Many were increasingly of the opinion [that humans] made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.
― Douglas Adams, from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
What makes us “human”…is it nature, or nurture? How many times have you heard admonishments like “don’t wolf your food” or “you’re acting like an animal”? Are we not mammals, after all?
Writer-director David Verbeek tackles that age-old question in this speculative fiction yarn about the discovery of a young woman (Jessica Reynolds) who has literally been raised by wolves. Naturally, her first accommodation in the “civilized” world is a cold, clinical research facility, where she is poked and prodded and ogled at by people in white coats.
Frightened and confused, she barely has time to acclimate to these alien surroundings before a pair of cultish survivalists spirit her away to an abandoned offshore oil rig. The couple imprint themselves as parental figures and methodically indoctrinate her into their vision of an impending environmental apocalypse.
The trio seem well on their way to forming a cozy family unit-until the young woman discovers (much to her chagrin) that her “parents” have feet of clay (you can take the wolf-girl out of the forest…).
I see touchstones like The Wild Child, The Emerald Forest, Altered States, and Charly; but Verbeek has put a unique 21st Century spin on some time-worn themes. His secret weapon is Reynolds, who delivers an extraordinary performance that runs the gamut from running around on all fours and dining al fresco on small game to making small talk with her customers at the grocery checkout counter.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 7, 2025)
Every time I try to swear off prison dramas…they pull me back in (and throw away the key). In the case of writer-director Charles Williams’ Inside, I was intrigued by the casting. Guy Pearce plays a grizzled long-term inmate who becomes mentor to a young man (Vincent Miller) who has just been transferred from a juvenile facility. When a notorious lifer (Cosmo Jarvis) who fancies himself a religious prophet takes an interest in the new inmate, an uneasy surrogate father triangle ensues.
There are three solid, intense performances here by the leads, but there are jarring narrative jumps which require some heavy lifting by the viewer. It’s possible that I was thrown off by the odd tics of Jarvis’ character. It’s an interesting performance (along the lines of Billy Bob Thornton’s Sling Blade character), but frankly I could not understand three-quarters of his dialog (perhaps a second viewing wherein I have the option of close-captioning will clarify some plot points for me). Until then…a guarded recommendation.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 7, 2025)
Adolescence can be an emotional roller coaster; likewise the grief process. Dealing with both at once is a daunting test of anyone’s mettle. Chilean writer-director Nayra Ilic Garcia’s meditative family drama opens on New Year’s Eve, 1990. Vivacious 15 year-old Celeste (Helen Mrugalski) is enjoying a beach holiday with her loving family and closest friends (I had to remind myself that Chile is below the equator).
This is not only a happy time for Celeste and her entourage, but for Chileans in general. General Pinochet’s brutal Junta is over for good, with democratically-elected Christian Democrat Patricio Aylwin set to take office in March of the new year.
However, just when everything’s looking up, Fate intervenes with a sudden death in the family. Celeste’s double-whammy of having to cope with growing pains along with an emotionally traumatic personal loss gives impetus to this moving and sensitively acted coming-of-age story. Garcia subtly weaves political analogy in the narrative; using the specter of Chile’s “missing” to mirror a nation coming to terms with collective grief, and the growing pains of a revived democracy that has lain dormant for far too long.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 24, 2025)
Everyone processes grief differently. In the case of recently widowed Lucky (William Catlett) and his 9 year-old son Mason (Jeremiah Daniels) there lies an additional complication in the healing process: Mason is developmentally disabled and doesn’t appear to understand why his mother is no longer with them.
Now more than ever, Lucky’s paternal instinct drives him to bond with his son; and even if Mason isn’t registering the same emotional pain over their mutual loss, he wants to do everything in his power to be a comforting and reassuring presence for him. But Mason’s chief concerns remain steadfast: drawing in his coloring book and watching televised ball games.
Lucky hits on an idea to break the impasse: he’ll take his son to his first pro baseball game. It’s perfect…a father and son bonding experience that will make Mason happy and get both of them out of the house for a day. What ensues is a veritable Homeric journey across the Atlanta metro area, driven by Lucky’s determination to get his son to the ball park on time to catch the game, regardless of any number of obstacles.
They say there is beauty in simplicity, and this is a simple story, beautifully told. It’s an astonishingly assured debut for writer-director David Fortune, shot in black and white by cinematographer Nikolaus Summerer. A truly compassionate drama that keeps it real at all turns, capped off by two outstanding lead performances. Color Book is a must-see.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 24, 2025)
Boong (Gugun Kipgen) is a precocious Indian schoolboy who lives with his mother in a small, insular village where everyone is always up in everyone else’s business. Unflattering rumors have been flying regarding Boong’s absentee father, who has cut off communication with his family since migrating to a city in nearby Myanmar to find work. When there’s a pronouncement from a dubious source that his father has died, Boong refuses to believe it. He enlists his best bud and they hit the road to investigate.
Writer-director Lakshmipriya Devi’s impressive debut feature is a gentle family drama/road movie that offers a child’s-eye view of the sociopolitical complexities that fan ethnic and sectarian tensions along the border of India and Myanmar. Despite bittersweet undercurrents, Devi has fashioned a charming and ultimately touching coming-of-age tale.
Every minute of the next 48 hours of Souleymane’s life counts, because it will determine whether or not he will be granted the asylum he has been seeking in France. He’s barely scraping by, and has to bike around Paris day and night delivering food just to remain flush with his creditors. He has no legal papers, so he has to pay to work, forking over a fee to a fellow Guinean delivery man so he can “borrow” his identity.
Most importantly, he has a looming deadline to pay off the shady fixer who is selling him a new “story” he claims will be more likely to convince the authorities that Souleymane warrants asylum. Adding to his stress level, Soueymane has to memorize the extremely detailed narrative to a tee, or he’ll risk raising red flags for the well-seasoned bureaucrat he has been scheduled to meet with in just two days time.
Driven by a realistic lead performance by non-professional actor Abou Sangaré and imbued with a kinetic energy and sense of urgency recalling Run Lola Run, writer-director Boris Lokjine’s Souleymane’s Story is really the story of millions of émigrés all over the world who dream and strive for a better life.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2025)
Set in an economically depressed small town in Washington State, writer-director Titus Richard’s network narrative drama serves up a dollop of family angst and sprinkles it with lives of quiet desperation. Hovering somewhere between Peter Bogdanovch’s The Last Picture Show in its aspirations and Larry Clark’s Kids in its vibe, Monarch City suggests both; but due to an uneven script and scattershot approach, it unfortunately achieves neither. Richard does capture and sustain a “nowheresville” mood, and there are some earnest performances, but at 70 minutes and with this many players, there’s barely enough time for any kind of meaningful character development.
I was surprised to learn that South Korean writer-director Hong Sang-soo has made 33 feature films over the last 20 years (which by my estimation makes him one of the most prolific filmmakers this side of Fassbinder). I also felt a bit ashamed that I didn’t discover him until I saw In Our Day at the 2024 SIFF.
With By the Stream, I may now have only two Sang-soo joints under my belt, but I think I “get” his rhythms. Like In Our Day, this is a languidly paced and understated character study about people involved in the arts; there’s lots of eating and drinking and walking and talking (with exchanges that frequently feel improvised).
Melancholic Jeonim (Kim Minhee) is a textile artist and university lecturer who coaxes her famous Uncle Chu Sieon (Kwon Haehyo) out of retirement to rewrite and and take over direction of a play that some of her students have been working on after the production hits a snag.
While Uncle Chu seems genuinely flattered and more than happy to get back on the boards, you sense that he mostly sees this as an opportunity to reconnect with his niece, with whom he’s been out of contact with for a number of years. This could be Jeonim’s motivation as well, although she is a more of a cypher in the emotional department.
It turns out that Jeonim’s supervisor is a Chu super-fan; when she begins a relationship with him, it triggers a dynamic shift in Jeonim’s interactions with her uncle that suggest some unresolved family business may be at play.
The film’s deliberate pacing may not be for all tastes, but the naturalistic performances and gentle rhythms makes this rumination on life, love, art and family ties relatable on all fronts and easy to digest.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on March 15, 2025)
With Saint Patrick’s celebrations in full swing this weekend, I thought I’d help you get your Irish up and drive those snakes from your media room with 15 grand film recommendations.
Sláinte!
The Commitments – Casting talented yet unknown actor/musicians to portray a group of talented yet unknown musicians was a stroke of genius by director Alan Parker. This “life imitating art imitating life” trick works wonders. The Commitments can be seen as a riff on Parker’s 1980 film Fame; swapping the locale from New York City to Dublin (there’s a bit of a wink in a scene where one of the band members breaks into a parody of the Fame theme).
However, these working-class kids don’t have the luxury of attending a performing arts academy; there’s an undercurrent referencing the economic downturn in the British Isles. The acting chemistry is superb, but it’s the musical performances that shine, especially from (then) 16-year old Andrew Strong. In 2007, cast member Glen Hansard co-starred in John Carney’s surprise low-budget hit, Once, a lovely character study that would make a perfect double bill with The Commitments.
Darby O’Gill and the Little People – Sean Connery…in a film about leprechauns?! Well, stranger things have happened. Albert Sharpe gives a delightful performance as lead character Darby O’Gill in this 1959 fantasy from perennially family-friendly director Robert Stevenson (Mary Poppins, The Love Bug, The Absent-Minded Professor, ThatDarn Cat!).
Darby is a crusty yet benign b.s. artist who finds himself embroiled in the kind of tale no one would believe if he told them it were true-matching wits with the King of the Leprechauns (Jimmy O’Dea), who has offered to play matchmaker between Darby’s daughter (Janet Munro) and the strapping pre-Bond Connery. The special effects hold up surprisingly well (considering the limitations of the time). The scenes between Sharpe and O’Dea are especially amusing. “Careful what you say…I speak Gaelic too!”.
A Date for Mad Mary – Seana Kerslake makes a remarkable debut in Darren Thornton’s 2017 dramedy (co-written by the director with his brother Colin) about a troubled young woman who is being dragged kicking and screaming (and swearing like a sailor) into adulthood. Fresh from 6 months in a Dublin jail for instigating a drunken altercation, 20-year-old “mad” Mary (Kerslake) is asked to be maid of honor by her BFF Charlene. Assuming that her volatile friend won’t find a date, Charlene refuses her a “plus one”. Ever the contrarian, Mary insists she will; leading to an unexpected relationship.
Garage – At once heartbreaking and uplifting, this 2007 character study by director Leonard Abrahamson and writer Mark O’Halloran is an underappreciated gem. It’s a deceptively simple story about an emotionally stunted yet affable thirty-something bachelor named Josie (Pat Shortt), who tends a gas station in a small country village (he bunks in the garage). When he befriends a teenager (Conor Ryan) who takes a summer job at the gas station, it unexpectedly sets off a chain of life-shaking events for Josie. Shortt (a popular comic in his home country) gives an astonishing performance. I like the way the film continually challenges expectations. An insightful and affecting glimpse at the human condition.
Hear My Song – This charming, quirky comedy-drama from writer-director Peter Chelsom (Funny Bones) concerns an Irish club-owner in England (Adrian Dunbar) who’s having a streak of bad luck. He’s not only on the outs with his lovely fiancée (Tara Fitzgerald), but is forced to shut down his venue after a series of dud bookings (like “Franc Cinatra”) puts him seriously in the red. Determined to win back his ladylove and get his club back in the black, he stows away on a freighter headed for his native Dublin. He enlists an old pal to help him hunt down and book a legendary tenor (Ned Beatty, in one of his best roles) who has hasn’t performed publicly in decades. Fabulous script, direction, and acting. Funny, touching and guaranteed to lift your spirits.
I Am Belfast – I try not to use “visual tone poem” as a descriptive if I can avoid it…but sometimes, there is no avoiding it. As in this case, with Irish director Mark Cousins’ meditation on his beloved home city. Part documentary and part (here it comes) visual tone poem, Cousins ponders the past, present and possible future of Belfast’s people, legacy and spirit.
I’m fairly sure Cousins is going for the vibe of the 1988 Terence Davies film Distant Voices, Still Lives, a similar mélange of sense memory, fluid timelines and painterly visuals (he waxes poetically about the aforementioned film in his epic 15-hour documentary, The Story of Film). Lovely cinematography by Christopher Doyle. A rewarding experience for patient viewers.
In Bruges – OK, full disclosure. In my original review, I gave this 2008 Sundance hit a somewhat lukewarm appraisal. But upon a second viewing, then a third… I realized that I like this film quite a lot (happens sometimes…nobody’s perfect!).
A pair of Irish hit men (Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell) botch a job in London and are exiled to the Belgian city of Bruges, where they are ordered to lay low until their piqued Cockney employer (an over the top Ray Fiennes) dictates their next move. What ensues can be best described as a tragicomic Boschian nightmare (which will make more sense once you’ve seen it).
Writer-director Martin McDonagh (who deftly juggles “fook” as a noun, adverb, super adverb and adjective) re-enlisted In Bruges stars Gleeson and Farrell as the leads for his Oscar-nominated 2022 dramedy The Banshees of Inisherin (also recommended!).
Into the West – A gem from one of the more underappreciated “all-purpose” directors, Mike Newell (DanceWith a Stranger, Enchanted April, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Donnie Brasco, Pushing Tin). At first glance, it falls into the “magical family film” category, but it carries a subtly dark undercurrent with it throughout, which keeps it interesting for the adults in the room. Lovely performances, a magic horse, and one pretty pair o’ humans (Ellen Barkin and Gabriel Byrne, real-life spouses at the time).
Miller’s Crossing–his 1990 gangster flick could only come from the unique mind-meld of Joel and Ethan Coen (with shades of Dasheill Hammet). The late Albert Finney is excellent as an Irish mob boss engaging in a power struggle with the local Italian mob during the Prohibition era. Gabriel Byrne (the central character of the film) portrays his advisor, who attempts to broker peace.
You do have to pay attention in order to keep up with the constantly shifting alliances and betrayals and such; but as with most Coen Brothers movies, if you lose track of the narrative you always have plenty of great supporting performances (particularly from Marcia Gay Harden and John Torturro) , stylish flourishes, and mordant humor to chew on until you catch up again.
My Left Foot – The first (and best) of three collaborations between writer-director Jim Sheridan and actor Daniel Day-Lewis (1993’s In the Name of theFather and 1997’s The Boxer were to follow). This moving 1989 biopic concerns Christy Brown, a severely palsied man who became a renowned author, poet and painter despite daunting physical challenges.
Thankfully, the film makers avoid the audience-pandering shtick of turning its protagonist into the cinematic equivalent of a lovable puppy (see Rainman, I Am Sam); Brown is fearlessly portrayed by Day-Lewis “warts and all” with peccadilloes laid bare. As a result, you acclimate to Day-Lewis’ physical tics, allowing Brown to emerge as a complex human being, not merely an object of pity.
Day-Lewis deservedly picked up an Oscar, as did Brenda Fricker, who snagged Best Supporting Actress as Brown’s mother. Don’t let Day-Lewis’ presence overshadow 13-year old Hugh O’Conor’s work as young Christy; he gives an equally impressive performance.
Odd Man Out – An absorbing film noir from the great director Carol Reed (The ThirdMan, The Fallen Idol). James Mason is excellent as a gravely wounded Irish rebel who is on the run from the authorities through the shadowy backstreets of Belfast. Interestingly, the I.R.A. is never referred to directly, but the turmoil borne of Northern Ireland’s “troubles” is definitely implied by word and action throughout F.L. Green and R.C. Sherriff’s intelligent screenplay (adapted from Green’s original novel). Unique for its time, it still holds up well as a “heist gone wrong”/chase thriller with political undercurrents. The top-notch cast includes Robert Newton and Cyril Cusack.
Older Than Ireland – With age, comes wisdom. Just don’t ask a centenarian to impart any, because they might smack you. Not that there is violence in Alex Fegan and Garry Walsh’s doc, but there is consensus among interviewees (aged 100-113) that the question they find most irksome is: “What’s your secret to living so long?” Once that hurdle is cleared, Fegan and Walsh’s subjects have much to impart in this moving and entertaining pastiche of the human experience. Do yourself a favor: turn off your personal devices, watch this wondrous film and plug yourself into humankind’s forgotten backup system: the Oral Tradition. (Full review)
The Quiet Man – I’ll admit to never having been a huge John Wayne fan, but he’s perfect in this John Ford classic as a down-on-his-luck boxer who leaves America to get in touch with his roots in his native Ireland. The most entertaining (and purloined) donnybrook of all time, plus a fiery performance from gorgeous Maureen O’Hara round things off nicely. Although tame by modern standards, romantic scenes between Wayne and O’Hara are quite fervid for the era. The pastoral valleys and rolling hills of the Irish countryside have never looked lovelier, thanks to Winton C. Hoch and Archie Stout’s Oscar-winning cinematography.
The Secret of Roan Inish – John Sayles delivers an engaging fairy tale, devoid of the usual genre clichés. Wistful, haunting and beautifully shot by the great cinematographer Haskell Wexler, who captures the misty desolation of County Donegal’s rugged coastline in a way that frequently recalls Michael Powell’s similarly effective utilization of Scotland’s Shetland Islands for his 1937 classic, The Edge of the World. The seals should have received a special Oscar for Best Performance by a Sea Mammal. Ork, ork!
Song of the Sea – This 2014 animated fantasy from writer-director Tomm Moore centers on a melancholic lighthouse keeper named Conor (voiced by Brendan Gleeson), who is raising his young son and daughter following the tragic loss of his wife, who died in childbirth.
After his daughter is nearly swept out to sea one night, Conor decides the children would be better off staying with their grandmother in the city. The kids aren’t so crazy about this plan; after a few days with grandma they make a run for it. Before they can wend their way back home, they are waylaid by a succession of characters that seem to have popped out of one of the traditional Irish fairy tales that Conor’s mother used to tell him as a child.
Moore’s film has a timeless quality and a visual aesthetic on par with the best of Studio Ghibli. There is something in Moore’s hand-drawn animation that I find sorely lacking in the computer-generated “product” glutting multiplexes these days: genuine heart.
Oscar-winner Gene Hackman, his wife and one of their dogs were apparently dead for some time before a maintenance worker discovered their bodies at the couple’s Santa Fe home, investigators said.
Hackman, 95, was found dead Wednesday in a mudroom, and his 65-year-old wife, Betsy Arakawa, was found in a bathroom next to a space heater, Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Office detectives wrote in a search warrant affidavit. There was an open prescription bottle and pills scattered on a countertop near Arakawa.
Denise Avila, a sheriff’s office spokesperson, said there was no indication they had been shot or had any wounds. […]
“He was loved and admired by millions around the world for his brilliant acting career, but to us he was always just Dad and Grandpa,” his daughters and granddaughter said in a statement Thursday. “We will miss him sorely and are devastated by theloss.”
Having grown up watching his movies (he appeared in over 70 feature films between 1961 and his 2004 retirement from acting), I will miss him sorely as well. As will many others:
Gene Hackman has died. I met him on my first picture, “Hawaii” and worked with him again on “Get Shorty”. Both times were unforgettable for me, because he was the real thing; you never caught him acting. He left us a staggering body of work. Thank you, Mr. Hackman, and rest in peace.
Damn straight…you never caught him acting. Like all of the greatest actors, he knew how to listen. And how to react. Musician Billy Bragg commented on Bluesky that Hackman was “a fabulously flawed Everyman” onscreen. I concur. This morning, Digby and I were commiserating via text, and she described him as a “character actor leading man” (which I thought was a great way to put it), adding that his film technique was “so subtle and intimate”.
A good listener, a great re-actor, a fabulously flawed Everyman, subtle and intimate…all these attributes are reflected in 7 of my favorite Hackman performances (in alphabetical order).
All Night Long – This quirky, underrated romantic comedy from Belgian director Jean-Claude Tramont has been a personal favorite of mine since I first stumbled across it on late-night TV back in the mid-80s (with a million commercials).
Reminiscent of Michael Winner’s 1967 social satire I’ll Never Forget What’s ‘is Name, the film opens with a disenchanted executive (Gene Hackman) telling his boss to shove it, which sets the tone for the mid-life crisis that ensues.
Along the way, Hackman accepts a demotion offered by upper management in lieu of termination (night manager at one of the company’s drug stores), has an affair with his neighbor’s eccentric wife (an uncharacteristically low-key Barbra Streisand) who has been fooling around with his teenage son (Dennis Quaid), says yes to a divorce from his wife (Dianne Ladd) and decides to become an inventor (I told you it was quirky).
Marred slightly by some incongruous slapstick, but well-salvaged by W.D. Richter’s drolly amusing screenplay. Hackman is wonderful as always, and I think the scene where Streisand sings a song horrendously off-key (while accompanying herself on the organ) is the funniest thing she’s ever done in a film. Despite Hackman and Streisand’s star power, the movie was curiously ignored when it was initially released.
Bonnie and Clyde – The gangster movie meets the art house in this 1967 offering from director Arthur Penn. There is much more to this influential masterpiece than the oft-referenced operatic crescendo of violent death in the closing frames; particularly of note was the ingenious way its attractive antiheroes were posited to appeal to the counterculture zeitgeist of the 1960s, even though the film was ostensibly a period piece. The real Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were nowhere near as charismatic as Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty…but we don’t care, do we? The outstanding cast includes Hackman (memorable as Clyde’s brother Buck), Estelle Parsons, Michael J. Pollard, and Gene Wilder (his film debut).
The Conversation – Written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola, this 1974 thriller features Hackman leading a fine cast as a free-lance surveillance expert who begins to obsess that a conversation he captured between a man and a woman in San Francisco’s Union Square for one of his clients is going to directly lead to the untimely deaths of his subjects.
Although the story is essentially an intimate character study, set against a backdrop of corporate intrigue, the dark atmosphere of paranoia, mistrust and betrayal that permeates the film mirrors the political climate of the era (particularly in regards to its timely proximity to the breaking of the Watergate scandal).
24 years later Hackman played a similar character in Tony Scott’s 1998 political thriller Enemy of the State. Some have postulated “he” is the same character (you’ve gotta love the fact that there’s a conspiracy theory about a fictional character). I don’t see that myself; although there is obvious homage with a brief shot of a photograph of Hackman’s character in his younger days that is actually a production still from (wait for it) …The Conversation!
Downhill Racer – This underrated 1969 gem from director Michael Ritchie examines the tightly knit and highly competitive world of Olympic downhill skiing. Robert Redford is cast against type, and consequently delivers one of his more interesting performances as a talented but arrogant athlete who joins up with the U.S. Olympic ski team. Hackman is outstanding as the coach who finds himself at loggerheads with Redford’s contrariety. Ritchie’s debut film has a verite feel that lends the story a realistic edge. James Salter adapted the screenplay from Oakley Hall’s novel The Downhill Racers.
The French Connection – I have probably seen this film 25 times; if I happen to stumble across it while channel-surfing, I will inevitably get sucked in for a taste of William Friedkin’s masterful direction, Ernest Tidyman’s crackling dialog (adapted from Robin Moore’s book), Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider’s indelible performances, or a jolt of adrenaline:
Gerald B. Greenburg picked up a well-deserved Oscar for that brilliant editing. Statues were also handed out to Friedkin for Best Director, producer Philip D’Antoni for Best Picture, Hackman for Best Actor (Scheider was nominated, but did not win for Best Supporting Actor), and Tidyman for Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium.
It’s easy to see how Hackman’s work here put him on the map; his portrayal of “Popeye” Doyle is a wonder to behold. Talk about a “fabulously flawed Everyman” …he is slovenly and bereft of social skills, but on the job, a force to be reckoned with; driven, focused and relentless in his desire to catch the bad guys. Doyle’s obsession with his quarry “the Frenchman” (Fernando Rey) becomes his raison d’etre; all else falls by the wayside.
Hackman plays him as a working-class hero of a sort. The criminal he seeks to take down is living high off his ill-begotten gains; cleverly elusive, yet so confident in his abilities to cover his tracks he seems to take perverse pleasure in taunting his pursuer. This is film noir as class warfare. Or …this could just be a well-made cops and robbers flick with cool chase scenes.
Night Moves– Set in Los Angeles and the sultry Florida Keys, Arthur Penn’s 1975 sleeper stars Hackman as a world-weary private investigator with a failing marriage, who becomes enmeshed in a case involving battling ex-spouses, which soon slides into incest, smuggling and murder. As always, Hackman’s character work is top-notch. Also with Jennifer Warren (in a knockout, Oscar-worthy performance), Susan Clark, Edward Binns, Harris Yulin, James Woods and Melanie Griffith (her first credited role). Alan Sharp’s intelligent, multi-layered screenplay parallels the complexity of the P.I.’s case with ruminations on the equally byzantine mystery as to why human relationships, more often than not, almost seem engineered to fail.
Prime Cut – This spare and offbeat 1972 “heartland noir” from director Michael Ritchie (with a tight screenplay by Robert Dillon) features one of my favorite Lee Marvin performances. He’s a cleaner for an Irish mob out of Chicago who is sent to collect an overdue payment from a venal livestock rancher (Gene Hackman) with the unlikely moniker of “Mary Ann”.
In addition to overseeing his meat packing plant (where the odd debt collector ends up as sausage filler), Mary Ann maintains a (literal) stable of naked, heavily sedated young women for auction. He protects his spread with a small army of disturbingly uber-Aryan young men who look like they were cloned in a secret Nazi lab.
It gets weirder, yet the film is strangely endearing; perhaps due to its blend of pulpy thrills, dark comedy and ironic detachment. It’s fun watching Hackman and Marvin go mano a mano; and seeing Sissy Spacek in her film debut. Also with Gregory Walcott (a hoot as Mary Ann’s oafish, psychotic brother) and Angel Tompkins. Gene Polito’s cinematography is top-flight.
Young Frankenstein – Writer-director Mel Brooks’ 1974 film transgresses the limitations of the “spoof” genre to create something wholly original. Brooks goofs on elements from James Whale’s original 1931 version of Frankenstein, his 1935 sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, and Rowland V. Lee’s 1939 spinoff, Son of Frankenstein.
Gene Wilder heads a marvelous cast as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, the grandson of the “infamous” mad scientist who liked to play around with dead things. Despite his propensity for distancing himself from that legacy, a notice of inheritance precipitates a visit to the family estate in Transylvania, where the discovery of his grandfather’s “secret” laboratory awakens his dark side.
Wilder is quite funny (as always), but he plays it relatively straight, making a perfect foil for the comedic juggernaut of Madeline Khan, Marty Feldman, Peter Boyle, Cloris Leachman (“Blucher!”), Terri Garr and Kenneth Mars, who are all at the top of their game. The scene featuring a non-billed Hackman (as an old blind hermit) is a classic (“My…you must have been the biggest one in your class!”).
This is also Brooks’ most technically accomplished film; the meticulous replication of Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory (utilizing props from the 1931 original), Gerald Hirschfeld’s gorgeous B & W photography and Dale Hennesy’s production design all combine to create an effective (and affectionate) homage to the heyday of Universal monster movies.
