Phantom Lady (1944) | Directed by Robert Siodmak

4/5
Robert Siodmak’s Phantom Lady is a thoroughly compelling noir, filled with gorgeous camerawork and direction throughout – especially with some of the night sequences in which our protagonist follows her leads under cover darkness and shadow. It’s refreshing to have a noir in which our primary viewpoint character is a woman, though I wish the hadn’t taken so long to introduce her and get into the meat of the film. There is an absolutely delightful sequence in which she sits on the same barstool night after night, intimidating a bartender as she tries to get information about a murder. It would have been nice if the film didn’t give away so many of the pieces to the mystery as early as it does, but that’s a minor complaint in a film that is such a pleasure.

The Invisible Man (2020) | Directed by Leigh Whannell

4/5
Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man is a chilling and deeply effective horror film that remains far more grounded and naturalistic than the genre often allows. Whannell’s use of empty space and static shots to build tension is especially masterful – there are sequences in the first half of the film that will undoubtedly stand alongside the great moments in horror. By reframing the narrative as an exploration of abusive, controlling relationships and the ways abusers gaslight and isolate their victims, the film takes on additional modern resonances that are extremely satisfying, and it’s especially nice to see the film situate us in the viewpoint of Elizabeth Moss’s character, rather than that of the titular ‘monster.’ It’s also nice to see such an honest depiction of the way wealthy men (and tech bros in particular) use their money and privilege to isolate themselves from the consequences of their toxic masculinity. Moss is excellent, of course, but the entire cast turns in stellar performances. There are a few predictable plot beats throughout that feel more perfunctory than inspired, and Whannell doesn’t quite stick the landing as well as he seems to think he does, but it’s still so satisfying to see a horror film exploring ideas and issues as deftly as this one does.

The Machine That Kills Bad People (1952) | Directed by Roberto Rossellini

3.5/5
Roberto Rossellini’s The Machine That Kills Bad People is way more fun than I expected it to be. A parable about the selfishness and corruption of humanity – and the perils of self-righteousness, the blending of fantastical elements with some of Rossellini’s neorealist approaches to filmmaking creates a charming and delightful bit of magical realism. The practical effects are a real treat here, and the ways in which our protagonists goes about ridding his small town of “bad people” is absurd and hilarious. The final moments, while they might cause some to conclude that the film is just a trifle, are the perfect button to wrap up this little fable of greed and zealotry. It may not be one of Rossellini’s masterpieces, but it is exceedingly charming.

Defending Your Life (1991) | Directed by Albert Brooks

4.5/5
Albert Brooks’s Defending Your Life is such a lovely and charming film. I’m a sucker for after-life comedies, and I was absolutely enthralled by this one from beginning to end. I loved the way Brooks takes the standard character he plays – usually the smartest and sharpest character in the room – and removes some of the bite to make him a person in search of, not only constant validation from others, but also, the path of least resistance in every aspect of his life. The structure is so precise, allowing us to follow him along on his journey and be with him in his corner so that by the time we see how destructive his habits really are, we’ve grown to truly care for him and root for his growth. Meryl Streep is fantastic – in the hands of a lesser performer (and a lesser writer/directer), her character would only serve as a function of the plot. But here, she’s a fully inhabited character that is essential for us to care about Brooks’s journey to self-discovery. It’s a truly beautiful film – sharp without ever becoming acerbic, hopeful without ever becoming cloying. A truly lovely and astonishing work.

Where to Watch

Half a Loaf of Kung Fu (1978) | Directed by Chen Chi-hwa

3.5/5
Chen Chi-hwa’s Half a Loaf of Kung Fu is an effortlessly charming, delightfully silly martial arts spoof that is a joy to watch from beginning to end. Even in this early outing, Jackie Chan’s skills as both comedian and physical performer are unparalleled. As a hapless (and even hopeless) student of kung fu, you can still see the discipline and grace in Chan’s pratfalls and physical comedy. The fact that all the gags and bits are shoehorned into a somewhat generic narrative is beside the point. It never takes itself too seriously and constantly undercuts any pomposity that might accidentally sneak in. The final fight sequence is glorious, with one incredible moment after another that continues to delight and astonish. These early Jackie Chan films may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re willing to give yourself over to stylistic excess and over-the-top comedy, they are so much fun to watch.

Where to Watch

Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 27: Back to School

Josh is joined by Alexandria Daniels, film blogger and guest of the It Pod to Be You and We Cut Heads podcasts, head back to school to discuss films about teachers and students available exclusively on the Criterion Channel. Plus, Becky D’Anna stops by to entry-points to the films of Albert Brooks.

Where to Find Us Online

Nomadland (2020) | Directed by Chloé Zhao

5/5

Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland is an exquisite, gorgeous film about those who have fallen through the cracks in America’s hyperactive capitalist society and a quiet meditation on mortality and our connections with one another. Francis McDormand gives an astonishing performance, blending seamlessly with a cast of primarily non-traditional actors playing themselves, sharing their own stories of escaping crushing poverty or being driven to life on the road out of necessity and lack of work and opportunity back home. These monologues from people sharing their real-life experiences are some of the most moving, emotionally powerful moments in the film. Zhao matches these beats with moments of visual transcendence and wonder as her camera takes in the vast expanse of the American West, juxtaposed with the concrete images the poverty and hardship that comes with life in a van – whether that’s defecating into a bucket or the only source of heat coming from the soft blue glow of a propane stove. And while the film never pushes its message of politics, class, or the predations of capitalism, those concerns are never far from its mind. It’s a rich, masterful work from a filmmaker at the top of her craft and a performer who continues to excel in all she does. The film is deeply moving, reminding us of what it means to be connected to one another, wishing us well until we’re able to see each other “down the road” once again.

Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 26: September 2020 New and Expiring Titles

Josh is joined by film blogger Alexandria Daniels and guest of the It Pod to Be You and We Cut Heads podcasts for a conversation about the Criterion Channel’s new and expiring titles for the month of September. Plus, Michael Hutchins stops by to discuss films that make a rare return appearance on the channel.

Where to Find Us Online

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020) | Directed by Cathy Yan

4.5/5
Cathy Yan’s Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) is a gleefully anarchic treat with some of the most inventively staged action sequences I’ve seen in a comic book film. Yan has complete mastery over the tonal shifts that would be fatal in a lesser filmmaker’s hands – playing into and subverting comic book tropes with reckless abandon. The range of narrative devices the film plays with – from Margot Robbie’s pitch-perfect turn as our unreliable narrator, to the contrasting genre styles of the supporting casts’ narrative arcs, to the delightfully absurd digressions and shifting timelines and running gags. The performers are all fantastic, and it’s nice to have a female-led comic book film in which the camera doesn’t leer at our protagonists for the entire running time. Like Yan’s first feature, the brilliant Dead Pigs, Birds of Prey is ultimately about the question of whether or not everyone is selfishly out for themselves, or whether we can ever learn to trust one another. But like Dead Pigs, it’s a film that is infused with so much buoyancy and joy from beginning to end.

Where to Watch

The Lovebirds (2020) | Directed by Michael Showalter

3/5
Michael Showalter’s The Lovebirds is fine – a perfectly innocuous film about a couple learning that, maybe, the rough edges in their relationship are actually what makes them stronger. And it’s all wrapped up in the trappings of a ‘90s action-comedy – a genre for which I have a particular weakness. The narrative holds together well enough for the genre, and I especially like some of the ways they undercut their own plot mechanics and reveal the absurdity of the situation. But Showalter isn’t particularly adept at weaving together the action and mystery elements with the romantic comedy elements. The jarring tonal shifts leaves the entire enterprise weighed down by a slough of mediocrity. And as charming as Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani can be – as clever as their dialogue can be from time to time – they spend so much of their energy improvising in muddled and formless scenes, more interested in finding the next zinger than they are in telling a coherent story or giving us fully developed characters. The film isn’t terrible – it’s mildly diverting and fun. But with a cast and filmmaking team this talented, it should have been so much better.