Reviews

A comedy with its own overture, and an honest-to-goodness intermission? A comedy clocking in at over three hours, that isn't a Bollywood musical? A comedy with veritable legions of contemporary star power that precedes Wes Anderson's self-indulgence? A comedy in which some sequences show distinct discrepancies in the image quality, in which some audio is inserted over still images - reflecting footage that has been lost, or rediscovered and compiled from various sources - and in which curt editing of image and/or sound further indicates the latter effort, and raises some questions about the restoration? Well now, all that truly is mad. One hopes, for all that, that it's a comedy that holds up sixty years later, especially seeing as how comedies are sometimes extra susceptible to changing tastes and sensibilities over time. Some of the greatest comedies ever made hail from the silent era, and some brand new comedies exceed their expiration date before they're ever released; for the sake of filmmaker Stanley Kramer and all others involved, does 1963's 'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world' live up to its broad reputation? For my part I think this is enjoyable to some degree, but I don't how how lastingly worthy it really is on its own merits, and personal preferences will play a big part in determining just how much one admires it.

To get to the heart of why the picture may remain worthwhile we have to first dissect those ways in which it falls short, and I'm of the mind that such issues have nothing to do with the era in which it was made. The troubles I have with 'Mad world' I can just as easily identify in other titles made over the years. First is the major mean streak coursing throughout the proceedings, a display of selfishness, greed, cruelty, and violence that is excessive, and deeply imbalanced in relation to the wit that should twist them into humor. Such traits have been firm foundation for merriment elsewhere, certainly, but the more prominent and heavy-handed they are, the less funny they are. See 'A fish called Wanda,' for example - I think it's only in the last half hour, as free-wheeling ridiculousness becomes more prevalent, that the 1988 movie comes closest to being worthwhile; on the other hand, for as outrageous as 1975's 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' is even at its most bloody and gory, the outward wickedness is easily wrapped up in the silliness. Secondly, there are many scenes throughout that consist of little more than unintelligible yelling and flailing, blustery raucousness than is supposed to be funny in and of itself. Well, sorry, but once again, divorced from cleverness to make that boisterousness count for something, the result is just boorish; every performance is thusly marked at one point or another, if not most of the time, and frankly, I could have completely done without Ethel Merman's character Mrs. Marcus. A big reason why many of Will Ferrell's comedies of the twenty-first century have no staying power is that they rely entirely on his one-note Man-Child act of being loud and oafish, a predilection that appeals primarily to the twelve year olds in the audience; in contrast, the deliciously clever situational humor of Peter Bogdanovich's 'What's up, doc?' gives meaning to the 1972 flick's unyielding madcap energy.

That's not all, though. 1933's 'Meet the baron,' incidentally starring many figures who also appear here, had some swell ideas, but was plagued with poor comedic timing; actors seemingly cared more about their delivery in any moment than the jokes they were meant to convey, and the humor was lost in the process. In a like manner, there are instances in this piece of thirty years later in which the harried delivery of lines overwhelms the wit therein; e.g., the discussion between Russell and Hawthorne about the differences between Britain and the United States. There are instances of sheer randomness that just don't provide any amusement, like the cuts in the first half to Sylvester and his lover, or to figures on the sidelines observing the primary characters and their activities; some bits are drawn out too long. The pacing irks me, a consequence in part of giving us so many characters across these 190-odd minutes; we may swerve from relatively quiet and low-key scenes to others of pure zaniness, and back again, and in so doing the intended humor also loses some cohesiveness over time. Now, a wealth of all these faults could have been resolved, or at least partially relieved, simply with the exercise of more restraint and moderation, and more mindful construction in every capacity. If the screenplay had been pared down, if the editing were tighter, and if the acting and direction weren't so routinely overcharged, then this would surely stand taller. Good comedy, like good storytelling at large, requires careful balance; there is a time to charge ahead, and there is a time to pull back on the reins, and knowing when to do one or the other can make all the difference in the success of a film. Therein lies a major overarching problem here.

Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike 'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world.' I do see what it does well, and this mostly means the substantial stunts and effects sequences that populate the runtime as a surfeit of characters get into various hijinks in pursuit of a load of cash. In most regards those behind the scenes turned in splendid work, including Ernest Laszlo with his cinematography, plus the production design, art direction, costume design, and hair and makeup. I disagree with the choices that were made to emphasize wholesale bombast over all else, but Kramer's direction is technically proficient, and I recognize the skill of the cast members even as it is subsumed within all those more tawdry factors. There are plenty of excellent ideas in William and Tania Rose's screenplay, in the scene writing above all, that should have been solid fuel for a delightful romp - or which, alternatively, could have been exercised in an earnest crime drama or thriller. With all this in mind, however, what this lacks more than anything else, or at least what gets waylaid among the remainder, is enough of a spark of ingenuity to truly provide the comedy that we're supposed to be getting for over three hours. It's not that the picture isn't entertaining; it's that I think I laughed once throughout the full runtime, and that was all the way back before even thirty-five minutes had elapsed. There are shrewd kernels of writing all throughout, yet except for at the very beginning these are generally drowned out by near-constant cacophony, an overabundance of characters and frequent cuts from one scene to another, a steady stream of stunt, effect, or gag after stunt, effect, or gag, and overall immoderation. It really doesn't take long before the level of fun derived hence is no more robust or remarkable than what we can get passively from just about anything at all, and we can "watch" without actively engaging. I've watched films of equal or greater length that kept me raptly absorbed and absolutely attentive; this just doesn't particularly inspire the excitement it is meant to. And at over three hours long, that translates to a feature that feels overly long and overdone.

'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world' is still a good time. It's still worth checking out, more or less. This might have the biggest enduring draw for those who are specifically keen on flicks with huge sequences of one nature or another, like 'The Blues Brothers' with its car chases, that provide the preponderance of the entertainment to be had. Considering its reputation and especially its runtime, however, I'm just kind of taken aback that I don't nearly find this to be everything it's cracked up to be. I'm glad that I took the time to watch, but having done so I will never feel the need to do so again, and the viewing experience is a commitment with less of a payoff than I would have ever anticipated. In my estimation this needed a far more measured, judicious approach, in too many ways, for the whole to meet with success, and as it is, I'm rather underwhelmed. I'm glad for those who get more out of this than I do, and they're welcome to it; I can't muster enough enthusiasm for a particular recommendation, and I have other things to watch.

No one could ever dispute that Buster Keaton was a legend of cinema, boasting one hit after another during the silent era of short and full-length feature alike. There did come a point where his career took a turn, though, and in Keaton's own words his association with MGM was one of the worst decisions he ever made. All this does beg the question of how this 1929 flick would turn out - the man's second production under MGM, and his last silent work. I do think that at least one aspect of 'Spite marriage' is regrettable in retrospect: splitting the difference between silent fare and full-blown talkie, this makes selective use of synchronized audio, and that's fine until we're greeted with needless embellishing sound effects, primarily in the use of whistles. The film is already very silly, and the addition over top of cartoonish cues is unnecessary, excessive. And kind of distracting.

The good news, however, is that even with such gaudy trimmings, at its core this is ripe with wonderfully funny comedy that far outshines the gratuitous bits of audio. We get everything we want and expect from Keaton: riotous gags, stunts, and physical comedy; charmingly witty dialogue as expressed through intertitles, robust situational humor, and animated performances. Further factor in a smidgen of romance and heartfelt storytelling, and the icon's trademark Every Man, dopey but earnest, and we have all the ingredients for another classic farce. Across the board the acting and direction alike maintain vibrant, infectious energy while the writing infuses its narrative with one scene after another of raucous frivolity, and the result is an absolute joy. Keaton is the chief star, certainly, yet Dorothy Sebastian ably matches him toe to toe - portraying beleaguered stage actress Trilby with buzzing electricity, and a commensurate willingness to contort and sacrifice her body to serve the steady stream of foolishness. The two of them are an utter delight, but just as capable of making a more sincere turn as the tale occasionally requires, and one wishes that they had paired up for more pictures, like Harold Lloyd and Jobyna Ralston.

Rest assured that this is well made in every other regard, too. The supporting cast is swell in rounding out the proceedings, and those behind the scenes did a fine job. Reggie Lanning's sharp cinematography is notably smart at no few points, and definitely Frank Sullivan's keen editing. The sets and filming locations are splendid, not to mention the costume design, hair, and makeup. Though I plainly disagree with some specific choices of how audio was employed, the more subtle sound effects are dandy, and I love the adept score that bolsters the mood at any given time. Above all, all the many stunts and effects employed throughout, big and small, are downright outstanding. These arguably constitute the key draw of Keaton at his best, and the star's penchant for gladly meeting any demand of a production is in full swing in these seventy-five minutes.

At all points the comedic timing is impeccable, with every odd and end landing at just the right moment to keep us laughing. It's safe to say that the runtime elapses quickly, but the length is so chockfull of tremendous, brilliant merriment that the viewing experience is perfectly engaging and satisfying. It's also worth noting that while the more tawdrily overt sound effects are a bit much, and are present through to the end, they are perhaps less prominent as the length draws on. While I would rather 'Spite marriage' had been entirely free of them, ultimately this is so marvelously strong otherwise that the incidence is a fairly minor consideration. Yes, this would be Keaton's last venture of the silent era, and his career would gradually decline hereafter. But gratifyingly this movie is, after all, a fantastic and highly entertaining romp. Discuss the finer points as we may, all told this is another joyful reverie that stands shoulder to shoulder with the other many highlights of the star's silent treasures, and one would be terribly remiss not to check it out. To whatever extent it may be imperfect, for the level on which the feature operates the distinction is meaningless, and I'm happy to give 'Spite marriage' my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Roger Corman may have been best known for cheaply made B-movies, but he had an importance in cinema that can't be overstated as he helped to kickstart many careers and find domestic distribution for international titles. Every now and again, whether by accident or on purpose, he even made an unexpectedly great movie, and in all honesty this is surely one of them. It's not that 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is particularly remarkable, or essential, but it's a sharp and flavorful crime flick with outstanding, invigorating music (thank you, Gerald Fried), strong acting (particularly from Susan Cabot and newcomer Charles Bronson), and high production values. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a total must-see, but this is a really good time and well done overall, and definitely worth checking out!

Far from the Corman norm of a screenplay hastily cobbled together and a fly-by-night filming schedule, we can readily see how much care and hard work went into this piece. The image and sound are crystal clear, and the editing and cinematography reflect intelligence and judiciousness that even some more well-known major studio releases don't always boast. Gratifyingly, the same very much goes for Corman's direction - precise, calculated, and mindful, exercising restraint at the appropriate moments and maintaining hearty tension in the orchestration of scenes generally, and in his guidance of the cast specifically. The acting is marked with forceful yet nuanced personality, a severity matching the articulate shrewdness the characters are granted by the writing. And 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is certainly a fine credit as well to scribe R. Wright Campbell, for the characters are as vibrant and striking as the scene writing, the dialogue is decidedly keen, and the story at large is actively engaging and compelling. This is a genuinely good picture!

The stunts and effects are excellent, helping to bolster the excitement that the writing, direction, and acting frankly already facilitate all on their own. I repeat that Fried's score is an absolute blast, a zestful panoply of jazz chords that is the first highlight to greet us in these 80-odd minutes and a consistent strength. While the feature has big moments of violence, owing to the character writing and the acting that realizes it - above all the dynamics between the titular gangster and iron-willed Flo - those quieter scenes throughout the length are pretty much just as grabbing and absorbing. No, it's not as if the whole film is exactly as fetching from start to finish; in the latter half the saga becomes a tad more plainly dramatic, and the energy dies down in some measure. There's a little bit of lag, truthfully. Still, for whatever weaknesses we may cite, much more than not the movie is entertaining and satisfying, and broadly far better than we tend to assume of Corman given his reputation.

One way or another this isn't something one needs to go out of their way to see, but the key is that it blends in well among contemporary fare from more reputed studios and filmmakers. It feels weird to say that as a compliment, but I mean it, and at its best 'Machine-Gun Kelly' is altogether terrific. With some fantastic work from everyone involved this is a flick that holds up very well, and I'd have no qualms in recommending it to just about anyone.

Leave it to Kurosawa Akira and his collaborators to craft not just an exquisite film, but an ingenious screenplay. Peasants Tahei and Matashichi are buffoons, and less than honorable and trustworthy, but they are also provide comedic relief in their dynamics and antics. Uncommon for a Kurosawa flick, 'The hidden fortress' is flush with a robust element of humor for fair portions of its runtime. By this measure is the relatively light story and pacing of the first hour made to pass smoothly and almost wholly unremarked until the plot more distinctly advances. Moreover, that comedic edge provides sly cover for the greater underlying substance: predominant adventure airs as General Makabe and Princess Yuki more or less employ the peasants to help convey them across enemy lines; strong character writing that grants each figure significant, gratifying intelligence and personality; marvelously witty and flavorful scene writing and dialogue; and a deeper core of powerful drama and hearty emotion that rears its head at select intervals, and increasingly so over time. As esteemed composer Sato Masaru's excellent score follows the same tenor as the writing the strength of the feature is solidly confirmed, and in turn the viewing experience is both deftly compelling and very ably entertaining. As if we should anticipate anything less of such a legendary filmmaker, when all is said and done, this is simply exceptional.

This picture doesn't generally receive as much recognition as some of Kurosawa's many other tremendous classics, and that's an unfortunate oversight. The overall tone is perhaps a tad lighter, but the screenplay is altogether brilliant, it's just as well made as anything else the man ever gave us, and rest assured that we definitely get the action thrills we expect and desire. Why, for as dark as the likes of 'Kagemusha' and 'Ran' are, the lighter touches may arguably work in this flick's favor, ingratiating itself to us in a manner that's more gentle but just as certain. The scenes to greet us along the path of the quartet's journey represent a stupendous variety of levity, drama, broad tension and suspense, and flat-out action with wonderful cleverness spread all throughout. The cast is nothing less than stellar as all readily and dexterously navigate the spaces between these moods; superstar Mifune Toshiro naturally stands out most as General Makabe, bringing both confident intensity and underhanded nuance to the role, but I am equally pleased with the sharp performance Uehara Misa gives as willful Yuki. Even those in smaller supporting parts make a big impression, like Fujita Susumu as opposing General Tadokoro, and the boisterous spirit Chiaki Minoru and Fujiwara Katamari carry as Tahei and Matashichi definitely adds a unique dimension to the title. The script provides the foundation, but the actors breathe superb life into the saga.

Kurosawa's direction is as reliably sure-footed as ever, at once giving us terrific, artistic shot composition, orchestrating every scene with splendid vitality, and capturing the exact right energy at all times. If marginally less grand than we've seen elsewhere, there is a definite sense of spectacle to the proceedings here and there as the group tries to make their way to safety, and at no few points one can see the major influence that 'The hidden fortress' has had on much of cinema and television to follow in subsequent decades. With that firmly in mind, there is no aspect of the craftsmanship that is anything less than fantastic. The fight choreography, fight choreography, stunts, effects, and otherwise action sequences are unfailingly outstanding. The filming locations are gorgeous, and the sets and art direction truly no less so. Everything from costume design, hair, and makeup to props and weapons are conjured and realized with utmost skill and intelligence; Kurosawa's editing is as keen as it ever was, and Yamasaki Kazuo's cinematography smart and steady. Even the sound is rich and hardy, becoming particularly important in the back end as the journey faces increasingly difficult circumstances.

What it really comes down to is that if at any time the movie isn't as striking as some of its brethren - more likely to be the case earlier in the length - the sum total more than proves itself. There isn't really any going wrong with Kurosawa's mighty oeuvre, and this film is just another shining gem in an already sparkling crown. To whatever extent it isn't as absolutely spellbinding as 'Kagemusha' or 'Seven samurai,' or as fulfilling as 'Red Beard' or 'Ikiru,' for the level on which 'The hidden fortress' operates the disparity is meaningless. Him and haw about the specifics as one will, all told this is a timeless, essential classic among a bounty of timeless, essential classics, and I could not be happier with just how enjoyable, satisfying, and ultimately rewarding it is. There are some pictures that exist beyond any concern for personal preferences, and I very much believe that this is one of them. 'The hidden fortress' is exemplary, and I'm pleased to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

It's noteworthy that this was very early in Martin Scorsese's career, before he had especially made a name for himself or curated a style. It seems to me that this inexperience does rather come across in how the film was made, not necessarily in a manner of being bad but surely reflecting undeveloped skills and aesthetics. The crime drama template, mafioso exploration, and Tough Guy posturing, trademarks for the filmmaker, are present in spades, but in other ways this feels quite different from what Scorsese would go on to make even a few years later. The narrative structure is surprisingly loose, and a preponderance of the runtime consists of general vibes, basic establishment of characters and relationships, and flavorful scene writing rather than discrete plot. There is a story here, centered on stock cinematic Italian-American Charlie and the varied directions in which he is pulled, but plot progression is quite light and minimal for the most part. The editing seems extra curt at points, and there are times when Scorsese's direction and Kent L. Wakeford's cinematography come across as somewhat unpolished - be it deliberately or not - or possibly stylized in a manner that's a tad overzealous, as if in compensation for those skills that had not yet fully crystallized. Kind of emphasizing the point: the music is terrific at large, both the pop songs on the soundtrack and diegetic selections, not least in wryly contrasting with the violence in the tale and the slowly deepening spiral of events; nonetheless, the music sometimes stands out in a fashion that clashes with the proceedings, or at least overshadows all else.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of this, and how much one appreciates 'Mean streets' is really a matter of personal preference. With that said, for my part I'm not concretely impressed, and I'm maybe even a little disappointed. Granted, that might speak to my own expectations more than anything else. In most every regard there are choices made at one time or another that I don't think were ideal ones, and while I can't fault those involved for just starting to really find their legs, the result has really rough edges that don't say "gritty, messy life on the streets" so much as "storytelling and film-making that had not yet matured to a point of expressly deserving praise." Yes, we do get tastes of the former in addition to the latter, and overall this is well made more than not. Those stunts and effects that are employed are great; though some skills are inchoate and some choices not specifically to my liking, the cast give capable performances (some actors or singular moments standing out to me more than others), and much the same verbiage could be applied to the cinematography, and Scorsese's direction. Other crew members operating behind the scenes turned in fine work, and there are fantastic ideas in the screenplay. And still, what I see in this picture above all is major slack in the storytelling, if not outright disorder, with the direction bearing facets of brazen self-indulgence in addition to echoing those traits. It's not that the sum total isn't enjoyable, but whether one is considering 'Mean streets' on its own merits or in comparison to Scorsese's later credits, it comes off to me as muddled and chaotic beyond what was intended, not fully convincing, and less than fully satisfying.

I'm glad for those who get more out of this movie than I do. It's just that I was anticipating a solid, hefty brick, and what I got was a malleable, nearly weightless sponge. In my eyes those beats that should have an impact simply don't on account of how this was put together, and the ending seems decidedly abrupt. I do like 'Mean streets,' and I want to like it more than I do; may you watch and find it a more rewarding experience.

It's wonderfully fascinating to read of the production, and learn of what a truly bottom-dollar budget and tight production schedule informed everything down to reused sets and music, and a shot of the moon. It's a joy to know that this was the eventual inspiration for an off-Broadway musical, and the movie musical of 1986 that has become a treasure of pop culture in its own right. And with filmmaker, producer, and schlockmeister Roger Corman sadly having just recently died, an icon important to cinema well beyond his penchant for B-movies, it is a pleasure that this should be part of his enduring legacy. It may have been cheaply and hurriedly made, and its low-grade nature may show in the quality of its sound and image, but 'The little shop of horrors' is marvelously fun and funny to an extent well surpassing no few other comedies across all periods of the medium.

The image is grainy, the sound is muddled, the editing is kind of rough, and not since the most vaudevillian days of the silent era had movies boasted acting this over the top. Yet all told this is all just part of what makes the picture a tremendous delight, endearing it further to us. It's not so surprising after all that this would become a musical, because this is already a spectacle, and the comedy is already stupendously robust. Leave it to Corman to whip something up on a lark to make an easy buck, and the result is so imaginative and cheeky that it becomes a certified classic. The cast unreservedly embrace the silliness with their highly energetic performances, and I really don't know if I could pick a favorite among Jonathan Haze, Jackie Joseph, Mel Welles, or John Herman Shaner, among others. Young Jack Nicholson is a splendid and instantly recognizable bonus, and writer Charles B. Griffith clearly reveled in his voice performance for Audrey Jr. Fred Katz's peppy original score adds terrific flavor to the proceedings, and despite the nature of the production, the art direction, costume design, and even the practical effects really are fantastic, and very suitable for a film of this tenor. Who would have thought that this, of all things, would have such staying power?

Flush with giddily ridiculous situational humor, surprisingly sharp dialogue, cartoonish characters and animated acting, and some choice gags, 'The little shop of horrors' is built purely to entertain. Between the cheerful comedy, the underlying genre roots, and a smidgen of crime flick on top, this ably does just that. Griffith's script gives us a fabulously wacky narrative rounded out with equally wild scene writing, and as if the cast needed any prompting to go all-out in portraying their characters, Corman's fly-by-night direction maintains a thrumming, electric joviality about the proceedings. To top it all off, as the feature clocks in at a trim seventy-three minutes, there is no room for excess; from top to bottom the abbreviated length is filled with vibrant, playful punch, and when all is said and done this is far more clever than one is likely to assume of similar fare.

What more is there to say? Sometimes the titles that hold up as gems come from the most unlikely of places. This piece is outwardly preposterous in concept and in execution, and to read up on how it was made, it's almost a wonder that it got made at all. Yet with a little ingenuity and hard work, and unswerving commitment, the sum total is an incredibly enjoyable slice of nonsense that remains a blast. I can understand how such works won't appeal to all comers, but if you're open to all the wide possibilities that cinema has to offer, 'The little shop of horrors' is a blast, and well worth checking out!

I've been long overdue to watch this, and especially more recently I've wondered how it ended up winning accolades that, say, 'Raging Bull' didn't. To finally sit and watch the answer seems readily evident to me. It's not necessary to draw any comparisons to Martin Scorsese's masterpiece, but it is useful in at least one regard. Where Scorsese's feature is roundly, exquisitely made, largely in specific ways, Robert Redford's directorial debut is a tremendously nuanced yet wholly unyielding emotional powerhouse that gets in deep under your skin. Ultimately one of these is more impressive than the other - and I can't believe it's taken me this long to see 'Ordinary people,' because it's absolutely exceptional.

Where the script introduces a rare fragment of humor it's a welcome, necessary gasp of fresh air before we're plunged once again into an astoundingly depressing, sorrow-ridden, but utterly heartfelt examination of a family in extreme crisis. Young Conrad feels everything intensely, guilt most of all; mother Beth has a pathological need to feel a sense of control; father Calvin tries his hardest to love. In the wake of the death of the eldest son, and Conrad's attempted suicide, hairline fractures become tumultuous gulfs, with a slowly spiraling narrative, one gut-wrenching scene after another, barbed dialogue, and characters penned so carefully they're basically plucked directly from real life. Alvin Sargent gives us a truly stunning, incredibly impactful screenplay that cuts like a knife, and it's a magnificent credit to Redford, directing for the first time, that he brings the wretched tableau to life with such remarkable, unfailing skill and intelligence. For as hard as the picture hits again, and again, and again, no small part of that punch is owed to the delicate, finessed restraint that the proceedings repeatedly demonstrate - holding back just enough so that when the next beat comes it's all the more potent. Emphasizing the point, there are moments where words are left unspoken in a brilliant move that lets the dour airs swirl all on their own, and these are among some the sharpest scenes in the whole two hours. Between Sargent and Redford I really don't know whose contribution is more spectacular.

It's not just the writer or the director, however, because they're not alone in making 'Ordinary people' the heavy piece of cinema that it is. It's noteworthy that the preponderance of the length is bereft of any music; the absence of a score lets the drama speak for itself, and it does so to perfect success. Where composer Marvin Hamlisch does introduce a phrase or two, however, it is with an impossibly acute ear for the exact gentle addition that will disproportionately add to the weight of the saga. I've never heard Pachelbel's Canon in D reduced to so simple an arrangement, and I also doubt I will ever again hear another arrangement that is so immensely powerful. And still such considerations pale in comparison to the acting, for I think these might be some of the best performances I've ever seen. These days Judd Hirsch is recognized for bit parts, but the indefatigable warmth and poised sagacity he carries as Dr. Berger shine with a luminosity that caught me off guard, and it now seems strange that his career isn't more highly celebrated. Similarly, while I don't think anyone would ever underestimate Donald Sutherland, he's now at a time in his life when it's easy to take for granted that he's a well-regarded actor (not unlike, say, Robert De Niro). Lest there ever be any doubt, however, his turn as Calvin is rife with a soft subtlety that belies the turbulent moment in the Jarretts' lives that the father is trying to navigate and manage. This somehow goes double for Mary Tyler Moore, best known for TV sitcoms. As beleaguered mother Beth, handling her grief and her family's troubles in the only way she knows how, there is a momentously understated vibrancy in Moore's acting that makes it all the more striking when Beth allows herself to show what she's feeling; a quiet coda to a scene very late in the third act is one of the most singularly striking bits of acting I can recall. Yet it's Timothy Hutton, only twenty years old when this movie was released, who lends most to its monumental potency. His portrayal of Conrad is characterized by such fantastic emotional range and depth, and physicality, that very simply, he stands taller than anyone else involved. All things considered, that's saying a lot.

This is to say nothing of the rest of the supporting cast, or of the work of those operating behind the scenes. 'Ordinary people' is totally solid in every capacity. There is no mistaking where it's utmost vitality lies, however, and so the writing, direction, and acting are the linchpins, with the music a step behind only because of its general declination. I'm blown away by just how stupendous this film is, far exceeding any expectations I might have had, and in my opinion it deserves more recognition and visibility than it's gotten in the past forty years. All who participated to are to heartily congratulated; while the subject matter and overall tone are dreary, when all is said and done the title is so superb that I'd be hard-pressed not to suggest it to one and all. From top to bottom this is ferocious absorbing, poignant, satisfying, and rewarding, and I would start tripping over my words if I tried to speak of it more highly or at greater length. As far as I'm concerned 'Ordinary people' is a must-see modern classic, and I'm pleased to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

I remember very well when this came out. I remember it partly because I worked at a video store at the time, and partly because in glaring contrast to Broken Lizard's smash hit 'Super Troopers' of 2001, no one talked about 'Club Dread'; it came and went with barely any notice. I've not seen 'Super Troopers' in about twenty years and I wonder if it still holds up; what about a slasher comedy that was effectively dead on arrival? The good news is that we get our answer pretty quickly, and for those who are apt to duck out fast from a bad movie, you can do so right away. The bad news is that whether you duck out or are the sort of viewer who are committed to sitting through a flick no matter how awful it is, any amount of time spent with this muck is too much. The "dread" of the title belongs to the audience who has unknowingly entered into one hundred minutes of insipid putrescence.

As a slasher comedy this naturally plays liberally with tropes of the root genre, and moreover, the intended parody energy is on full blast. We're given an island populated by obnoxious college co-eds (staff and guests alike), checking off all the boxes for them to be thoroughly unlikable, and we actively look forward to seeing these characters meet the reaper. This is all well and good, but there is a risk that comes with that territory, for there must be balance between the bluster that is being skewered and the cleverness that provides the humor. This, sorrily, is where 'Club Dread' fails, and it fails spectacularly - not riding the line between awful, unfunny puerility and witty spoof, but falling almost completely on the side of awful, unfunny puerility. We're greeted with cheap, tawdry, tiresome juvenile jokes and gags about sex and anatomy, and dashes of homophobia, ableism, and fatphobia. We get the stale, boorish dialogue of frat boys, dull stoner comedy, and female characters who are either included purely to be objectified, and treated as veritable sex toys, or practically not written at all. Do note considerable gratuitous nudity, and for good measure add some exhausting bluster and raucousness for their own sake.

Despite relying heavily on tropes there are some good ideas in the story itself; granted, this does not apply to the reveal of the killer or their motive, and the simple fact of the matter is that this is longer than it should have been. Surprisingly, there are very small tinges, sparsely scattered here and there, of the sharp ingenuity necessary to earn a laugh, and that actually is what happens. In general I don't particularly like the characters, and the scene writing is an incredibly mixed bag, but I guess the cast do their job, and some actors come off better than others - though emphatically, not those who adopt a cartoonish, exaggerated accent. Those operating behind the scenes made suitable contributions, and 'Club Dread' is duly well made according to the standards of the early 2000s. Yet none of this matters so much if a title built first and foremost for comedy fails to elicit the desired reaction. While there are a few additional points where the film comes close to earning a laugh, the number of times when it truly does so can easily be counted, and it is: four. Four laughs total over the course of one hundred minutes, and I'm unsure if two of those really count.

I suppose strictly speaking there are worse ways you could spend your time, but that really isn't saying much. As it is I think it's possible I'm being too kind in my assessment, and THAT, on the other hand, is saying a lot. I don't know who I would recommend this to, because no one I know - or would want to know - is going to enjoy this any more than I did. Check it out if you want, I just don't know why you would. 'Club Dread' is a dud, and you're better off not bothering with it in the first place.

There are some very recognizable names and faces appearing here, and others involved boast some noteworthy credits. As the picture was filmed in Namibia we're treated to some truly beautiful sights, and from the start I appreciate the tasteful score of Brian May. (No, not that Brian May, the other one.) By 1987 the world was already full of post-apocalyptic action-adventure titles, but all the same I admire the contributions of those behind the costume design, production design, art direction, and props and weapons. The flick notably kicks off with an action scene, and this, and those to follow, all look rather excellent to these eyes, with swell fight choreography, stunts, and effects. The story of screenwriter Doug Lefler plays in a familiar space, and likewise the characterizations, but this is just fine; some instances of dialogue raise a quizzical eyebrow, but other examples are delightful; the scene writing is suitable, and reasonably varied. All told the writing isn't specifically remarkable, but it ably gets the job done with an aptly compelling, enjoyable saga. Furthermore, very honestly, the cast give capable performances - reserved, and nuanced, and definitely more carefully considered than what we get in most comparable fare.

'Steel dawn' is hardly a must-see classic, a revelation of the genre, but I find it earnest and perfectly solid. At first blush it seems distinctly direct and forthright given the scenes to greet us in the first ten minutes, yet between Lefler's script and more so the smart direction of filmmaker Lance Hool, that is far from the overall tenor the feature adopts. On the contrary: the approach is generally soft and thoughtful, nearly portending drama rather than action, right up until it's time for that action to kick in. This tack is well removed from the norm of most any frame of reference; more usual is for movies to throw violence at us willy-nilly, with any narrative context for it being a secondary consideration. The result, here, is not something that leaps out and grabs our attention, and it may not stand in the annals of cinema as an exemplar, yet I for one heartily welcome an action-adventure film that demonstrates patience, deliberation, and a mind for allowing the action to serve the plot and not vice versa. Such works are decidedly uncommon amidst the MCUs, 'Mission: Impossibles,' and 'Mad Maxes' in the world, and I'm very pleased with how surprisingly good this is all told. Dare I even say - I think this is kind of great!

The action sequences really are fantastic; they keep their head on their shoulders instead of aiming for wholesale bombast, and I firmly believe that works in the picture's favor. I mean it when I speak well of the acting: it's not that anyone was going to win awards with their portrayals, but from one to the next every player on hand carries themselves with range, personality, presence, and even tinges of subtlety that echo the overarching tone of intelligence and restraint. My commendations to Patrick Swayze, his widow Lisa Niemi, Anthony Zerbe, Christopher Neame, Brion James, and those in still smaller supporting parts - I did not expect this from a second-tier 80s genre romp. There are even some shrewd touches in the lighting, and George Tirl's cinematography. And while I'm inclined to think Hool's direction is the chief factor behind the more sober and judicious nature of the production, kudos surely do belong after all to scribe Lefler for a prudent, more serious-minded screenplay in which that nature could flourish. Truthfully, I don't know that I could even identify any particular flaw with this title. It's no stellar masterpiece, but it's far, far better in every capacity than I ever might have guessed sights unseen. That means something.

It won't appeal to all comers. It's unlikely to ever make a list of top favorites, let alone "best of" lists. I fully understand that what I consider to be a core strength, that low-key tenor and supreme mindfulness, could be exactly what turns off other viewers from the sum total. Yet in every regard I'm so happy with the skill and care reflected in 'Steel dawn,' and as far as I'm concerned it deserves much more recognition. So long as you're receptive to action-adventure of the sort that declines utmost zip and zest this is well worth checking out, and I'm glad to give 'Steel dawn' my very high and hearty recommendation.

Thank you, Claudio Simonetti. This was neither the first nor the last time in your career that the flavorful original music you provided for a film was one of its top highlights, if not the only highlight. Here, your contribution is not necessarily the only highlight, but it's certainly the most reliable one.

It's not that 'Hands of steel,' initially released as 'Vendetta dal futuro,' is absolutely rotten. The script is a weird hodgepodge, but there are some genuinely good ideas here amidst the more dubious ones, and those plainly borrowed from existing properties. At least a few of the actors on hand seem to be making an effort. The filming locations are terrific, and I think the crew operating behind the scenes turned in some good work including sets, lighting, costume design, and even the cinematography. The stunts and practical effects look pretty good, and the action sequences at large, especially as they populate the back end. The thing is, I can't bring myself to offer more substantial or enthusiastic praise.

Sergio Martino's direction and Aldo Devgen's editing are both rather curt and brusque at points, doing the whole no favors, and there are times when the editing is kind of just sloppy. For every actor seemingly making an effort, there is at least one who is chewing scenery, including star Daniel Greene and Italian B-movie regular George Eastman; elsewhere the performances are direly limp and unconvincing. Even if we make allowances for dubbing the dialogue is mostly terrible, and the dubbing is less than great. The plot development relies in no small part on "Just So" Movie Magic, especially as the government investigates the attempted assassination, and feels coarse and unpolished broadly, and maybe rushed. The picture overflows with tiresome, frankly repulsive machismo, and do note some gratuitous nudity and an obligatory romantic element that is likewise not fully convincing.

I don't mind that 'Hands of steel' lifts some ideas directly from other sci-fi flicks. We get tastes of 'The Terminator' as "Paco" is a cyborg like Arnold, but he is also a hero like Michael Biehn, as paired with "Linda," standing in for, well, Linda Hamilton. Heading into the last third we get a character based on Pris in 'Blade Runner,' and so on. It's fine; these are thoughts I could work with. What I do mind is that the construction here seems a little careless in too many ways. I see fantastic potential in what the feature could have been if the screenplay had been approached more mindfully, if the direction were stronger, if the acting was more consistent, and if the editing didn't questionably chop up the proceedings. Through to the ending, abrupt though it may be, there are smart notions that could have been exercised to meaningful effect. We do get glimmers throughout of that more significant, more lasting value. It's too bad that such glimmers are dragged down by the more tawdry facets.

I don't dislike this title; there are much worse ways to spend your time. For everything else that we could be watching instead, however, there's also not much reason to sit with it unless one is extra keen on B-movies of this nature. Don't go out of your way for 'Hands of steel'; if you're going to check it out then save it for a lazy day, and be well aware of the flaws throughout. Maybe we should just leave it at that.

Though not all titles of the period are equal, it remains true that some of the greatest films that will ever be made hail from the silent era. Even outside of those utmost exemplars, there is a magical effervescence and joyful energy to silent cinema - to the common sensibilities of storytelling and film-making, and to the common style of acting - that makes them a real pleasure to watch. As this classic 1921 adaptation of Alexandre Dumas' most famous novel twists together drama, romance, and adventure with buoyant, playful wit and humor, it's impossible not to be enchanted as the tale advances. By that point just before the 40-minute mark when we get our first action sequence, if not before, and certainly from that point onward, 'The Three Musketeers' is so wonderfully charming and entertaining that we're wholly swept up in its wake. One can easily imagine this flick being memorialized in a modern-day love letter to the medium, like Damien Chazelle's 'Babylon,' and that alone says so much about its staying power. I adore this!

It's certainly the case that in keeping with the norms of the time Nellie Mason's editing typically accelerates the footage by some small percentage that's markedly unnatural, yet not to such an extent, here, as to jeopardize the tone or our suspension of disbelief. Even setting aside that idiosyncrasy, however, the picture carries itself with fabulous mirth and vitality that are altogether electrifying. Between the smart, seasoned direction of Fred Niblo in orchestrating every shot and scene and the deft, impassioned, lively acting of the cast this stays so vibrant at all points, whatever the tenor of a given scene, that the ensuing ten decades are wholly unable to dull its luster. Yet it's not just the direction or performances; even the adapted screenplay of Edward Knoblock, luminous star Douglas Fairbanks, and Lotta Woods bears terrific zest and cleverness. Informed by Dumas' 1844 masterwork, we're treated to sharp dialogue, robust and flavorful scene writing, and ebullient characterizations in a compelling plot of intrigue and daring-do in seventeenth century France. This is to say nothing of detailed, somewhat whimsical costume design, hair, and makeup; lovely, elaborate sets, many being downright gorgeous; and the splendid stunts and effects we see throughout, no few still coming across as keenly imaginative.

Bolstered by the superb contributions of all involved, that shrewd blend of drama, romance, action, and light comedy is a consistent, marvelous delight. Even many modern features, with all their advantages of updated techniques, technology, and sensibilities, are often unable to match the cheerful fun that 'The Three Musketeers' represents. Kind of emphasizing the point, the fact is that even as Niblo's romp is an earnest adaptation of the novel, it is characterized by no less boundless spirit and frolicsome ingenuity than Max Linder's 'The Three Must-Get-Theres' of 1922, an outright farcical spoof. Both works are absolute treasures, and funny, invigorating, and highly enjoyable, just in different ways as they tackle the same material from opposite ends. In all honesty this is such a blast that two hours fly past very quickly, and I could easily stand for this to be longer. In a time when many present-day new releases are self-indulgent with lengths nearly, exactly, or more than three hours long, the fact that the merriment of a silent flick feels too brief at two hours speaks very, very well to the stupendous skill and intelligence of all involved.

I assumed I'd enjoy it, and still this movie handily bested my expectations. It's fantastically well made across the board, and frankly its sprightly verve is nothing less than intoxicating. Everyone who participated in its creation is to be congratulated, and as Fairbanks served as producer in addition to starring and lending an assist in the writing, perhaps the credit is owed to him above all. With all this in mind I can understand how some modern viewers may have a harder time engaging with older cinema; I'd have said the same myself at one point. Yet this lark is such a tremendous gem that I must believe most anyone would find something to love in it, and that, too, speaks so well to the end result. Simply put, 'The Three Musketeers' is radiant as it continues to hold up even one hundred years later, and I'm thrilled to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation to one and all!

It seems strange and almost blasphemous to say that a film of Kurosawa Akira feels "ordinary," but as this explores film noir and the crime drama, it carries somewhat different sensibilities than his best known and most celebrated works. Put aside the Japanese setting and the details that come with it, and it's easy to imagine how this would look had it come out of Hollywood in the 40s or 50s; there are even themes in Sato Masaru's original score that plainly recall some work of western composers. Of course, "ordinary" is hardly a reflection on the picture's quality, and though 'The bad sleep well' may not be as immediately striking, wholly absorbing, or ultimately fulfilling as some of its brethren, at length it's just as sharp and entertaining in its own way. If to any degree this falls short of being a must-see like 'Ikiru,' 'Red Beard,' or 'Ran,' for the level on which the filmmaker operates the distinction isn't all that important.

Yes, this feature may come across as relatively conventional in some fashion, arguably accentuated for those ways in which Kurosawa and his co-writers draw elements from Shakespeare's 'Hamlet' in shaping the narrative. Yet in and of itself this is low-key brilliant, with plenty of flavorful odds and ends that help it to sometimes stand taller than the nearest points of comparison. Sato's rich score alternates between somber, dramatic chords that infuse darker energy into the proceedings - sometimes with big band instrumentation suggesting the likes of Henry Mancini - and lighter, more playful phrases that complement the shocks of wry humor. The story plays in a genre space familiar to audiences as corruption and conspiracy beget vengeance and brutality, but the writing deftly rides the line between the hard edges that let the dourness have the desired effect, and the softness that allows scenes of emotional weight to have equal impact. Plot development splits the difference between fostering cold, palpable tension, and stirring the pot with restrained deliberation, yet at all times the storytelling is kept sufficiently fresh to engage us.

Overall the screenplay may leap out to us most, both in its compelling narrative and in the robust scene writing that builds it. Yet while in other regards 'The bad sleep well' might not make a huge impression, it's safe to say that every aspect is realized with the skill, intelligence, and care we assume of Kurosawa. The man's direction is as smart and tight as it ever was, with some terrific shot composition all throughout, and both Aizawa Yuzuru's cinematography and Kurosawa's editing are marvelously shrewd and dynamic, doing much in their own right to catch our eyes. The same can definitely be said of the filming locations and sets, and even the lighting. And the cast is absolutely to be congratulated for excellent performances across the board, with even those in smaller supporting parts having their time to shine. Naturally acclaimed star Mifune Toshiro gets the most attention, but Mori Masayuki, Kagawa Kyoko, Mihashi Tatsuya, and Kato Takeshi, among others, are all just as superb in summoning the sometimes downright ferocious vibes that the tale bears at select moments.

Curiously, I'm of the mind that insofar as there are any weaknesses here, they might come in the very last stretch. In the last ten minutes or so there is a considerable amount of plot left to wrap up, and the manner of doing so here feels rushed, overfull, and both not completely convincing and not as impactful as it could have been. I don't know what an alternative solution may have been, yet there is a touch of messiness to the ending that in my mind notably contrasts with the mindful construction to otherwise characterize the title. It's not bad, but it's not entirely satisfying as a result. Be that as it may, by and large the movie claims such strength in every regard that it still remains a classic well worth exploring; it may not be as luminous or essential as some of Kurosawa's other works, but few things are. Don't necessarily go out of your way for 'The bad sleep well,' but if you do have the opportunity to watch, even being a smidgen imperfect this is well worth checking out and earns my solid recommendation.

I am but a layperson with no experience in film production. I have watched thousands of movies, of all varieties, but that no more confers upon me the skills and knowledge necessary to be a filmmaker than spending time in and around buildings qualifies one to be an architect. Be that as it may, I'm reasonably confident that I could command better direction than Joe Tornatore does here. I'm reasonably confident that given all the original footage captured, I could do a better job assembling a picture than editor Erica Luttich. 'Curse of the crystal eye' is an astonishing, poorly made mess in almost every capacity, and the most substantial entertainment to be derived therefrom is in finding everything that there is to criticize.

There are very scattered, very small bits and pieces that are sort of okay. The sets range from "not terrible" to "pretty swell, actually," and the same goes for the costume design, hair, and makeup - with the exception, in the case of the latter, of an instance of brownface. The practical effects in and of themselves are splendid, there are some good ideas in the original music of Tony Roman and Chris Squire. The production crew operating unthanked behind the scenes were really pulling a lot of the weight with this feature, in fact, though in fairness there are also some instances of acting that are fair enough. And I'll even say that wherever the credit lies between scribe Mikel Angel and filmmaker Tornatore, there are scraps of serviceable plot in the writing that could have theoretically been fashioned into a fun action-adventure romp.

Unfortunately, such unenthusiastic remarks about these odds and ends is the most kind that I can be about this flick. One could generously propose that 'Curse of the crystal eye' was meant to be a joke in the first place, and all points of intended criticism are a facet of humor that is lost on me, yet that is really, truly not the impression that I get. In even the opening scene we are greeted with what I think was intended to be an action sequence, but it is the laziest and most unexciting action sequence I think I've ever seen. This is only the first time I would apply these descriptors to the action, however, for "lazy" and "unexciting" are apt words for every action sequence to follow. Actors are routinely seen dropping to the ground in what is meant to represent the injury or death of their unimportant character, but since such moments are almost always divorced from anything happening that would precipitate that death or injury, instead the incidence could be charitably described as either a pratfall or a dive (in the football sense), depending on one's frame of reference. And this, it should be said, is the case only where action sequences are not specifically prey instead to bad writing, bad direction, bad writing, or bad editing, like the rest of the movie is.

It feels like this was borne of the desire to make an action film, but without any consideration for cohesiveness, rhyme or reason, or connectivity between ideas. Nothing is explained; nothing is sensible. Not who protagonist Luke is, or how he knows his buddy, the walking French stereotype called "Frenchie" as played by South African Andre Jacobs. Not why Vickie - the sole female character, the obligatory romantic interest for Luke, and very regrettably, the last role of Cynthia Rhodes before her retirement from the industry - would want to go along with the venture, or how she managed to do so. Not who the antagonists are; not how what's-his-face and his brother have the puzzle pieces to lead to this great treasure; not why David Sherwood is playing archaeologist Ferrari like Michael Palin both stereotyping Italians and parodying archaeologists; not why the climax momentarily becomes an amalgamation of The Battle Of The Five Armies and synchronized swimming. The character writing is awful, the dialogue is mostly awful, the scene writing is most dubious, and the narrative at large is a bunch of ideas just thrown haphazardly at a wall. Tornatore's direction flounders in its incompetence, leading to awful acting; if you liked Jameson Parker in John Carpenter's 'Prince of darkness,' prepare to pity him, and likewise Rhodes and all others in front of the camera. Luttich's editing is perplexingly sloppy, defying all belief. I repeat that there are some good ideas in the music, but the score is all over the place. Even the sets - look, I love Peter Yates' 1983 fantasy-adventure 'Krull,' but there are some sets here that look like they were built but ultimately rejected from 'Krull,' placed in storage at Pinewood Studios, then absconded with several years later for use here.

It's certainly not that I was anticipating 'Curse of the crystal eye' to be an especially worthwhile title, but I was wholly unprepared for the incredible lack of skill and care that characterizes it from top to bottom. The Asylum, that infamous purveyor of "mockbusters" which purposefully makes bad movies, commonly shows more significant capabilities than this. I'm flummoxed. However it is that this film came into existence, it would have required a major overhaul in its writing, in its direction, in its acting, in its editing, in its music, and in pretty much every way for it to find success. I distinctly feel bad for some involved, like Rhodes; where Tornatore, Angel, Luttich, and others are concerned, I'm finding it difficult to say something so nice. The word "recommendation" never even comes into play here, because there is just no reason to watch unless you're a masochist with a critical eye. If you've avoided this dreck, congratulations, and please continue to do so; if you, like me, have also watched, then you have my sympathies.

I was a big fan of the initial saga of 'Mythica' films, from 'A quest for heroes' through 'The Godslayer.' They showed their limitations in some special effects, but all involved gave earnest effort to make the best quintet of fantasy adventure that they could - to fine success, in my book - with some smart, obvious influence from tabletop role-playing games on top. What might it mean for the series to make a return after eight years with a new film: some returning stars making an appearance, a returning writer, and previous star Jake Stormeon now directing? I think it speaks well to screenwriter Justin Partridge, and Stormeon, that they have shrewdly elected a comparatively small reentry into the world of the movies. They have taken clear inspiration from works of other genres, usually mystery, crime drama, or thriller, in which trouble brews and blood spills amidst a disparate group sequestered in a single location. In this manner is 'Stormbound' able to tell a new story with a minimal number of characters, with minimal cost in terms of sets, filming locations, and props, and above all with as little use of stunts and effects as can be done while still ably asserting its fantastical nature. In this manner is Partridge able to tell an original story, of a familiar tenor, that weaves in narrative elements to tie it to the larger tale that happened several years before in-universe. Truthfully, I'm very pleased with how good this is, and I think it's a fine credit to everyone who helped bring it to fruition.

This new feature, financed in part through crowd-funding just like its predecessors, bears the same mark of its origins as the special effects are probably the least sure-footed facet. The computer-generated imagery isn't bad - rest assured there is much worse out there - but less than perfectly seamless as it's layered atop the filmed footage. Anyone who is a stickler for such digital wizardry may be put out. Yet this is the least of what the 2024 sequel has to offer, and in all other ways I'm very happy with the skill, intelligence, and care that went into it. The less flashy CGI looks terrific, and meanwhile any practical effects, stunts, and special makeup are as excellent as we would assume (proving once again that tangible creations will always be superior to post-production visuals). The filming locations are lovely, and I greatly appreciate the amount of detail that went into the sets, costume design, hair, makeup, and definitely also the props and weapons to make them all very much feel a part of this rich if dangerous world, something we wish we could explore down to every last inch. Everyone behind the scenes turned commendable work, for that matter; aspects like the lighting, cinematography, editing, and sound may not be outwardly remarkable, but they are solid. Similarly, this is only Stormeon's second time in the director's chair, and his first for a full-length picture, but especially with the other experience he has gained in the industry heretofore, I believe he illustrates firm capability and I hope he continues on this track.

I like how composer James Schafer draws from the recognizable themes of the previous saga for his music in this title, and his work is splendid complement. Kudos to the cast, moreover: while there is certainly some chewing of scenery as we frankly anticipate of like-minded material - how are you going show the exertion of using magic unless you're straining and grimacing harder than anyone has ever strained or grimaced? - far more than not the acting is pretty terrific in my book. It's not that anyone is wholly revelatory, but all show deft range and nuance befitting a narrative that shifts from quiet, ruminative discussion to flashes of violence. Not to discount anyone else's contributions, but Will Kemp and Ryann Bailey surely stand out most, and I look forward to seeing their careers progress. Above all, though, I can only salute scribe Partridge, for I think his screenplay is a key strength in this sixth installment. As the plot develops the dialogue, characters, and scene writing, including flashbacks, seem sturdy and fairly fleshed out to me while serving multiple purposes, whether in turn or all at once. There are threads that distinctly lead back to the lore built through the first five 'Mythica' flicks, and other tidbits that inform of that indicated inspiration from other genres, especially as each character has their own secrets to tell. 'Stormbound' could also have easily been a self-enclosed tale in miniature, with just enough world-building on the edges to suggest a living past, but as it is the script also handily functions as a coda to the existing story, an afterword that shows us the state of this realm nineteen years on.

And even for all that, Partridge also opens the door such that, were all parties interested, a new 'Mythica' saga could begin from this connective point. A path is laid out for additional potential entries to explore, and I trust that just as 'A quest for heroes' started small and became something much more, we could hypothetically see that pattern once again. For my part, I hope that is indeed the future we see. This film is not specifically striking, but it stands steadily on its own legs while having a place in an existing saga; while sequels as a concept in storytelling and film-making can be dubious - not every movie needs a follow-up - for those who are receptive to the material, the possibility of still more is genuinely enticing. For whatever flaws we might see in these 100-odd minutes, I believe it's more true that everyone who participated did a fabulous job, and I congratulate them all. Most anyone who enjoys fantasy, and pictures outside the major studios, will surely find something to like here, and as far as I'm concerned the result is a minor joy, and I sincerely wish for more. Those who are already invested in 'Mythica' will obviously have the most reason to check this out, yet it remains worthwhile entirely on its own merits, and can be appreciated as such. Unless you're already a fan you don't need to go out of your way for it, but I find myself entertained and satisfied, and I'm glad to give 'Stormbound' my warm recommendation.

The thing that's most readily notable as we begin watching is that, meaning no disrespect to playwright Vincent Lawrence, the root story here, while suitable, is kind of generic and unremarkable. Golf is the setting, but the romantic comedy-drama could be adapted into most any scenario as proud, skilled protagonist Jack makes waves at an exclusive organization and falls for a woman, with drama to ensue in furthering that relationship. It's one of the chief staple formulas for comedy-dramas of early cinema, and silent cinema specifically. This is no inherent mark against 'Spring fever,' but we as viewers in retrospect will be looking for something else to catch our eye. Of course, as the picture is built to entertain, maybe we'll look to the gags, the situational humor, some animated performances, or some wit in Ralph Spence's intertitles. There's definitely some value in that. On the other hand, the vitality of the gags is variable (and the frequency smaller over time), the situational humor is arguably rendered a little flat under Edward Sedgwick's direction, the acting makes an especial impression only periodically, and while some of Spence's intertitles are indeed quite clever, others aren't nearly so clever as they think themselves to be.

Don't get me wrong, this flick is enjoyable. It earns some soft laughs, it's gently amusing in general, and the production at large is solid, with admirable contributions from all those behind the scenes. Nearly one hundred years later this may be most noteworthy as a credit early in the career of esteemed Joan Crawford, but lead William Haines is swell, too, and the rest of the cast. Even if the storytelling feels muted, there are some nice touches in Sedgwick's direction and Ira H. Morgan's cinematography; between Lawrence's play and the adapted screenplay, there are commendable themes and ideas broached in the narrative. However, for all the various odds and ends upon which we might bestow favor, nothing herein makes much of a mark. With some exceptions, it doesn't feel as if there was a lot of nuance or tact in the writing, and sometimes not much detail, either; the plot is rather direct, progressing with a bland, unpolished gait of "A happens. Now B happens. Then C happens. Next, D happens." The movie is alright, and certainly worth preserving and recalling as as vestige of cinematic history, but it seems a step too far to say that 'Spring fever' is something to be "celebrated."

And here I assumed sights unseen that I would be harping on my dislike of the centered sport of golf. It's not that the feature is abjectly bad in any way; only, it broadly lacks the strength to land as one would hope. I don't regret watching, and some moments are distinctly better than others, whether on account of the writing, direction, acting, or something else in the craftsmanship; the top highlight is surely a late scene that slyly toys with "lighting" and intertitles, and I may go so far as to say as the last stretch of the length thereafter is stronger than the remainder. It's also true, though, that unless one has a special impetus to watch, the film passes by without really exciting, and there's no major reason to check it out. Fair warning, it's possible the viewing experience will make even the avid cinephile sleepy. Ultimately it's decent enough if you chance upon it, but don't go out of your way, and save 'Spring fever' as something to put on some lazy evening.

The 1950s weren't exactly known for quality genre fare, but there are certainly some welcome, stellar exceptions. It doesn't take long to gather that this is not one of those exceptions. As 'Terror from the year 5,000' begins it's not very promising, as the first several minutes give us an unimportant female assistant played with utmost stereotypical airheaded dippiness, paired with the introduction of the tale's central conceit - something from the distant future existing in the present - which especially for the manner of its presentation requires an unprecedented level of suspension of disbelief. From the outset the dialogue and scene writing are less than great, and given the abbreviated runtime of just over one hour, it sure seems as if the picture approaches its plot with too much indifference. We're nearly halfway through before the story starts to advance beyond "is this from the future" and "vaguely suspicious behavior." While the narrative does pick up some more thereafter, the proceedings continue to be flush with tawdriness that's unbecoming of the suspense and excitement it ideally wishes to foster. Richard DuPage's music generally maintains a light mood even when nothing else does; an obligatory romantic element feels extra contrived; supporting character Claire is little more than eye candy for male viewers. The bulk of these 65-some minutes are built on fairly ordinary drama and conflict between present-day humans, leaving the science fiction for no more than a collective one-third of the length, and mostly in the back end.

In fairness, this flick can at least surely claim to be a step or two up from some of its contemporaries. There's no stock footage employed here, and the special effects are a smidgen better than what we've seen in other works of the period. The special makeup, and the outfit provided for Salome Jens, are modest, but an improvement on the cheapness of some kindred fare ('Attack of the giant leeches,' anyone?). Broadly speaking the cast actually give commendable, earnest performances, without (as much of) the ham-handedness that plagues other such titles. And while the plot has its troubles as written, there are good ideas here, and I think it all concludes with a fairly strong finish in the last several minutes. 'Terror from the year 5,000' never reaches a level exceeding "average" or "middling" at its very, very best, yet I'm of the mind that there's just enough value here - and equally important, just enough care taken - that the extremely low reputation it has carried over the past several decades seems excessive to me. Of all its faults, I believe the biggest issue here is that in the spirit of contemporary sensibilities (and presumably budgetary constraints), filmmaker Robert J. Gurney Jr. Takes so long to develop the story, and to gently weave in the sci-fi facets, that by the time the would-be thrills and intended weight are emphasized, we as viewers have already been somewhat dismissive of the remainder. One way or another, the movie just treads too lightly for its own good.

I don't think this feature is wholly rotten. It's sufficiently weak, however, that considering how many other things we could be watching instead from the 50s or otherwise, there's no real reason to seek this out unless one has a specific impetus. I'm glad for those who get more out of 'Terror from the year 5,000' than I do, and I also can't begrudge those who regard it more harshly. All I can say is that while there are far worse ways to spend one's time, if you're going to watch at all, it's best reserved as something light for a lazy night.

Especially among those with less appreciation for the early years of cinema, it is sometimes said that the silent era reflects "simpler entertainment for a simpler time." As an avid cinephile myself, and a huge fan of silent films, I can understand where that sentiment comes from, but even where it's selectively true it is no inherent statement on the abject quality of a piece. As we start to watch this 1922 farce, a send-up generally of 'The Three Musketeers' and specifically of Douglas Fairbanks' earnest adaptation of one year before, I don't think there's much mistaking that it commonly echoes that very notion. In various ways the picture rather exemplifies the film-making and storytelling sensibilities of a developing medium, and in neither capacity does it necessarily bear the sophistication of some of its contemporaries or successors. Yet that tack quite provides the framework in which the frivolity will ensue, and one way or another 'The Three Must-Get-Theres' remains a terrific delight. For those open to the style, it's well worth checking out if you have the chance!

While freely adapting Alexandre Dumas' novel, screen legend Max Linder cheerfully twists most every bit and bob to comedic ends, whether that means playing with characters and their names, toying with the dialogue as imparted in intertitles, or modifying story beats. The latter is the major key, I think, for the relatively uncomplicated method by which the feature is constructed leans heavily on the consideration and execution of individual scenes. The humor relies substantially on simple gags in the scene writing, usually without much follow-through from one scene to the next; there is subtler cleverness, too, but the preponderance of the flick is built on sight gags and physical comedy. There are also the performances of the cast, highly animated with greatly exaggerated facial expressions and body language - maybe beyond even the norm seen throughout much of the silent era - and that straightforward silliness also comes across in Linder's direction at large. For good measure factor in a giddy, cartoonish indifference to matters of illusion versus artifice; we're treated to abundant anachronisms, for example, and slain enemies sit up to speak, offering an unabashed spoof like those Mel Brooks would become famous for many years later.

The conscious phoniness and outright ludicrousness does not mean that 'The Three Must-Get-Theres' is any less well-made, though. Fantastic wit and intelligence shaped the screenplay, and there is outstanding detail all throughout even just in the writing. In his direction Linder maintains high energy all the way, and whether his role in that regard meant broad oversight and shaping a cohesive whole, or orchestrating a single shot to capture the desired effect, I deeply appreciate the mindfulness and skill he illustrates. I dare say there is some artistic shot composition scattered here and there. Even the cinematography has some moments of shining brilliance, and the editing is unexpectedly sharp as it sometimes plays directly into the merriment. The cast is nothing less than a joy as all actors on hand, even the extras, unreservedly embrace the irreverent spirit of the production and commit to all that is asked of them. Not to be counted out, while the title is flush with tomfoolery, the work turned in by those behind the scenes is no joke. The sets, costume design, and hair and makeup are all gorgeous; whether props feed into into the period setting or the anachronistic tendencies, they're all swell. And as much as anything else, the stunts, effects, fight choreography, and otherwise action are plainly excellent. Frivolous as the project is, there is also meaningful adventure at its core.

This may not be the film to change the minds of those who have a harder time engaging with Old Hollywood; on the other hand, as the minutes tick by the comedy reminds more and more of the tried and true goofiness that has become a staple of some of the biggest names of the art form. It may not look like much from the outset, yet when you get down to it 'The Three Must-Get-Theres' is just a classic, a mirthful gem of another era that sought only to entertain, and which over one hundred years later continues to succeed in that goal. Him and haw about the particulars as we will, surely most anyone will find something to love here as the movie's strength only grows over its abbreviated runtime. Ultimately I would stop short of calling it a total must-see, but the result is a lot of fun from start to finish, and if you have the opportunity to watch then I'm pleased to give it my high recommendation!

There are plenty of filmmakers who operate in spaces wry, offbeat, surreal, and whimsical, in comedy and otherwise, but I'm unsure if any have routinely done so with the same wild aplomb as Quentin Dupieux. Especially given his common penchant for discarding any in-universe sense of concrete reality, or storytelling boundaries or convention, there's really no predicting just where the man will go with his pictures, and to what extremes. So what does it mean for the Frenchman to subvert our expectations? Even with the central conceit being a fly the size of a small dog, the narrative in 'Mandibles' reflects the strangest thing of all that Dupieux could do: be straightforward. The humor here is very, very dry - Wes Anderson dry, if you will - and low-key as somewhat dim-witted friends Manu and Jean-Gab make a discovery, get sidetracked from a task, and barely skirt by with the situations they stumble into. In accordance with the company this feature keeps we wait for a corkscrew turn in the story, or for something outrageous and extraordinary, but there are none to be found herein. Substitute some fur-covered animal for the fly and no one would bat an eye; even the characters and dialogue feel ordinary. In a closet full of Met Gala gowns and tie-dye shirts, this flick is the plain white tee of Dupieux's oeuvre.

There's nothing specifically wrong with that. I actually applaud the daring to try something so different from the standards he has otherwise established for himself with 'Rubber,' 'Réalité,' 'Deerskin,' 'Smoking causes coughing,' and so on, no matter the end result. At the same time, as it is the tack adopted here is surely a divisive one for audiences, and given our assumptions of Dupieux, one can't help but be surprised, and possibly even a smidgen disappointed. Just as importantly, while it might seem a small thing: discuss such subjective factors as one might, more objectively concerning - an abject flaw in my opinion - is that supporting character Agnès, as written, is terribly ableist. There is no connection between her function in the plot and her defining trait, a condition, that we as viewers are intended to (a) recognize as some manner of mental disability, or placement on the autism spectrum, and (b) find inherently funny. Among those films of Dupieux's that I've seen to date this is the first time I've found something earnestly problematic and offensive. I don't know what he was thinking, but where Agnès is concerned the man plainly made a bad mistake, and the doing here definitely takes away from what favor I'm otherwise ready to bestow.

Granted, in other ways the movie fits right in with his other credits. Dupieux again wears multiple hats as writer, director, cinematographer, and editor; we discern similar film-making style in all these capacities, and even with the clear-cut nature of the script, tinges of similar storytelling. Others behind the scenes turned in fine work, the fly looks great, and the actors give solid performances. Despite the muted tenor and divergence from his custom, apart from that unnecessary, ill-considered facet of how Agnès is written, 'Mandibles' actually is a good time and provides gentle amusement - it's not Wonderfully Bizarre, but it still provides slivers of the desired oddball flavors, and it is still fun. Speak well of the flick as we are wont to do, however, I remain kind of nonplussed, and part of me wonders if I'm not being too lenient in my assessment. I do not abjectly take issue with any filmmaker going a bit off their beaten path, and in fact I salute it, but the outcome of a new trajectory still needs to be worthy in and of itself. Exactly how much parity is there between this title and the likes of 'Au poste!?' Exactly how entertaining is it? That's something we can only judge for ourselves from one person to the next. In my book 'Mandibles' is worth checking out, with the caveat that it isn't perfect and it's not as vibrant and satisfying as Dupieux at his most fanciful and creative.

I expected that I would like this, and I do enjoy it. I'd be lying if I said I weren't somewhat disappointed, though. The plot is light and unbothered, going nowhere fast; the overall vibe is more lighthearted, also especially reflected in the title character and the performance of Terence Hill; a fair bit of the scene writing is obviously built for comedy, and in turn the direction of filmmaker Tonino Valerii. All this is fine. Or, it would be fine, except for that the intended comedy is never specifically funny, only lightly amusing if anything at all: the would-be humorous scene writing lacks the vitality to evoke a reaction, and just isn't clever enough; the flat tone is of no help, and some bits are too drawn out for their own good, or too outwardly cartoonish. For Nobody to be flippant, and Hill jovial, is no more sufficient fuel on their own for laughs than in some flicks where we're supposed to delight in the childishness of "Look at that silly man! Haha! Isn't he so silly?" Even esteemed composer Ennio Morricone is drawn into this tack; while some of his themes here are as wonderfully rich and flavorful as we anticipate and hope, others just as surely embrace the unimpressive inanity, with his interpretation of "Ride of the Valkyries" frankly just turning me off. I don't think 'My name is Nobody' is everything it's generally cracked up to be.

There isn't necessarily any wrong way to make a comedy, particularly when playing in the space of another discrete genre. One can make a straight genre flick, and let small touches of levity manifest naturally among the characters, dialogue, and scenario (e.g., 'The good, the bad, and the ugly'); one can firmly establish the genre roots with the story, then layer the comedy on top (the failure to do so being a chief failing of 1987's 'Ishtar,' for example); or one can employ a genre as broad foundation to build a comedy that then just aims for all-out wackiness (see recent farce 'Hundreds of beavers'). It seems to me that Valerii, with writers Fulvio Morsella and Ernesto Gastaldi, tried to split the difference between the latter two styles, but the problem is that (a) the western plot and its development aren't entirely convincing, coming off as scarcely more than a loose framework instead of a fully-fleshed out saga, and (b) for all the stated reasons, the comedy is unable to achieve the desired reaction. Factor in some scenes that are simply bad, pointless, and ill-advised (the urinal), and the lack of a comedic partner like Bud Spencer for Hill to bounce off of, and the favor I might have bestowed continues to diminish.

Strictly speaking, if it's a spaghetti western you want, then it's a spaghetti western you'll get. Set aside the screenplay that is far too questionable in several crucial ways, and at large the picture is duly well made. We get gorgeous filming locations, detailed sets and costume design, and excellent stunts, effects, and action sequences. Save for where the contributions are guided to ends as dubious as the writing, the cinematography is lovely, and the editing sharp. The audio is strong, and I repeat that at its best Morricone's score is just as terrific as we assume of the icon. Though themselves impacted by the nature of the material, the cast give commendable performances, with Henry Fonda easily standing out above his co-stars. And while I place the responsibility mostly on the shoulders of the writers for how this feature went wrong, in fairness I think there are some splendid ideas herein that, approached mindfully and used judiciously, could have been outstanding for either an earnest western or a comedy. Then again, even the climax is troubled by gauche, unnecessary flourishes, the ending is overdone in some measure, and I'm really of the mind that even on paper far too much of the story is thin and weak. In every last capacity, for every one stroke of brilliance, there are two notes of tawdriness, or tidbits that raise a skeptical eyebrow.

I don't dislike 'My name is Nobody.' I recognize what it does well, and I see the potential that it carried. I also think its shortcomings are at least as readily evident, and possibly more prominent. There are worse ways to spend your time, yet since there are far better ones, too - even among western-comedies - our reasons for watching this dwindle to "well, maybe if you have a specific impetus." I'm glad for those who appreciate this movie more than I do; having now watched it once, that's more than enough for me.

This has been strongly suggested to me personally by several people, and by Jove, they did not lead me astray! The story and the humor kick up in no time at all and to put it very simply, the picture is a total blast from top to bottom. An outrageously farcical comedy of errors flies swiftly with some of the sharpest and most fluid dialogue and banter I've ever heard in a movie - anchored with characters of vibrant personality, leading to stupendous dynamics and wonderfully animated performances in some of the most outstanding, robust scene writing I've ever seen. It's no wonder that Buck Henry, David Newman, and Robert Benton's screenplay has been so highly esteemed, and I'm rather aghast that this flick isn't even more widely known and highly celebrated. I don't know if 94 minutes have ever passed by so (too) quickly; have I ever had as much fun watching something as I have with 'What's up, doc?' Maybe, but other examples are precious few and far between! Drop whatever other plans you had for tonight, because this should be your next priority!

That brilliant, effervescent screenplay is really all the fuel that the film needs to be a rip-roaring good time - from that foundation, it's hard to imagine that the end result could have been anything other than a riotous success no matter who else was involved - yet it is far from alone. Filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich keeps the proceedings running smoothly, and at a steady clip, while unfailingly maintaining marvelous high energy, and he is to be commended for commanding such a proverbial "tight ship." In fairness, his task was probably easier with a phenomenal cast that nimbly meets every need of the script. The acting is outright flawless as each and every player embraces their role with wholehearted vitality and enviable zest and vigor. There's unmistakable Madeline Kahn, channeling high-strung Eunice as no one else could; Ryan O'Neal, cute, hapless, and put-upon as smart but absent-minded and flummoxed Howard; thirty-year old Barbra Streisand, truly stunning with the charm and confidence of clever troublemaker Judy; to say nothing of all others involved, too many to name as they round out the tale and the merriment with boisterous, self-sacrificing gusto.

I sat to watch with no meaningful foreknowledge and was blown away time and again by the superbly funny rancor to greet me. At pretty much every turn, just when I thought the viewing experience couldn't get more silly and outlandish, it does! All along the way cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs very smartly keeps up with the shenanigans, and all those behind the scenes from costume design, hair, and makeup to production design and art direction lend magnificent flavor and individuality to the look for each character and each setting. Why, the filming locations themselves are just grand, with San Francisco taking center stage in a manner quite unlike most other titles. Wherever stunts and effects are employed - and to my delight, they are employed in abundance - they are completely fantastic, and never more so than in the extended climactic sequence that gives any other point of comparison, in comedy or in action fare, an earnest run for its money. It's noteworthy, furthermore, that all this transpires and succeeds with flying colors without any embellishment of musical accompaniment. Some features feel flat without a score or soundtrack to complement or foster the mood, yet this is an instance in which it gets along perfectly fine without. As small touches of diegetic selections round out choice moments, the exceptional ingenuity of the whole is only confirmed.

I had every reason to expect I would enjoy this, and those expectations were far exceeded. I altogether, unquestioningly love 'What's up, doc?' The writing is stellar, the direction is impeccable, the cast is flawless, and every little contribution that went into crafting this 1972 romp is a minor joy unto itself. What more is there to say? I cannot overstate how incredibly entertaining this is, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Forget that other movie you were going to watch - seek out this treasure, however you must, and get ready to have a ball!

Maybe more than films of any other genre, comedies are prone to subjectivity and don't always age well; tastes and sensibilities change over time, and what was funny in one timeframe won't necessarily hold up in another. It seems sometimes as if this might be especially true of comedies of the 80s, where quips and gags pertaining to marginalized communities, sex, relationships between men and women, and harder, meaner edges to the would-be humor are arguably more present. Above all with two names attached to 'Spies like us' whose reputations aren't what they used to be, and a story trading on government agencies and Cold War fears, how might this look forty years on? Well, very honestly, it's a mixed bag; the movie isn't as sorry as I feared it might be, but also not nearly as worthwhile as I might have hoped. All told this is mildly amusing, but the entertainment value it offers is middling and unremarkable.

If you want a comedy of spy-laden adventure, technically you've got it. There are indeed some facets of tawdry humor that haven't survived the 80s, mostly whenever Chevy Chase's character Emmett interacts with or talks about women, but if nothing else, for the most part the writing is a smidgen better than the sort to broadly rely on such cheapness. That's some good news. The bad news is that the strength here is highly variable, and much more than not the feature doesn't make a major impression. Really, it's the type that one can "watch" without actively engaging. I'm rather reminded of Elaine May's infamous misfire of two years later, 'Ishtar.' There the comedy and the picture at large were strongest at the very beginning and the very end, where the focus was on Clarke and Rogers' songs, and the preponderance of the length was a mess with dubious narrative writing and unfunny jokes. Here, the picture does earn some laughs, but only at the simplest of bits: a proctored exam, greetings between doctors, the announcement of a phone call, a quietly spoken rhetorical thought, a cheeky final scene. I do believe that's an accurate assessment, for the record - a total of five laughs in a tad less than two hours. Such instances are where the cleverness of the writing shines through. Elsewhere, the title plainly struggles.

Dan Aykroyd and Chase's animated performances start to wear thin rather quickly, and in general there isn't enough disparity between the characters to foster dynamics fit for comedy. Not dissimilarly, despite the action sequences and intended frivolity, I don't think John Landis' direction confers enough energy into the proceedings to particularly drive engagement; the viewing experience feels kind of flat, with soft pacing even in some individual scenes. These unfortunate traits of the direction compound the troubles of the plot. It is generic material for a spy flick, but suitable, with some commendable ideas and themes that have been employed to fine results in other kindred fare, and which remain sadly relevant a few decades later. On the other hand, the story is light, is marked with minimal development in the entire first half, and in the second half becomes messy as it's smashed into a smaller length. I also just don't think this one narrative is all that well-written in the first place, and where a film wishes to subvert a genre to comedic ends, the genre roots must first hold firmly; here, they do not. And just as it is the simplest thoughts that work best in evoking the desired reaction, the more grandiose and impressive 'Spies like us' tries to be in its humor, its action, or its storytelling, the less sure-footed and notable it is.

The movie is duly well made, certainly. Landis' direction is technically capable, the stunts and effects look great, Elmer Bernstein's music is just fine, and all those operating behind the scenes turned in excellent work. Strictly speaking the acting is just swell, too; that some actors come off better than others has more to do with the writing and direction than with any failing on the part of the players. When all is said and done I don't think the picture is bad, but overall it's somewhat weak, and fails to excite. The fact that I can count the number of times I laughed is regrettable. In some measure I like 'Spies like us,' yet for as little fun as I had at large, I also wonder if I'm not being too generous. It remains the case that if you want a comedy of spy-laden adventure, technically you've got it. We can get these flavors in other places, however, and there's the rub: for as uninspiring as this is except in select examples, why would we not instead spend time with something else that readily commands more favor? Watch 'Spies like us' if you wish, and may you find it more outright enjoyable than I do. I just quite believe that there are more worthy flicks out there, so I don't anticipate ever revisiting this one.

The premise sounds promising, and the first outside glimpse we might get of any imagery tells us that we can expect the flick to be either a delightfully irreverent farce, or dubiously considered schlock. Thankfully, as the minutes tick by following an introduction, and the core thrust of the picture becomes evident, it's safe to say that the former holds true much more than the latter. Granted, this arguably goes a tad too far at points as the proceedings rely in part on juvenile puerility, and even some gross-out humor, that are somewhat boorish. Yet such instances are the exception, and not the rule, and much more than not 'Hundreds of beavers' is marvelously clever, and decidedly atypical among modern comedies. In fact, to whatever extent one facet or another of the entertainment may not meet our personal preferences, overall the title is such a blast that such subjective critiques fall by the wayside; moreover, if that's the worst I have to say, then the contributors have done very well for themselves. Kudos to filmmaker Mike Cheslik, co-writer and star Ryland Brickson Cole Tews, and all others involved, for this a joyous lark that deserves a lot more attention!

Cheslik, Tews, and their producer friends take inspiration from a variety of sources and blend it all together into something uncommon, whimsical, and fresh. In the cinematography, some choices of editing, occasional, intertitles, and mild flavoring and graininess lent to the fundamental black and white presentation, we see influence from cinema dating back to the silent era. Touches of realistic considerations come with the necessary resourcefulness of life on the frontier in the frozen north, cheerfully contrasting with the abject cartoonishness that the flick largely adopts. And I do mean cartoonishness, for one is plainly reminded of 'Merrie Melodies,' 'Looney Tunes,' and other like-minded fare including live-action kin with the use of animation, puppets and props, and full-body animal suits; sound effects, music cues, and over the top special effects; exaggerated, animated performances, the predominant declination of dialogue, and the intelligence with which animals are written; scene writing and gags ripped straight from the exploits of Wile E. Coyote and The Roadrunner, or Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny; and so on, and so on. For good measure factor in some pop culture references, much more modern and/or adult sensibilities, and obvious echoes of videogames, from lighthearted puzzle games, to platformers, to action-adventure.

This feature is one that wears its artificiality on its sleeve, yet by completely leaning into that tenor and the flippancy of classic cartoons the sum total is not just witty, but unconventional by most any standards, and rather innovative. We're apt to draw comparisons with most anything we watch as a way of understanding what we haven't seen before, and finding points of praise or criticism, and usually it's quite easy to do so from top to bottom. Far fewer are those works in any genre that emphatically tread into new territory, and the fact that 'Hundreds of beavers' can take recognizable ideas and tropes and spin them into something well outside the bounds of familiar comedy speaks so well to the great creativity of all on hand. Just as much to the point, the movie might go all-out with its frivolous buffoonery and unremitting frivolity, but in no capacity is it sloppy or ill-gotten. The mixture of all the visual elements is surely the most complex facet of the production, but the doing is navigated with aplomb, a tremendous credit to all those operating behind the scenes. The players unreservedly embrace the silliness with their wild acting, very much recalling the most outlandish ideations of any more ordinary romp, and all are to be commended; Tews, Olivia Graves, and Doug Mancheski, among others in the cast, just readily go with the flow, wherever it takes them.

And still it's Cheslik as director, and writing alongside Tews, who almost certainly earns the most substantial congratulations for this film. It's one matter to devise the concept, and create an outline for the absurdity to come. Uncharacteristic of a picture this roundly ludicrous, one plainly discerns incredible detail in the narrative and scene writing, and in the conjuration of all the odds and ends of the humor, to bring the entirety to fruition. From the amalgamation of each clear inspiration, to the extremes to which all were taken, ultimately 'Hundreds of beavers' probably well outpaces any short with those figures we know and love - Tom, Jerry, Daffy, Sylvester, Tweety, Porky, Speedy, Woody, Donald, and all their brethren - in terms of the unbridled goofiness of it all. As a matter of our individual tastes in comedy maybe that means the final product is too preposterous for its own good, yet the title can claim stupendous ingenuity, energy, skill, and care in every last regard. For my part, having sat with high hopes but mixed expectations, I am positively thrilled by just how terrifically fun it is, and Cheslik deftly draws together all the constituent parts into a bizarre but solid, cohesive whole. I could hardly be happier with just how funny this flick is, and I'm grateful I caught eye in passing of good word of mouth. In turn I can only pass on that suggestion, as I think there's something here for just about anyone. Whether you're an especial fan of the noted cartoons of yore or just looking for something irreverent and enjoyable, 'Hundreds of beavers' is utterly fantastic, I'm glad to give it my very high and enthusiastic recommendation!

It was only by chance that I stumbled onto this; being a person who will watch just about anything, good or bad, of course I was going to give it a try. The premise is certainly promising, and the opening moments affirm the mockumentary bent as the name of famous documentarian Ken Burns is referenced with a wink. Happily, I don't think it takes very long at all as 'The Battle of Pussy Willow Creek' begins that it starts to show its cleverness, and filmmaker Wendy Jo Cohen is to be commended for a sly piece that swiftly and roundly delights. This feature models itself after historically minded fare on channels like PBS, or more dubiously "The History Channel," in telling viewers the little-known story of a fictional, crucial engagement of the U. S. Civil War, and the figures therein who were unlikely heroes of the Union. In doing so the project was approached with a welcome mind for detail, and the presentation is replete with fabricated, falsely aged correspondence, photos, paintings and illustrations, and props, and even a few "old timey" songs, in addition to narration with a mild tone, interspersed clips of interviews with "scholars," "historians," or "descendants," and the requisite mentions of real persons and events. Inasmuch as this aimed to replicate its earnest cousins, I dare say that goal was achieved with aplomb.

Mind you, no one could ever mistake this for a portrait of real history. The parodying, comedic slant is readily evident in the extremes of the fictional nineteenth-century figures as written, the words put in the mouths or on the papers of figures invented or genuine, and the scenarios into which all are subsequently placed. That slant is furthered with cheeky, witty, daring minutiae, sometimes bordering on problematic, that toys with period conceptions of race (racism), homosexuality (homophobia), disability and birth defects (ableism), and so on, let alone coy euphemistic phrasing, even ingeniously underhanded potshots at religion, and much more. As we learn of the lives and careers of a gay colonel, a Chinese servant, a former slave, and a youthful sex worker who unbeknownst to the general populace saved the United States in the midst of the Civil War, the comedic slant is cemented with the most overt instances of language and acting from the interview subjects, the most plainly ridiculous fake historical records, sparing "reenactment," and intermittent title cards that themselves are less than perfectly serious. In summary, the humor herein is a mixture of the shrewdly satirical and the outwardly absurd - at times nearly recalling the likes of Monty Python in concept and in word, and quietly becoming more outrageous in the back end - which might more or less mean that there's something here for everyone.

I don't think 'The Battle of Pussy Willow Creek' is entirely flawless. The pacing is too swift in my estimation, meaning that the resplendent frivolousness is shortchanged every now and again as we move quickly from one idea to another. While it's part and parcel of the merriment, I also think the most overt inclusions - chiefly in the snippets of interviews - would have benefited from a smidgen more tact and restraint on the part of the actors, and on the part of Cohen with her direction, for the doing somewhat clashes with the more subtle elements. Though less substantial, I would further suggest that the indie nature of this picture comes off more as a reflection of its low budget, for there is an unpolished, bare-faced quality to the production values, the sort that in a conventional movie I would usually cite as glaring and painful on the eyes. At infrequent moments the totality is a bit much, and both on paper and in realization I believe the flick may have benefited from a tad more mindfulness in how it was put together. For the record, strictly speaking, a content warning should be noted for use of language that reflects period values, but which today would be unacceptable save for the saucy tenor of this farce.

Yet everyone involved obviously knew very well what type of "documentary" they were making, and all fully embraced the silliness. Ultimately those subjective faults aren't all that significant, and more to the point, the film is so tremendously fun and funny, and surprisingly smart in its flippancy, that the entertainment here far outweighs any possible criticisms. Ranging from nuanced twists on classic, typical documentary fare, to unabashedly outlandish, nonsensical impertinence, Cohen whipped up a wonderfully enjoyable piece that hits all the right notes, even if it sometimes goes a hair further than may have been ideal. I had somewhat mixed expectations when I sat to watch, and I am very pleased that when all is said and done those expectations were far exceeded. This is a joyful blast of irreverence that was nonetheless crafted with skill, care, and intelligence, and I'm quite of the mind that it deserves more recognition; I've seen major studio comedies that weren't half as good as this is. Keeping in mind some outdated language and imagery (however purposefully employed they may be) and tinges of inelegance in the making, by and large 'The Battle of Pussy Willow Creek' is a fantastic comedy, and whether one has a specific impetus to watch or is just looking for a great time, I'm glad to give this my very high, enthusiastic recommendation!

War films tend to come in two varieties, being filled either with battle action or drama on the home front. There are outliers, certainly, but relatively few are those war films that focus primarily on the camaraderie between people in the services, and the human spirit that keeps them going, in the midst of uncertainty, combat, and death. Not only does this Ukrainian Soviet classic count among such gems, but I don't believe I specifically need to see any other examples to know that this is surely one of the best, if not the superlative. 'Only "old men" are going into battle' is a delightfully smart wartime comedy-drama in which all flavors receive emphasis in turn, but are all centered around the care shown for each other in the squadron, and the common joys that unite them The result is a feature that's tremendously heartwarming while being both funny and tragic as the narrative shifts; that this also focuses on pilots, fighter planes, and the battle in the air is a nice additional touch, a rarity in the genre. I'm rather aghast that I came across this only by chance, because as far as I'm concerned it's a superb movie that deserves far, far more recognition.

It's very much worth reading background information about the production, for in doing so it becomes very clear how much hard work and research writer, director, and star Leonid Bykov poured into the project. Bykov accordingly blended together various odds and ends in the historical record of the Soviet fight against Germany to fashion this tale, and he did so with such passion and thoughtfulness that the outcome received high praise from veterans. The fruit of that labor is an unexpectedly dynamic, vibrant picture in which the mood wanders to and fro, but only with natural fluidity and dexterity, and utmost warmth. Historical footage from the war is mixed with filmed stunts, effects, and action sequences; beautiful music greets us in occasional interludes as the squadron keeps perspective on what they're fighting for; joyous humor is juxtaposed with deeply affecting scenes of the costs of war. I can only commend Bykov for such a smart screenplay where the characters, dialogue, scene writing, and narrative all shine with such life, and to be honest his direction is just as sharp in bringing all the moving parts together into a cohesive whole.

My one criticism is that the editing is a little rough. Through to the end there is a brusque, ungainly curtness in the progression of the narrative, and in transitions from scene to scene, such that it seems we've gone from A to B too abruptly while missing details in between. Unfortunate as this is, however, it's not so severe a problem as to significantly detract from the entirety, and by and large the title is excellent. From production design and art direction, to costume design, hair and makeup; from the music, sound, and those stunts and effects, to the planes supplied for the production, everything about 'Only "old men" are going into battle' is marvelously well done, reflecting the skill and intelligence of all on hand. That absolutely applies to the acting above all, as integral to the overall success as the writing and direction. Every actor here gives a marvelous performance that truly draws forth the heartfelt tenor of the comedy-drama, with Bykov and Aleksei Smirnov only the tip of the iceberg among others including Sergei Ivanov and Vladimir Talashko. Even those in smaller supporting parts, like Yevgeniya Simonova or Olga Mateshko, make a big impression with what time they have on-screen.

Put simply I'm solidly of the mind that this flick is deeply underappreciated. Countless are those war films that show us epic battle sequences, that take us into the fog of war, that plumb moral depths, or which latch onto the juvenile boorishness of the boys who one way or another will never become men. For every classic, there is a forgettable or regrettable misstep. Much more uncommon are those war films that speak to not just the bonds between those who serve, but the bonds of humanity that keep soldiers, sailors, and pilots grounded amidst violence and spiritual destitution. Fifty years on this movie resonates on a level that exceeds questions of allegiances and borders, and it is just as engaging, compelling, and indeed rewarding as it was upon release. I'm so very pleased with how good it is, and I can only give 'Only "old men" are going into battle' my very hearty and enthusiastic recommendation!