Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) | Directed by Don Siegel

 4.5/5

Don Siegel’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers was a surprise in the vein of George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead or Ishiro Honda’s Godzilla – films that transcend their b-movie, sci-fi/horror origins and have something far richer and more substantial to say about the human condition that has lasted far longer than the cultural moment that gave birth to the fears they originally articulated. Siegel’s direction is sharp and effective, cold and unsparing. You’re glued to the edge of your seat from the beginning, right up to the hollow victory at the end. I find it absolutely fascinating that a film that was originally made to warn against the threat of encroaching communism could end up – 60 years later – playing today as a warning against the dangers of mass conformity and a cry of despair at the thought that the country we thought we knew was replaced overnight by cold and callous, unfeeling pod people from another planet.

Where to Watch

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951) | Directed by Albert Lewin

 2.5/5

Albert Lewin’s Pandora and the Flying Dutchman is filled with one missed opportunity after another, one wasted moment followed by the next. While Jack Cardiff’s Technicolor cinematography is absolutely gorgeous, what should have been a haunting and lyrical, lush supernatural romance is instead a tepid and lifeless, boring and ultimately ordinary melodrama that feels as predictable and monotonous as the Flying Dutchman claims immortality has been. Scenes that should be filled with tension and dread are undercut by a flat voiceover narration that sucks the vibrancy out of the film – even as it tries to add a bit of false drama to the mix. And the gender dynamics are even more hopelessly regressive and aggravating then other films of the time. It’s a boring slog, only made bearable by Cardiff’s beautiful photography.

For Me and My Gal (1942) | Directed by Busby Berkeley

 4/5

Busby Berkeley’s For Me and My Gal continues to solidify my absolute admiration for Judy Garland as a performer. Another show-biz musical, Gene Kelly plays another pushy and obnoxiously entitled suitor, but it’s refreshing to have these character traits portrayed as flaws rather than features. The musical numbers are all stunning – it’s lovely to see Berkeley working with scaled back production numbers and focused on the genuine human relationships and complicated feelings between Garland and Kelly. A wartime drama, it manages to send several characters off into battle without it feeling patriotic or heroic – up until the propagandistic jingoism of the film’s final moments. Still, I’m impressed by the subtlety and nuance woven throughout the film. It was a lovely surprise.

Where to Watch

Booksmart (2019) | Directed by Olivia Wilde

 4/5

Olivia Wilde’s Booksmart is a refreshing and delightful high school comedy that centers the plot revolving around its female protagonists – not on their romantic escapades, though that does play a part – but on their enduring friendship and their long repressed desires. The episodic structure gives the film and almost Odyssean flavor as our heroes journey from party to party – accompanied by their very own version of the Oracle at Delphi – and run-ins with monsters, both literal, and made of their own selfishness and pride. The performances are joyous, and Olivia Wilde proves herself to have a knack for comic timing and the use of music to undercut our characters’ perceptions of themselves. I’m a sucker for high school comedies that end up challenging our assumptions and stereotypes, and Booksmart does that quite nicely.

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I Walk Alone (1947) | Directed by Byron Haskin

 4/5

Byron Haskin’s I Walk Alone is an incredibly solid, elegantly constructed noir with three stunning performances at its core. It works off the framework of a revenge thriller, but uses that as a springboard to explore much more interesting ideas about the rapid ways in which society changes and leaves some people behind. I especially appreciated the ways it explores the transition many criminals make from illegal to legal enterprises – how the tactics employed in capitalism are very similar to the tactics employed by the underworld, and yet how difficult the transition to white collar crime is for some who is used to things being so cut and dried. Haskin finds moments of pure visual poetry, images etched in the shadows and the subtle camera movements that have continued to linger in my thoughts.

Where to Watch

Broadway Melody of 1940 (1940) | Directed by Norman Taurog

 4/5

Norman Taurog’s Broadway Melody of 1940 is so much better than a film with such a generic title has any right to be. Sure, the plot is thin and the characters only sketches of real people, but when you have Fred Astaire singing, dancing, and playing the piano (at the same time no less!), who need a plot or characters? It continues to be refreshing to find classic musicals in which the plot doesn’t revolve around a pushy or stalker-y romantic pursuit. Here, the plot revolves around a misunderstanding and everyone’s genuinely good-natured attempts to do the right thing. There’s nothing revolutionary here, but it’s charming, delightful, and incredibly winsome.

Where to Watch

The Ghost Ship (1943) | Directed by Mark Robson

 3.5/5

Mark Robson’s The Ghost Ship is a moody and atmospheric little nautical thriller that I enjoyed so much more than I expected. The film presents us with two competing views of humanity – people are terrible and need to be governed by a stern authority, contrasted with the belief that people are essentially good and just need to be reminded of their basic goodness. It’s a simple dialectic, but one that is made terrifyingly concrete in the personage of Captain Stone, a man who believes that he and he alone has the authority of life and death over the souls on his ship. This tyrannical belief in a privileged elite’s “boundless wisdom” and superior standing feels all-too-relevant in today’s corporate and political oligarchy. While it’s still a b-movie, the black-and-white cinematography is rich and textured, the depth of shadow and play of light lending a visual poetry to the film that makes it even more compelling.

Profound Desires of the Gods (1968) | Directed by Shohei Imamura

 3.5/5

Shohei Imamura’s Profound Desires of the Gods is a confounding, mysterious, and utterly captivating film that explores the tensions between modernity and tradition, the individual and the community, and the past and present. With its nearly three-hour running time and sprawling narrative, I had hoped that the multiple story threads would have come together more seamlessly, but there’s a messy chaos to characters’ appearances and disappearances that prevents the film from ever feeling as rich or satisfying as it could have been. Still, the ways in which Imamura transposes ancient myth into a modern setting is deeply compelling, as is the tragic portrait of a deeply flawed family shackled to tradition. Imamura’s haunting images and eerie soundscape will remain with me for a long while – this is definitely a film to which I will return as I explore more of Imamura’s filmography.

This review was generously supported by Patreon Supporter Michael Hutchins.

T-Men (1947) | Directed by Anthony Mann

 3/5

If it wasn’t for the heavy-handed narration that permeates Anthony Mann’s T-Men, we’d have a taut little police procedural on our hands. As it is, the voice-over keeps us at a distance and prevents us from ever fully engaging with the characters or the story. Otherwise, the story of Treasury Agents on the trail of counterfeiters is a fairly compelling bit of b-movie action. Most impressive is the film’s willingness to wind through some dark corners into a surprising moment of tragedy that significantly ups the stakes and finally gets us onto the edge of our seats for the finale. The cinematography is gorgeous – deep shadows fill the frame and the steam in scenes set within a bathhouse feel rich and textured. It isn’t perfect, but it’s a very fun, light film that’s perfect to throw on at the end of a long day.

The Inland Sea (1991) | Directed by Lucille Carra

 4.5/5

Lucille Carra’s The Inland Sea is a surprisingly lovely and deeply meditative piece of creative nonfiction. Following a the journey through Japan’s inland sea that film scholar Donald Richie took in 1971, the film is part travelogue, part meditation on what it means to be human. It’s refreshing to see a Westerner with such rigid ideas of what authentic Japanese culture looks like confront his own colonialist mindset. Instead of seeking some romanticized (and exoticized) version of authentic Japanese people, Richie must reflect on how he can be authentic and truly himself as he lives as a foreigner, as the other. It’s a short film, but lovely and unexpectedly moving.

This capsule review was generously sponsored by Nick Evert.