Gemko Quibi: August 2023 (Patreon)

As a reminder: These are brief (though they always wind up growing longer and longer) thoughts on films that I'm revisiting mostly just because it's been at least 20 years and I’m feeling nostalgic and/or want to have a rating for them. Mostly stuff that's about to be removed from a streaming service to which I subscribe, so far. See the original post for a fuller explanation. Only a dozen again—I'd expected there to be more this month, since I didn't start on the 8th this time, but apparently I have only so much watchin' energy. 

The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997, Steven Spielberg): 62/100

Previously seen: 22 May 1997, New York, NY (Ziegfeld).

Original opinion: Three stars (out of four). Here's the review I wrote on my site.

Now: Having also finally revisited Jurassic Park itself, not too long ago, I now consider this sequel to be marginally superior to it, rather than dramatically so (the original got a 59)—still insane, by almost anyone else's reckoning, but at least a little less insane. Ultimately, I just prefer Lost World's sarcasm and nastiness, am grateful for sequences like the one in which Peter Stormare's InGen asshole gets gradually worn down by compys until he simply can't flee them anymore. Some very impressive F/X work for '97, particularly a shot in which tussling dinosaurs roll pretty much right over Julianne Moore (who's admittedly squandered here), which Peter Jackson subsequently expanded upon for his King Kong.

Jurassic Park III (2001, Joe Johnston): 39/100

Previously seen: 16 July 2001, New York, NY (Todd-AO screening room).

Original opinion: C. Here's the Time Out New York review.

Now: Still can't say as I perceive any Payne/Taylor wit here, except perhaps in naming the parasailing company Dino-Saur. Apart from Vince Vaughn, who'd just broken out via Swingers and was cementing his persona for a mass audience (kinda weird that I don't mention him in my contemporaneous review; he's not even among the cast list, though I believe we only generally named three, due to space limitations) [EDIT: duh, it’s because he’s not in this film], nobody seems invested in this film's existence for non-mercenary reasons; the film's very set-up, in which all nations have apparently collectively opted to ignore a dinosaur-inhabited island in perpetuity, feels cheaply cynical, along the same shoulder-shrugged lines as "Somehow, Palpatine returned." Tedious marital squabbling seals its doom. A forgettable drag.

Desperately Seeking Susan (1985, Susan Seidelman): 69/100

Previously seen: ca. maybe 1987, San Jose, CA (on VHS, most likely).

Original opinion: Unrecorded, don't remember. I was very anti-Madonna at the time.

Now: As I noted somewhere, this feels only one small step away from being a Hal Hartley film—similar downtown-screwball sensibility, just a bit less deliberately artificial. (That the goofy plot involves head-clonk amnesia and verbose gangsters makes it specifically resemble Amateur.) Begins clumsily—Seidelman does a poor job of establishing Roberta's obsession with Susan's rather bland personal ads—and ends weakly, but grows more and more sublimely ridiculous in between; I especially love Roberta-as-Susan-as-inept-magician's-assistant, looking genuinely astonished at each of her boss' tricks and then allowing the bird thus produced to fly in a panic around the room. Madonna's a stronger screen presence than I was willing to credit when she was huge (and I like her hits now). Not a great movie, but an essential '80s text; I'm surprised nobody requested it.

Humoresque (1946, Jean Negulesco): 63/100

Previously seen: 17 August 1996, New York, NY (Walter Reade).

Original opinion: Unrecorded, don't remember.

Now: Can't believe how many lengthy, uninterrupted musical performances this film features—it's genuinely using music, much more than dialogue or even acting, to carry its emotional weight. Garfield's performance largely consists of standing there, tightly framed, while an actual violinist crouches beneath him and serves as his hands...and by god it works, you'd swear he's playing the instrument himself. Humoresque also benefits from a terrific supporting turn by Joan Chandler, who appeared in only three films but killed in at least two of them, as I likewise raved about her in Rope. (Third one's Dragstrip Riot, an AIP cheapie made a decade after the other two. Though actually that might be a different Joan Chandler; the IMDb and Wikipedia disagree.) Oscar Levant's much funnier here than he is in American in Paris (where I find him rather annoying). Great line, in response to Crawford saying that she prefers brainless men to self-styled wits (delivered indignantly): "I can do anything a brainless man can do and I can do it better."

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953, Jean Negulesco): 60/100

Previously seen: 22 May 1998, New York, NY (Film Forum).

Original opinion: Unrecorded, don't remember.

Now: Hopefully I'll finally stop confusing this film with Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Like all early CinemaScope productions, it's struggling with the widescreen frame; story's pure piffle, so there's not much to distract you from all the clumsy and strained compositions. Except, that is, for three great actors embodying silly stereotypes. Sue me, I laugh when Schazte's and Pola's respective (literal) dreams of luxurious romance are followed by Loco dreaming of a big ol' sandwich. And apart from Some Like It Hot, this might be my favorite Monroe performance—"blind but refuses to wear glasses out of vanity" is pretty much surefire (see also Delicatessen), and I just never get tired of watching her walk into walls. Pity the men are all such tiresome drips, though that's in some sense the point, the heart wants what it wants etc. Approbatory adjective that should be brought back: creamy.

Hoffa (1992, Danny DeVito): 50/100

Previously seen: 12 January 1993, San Jose, CA (Town & Country Village).

Original opinion: Unrecorded, but a big disappointment; Mamet was already a fave of mine, and DeVito's The War of the Roses was originally my favorite film of 1989. (Still love it, but obviously Do the Right Thing, which had been on my otherwise unranked top 10 list, is among the greatest movies ever made.)

Now: Insert standard biopic rant. Mamet tones down his trademark dialogue (though we still get chef's-kiss exchanges like [admiringly] "Billy Flynn." "Wasn't he?") and fails to find a compelling dramatic throughline; DeVito tries to compensate with almost manically excessive style, which worked well in Roses but is mostly a distraction here (exception: a truly stunning flash-dissolve through the windshield into a car's front seat). Nicholson's Hoffa feels far more credible to me than did Pacino's, and I kinda dig the pancake-flat accent; he still looks exactly 55 years old over roughly 40 years of the man's life, though. David Newman's overbearing score needed to be taken outside and shot, lest it breed. Very weird that Mamet changed key details of Hoffa's disappearance (it wasn't a diner, he definitely wasn't killed in the parking lot or in his own vehicle, etc.), given how well-known they are/were. Surprised to find that baby-faced John C. Reilly (or is that redundant, even today?) has a sizable supporting role; he wouldn't make an impression upon me until his one-two PTA punch five years later. I'll be noting that again come Casualties of War.

The Newton Boys (1998, Richard Linklater): 65/100

Previously seen: 31 March 1998, New York, NY (probably at the Criterion—shuttered ca. 2000, used to be on Broadway at about 44th; was my midtown go-to pre-Empire 25).

Original opinion: B. I reviewed it in bullet-point form at some length.

Now: Still bewildered by the consensus that this is one of Linklater's weakest films. It's admittedly a divertissement within his oeuvre (n'est-ce-pas?), but to my mind thoroughly charming in its portrayal of bank robbers so gregarious while committing their crimes that they succeed in getting not just the general public but pretty much everybody else in their corner. Based on a true story without seeming beholden to it, and benefits from getting progressively stronger as it goes along, with the final train holdup and subsequent arrests providing a thematic shape that isn't quite discernible until things finally and truly go to hell. Once again found myself wondering whether Dwight Yoakam might secretly be our finest character actor. Look at me staunchly defending McConaughey back in '98!

Bus Stop (1956, Joshua Logan): 35/100

Previously seen: 18 May 1998, New York, NY (MoMA). Again, not long after Newton Boys.

Original opinion: Unrecorded, and somehow I did not recall despising it.

Now: See, this is why I need to rewatch every film for which I have no grade/rating/review. (NOTE: I do not need to do this.) Had I never taken a second look at Bus Stop, I'd have continued to think of it, based on dim memory, as unexceptional, when in fact it's nearly insufferable—just an endless, painful exhibition of over-the-top yokel shtick. Yeah, Bo's meant to be obnoxious, but Don Murray (who I'm now stunned to see had a small role in Twin Peaks: Still Not a Film, Sorry) takes that as license to just boisterously yee-haw his way through every scene. Spent the entire movie rooting for Chérie to escape his clutches and learn that she can't sing, though Monroe almost manages to sell the happy ending via sheer moist pathos. Even then, it's predicated on Bo gallantly forgiving Chérie's sexual history, which blech. "Ain't it wonderful when somebody so terrible turns out to be so nice?" she asks. I can only reply, in deep Morgan Freeman baritone, "I agree with the first part."

The Addams Family (1991, Barry Sonnenfeld): 55/100

Previously seen: ca. November 1991, San Jose, CA (Century 21).

Original opinion: Unrecorded, thought it was fine, adored Julia and Ricci.

Now: Add Huston and her impeccable dark purring to the adoration list, don't know why she wasn't on there to begin with. (Though Julia's pained expression watching schoolkids sing "Getting to Know You" is still the film's funniest bit.) Main problem remains what it's always been (going back to the sitcom): You can't really craft a narrative, nor even build comic momentum, from a series of perversely macabre single-panel cartoons. It's like trying to turn, I dunno, the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland into a feature film, though obviously that idea is so patently absurd that nobody would ever attempt it once and then, having seen the dire result, try again 20 years later. Anyway, all of the Bogus Uncle Fester business is a plodding buzzkill, culminating in a twist that's been obvious from the jump despite being nonsensical (it never occurs to Abigail that she found the real Fester? are we now to understand that he'd been regularly shaving his head from early childhood, as opposed to just being naturally bald?), and Sonnenfeld directs like a cinematographer unleashed, which makes me want to slip him some decaf. Yet those three central performances are such a delight that I should revisit this once in a while anyway. Had forgotten that the closing credits incongruously scroll to an ultra-'90s MC Hammer rap, will now endeavor to stuff that information back down the memory hole. 

(I also started watching Men in Black, which just left Amazon Prime, but abandoned it about 20 minutes in, when it became clear that they were streaming a version that had been edited for TV or something—"prick" replaced by "jerk," etc. Services should be legally required to disclose at the outset that they're showing an altered cut. Between this and the French Connection brouhaha, I'm tempted to stick entirely with Blu-ray rips.)

Chicken Run (2000, Peter Lord & Nick Park): 63/100

Previously seen: 1 June 2000, New York, NY (Sweetland screening room).

Original opinion: B. Here's my original review (preceding the one for Time Out New York; I wrote everything up twice for a few months, until that became too exhausting to sustain).

Now: It's fine, it's solid, it's kinda stuck in second gear. (Curse of the Were-Rabbit, while less inspired than the original shorts, would come closer to recapturing their magic.) Only Ginger and Rocky's perilous journey through and escape from the pie machine's innards—a bravura sequence that I'm surprised gets no mention in either of my contemporaneous reviews—really showcases Aardman at its peak. I've now learned, however, that perhaps the most sure-fire means of getting a laugh from me is to depict something happening much more quickly than is humanly (or in this case avianly) possible, offscreen. Here's the only sentence that will ever be written comparing Chicken Run to Susan Sontag's Duet for Cannibals (which I happened to watch three days earlier): That film cracked me up by showing two characters calmly knitting immediately after we'd clearly heard them angrily fighting, and the same thing happened here when Mr. Tweedy's double-take at a teakettle in one of the nests reveals, half a second later, that same teakettle now fully outfitted with a chicken disguise. See, I'm laughing again just typing that description.

Things to Come (2016, Mia Hansen-Løve): 55/100

Previously seen: 9 August 2016, Oxnard, CA (screener link).

Original opinion: 55/100. Here's the Letterboxd review.

Now: No change whatsoever. In the past, I've logged such unrevelatory second viewings (not far removed from the first) without comment, but since I now have this space for drive-bys I may as well include the occasional recent followup* (which will generally be films that either placed in the Skandies or that I strongly expect to do so, prior to voting). Really, though, you can just read my reaction from seven years ago. Realistic Equanimity: The Movie just isn't something that excites me; the aesthetic sensibility that considers this form of emotional withholding to be truly great work is fundamentally alien to me. Every scene is impeccable, but at the end, I'm left thinking merely "Okay, that's her, that's who she is, that's how she copes with loss and tribulation." Not enough for me. 

She's Gotta Have It (1986, Spike Lee): 60/100

Previously seen: 3 November 1992, New York, NY (in an NYU classroom, on VHS).

Original opinion: Unrecorded. (I may have written about it for the class—an elective called Images of the Other—but if so that's not among the handful of papers I held onto.)

Now: The rare movie that's almost completely undone by a single colossal error in judgment. Lee's been on record literally for decades acknowledging that he fucked up the scene in which Jamie rapes Nola ("near-rape" is her own after-the-fact description), and it's truly painful to watch—not for the act itself, in any Irreversible-type way, but for its implicit suggestion that Nola had it coming, that this is where a woman unapologetically pursuing sex with multiple men inevitably ends. That she then chooses Jamie as her monogamous boyfriend pushes it into downright hideous, and while the movie's final direct address reveals that she changed her mind and dumped him, its tossed-off nature makes the news come across like hasty crisis management, as if it had been appended in response to protests. Maybe he recognized that it would look bad without understanding that it in fact is bad. (Also, why throw in a lesbian character if Nola's not gonna be at least bi-curious? I gather this was corrected in the TV series.) Superlative no-budget filmmaking otherwise: gratifyingly frank in its sexuality, sometimes very funny (Greer folding his clothes! all things Mars!), and having a jazz musician for a father did not hurt one bit in making it sound professional. Didn't make time for this in '86 (my senior high of high school; School Daze was the first Joint I saw in a theater), and I regret missing the opportunity to see a great career commence with such distinctive fanfare. 

* I could throw in W/Os, too, now that I think about it. Used to briefly write those up on my blog; I don't log them on Letterboxd because it'd throw off my feature count, and you can't review films there without claiming to have seen them. Too late for this month, as they were all in August's first week and my memory is now hazy, but I'll note for the record that Joy Ride alienated me with Bridesmaids-style grossout humor (loved the four leads, wish they'd been in a different kind of comedy); that They Cloned Tyrone had what seemed like insurmountable pacing and structural issues (too bad, intriguing premise, strong performances; I came close to sticking with both of those films, actually, was right on the fence); and that the Ukrainian import Klondike is way too besotted with stupid camera tricks for what's ostensibly a super-grim anti-war drama.