were boring at best, never daring and often ignorant of films outside the mainstream. Scheuer’s reviews, on the other hand, were funny and spot-on. His opinions — even when I disagreed with them — were knowledgeable and opinionated. When the final volume of this series came out — Movies on TV and Videotape 1993-1994 (in the Fall of 1993, I think) — I should have grabbed five copies. I had bought the new edition every year and would wear out each beyond repair by the time the next volume popped off the publishing chute. When only the Maltin book was published in the fall of 1994, I was beyond disappointed. I didn’t realize the series had been canceled, so I kept visiting the bookstores, requesting they order it and asking around. The Internet was up and running, if just barely, but my meager telnet, ftp and fidonet connections didn’t secure an answer for me. So all I had left were the remains of the previous year’s Scheuer book. The cover had been taped several times over until it fell off. The rest of the book (around 1,300 pages) was divided into three or four chunks with loose pages tucked in between the remaining pages. All marked up in pencil, highlighter and sticky notes, I continued to patch up this last edition with glue, tape and rubber bands over the next several years. It held its place on my shelf until finally reduced to a stack of loose paper too difficult to maneuver. Eventually, I got confirmation there would be no more in the series and so moved disappointedly onward. I would buy copies of the Maltin book because it was useful for the data if not the reviews, but never without thinking of the infinitely superior Scheuer book. I’ve tried the VideoHound guides and Halliwell’s books, as well as any other that came along, but not one ever came close to the brilliance of Scheuer’s.
Rest In Peace.
LIST OF FIVE: NEW FILMS OF 2010
Coming up with lists is always a fun exercise. I don’t like ‘Best of’ lists, however. I don’t trust absolutes in any shape or form.
As for the number, ten may be obvious, but it takes me less than 30 seconds to come up with several where it’s already a few too many.
Thus five. Five is reasonable. If you don’t chain yourself to a wall by using the word ‘best,’ it even turns manageable and we get to cycle back to fun.
FIVE NOTEWORTHY NEW FILMS SEEN IN 2010:
The Secret in Their Eyes
Nimbly mixing genres, this Argentine film is superbly scripted, acted and executed. Intelligent and exciting with one of the most astonishing single shot sequences ever filmed.
Timecrimes
Small, complex time travel drama from Spain featuring a most disagreeable lead character. Memorably offbeat.
Winter’s Bone
Some of the praise for the film should go to its original author, Daniel Woodrell, who has been quietly crafting minor masterpieces for the last 25 years. Of course, however good the source material may be, it’s well-nigh impossible to make it work as well as it does here.
Rogue
A stunningly beautiful ozploitation thriller with no stars, a tough and smart script, a haunting ambient score, expert tension and a giant killer crocodile.
The Secret of Kells
And just to mess with my own absolutes, here is a double feature that immediately pushes the list of five to one of six. Two gorgeous animated features from Ireland and Japan, both of which run circles around any Hollywood produced digimation, and manage to engage, terrify and enchant in equal doses.
Book Review: Hammer Films
Here’s a link to a new book review.
As usual, edited for grammar, syntax, structure, legibility and general coherence from my hastily scribbled notes by my lovely Kathleen.
