Golden Eighties (1986) | Directed by Chantal Akerman

 4/5

Chantal Akerman’s Golden Eighties is a lovely, charming, and effervescent film that takes on Western consumerism, patriarchal norms, and the ways women are socialized – all with a delightful series of songs and dances. The film almost plays as if Akerman is doing her send-up of Jacques Demy’s cinema – taking the earnest longing you find in Demy’s oeuvre and playing it all as broadly as possible. But if it’s a send-up, it’s made with love and tenderness. The musical numbers are delightfully outrageous, the comedy pitch-perfect. Working within a tight budget, you can see Akerman using everything she can to get in the razzle-dazzle of ‘80s musicals – her meticulous and precise framing transforming her small soundstage into an expansive shopping mall set-piece. And as light and fluffy and the film first appears, Akerman infuses the narrative with a stinging critique on capitalism and the constant movement toward expansion as every chance for human connection is interrupted by customers and the business of commerce. Add to this a sense that the men in this film are all callow dreamers filled with empty promises, and you have Akerman using the musical form for a pointed political commentary wrapped up in surprisingly sweet confection.

Where to Watch

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

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

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

Mother (1996) | Directed by Albert Brooks

 4.5/5

Albert Brooks’s Mother begins by making you think you’re watching the story of a middle-aged writer learning to cope with his overbearing mother, but by the time of the movie ends, Brooks has so quietly and subtly shifted our perspective that we barely realize until the credits roll we’ve been meant to identify with the mother all along. It’s an incredible magic trick of narrative storytelling and a stroke of genius that subverts our expectations for these male, mid-life crisis comedies and turns so many of the genres sexist tropes on their head. As is so often the case, Brooks allows himself to play a character who thinks he’s the smartest and most self-enlightened person in the room – but by the end we see just how shallow, selfish, and deluded he really is. It’s a delightful comedy that, like so much of Brooks’s work, has much more going on than its surface would lead you to believe.

Rebels of the Neon God (1992) | Directed by Tsai Ming-liang

 4.5/5

Tsai Ming-liang’s Rebels of the Neon God is an absolutely mesmerizing story of disaffected Taiwanese youth that combines elements of social realism with a French New Wave sensibility. But at the same time, Tsai maintains such a disciplined and almost formalistic use of framing and composition rather than the loose, free-flowing camerawork we’ve come to associate with “realism.” While so many films that echo New Wave sentiments end up making disaffection and alienation seem cool and aesthetically pleasing, Tsai shows the emptiness and desperation for what it is – a meager existence on the margins of society. It’s beautiful, haunting, and deeply moving in its exploration of isolation and loneliness. And there’s something incredibly powerful in its symbolism of young people adrift, searching for connection, turning to endless diversions in order to stem the rising tide of hopelessness.

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 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.