Will Pfeifer's Blog, page 3

Movies I Watched in May, the Extremely Late Edition

Well, this is just embarrassing. Even by the completely lax standards I've established on this blog (Do blogs still exist anymore? Does this one?), this so-called recap of May movies is beyond overdue, it being mid-July and all. At this point, it might be more appropriate to wait until May 2020 rolls around, but I have some perverse dedication to document all my movie viewing, and if I'm going to write it, I'll make sure that someone out there can read it.

So, without further ado (seeing that there's obviously been about a month and a half of ado already), here's a bite-sized, non-attention-span-demanding summing up of what I saw more than 40 days ago. Many of these movies deserve more words (and more respect), but at this point, I need to get something in writing or my fading memories will disappear completely. And, as always, I apologize, to the filmmakers, you readers and to cinema in general.


Somehow missed this one in the theater, though it's right up my violence-craving alley. Keanu is great in his minimalist way, and the movie manages to be a lot of fun without making much sense. Now I just need to catch those sequels...


Watched it right after "John Wick" (what a cordite-scented, blood-soaked night at the movies that was.) It's great, of course, simple and direct, just like the comic that inspired it. I've seen it a bunch of times, and I have no doubt I'll see it a bunch more.


Bizarre, disturbing 1979 drama about a repressed schoolteacher (Anne Heywood) who gets involved in a bizarre, disturbing relationship with a janitor in 1956 Kansas. I'd never heard of it until the fine folks at Vinegar Syndrome released it a few years back, and it's a wonder it was ever released, either in 1979 or in 2019. The fact that it's well acted, smartly written and sensitively filmed only makes it that much more unnerving.


My candidate for best doc of the year so far, a fascinating and oddly inspiring film about the almost completely forgotten musical productions corporations used to produce to hype their products and inspire their sales teams. Based on a  book by former Letterman writer Steve Young  (also highly recommended), it's shot with real imagination by Dava Whisenant. Best of all, it's on Netflix now. You have no reason not to watch it immediately -- and I can't imagine anyone not enjoying it.


Not only one of my favorite movies, one of the greatest, funniest, most energetic comedies ever made. Full of hilarious moments big (that chase!) and small (John Goodman touching a chicken leg to his temple as he makes a point), it somehow also manages to deliver an ending that brings a lump to my throat every single time.


Entertaining documentary about semi-legendary director Larry Cohen (RIP 2019), the man behind "Q: The Winged Serpent," "God Told Me To," "Black Caesar" and other surprisingly effective cult classics. Cohen and his collaborators (Michael Moriarty and Fred "The Hammer" Williamson and others) are such great storytellers, and the stories themselves are go good, that "King Cohen" is much better than its otherwise standard doc format (film clip, talking head, film clip, talking head...) would indicate.


Believe it or not, I'd never, ever seen this movie, even when it was a huge hit in 1984 (and on video for years after). It's a lot of fun, with Michael Douglas playing a nice guy (before he really found his niche as the ultimate rich asshole) and Kathleen Turner great as the repressed (but not for long) romance novelist. Trivia note: If this hadn't been successful, odds are director Bob Zemeckis wouldn't have been allowed to make "Back to the Future" two years later.


Weird but fun little thriller about a Navy ballistics expert trying to avoid Nazi types on a ship back home to the good ol' U.S. of A. Director Norman Foster (with uncredited help from Orson Welles) generates a tense sense of claustrophobia, and Joseph Cotton is, of course, perfect in the lead as an all-American Joe. Released two years after "Citizen Kane," it's virtually a reunion of that film: Besides Cotton, you also get Ruth Warrick, Everett Sloane, Agnes Moorehead and Welles himself hamming it up as a Russian general.

Movies I Watched in April, Part 3

At long last...


I’ve been disappointed by some of the 1980s horror movies I’ve re-watched recently (I’m looking at you, “Creepshow” and “Silver Bullet”), so when Amy suggested we introduce the kid to 1985’s “Fright Night,” I didn’t have the highest of hopes. I saw it in the theater way back when, but the most memorable part of that evening was the sneak preview of “Return of the Living Dead” that played afterwards. Still, with nothing better to watch, I fired up the Amazon Prime and returned to that timeless (and recently remade) tale of a kid who discovers his neighbor is, in fact, a vampire.  And, thankfully, not only did it hold up, it was better – much better – than I had remembered. Maybe it was just that “Return of the Living Dead,” with all its nasty humor, copious gore and naked Linnea Quigley, made “Fright Night” look like pretty tame stuff, but whatever the reason, I missed just how clever and well made it is. The plot is simple: Charley (William Brewster) realizes his new neighbor (Chris Sarandon) is a vampire, and no one believes him (of course). Together with his girlfriend (Amanda Bearse) and pal (Stephen Geoffreys), he contacts ex-actor and current horror movie host Peter Vincent (a perfectly cast Roddy McDowall), and they try to defeat the ultra smooth bloodsucker next door. Like I said, it’s a by-the-numbers story, but writer/director Tom Holland (not the current Spider-Man, another guy) includes plenty of smart twists and stages the whole thing in an unpretentious but impressive way. Best of all, and I cannot stress this enough, Sarandon is great as “Jerry Dandrige,” bringing humor, charm and a genuine sense of menace to the role. If you haven’t seen this in decades (like me) or haven’t seen it at all (like my kid), by all means give it a look. Take it from me – it’s miles better than just about any other ‘80s horror movie you would otherwise be watching.

And here we are, at the end of a journey that began more than a decade ago, when Marvel couldn’t get the movie rights to the X-Men, Spider-Man or the Fantastic Four, and instead had to make do with a bunch of second bananas like Iron Man, Captain America, the Hulk and Thor. I haven’t seen every one of these movies (sorry first Hulk, first two Thors, second Iron Man and first Captain Marvel), but I’ve seen enough of them (and I’ve written enough comic books myself) to know that merely reaching this finale, let alone creating something that manages to be both coherent and entertaining, is an impressive feat. So congratulations to the millions and millions of people involved. You did well. Now take a rest.
Since “Avengers Endgame” is well on its way to claiming the all-time box office crown, I’m assuming most of you have seen it, so I won’t go into any sort of detailed recap. Instead, I’ll share a few things I liked. Spoilers abound, so beware:
      I liked the beginning, both with its quick, brutal victory over Thanos and the twist that victory really didn’t change anything. Thanos is a fairly extraordinary villain, a mass murderer who somehow, against all odds, manages to be someone we can (sort of) identify with. In this movie, after he accomplished his goal of wiping out literally half the universe, he didn’t move on to some new grand plan, he retired to a distant planet to raise crops and seemed to sadly welcome the death that the Avengers (specifically Thor) were happy to bring him.
         I liked “fat Thor,” and didn’t think he was a cheap joke. Sure, there were laughs during his first appearance in New Asgard, but he was st heart a tragic figure, shattered at what had happened that he, a genuine god, couldn’t fix. His scenes with his mother on (actual) Asgard were touching, but even better was the moment when he was telling some story and couldn’t keep it straight, and Iron Man gently told him it was OK. All that struggle made his eventual rebirth in the big battle (including a moment I’ll get to in a second) all the more rewarding.
      I liked all the time travel – and why not? I’m a big fan of “Back to the Future II,” where Marty returns to the first movie (something that blew my mind when I first saw it), and in “Endgame” our heroes return to the scene of several movies, with Cap even having a battle with his younger, less cynical self. It all worked for me: the “Hail, Hydra,” Tony reconciling with his dad, Banner talking with the Ancient One, Thor getting Mjolnir back and Cap observing that, he does in fact have “America’s ass.” The fact that it barely makes any sense makes it all even more fun, I’d argue.
      And, above all, I loved the moment when – with Thanos seemingly triumphant, all odds against our heroes and death and doom mere moments away – Thor sees Mjolnir fly past him, turns around and sees what we all knew we’d eventually see: Captain America holding his hammer. His expression as he shouts “I KNEW IT” is the wonderful punchline of a joke that was set up four years earlier, and if it’s not the sort of joke that makes you laugh, it’s definitely the sort that brings a big smile to your face. The audience I saw it with on opening weekend went bananas at that moment, and it was a great feeling to be among them. Corny? Sure, but it’s exactly the sort of goofy, glorious, oddly powerful moment you want from a movie like this.
      And I loved the immediate aftermath, too. Falcon says to Cap “On your left,” and Cap – and you – realize that this means the ones who vanished are coming back – every single one of them. With “Avengers: Infinity War” ending on such a bleak note, you knew they’d redeem it with an over-the-top victorious moment in this one, and with the heroes popping back and Cap saying “Avengers, assemble!,” that’s exactly what they did.
So what didn’t I like? Well, I thought the meaningless scene of all the female heroes gathering as one for no apparent reason was more than a little forced, and, speaking of forced, I thought the almost random appearances of Captain Marvel made virtually no sense. (If she’s that powerful, why wasn’t she always part of the action? This, after all, was a mission to SAVE THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. Or, half of it anyway.) It would have been nice if Black Widow’s sacrifice could’ve had more time and attention paid to it, and though I know this is a cosmic level battle requiring all the firepower that can be mustered, I prefer Spider-Man in his own, simple costume. All that Stark-tech gets away from his scrappy, friendly neighborhood essence.
One more thing I liked that I haven’t seen anyone mention, maybe because it’s such a subtle moment in the midst of all the chaos: When Tony snaps his fingers and the missing universe is restored, there’s a sound of birds chirping, which we haven’t heard for the entire movie. Now that’s something a lesser superhero movie wouldn’t even consider. And that’s why I think the Marvel movies, at their best, are really special. They remember that the big moments work best when contrasted with the small ones.

Comics-Related Things I Own That Are Not, In Fact, Comics

I missed the deadline for contributing to this post that asked "Name Five Things You Own That Are Not Comics But Are Related To Comics" on Tom Spurgeon's always worth-a-look Comics Reporter site, but since I have this blog that's otherwise not doing much, why not post my answers here? And since it's my blog, why not go way beyond Tom's entirely sensible five-item limit?

Why not indeed?



OK Cola Can



Killraven Slurpee Cup (signed)


Jimmy Olsen Slurpee Cup (unsigned)


Composite Superman Action Figure



1950 Batmobile



Clark Kent figure


Creem Magazine with Marvel Comics cover story (written by Mike Baron!)



Daily Planet Spinner Thing

Movies I Watched in April, Part 2

Picking up where we left off...


Watched this one for an upcoming episode of the Plain Label Podcast with my pal Eric Williams, though, to be honest, I don’t need much of an excuse to revisit one of my favorite movies of all time. I consider it the best courtroom drama ever made, not because it’s so entertaining (though it definitely is), but because it’s surprisingly honest about the way the law works. Our hero, Jimmy Stewart, is defending Ben Gazzara, who is accused of killing the man who raped his wife (Lee Remick). Thing is, we – and, for that matter, Stewart and his legal team – don’t know what really happened, aside from the fact that a man is dead and Gazzara’s character killed him. Remick may have been raped, or she might have had consensual sex. She might have got that black eye from the deceased, or she might have got it from Gazzara. And that’s just for starters. But unlike lesser, cornier courtroom drama, Stewart’s job isn’t to uncover the truth or acheive justice – it’s to get his client acquitted, pure and simple. The prosecuting attorney (George C. Scott, amazingly young) is so slick you assume he’s the villain, but he’s just doing his job, like Stewart, and just like Stewart, he might be right or wrong about what actually happened. That makes “Anatomy of a Murder” sound like a dark, clinical examination of truth and the law, but it’s actually just the opposite – it’s a fast-paced, fully realized drama with plenty of laughs, surprises and plot twists. Plus, director Otto Preminger assembled a murderer’s row (hardy har har) of actors to bring this (fact-based) tale to life: Stewart, Scott, Remick, Gazzara, Eve Arden, Arthur O’Connell, Orson Bean, Murray Hamilton, Howard McNear (Floyd the Barber!), Duke Ellington (who wrote the incredible score and has a cameo) and Joseph Welch, the man who in real life brought down Joe McCarthy! Whew!


Speaking of fact-based, here’s a good (but not great) movie about Lee Israel (Melissa McCarthy), a struggling-bordering-on-failed author who stumbles onto a clever money-making scheme: Given her knowledge of (a) dead authors and (b) forgery, she’ll create signed notes and letters from famous folks and sell them to bookstores and antique dealers, thus earning money to pay her rent and veterinarian bills. Along the way, she meets a dedicated drunk played by Richard E. Grant, who becomes her accomplice in fraud. The plot isn’t exactly the tightest one I’ve ever seen – things just sort of happen until it all goes wrong, which is what we were expecting all along, anyway. But the interplay between McCarthy and Grant is top-notch, the sort of effortless acting you don’t see enough these days, especially from traditionally comic performers taking a temporary serious detour. Also, director Marielle Heller and her crew recreate early 1990s New York in refreshingly low-key way, not shoving the era in your face but reminding you that this took place in a long-ago era when you couldn’t check an autograph with a quick internet search.


I teased this movie at the end of the last post, calling it “one of the greatest comedies in the history of film,” and I stand by that statement. Sure, it’s the sort of film everyone from half-bombed goofballs to suburban dads quote endlessly, but you can’t just a cinema classic by the audience that loves it. (And at various times in my life, I’ve been a proud member of both groups.) “This is Spinal Tap, which is 35 years old this year (!) is more than just a spoof of the heavy metal lifestyle. It’s that, of course, and a damn good one, but it’s also (a) the story of two aging friends, (b) a technically perfect fake documentary and (c) a collection of some genuinely solid songs. That last one is especially key, because there’s a lot of music in “Spinal Tap,” and if it weren't enjoyable to listen to, audiences would've bail long before the end credits (and Nigel’s story of working in a haberdashery) roll. See, the joke in “Spinal Tap” is that the band members are idiots, not incompetent. The musicians (and the actors who bring them to life) can sing, play their instruments and write catchy songs, which means tunes like “Hellhole,” “Big Bottoms” and “Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight” manage to be both fun and sharply satirical. And the fact that they mock not just mid-80s heavy metal but also Beatles-esque pop and flower-powered folk helps make “Spinal Tap” the movie a credible portrait of Spinal Tap the band. There’s so much detail that the group’s fake history is fully fleshed out, and the inevitable re-viewings are always rewarded with new observations and laughs. My favorite joke from this most recent rewatch? Band manager Ian telling the group not to worry about the Boston gig being cancelled because “It’s not a big college town.”

Up next: We finally wrap up April with an '80s horror flick that holds up surprisingly well and the box office champ of the year -- and possibly, eventually ... all time.

Movies I Watched in April, Part 1

OK, it’s late, I’m lazy, and blogs are done. But despite all that, here’s the first part of the recap of the movies I watched way back in April. Enjoy?

Showed this one to Allie after Amy and I watched the first episode of the (also excellent) FX TV show. Holds up beautifully, delivering a combination of hilarious comedy and surprising, low-key warmth (with well-staged gore and a handful of dirty jokes as a bonus). I wasn’t kidding when I said on some social media platform recently that it’s my favorite vampire movie.

As a big fan of (a) Jordan Peele’s debut effort, “Get Out” (it made my best of list for 2017) and the trailer for this movie (it made my “lookingforward to” list a couple of months ago), I knew this was one I wanted to see (a) on the big screen and (b) unspoiled. And I loved it, even more than “Get Out.” I heard criticism online that when you break down the story and think about it logically, it really doesn’t make sense, and I can’t argue with that. But as a counterargument, I’d point out that the primary goal of horror movies isn’t to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle upon reflection, it’s to terrify you while you’re watching it. And from the opening credits, with all those unexplained rabbits, to that last twisty revelation, I was in 100 percent. To me, “Us” works as a family comedy, a social drama, a home invasion thriller and, finally a mind-blowing, semi-surreal apocalyptic nightmare. It looks great, it’s creepy as hell and the cast is top-notch across the board, playing what essentially amount to dual roles. (Lupita Nyong’o is especially strong, but in a much smaller role, I want to highlight how Tim Heidecker manages to play his classic “asshole” character as both a joke and as a genuinely scary threat.) Cannot wait to watch this one again.

I don’t know what’s going on in Tom Cruise’s personal life at any given moment (apparently he’s involved in some sort of religion?), but I can always rely on the guy to deliver everything he can when it comes to his movies. I think “Mission: Impossible Fallout” is one of the best action movies of the last decade (at least), and “Edge of Tomorrow” is one movie that I will watch anytime it happens to be on and wind up thoroughly entertained. I’d heard good things about this 2017 fact-based portrait of an all-American drug runner, so when it showed up on Cinemax, I gave it a look. Not great, but not half-bad either. It wears its influences pretty blatantly on its sleeve (“Goodfellas,” “Boogie Nights,” “The Wolf of Wall Street”) but manages to put enough spin on them to make the movie worth a look. Best of all, it takes Cruise’s megawatt charm and turns it into some sort of satirical point, showing Barry Seal as a guy who’s either too confident or too oblivious to realize how dangerous his occupation really is. Nice period vibe throughout, and bonus points for finding a role for Domhnall Gleason, the man who is in every single movie made these days. Well, almost.
Up next: A genuine courtroom classic, a modern forgery drama and one of the greatest comedies in the history of film.

Movies I Watched in March, Part 2

Better late than... oh, what the hell. Here's the rest of the March recap....


Like I’ve said before, Edward G. Robinson is my all-time favorite actor. The man had an amazing career, stretching from the late 1920s to the early 1970s, and though he’s mostly remembered for playing gangsters, his range was stunning, including everything from sea captains to scientists, Wisconsin farmers to post-apocalyptic senior citizens. But, alas, that doesn’t mean every movie he made was great – which brings us to “The Man with Two Faces.” This 1934 movie does has an intriguing premise: actress Jessica Welles is under the creepy, possibly hypnotic spell of her weasel husband, Vance, and it’s up to her talented actor brother, David, to free her. He accomplishes this by creating another identity, which he uses to trap (and eventually murder) the husband. It also has an impressive cast: Besides Robinson in (of course), the dual role, you’ve got Mary Astor as the sister, Louis Calhern (a year after “Duck Soup”) as the husband, plus Mae Clarke, Ricardo Cortez and a selection of vintage character actors. But for some reason, the whole thing never quite adds up to the level of entertainment it should be. Maybe the story (based on a play by George S. Kaufman and Alexander Woollcott) is both too complicated and too slow. Or maybe it’s the fact that the censors insisted Robinson be punished for his crime, even though the movie spends its entire running time making the case that Vance deserves to die for the good of humanity. Whatever the reason, I barely remembered what the hell happened a few minutes after switching off the TV. Worth a look for Robinson completists (like yours truly), but he has better movies on his resume. Much better.

Thanks to the godsend that is Turner Classic Movies, I’m able to make a surprisingly deep dive into the career of actor Joe E. Brown, a guy who was hugely popular back in the 1930s but is barely remembered today, except maybe for his supporting (but still very funny) performance in Billy Wilder’s “Some Like It Hot.” There he plays a somewhat befuddled old man, but back in the early 1930s, Brown was an energetic, imaginative comic force of nature, bringing a real sense of lunacy to his movies. This one, which was released back in 1932, is one of his most entertaining. Brown plays Calvin Jones, a gen-you-wine cowboy who stumbles into New York City with a wad of cash, which attracts some shifty producers who con him into investing in their flop of a play.  Jones refuses to give up, though, and buys the play himself, bringing it to the stage despite the efforts of the con men and a group of gangsters. “The Tenderfoot” starts out wild and stays at that level for the entire film. When Jones arrives in a New York eatery, he greats a group of “cowboys” at the counter only to discover they are a group of, ahem, “pansy” actors in a nearby show. (It’s the sort of gag you’d only see in an old movie, thankfully.) Then he bounces back and forth between getting suckered by the con men and turning the tables, taking time in the middle to woo their good-at-heart secretary, played by a young Ginger Rogers. By the end, he has the entire cast of the (modern-set) play in Shakespeare garb, and he’s running down the streets of (fake) Manhattan, firing his six guns to bring the badguys to justice. Plus, as a bonus, the cowboy hat he wears features multiple swastikas on its band, prominently displayed. (It was only 1932, and the ancient symbol hadn’t been completely co-opted by the Nazi party just yet.)

I loved the 2014 movie “Nightcrawler,” which starred Jake Gyllenhaal and was written and directed by Dan Gilroy, so I was looking forward to their followup, the Netflix movie “Velvet Buzzsaw,” which promised to apply that same dark sense of humor to the Los Angeles art world. Well, I’m sure you can guess where this is going. Despite some interesting ideas, a strong cast and a few memorable visuals, “Velvet Buzzsaw” is a big disappointment, delivering the same tired ideas about modern art (It’s all about money! Artists are assholes! Agents are bigger assholes!) wrapped up in a tale of some sort of supernatural mumbo jumbo involving an unknown artists who used blood (egads!) in his paintings. It’s the sort of movie that thinks it’s much edgier than it really is, and all the CGI, which is well done for the most part, feels corny and gimmicky. By the end of the movie, where one character’s tattoo (which exists because, you know, she used to be so “punk rock”) starts moving and drawing blood, I was desperately wishing I was watching “Art School Confidential” instead. Now there’s a dark, smart comedy about modern art – and it also co-stars John Malkovich!

Movies I Watched in March, Part 1

Here you go, cinema aficianados, the March recap arriving right under the wire...


I just finished reading Brian Raftery's "Best. Movie. Year. Ever," a very entertaining look at the amazing selection of films that arrived in theaters in 1999. Raftery naturally (and rightly) focuses plenty of attention on "The Sixth Sense," "The Matrix" and other big hits from that year, but he thankfully (and also rightly) spends some time with smaller films, including this gem from Steven Soderbergh. It's a small-scale but perfectly realized examination of the legacy of the 1960s that (a) manages to avoid all the usual baby boomer rah-rah-ism and (b) works as both an entertaining mystery and an emotionally powerful tale of loss. Terence Stamp (Sixties Icon #1) plays Wilson, an aging but still dangerous Brit who travels to Los Angeles to find out what happened to his estranged daughter, last seen in the company of record exec Peter Fonda (Sixties Icon #2). Soderbergh, editor Sarah Flack and cinematographer Ed Lachman turn Lem Dobb's twisty script into an even-more twisty, hypnotic viewing experience, with the time frame jumping back and forth (including scenes of a young Stamp from the 1967 movie "Poor Cow" repurposed as flashbacks) and Los Angeles becoming almost otherworldly. It was never the hit that Soderbergh's other movies managed to be, but it's at least as good. Probably better, in fact.


Holy shit. I'll be honest -- I avoided this movie for a bit, mostly because I somehow got the idea it was going to be nothing but misery porn, an excruciating journey into one family's tragedy. Thankfully, while avoiding the movie itself, I also managed to avoid spoilers, which let me go in cold and enjoy (is that the right word?) an excellent film that was, yes, an excruciating journey into one family's tragedy, but also so much more. I'm not going to spoil the plot here -- after watching  the movie unspoiled myself, I wouldn't think of it -- but if you're looking for a movie that's intelligent, powerful and consistently surprising (right up until the final shot, in fact), you need to watch this. But brace yourself. It's a rough ride. And the fact that Toni Collette didn't even get a nomination for her jaw-dropping performance is proof that the Oscars are worthless.


"Nightmare in Chicago" is a very obscure but nonetheless spellbinding 1964 TV movie about a serial killer being chased through the Chicagoland toll roads. Sounds goofy; works beautifully. It's surprisingly intense, and all the authentic (and authentically vintage) Chicago locations are fascinating all by themselves. Plus, check out this cast: Ted Knight, Charles McGraw, Carroll O'Connor, Philip Abbott (as the killer) and Robert Ridgely, with direction by -- wait for it -- Robert Altman. It originally aired as an episode of NBC's "Kraft Suspense Theater," but it's so intense and captivating it would've worked beautifully as a big-screen movie. (Bonus points for mentioning my own city of Rockford.) Sound intriguing? Want to watch it? Click here . (And special credit goes to the great Kliph Nesteroff for uncovering this on his excellent tumblr site. )

Up next: An Edward G. Robinson classic, a Joe E. Brown oddity and the latest from the guys who brought you "Nightcrawler" (the movie, not the mutant ... or the worm).

Movies I Watched in February, Part 2

Hey, look at that! Another installment already! If you didn't know better, you'd think I had to hurry this up and get out of town this weekend or something...

Spoilers ahead, so beware…
I still remember the genuine (albeit geeky) tingle that went up my spine when M. Night Shyamalan’s “Split” ended with a glimpse of Bruce Willis, (a) revealing that it was actually a stealth sequel to “Unbreakable” and (b) hinting that a sequel might be in the works. Well now that sequel has arrived in the form of “Glass,” and my reaction this time around isn’t so much a geeky tingle as a somewhat amused, some confused smile at the way Shyamalan managed to deliver a super-hero epic that turned out to be anything but epic. For one thing, it's the talkiest super-hero ever made, with our three main characters – Willis’ heroic David Dunn, James McAvoy’s multi-minded Beast and Samuel L. Jackson’s Mr. Glass – yakking endlessly with psychiatrist Sarah Paulson, whether in their cells, in a group setting or when they’re outside, seemingly on the edge of an epic battle but falling back into endless, repetitive conversation. I’m not against talky movies, but Shyamalan, for all his other strengths, simply cannot write dialogue that sounds the least bit convincing, which is exactly what is needed in this film. That being said, I did love how Shyamalan deliberately (even cruelly) frustrates audience expectations. From almost the first frame of the movie, we learn that the tallest building in Philadelphia is having a grand opening soon, with plenty of  bigwigs and higher-ups in attendance. This is mentioned repeatedly, and eventually Mr. Glass and the Beast announce their plans to attack this event, teasing what’s bound to be a colossal, spectacular, super-powered conclusion to the movie. When the three men escape the hospital, we can actually see the building off in the distance, seemingly indicating that the battle is imminent. And then, instead, the entire fight takes place in a parking lot and our hero dies by drowning in (no kidding) a flooded pothole. Now that’s a twist ending! (There’s also another, larger (and goofier) twist that I won’t reveal here.) One more thing: It was really nice to see Spencer Treat Clark, who we last saw David Dunn’s young son in 2000’s “Unbreakable,” return in the same role, this time as a grown man. I would’ve liked to have seen more of the low-budget super-hero operation he and his dad had developed. A lot more.   

You’ve probably seen the black-and-white clip of BetteDavis, drunk to the gills, driving madly with an Oscar statue on her dashboard. Well, this is the movie that clip is from. Davis (two years after starring in 1950’s “All About Eve”) plays an aging actress struggling to find work. After hanging around outside an auction of her possessions and reassuring her teen daughter (Natalie Wood!) that she’s not a has been, she reunites with Sterling Hayden, a former actor she once gave a big break to. He’s quit showbiz and seems happy in his blue-collar life, and they fall in love. But when Davis gets a shot at a dowdy role in a new movie, she sexes herself up (well, relatively speaking) and tries instead to land the role of the ingenue, embarrassing herself and blowing her big shot. Will she return to young, hunky supportive Hayden? (What do you think?) “The Star” isn’t a bad movie, not exactly, and Davis definitely gives it her all, but it’s telling that two years after the release of THE classic movie about an aging actress, “Sunset Blvd.” that Hollywood still wasn’t able to portray itself in any sort of negative light. Everything here is blamed on Davis' character, who’s portrayed as delusional at best and insane at worst for trying to go against the rigid concepts of casting, then is forced to retreat to a life of domesticity. At least Norma Desmond got to kill someone at the end of her movie.

Speaking of Sterling Hayden, he had a good year in 1950, too, taking center stage in John Huston’s classic heist-gone-wrong story. It’s a wildly entertaining movie that you should absolutely watch, so I won’t spoil any of the fun here (except, I guess, to reveal that the heist goes wrong somehow). "The Asphalt Jungle" ticks by like a Swiss watch, and it has a cast that includes Sam Jaffe (Gunga Din himself!), Louis Calhern (Trentino from “Duck Soup”!) and in a small but memorable role, none other than Marilyn Monroe. The whole film boasts a compelling sense of desperation and doom, with the claustrophobia building in intensity once the jewels have been stolen and the dragnet tightens. Six years later, Hayden would be part of another heist in Stanley Kubrick’s “The Killing,”  and, spoiler alert, things wouldn’t go much better for him that time, either.  

Movies I Watched in February, Part 1

I slacked off on my movie watching last month, so this'll be the first of two short installments... 

Kicked off an '80s Scorsese double feature with this jet-black comedy about a horny schmuck (Griffin Dunne) who ventures out into Manhattan late one night and then. Just. Cannot. Get. Back. Home. Few movies – especially few comedies – manage to convey the strange vibe of an actual nightmare, but “After Hours” achieves this impressive (and unnerving) task, putting a never-ending series of weird, uncomfortable, just-this-side-of-believable obstacles in Dunne’s path. You’re torn between feeling for the poor guy’s plight and chuckling nervously about how it keeps getting worse and worse (and worse). The script (by Joseph Minion) is tight and tense, and Scorsese (with assistance from cinematographer Michael Ballhaus and editor Thelma Schoonmaker) delivers a once-of-a-kind viewing experience, but top marks here go to the mind-blowing cast: Rosanna Arquette, Teri Garr, Catherine O’Hara, Dick Miller, Bronson Pinchot, Cheech and Chong, Verna Bloom (Mrs. Wormer from “Animal House”), Linda Fiorentino, both of Scorsese’s parents and, with arguably the best performances, the late John Heard as a very tense bartender and Will Patton as, well, as …. Horst. The DVD extras propose a different, even more bizarre ending, but the one they chose is note perfect. One of the best of the 1980s, in fact.

Another black comedy from Scorsese, this one arguably even darker (and a hell of a lot more believable) than "After Hours" and featuring a hall of fame dramatic performance from none other than the late Mr. Jerry Lewis. He plays Jerry Langford, a Johnny Carson-esque talk show host who has the unfortunate luck of becoming the focus of Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro), a guy who not only wants to be famous, he believes he deserves to be famous, and he’ll do whatever it takes to step into the spotlight. Even the most grueling scenes of violence in “Taxi Driver” and “Casino” can’t match the sheer nerve-wracking qualities of this film, when Pupkin barges in on Jerry’s office and home and JUST WILL NOT TAKE THE HINT that he is not wanted. If you can stand it, though (and after years of “Seinfeld,” “Curb” and the British “The Office”, I think we’re all a bit more hardened to cringe-worthy entertainment than 1982 audiences were), it’s truly great filmmaking on every level. Keep an eye out, by the way, for members of The Clash.

Not great, but not terrible either, this slasher movie spin on “Groundhog Day” is at least imaginative enough to hold your interest for an hour-and-a-half, and though I’m not a huge fan of PG-13 horror movies, this one is innocuous enough (except for some slight sexual content and largely bloodless murders) to watch with your older kids, too. Bratty sorority chick Tree Gelbman (?) relives the day of her murder over and over, realizing eventually that (a) she can use her knowledge of the day to her advantage and (b) she’s got to actually find out who’s killing her to break the cycle. Obviously, it’s a LOT like “Groundhog Day,” right down to the fact that our hero becomes a much better person as she runs the cycle repeatedly. There are a couple nice twists and false endings to liven things up, and as Tree Gelbman (??), Jessica Rothe is genuinely fun to watch, bringing charisma and an offbeat sense of humor to the role. Worth a look.
Up next: M. Night Shyamalan returns to the well, Bette Davis drives drunk with an Oscar, and Sterling Hayden bets it all on one last heist. (No, the other movie where Sterling Hayden bets it all on one last heist.)

Movies I Watched in January, Part 3

I realize this is later than normal, breaking my own extremely lax (unspoken) rule of getting these things done before the ] month is over, but what can I say? I've been busy? Sure, let's go with that excuse. At any rate, here's the final recap for January 2019. With any luck (and a lot less laziness), February's blog posts should arrive before long (mostly because I didn't see many movies last month). So there's something to look forward to, along with this: I've got tentative plans for something interesting involving these movie reviews -- something that will free them from their bondage in cyberspace and unleash them on ... the real world!* Stay tuned...


A great 1997 David Mamet mind-bender that no one seems to remember, maybe because it hasn't been easily available on DVD or Blu-ray for years. But it's finally coming to blu-ray next month, and that announcement inspired me to uncover the fact that it's also available on demand via Showtime, so I figured "why wait" and fired it up. It was just as good as a remember, full of Mamet's signature twisty plotting, cool (make that cold) atmosphere and whip-smart sensibility. After seeing M. Night Shyamalan's "Glass" recently, I lamented his jaw-droppingly awful dialogue and wondered if he'd ever heard human being speak. Mamet's dialogue is no more naturalistic than Shyamalan's, true, but it works beautifully, creating a hypnotic rhythm that adds to the spell the movie casts. "The Spanish Prisoner" isn't as violent or brutal as some of Mamet's other movies (like, for instance, "House of Games" or "Homicide"), making it -- no kidding -- one virtually the whole family could watch, and something that wouldn't be out of place on Hitchcock's resume. I've deliberately avoided sharing the plot here, because this is definitely a film where the less you know going in the better, but I will share a few members of the cast to pique your interest: Campbell Scott, Ben Gazzara, Rebecca Pidgeon (who is, incidentally, Mamet's wife), Ed O'Neill, Fecility Huffman, the late (great) Ricky Jay and, in a mesmerizing, non-comedic performance, Steve Martin.



If you're an ex-journalist (like yours truly) or just want to remember how exciting the news business once was, I highly recommend this HBO documentary about two New York columnists -- Jimmy Breslin and Pete Hamill -- and the world they inhabited. Since the early 1960s, when Breslin established himself as a columnist, followed soon after by Hamill, these two guys covered the city in the smart-ass, hard-bitten, heartbroken style it deserved. Odie Henderson's doc covers their entire careers, including the fairly astonishing fact that they both helped tackle Sirhan Sirhan after he shot Robert Kennedy. Icons of the print world, they covered the guy-on-the-street better than virtually anyone else, but they also managed to live lives nothing like that average-Joe, with Hamill dating both Jackie Kennedy and Shirley MacLaine and Breslin attracting the attention of the Son of Sam killer, who reached out to him personally. Besides archival footage and relatively recent interviews (from 2015; Breslin died in 2017), the film includes plenty of examples of their writing, which is, after all, why they're still worth remembering today. And it's great stuff, too, still packing a punch after all these years. In fact, the highlight of the whole film might just be the story Breslin wrote after JFK's assassination, when he interviewed the African-American man who dug Kennedy's grave in Arlington. Does anyone write stories like that anymore?


Not sure why we watched this 2015 M. Night Shyamalan thriller, but I'm glad we did. It's goofy, it's silly and (like I said), the dialogue is distractingly awkward, but damned if I didn't have a fun time watching it -- and an even better time watching my daughter react to its "scary" moments. (The girl who shrugged off "The Shining" and "Jaws" screamed her way through this one.) When mom goes on a cruise, she drops her two teen kids off to stay with their grandparents, whom they've never met. Grandpa and grandma seem nice enough, then a little weird, then a little weirder, then... well, you get the idea. It's a simple story (fairly) well told, and the bizarre details (a pile of dirty diapers, an argument over what makes one a "Yahtzee Master") give the movie just the right underlying creepy tone. I could to without the younger kid's awful rapping or the sentimental coda that ties everything up, but when "The Visit" is cooking, it's a fun ride into some strange, dark corridors. And it's only PG-13, meaning you can feel free to terrify your child, too!


I've reviewed this corny 1958 John Ford political drama before, but TCM was re-running it, and I couldn't resist giving it another look. It's not great, but it has some great scenes, and Spencer Tracy is perfectly cast as the cagey, canny mayor running for one last election in a mythical all-American town. Tracy is so charming, in fact, that it takes a while to realize that he's actually a ruthless political boss with a long history of abusing the rules (and the people) to get what he wants. If you're an old movie fan like me, the main reason to watch "The Last Hurrah" is to experience the genuine Murderer's Row of character actors Ford was able to assemble to back up Tracy: Jeffrey Hunter, Pat O'Brien, Basil Rathbone, John Carradine, James Gleason, Edward Brophy, Jane Darwell, Ricardo Cortez, Wallace Ford, Frank McHugh, Frank Albertson and Ken Curtis. Whew.

Up next: "Groundhog Day" as a slasher movie and two Scorsese classics from the early 1980s.