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Reviews
Hungry Wives (1972)
Interesting failure from Romero
Despite the fact that this film is by George Romero and it's sold as a horror film, _Season of the Witch_ (aka _Jack's Wife_ which is, in my opinion, the better title) isn't really a horror film.
Or, at the very least, it isn't a *straightforward* horror film and anyone going into this expecting Romero's typical gore and suspense will definitely be disappointed. The closest the film comes to typical horror are some wonderfully eerie sequences involving a man in a grotesque satanic-looking rubber mask (exploitatively depicted on some of the older videocassette sleeve covers for the film) trying to break into the main character's house.
What this film amounts to is the story of one woman who finds herself dissatisfied with the daily plod of her existence as a respectable wife in a respectable suburb. She feels herself aging. She's secretly bitter toward her husband and her friends. It's never really clear what she wants exactly because she doesn't seem to know herself, but she does become intrigued by a woman in the neighborhood who claims to a witch. She meets with this woman and, though she's afraid of black magic, she's inspired to explore it on her own. She goes out and buys a book on the subject and some witchcraft paraphernalia and then begins casting spells from her kitchen.
Despite the non-gory subject matter, there are some things in this film that bear the distinctive signature of Romero and his influences. There's a keen visual wit on display, particularly in some scenes involving mirrors. There are some odd hallucinatory dream sequences here that come straight from the more supernatural side of Italian horror (particularly the opening scene). Many of the scenes are ramshackle and crudely staged, but not in an altogether bad way. Rather, they almost recall a documentary. There's genuine tension (but not "horror film" tension). You don't know where scenes are going to go or what the characters are going to do or say next. You never really get inside many of the characters, but they're offbeat and watchable (particularly the young student-teacher, who's into drugs, casual sex, and some pretentious post-late 60's philosophy).
Not everything in this film works. It's badly edited. Much of the acting is weak. However, the film does have an intriguing, almost New Wave, experimental-like cadence. It's rough and full of jagged edges, but, in that respect, it's really no worse than Jean Luc-Godard at his most indulgent. Even more so than _Martin_, this is Romero's "art film". If it were a piece of music instead of a movie it would be slow, discordant and lo-fi.
This is recommended for all Romero admirers to see at least once.
Death Takes a Holiday (1934)
Very worth seeing, but frustrating
First of all, the director of this film, Mitchell Leisen is one of the most underrated talents of 30's and 40's. He's acquired something of a bad reputation because of pretty vicious remarks made about him by Preston Sturges and Billy Wilder when talking about the films he directed from their scripts in the days before they were allowed to direct their *own* scripts. However, he doesn't deserve the derision. He's made some fluff films, for sure, but he's a consistently entertaining filmmaker who, more often than not, really delivers.
Anyway, Death Takes a Holiday is sort of his "art film" and it has a lot of great things in it. Fredric March's performance as Death is wonderful, the atmosphere is thick, the humor works, the scene setting is smart and romantic, and the opening titles are fun and weird, immediately presenting the film as something that's going to be a little unusual.
The problem with the film lies in Fredric March's romance with Evelyn Venable. The idea of Death falling in love with a human is great, but it's just not convincing here, mostly due to Venabale turning in a wooden performance that almost suggests she might be hypnotized. Also, the dialogue between them, particularly in the closing scene, is melodramatic and pseudo poetic beyond belief. You almost want to laugh at it.
It's a shame this most important aspect of the movie was handled so badly because just about everything else in film is great, particularly the interaction between Fredric March and just about everyone else in film who isn't Evelyn Venable. All of the good stuff just bursts with intruiging ideas.
And for that I would recommend the film to all potential viewers. The film is not without it's problems, but the good stuff is just good enough for me to say that the proverbial glass is definitely half full.
Jacquot de Nantes (1991)
Flawed film redeemed by some great moments
This film, Agnes Varda's loving tribute to both Jacques Demy and to the playful joy of cinema, is a great idea executed with a beguiling sincerity and containing some wonderful moments that make up for it's flaws and that make the film very worth seeing.
Concentrating on Demy's childhood in working class France of the 1940's, the film often doesn't quite go far enough into absorbing us into it's world. It can be sketchy at times. Just about all of the characters other than the young Demy are blurry and weak. The details of the time and place are often sparse in a way that distances. When World War II begins, we would hardly know it if not for a few minor mentions of it as well as a brief, unconvincing moment involving a German soldier wandering his way into the scene of a family gathering. We don't quite get a vivid enough impression of where Demy comes from.
However, all of this doesn't matter during the wonderfully funny, charming scenes of the young Jacques making his first films. The scenes of his working on a stop-motion animated film set in a cardboard city he builds in his basement are particularly witty and fun to watch.
The film also contains some most valuable footage of Demy himself reflecting on the past and, to sometimes charming effect, the film intersperses several clips from his films (The Pied Piper, Lola, Umbrellas of Cherbourg) throughout, highlighting the influence of childhood memories on his later work.
Jacquot is recommended. It makes you want to see again (or see for the first time) the films of Jacques Demy and most anyone who has had their life taken over by cinema will be able to pick out the most innocent, inspiring parts of themselves out of the film's better moments.
Dick Tracy Meets Gruesome (1947)
Fun, fast-paced B-movie with a fun cast
While none of the four Dick Tracy films made by RKO in the 1940's are particularly extraordinary they're fun, the actors are charming, and the atmosphere of the films is nice and seedy. Plus, they often mixed in a little sci-fi and some comic strip style humor (such as characters named Dr. A. Tomic and I. M. Learned) in with the bargain basement film noir that manages to set the films somewhat apart from other crime-themed B-films of the time.
The final film in the series, Dick Tracy Meets Gruesome, is probably the best of the four, mostly due to the absolutely wonderful cast. Boris Karloff is dependably creepy and charismatic as the main villain. Minor 1940's B-movie icon, Ann Gwynne is the sexiest Tess Trueheart of the early films. The incomparably menacing, ghostly Skelton Knaggs plays X-Ray and, like he always did, steals every scene he's in. Everyone is great.
The story, concerning Karloff using a gas that puts people into temporary suspended animation to rob a bank, moves at a gallop and is delivered with humor and style. There's not a dull moment in the film and it's more than worth the vintage B-movie enthusiast's time.
Invisible Ghost (1941)
Negligible plot, wonderfully murky atmosphere
The best way to see this film is to catch an aged, scratched up print with bad sound on late night television. It seems to almost be made for that kind of antique, romantic creakiness.
Bela Lugosi plays a husband who murders his house guests overnight at the command of his hypnotist wife. The story isn't very well executed and is pretty ridiculous, actually, BUT what redeems the film and makes it very worthy of seeing is it's bizarre, ghostly atmosphere. The film is not about suspense, it's about mood. It's all about white figures moving around shadowy black backgrounds. It's about the interiors of the house looking like furnished crypts or like secret rooms not shown on the board of a Clue game.
This whole film is texture. It's very dream-like.
Show Them No Mercy! (1935)
Pure, fast-paced fun from start to finish. See this film.
This movie, about a young couple with a baby accidentally getting involved with a band of gangsters being hunted by the FBI, is one of the greatest obscure crime films of the 1930's. The pace is lively, the suspense is exhilarating, and the cast is just about charming and watchable as can be. Cesar Romero is incredibly evil in this film, Bruce Cabot is as sturdy and intense as he was in King Kong, and Edward Brophy is, as always, a ton of fun to watch.
Watching this film is like eating a bag of really good candy. It grabs you right from the start and then zips through the motions of it's thin plot with an efficient grace, hitting all of the right spots and not wasting a second.
It's a most satisfying film. See it and have a blast.
Little Man, What Now? (1934)
Ravishing cinematography, lovely story (with a dark edge)
One of the most heartbreaking, swoon-inducing film experiences I've ever had is 1934's "Little Man, What Now?"
It's about a young couple, with a child, struggling against poverty and a steady stream of bad luck in early 1930's Germany. It's an American film, but at times it almost plays like a piece of European cinema. The atmosphere is thick and the story isn't afraid to drift into areas that are a bit dark (and daring in a pre-code sense). It has a sentimental streak for sure, but the sentiment is never turned on at the expense of intelligence.
Another stand out quality of the film is it's almost painfully gorgeous cinematography. The world of the film is like a dream or like something from a storybook. Sunlight shines against water and trees and grass with a pristine silvery glow. Faces are shown in the most lovely light. Margaret Sullavan, especially, is shot in a way that practically makes you fall in love with her.
This is a true jewel of obscure 1930's cinema, rarely shown and, as of this writing, not available on any home video format. See it the first chance you get. It is a must for the classic movie enthusiast who feels like they've seen everything.
The Kid from Spain (1932)
Vintage, lighter than air musical comedy
In the 1930s Eddie Cantor made a series of pleasant, sometimes sexy, consistently entertaining, fast paced comedies. This is, in my opinion, one of the better ones. The songs are wonderful, the gags are funny, the 1930's atmosphere is thick, and Eddie himself is so energetic throughout he seems to float.
It's a wonderful picture. Very recommended for 1930's film buffs and musical comedy enthusiasts.