Antonio Gaudí (1984) | Directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara

 4.5/5

Hiroshi Teshigahara’s Antonio Gaudí is a gorgeous and captivating tone poem, a loving tribute to the architecture of Gaudí in an unconventional documentary. Rather than provide a straightforward examination of his life and work, Teshigahara simply shows us the work. There is no narration, there are no talking heads – nothing to distance us from the experience of looking at the work. The way Teshigahara frames Gaudí’s buildings against landscapes and skylines gives us a sense of scale and space, a sense of how these architectural wonders exist in space – the ways they can tower over their neighboring buildings, or stand out in a sea of uniformity. And then he will juxtapose this with closeups, odd angles, or other abstractions that cause us to look at the buildings in a whole new light. Throughout the film we drift from moment to moment, building to building, soaking in the images and letting the incredible score wash over us. It’s an incredible experience if you’re willing to place yourself in Teshigahara’s capable hands as he guides you through some of the most captivating pieces of architecture you’re likely to encounter.

Where to Watch

Time (2020) | Directed by Garrett Bradley

 5/5

Garrett Bradley’s Time is one of the most astonishing documentaries I’ve seen in the last year – a masterful use of the form. This film absolutely gutted me. The film follows Fox Rich, a woman struggling to raise her children and fight for the freedom her incarcerated husband, Robert. Bradley pairs footage that Rich filmed herself over the past twenty years with Bradley’s own contemporary footage, giving us a sense of the weight of time, of the lost time that this family has suffered due to Robert’s incarceration. We see the children – just entering kindergarten one moment, graduating from dental school or living as a sophomore in college the next – and we ’re made aware of the burden that families are made to bear due to the inequities in our criminal justice system. Bradley makes use of so many lovely poetic touches – from shots of the cardboard cutout of Robert that the family keeps with them, her framing of Fox and the rest of the family at key moments (especially at the end of the film), to her masterful use of archival material throughout the film. Bradley’s use structure is essential – she lets us know and come to care for the Rich family before we discover why Robert is in prison, building our empathy and forcing us to confront a broken justice system in a way that no narrative feature or standard documentary ever could. This is documentary filmmaking at its finest.

All About My Mother (1999) | Directed by Pedro Almodóvar

 4.5/5

Pedro Almodóvar’s All About My Mother is a beautiful, joyous film about connection and the families we choose for ourselves, not just the families we’re connected to through biology. It’s surprising how this exuberant joy pervades so much of the film – even in the midst of all the tragedy, grief, and melodrama. And just as the film explores the ways that our notions of family can be fluid, it’s also honest about the fluidity of gender and sexual orientation within this close-knit family of women that forms in late-90s Barcelona. At twenty-years-old, there is a clumsiness to the ways Almodóvar addresses trans issues, yet the film is still filled with so much warmth and empathy for all of its characters – gay and straight, trans and cis – something that was almost unheard of in such a popular film of its time. Almodóvar’s colors saturate the screen, as they often do, bringing us into this heightened reality that runs parallel to our own, a world that acknowledges the struggles of his female characters, yet provides them with miraculous moments of grace, connection, acceptance, and agency that they would never get in our own bigoted and misogynistic reality. The more I watch Almodóvar’s films, the more I see them – not as strict melodrama, but as adult fairy tales filled with wonder, awe, tragedy, and so much beauty.

Where to Watch

Bad Hair (2020) | Directed by Justin Simien

 3.5/5

Justin Simien’s Bad Hair is a deliciously campy, sharply political, incredibly fun horror satire. Simien is a filmmaker who wears his politics on his sleeve, and there’s something refreshing about how upfront the film is in its exploration of the ways white society forces Black women to conform to white beauty standards. The film is a pointed reflection on what it means to compromise in order to achieve success – especially in a culture that doesn’t believe you can succeed because your race and gender. The film’s texture and use of color and lighting helps set the ’80s horror aesthetic perfectly, and the jagged editing techniques – especially as the weave is being sewn in – work to amplify the terror and discomfort. The final act descends into a bit of a chaotic mess with plot holes that are never resolved in a fully satisfying manner, and the computer generated effects never have the weight and solidity you need to make the horror truly crawl under your skin. Still, it’s an enjoyable first foray into horror from Simien, and a great followup to his Dear White People film and TV series.

Where to Watch

The Monster Squad (1987) | Directed by Fred Dekker

 1.5/5

Fred Dekker’s The Monster Squad is a terribly dated bit of ’80s nostalgia that tries to capture of the magic of The Goonies and Gremlins, but settles instead for gaping plot holes, juvenile humor, casual homophobia, blatant misogyny baked into key plot points. At less than 90 minutes, it feels like there are large chunks of the films missing that would have helped the story make a little more sense, but at the same time, any longer would have felt like an even longer slog. The best moments are either lifted from better films or handled better in films that were released around the same time, and the constant attempts by the screenwriters to relate to younger viewers results in some of the worst one-liners in an adventure-comedy ever. Even with all of its many issues, it is fun to see kids fight off all our favorite movie monsters – it’s kind of like The Goonies crossed with Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein. But with its overwhelming number of narrative problems and a sexism and homophobia that pervades every frame of the film, it’s just not enough to make this a time capsule worth excavating.

The Wolf Man (1941) | Directed by George Waggner

 3/5

George Waggner’s The Wolf Man used to be my favorite of all of Universal monster movies, but in revisiting this nearly 20 years later, I’m struck by how clunky and disjointed the narrative is. What begins and ends as a tragic story of fathers and sons has an awkward and poorly executed romance subplot shoehorned in (complete with our hero spying on his romantic interest through her bedroom window with a telescope, harassing her at work, and continuing to pursue her after she rebuffs her advances). And the fact that our protagonist’s romantic interest seems uninterested in him until the very end of the film – when she decides she’s willing to run away with him – leaves that part of the narrative feeling flat and lifeless – an invention of the writers rather than a choice that a living, breathing human would make. This shift away from the more intriguing father/son dynamic to a romantic plot that has no real shape or structure is a missed opportunity and dilutes any emotional impact or payoff the film could have achieved. Still, the practical effects are compelling, the woodland sets atmospheric and beautifully shot, and the performance by Claude Rains as the father is magnificent – in fact, it’s the reason I remember the film so fondly all these years later.

Entre Nous (1983) | Directed by Diane Kurys

 4/5

Diane Kurys’s Entre Nous is a tender, beautifully constructed, and emotionally honest film about the deep friendship between two women in the years following World War II. The plight of women at that time is made evident through little moments from the very beginning (the death of a first husband at a young age, marriage as the only means of escaping a dire situation) and the growing dissatisfaction with the compromises forced by marriage in a patriarchal society is portrayed with sympathy and understanding. The three leading performances are exquisite, and it’s especially impressive to see the ways in which Kurys refuses to paint any of her characters as blameless heroes or easy villains. And the ways Kurys uses simple editing tricks to elide time and link us from one moment to the next feel effortless – almost as if we’re privy to the strands of someone’s memory. It’s a lovely film, and one that has me eager to see more of Kurys’s work.

Where to Watch

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (2020) | Directed by Jason Woliner

 4/5

Jason Woliner’s Borat Subsequent Moviefilm takes the techniques that Sasha Baron Cohen used in the first Borat film to uncover the racism and bigotry in average Americans and applies them to explore the deeply rooted misogyny and sexism across American society. In having the Borat character and his daughter, Tutar (played brilliantly by the incredible Maria Bakalova), navigate the expectations for young women in American society, the film provides cringe-worthy moments in real-life interactions with social media influencers, finishing school instructors, beauticians, and more revealing the depths of American misogyny – including a pastor at a crisis pregnancy center who is more concerned with stopping an abortion than he is in protecting a minor whom he is led to believe is the victim of sexual abuse. On the other hand, we’re also shown glimpses of genuine kindness and empathy, encouraging Tutar to push back against societal expectations. This all gives the film a more coherent focus than expected and provides some lovely moments between Cohen and Bakalova. The films is certainly not for everyone, especially considering just how uncomfortable so much about the film is for the comedy to the structure to the filming techniques. However, it is helpful to have reminders that the sexism and bigotry we have seen come to the surface in Trump’s America have long been baked into our country’s fabric and these sentiments have long been harbored by many of our fellow citizens. And every once in a while, we need a Borat to draw them out.

Where to Watch

Criss Cross (1949) | Directed by Robert Siodmak

 4.5/5

Robert Siodmak’s Criss Cross is a gripping noir – dark, tragic, and fatalistic. Burt Lancaster’s performance is exquisite – like so much of his work during this period – and it’s incredibly satisfying to see his character drawn deeper and deeper into the plot’s darkest recesses due to his own stubbornness, pride, and misguided impulses toward heroism. It’s nice to see the all-too-often sexist trope of the femme fatale reframed by providing reasons throughout for that character’s apparent selfishness. The twists and turns of the plot are delicious, and the heist at the center of the film is absolutely stunning. Siodmak definitely knows how to shoot noir – the rich black-and-white photography, the gorgeous compositions, brilliant use of light and shadow – all of it works together to create such a rich and potent atmosphere that hangs over the film from the first frame to the last. I could have done without the extended flashback and voiceover narration, but that’s a minor complaint in such a fantastic film.

Where to Watch

Hocus Pocus (1993) | Directed by Kenny Ortega

 1.5/5

Kenny Ortega’s Hocus Pocus is a tonally inconsistent, narrative mess that relies on childhood nostalgia in order to gloss over its more problematic elements and technical deficiencies. There are vestiges of the darker and more serious, teenage version of this film before it went through countless revisions and became the goofy comedy it is now – leading to strangely incongruent tonal shifts that careen from slapstick comedy in one moment to the gruesome and macabre in the next, all punctuated by sexual comedy that is wildly out-of-place in a children’s film. It also doesn’t help that Ortega shoots the entire film with a flat, ’90s-television banality that only amplifies the paint-by-numbers story beats and the insufferable blandness of our child “hero.” But even worse, the film traffics in horribly sexist tropes, and the “save yourself” ethos embraced by the children toward the end feels very emblematic of the worst aspects of American individualism. I will say that Sarah Jessica Parker is outstanding – it’s too bad the rest of the film isn’t up to snuff.