Movies I watched in November: Part 1

November was such a busy month for movies in the Pfeifer house that I'm splitting up the usual rundown into two parts. Part one includes two bits of cinematic Satanism, the usual black-and-white obscurities and not one but two movies seen in an actual theater...


This was a pretty solid 1968 Satanic shocker from director Terrence Fisher (also known as "The Devil Rides Out"). Christopher Lee plays the good guy this time around, with the head devil worshipper played by Charles Gray, who a few years later would map out the dance steps to the "Time Warp" in "Rocky Horror Picture Show." The movie is so very, very British, but it's also genuinely unnerving, with a real feeling of Things Man Is Not Meant To Know. Good devil makeup, too.

This 1958 John Ford political drama was part of TCM's election-related package, and though it was filmed just a few years before other political films like "The Best Man" and "Advise and Consent," it feels like something from an earlier, cornier era. Spencer Tracy (of course) plays the beloved mayor of a New England town, and the Irish blarney is laid on a little too thick for my tastes. John Ford packs the film with quirky, "loveable" characters, and the big twist ending feels a little too pat and perfect. Nice cast though -- besides Tracy, you've got Pat O'Brien, John Carradine, Jeffrey Hunter, Frank McHugh and Basil Rathbone.
                         
Interesting little thriller that I recorded for the Peter Lorre factor but still enjoyed even though Lorre only appears in a pair of short scenes. Instead, the film focuses on a reporter (John McGuire) whose testimony sends an innocent man to death row (Elisha Cook Jr., twitchy as always) and then finds himself suspected of murder himself. Lots of interesting life-in-1940 scenes between the reporter and his fiancee, and the entire film comes to a stop midway through for one of the most mind-blowing dream sequences I've ever seen. It shows up every so often on TCM -- check it out!
                       

One of the last discs to stagger in on the free movie gravy train of my late, lamented column, this documentary by Danish journalist Mads Brugger follows Mads as he obtains credentials as a European ambassador to Africa for the unspoken but understood-by-all purpose of cashing in on the lucrative (and potentially lethal) blood diamond trade. It's a fascinating look inside a scary, morally adrift side of life few people ever see. Give it to Mads, the man has some serious balls.

Though it asks the same question  as the "Toy Story" movies -- what do playthings do when they're not being played with? -- this Disney (not Pixar) film is aimed at a slightly older audience, namely one that knows what the heck an "arcade" is. The genius move of the film was casting the great John C. Reilly as the sad sack title character, and though the movie drags in the middle (too much time playing Sugar Rush, if you ask me), it looks great, packs in a lot of solid jokes and delivers the sort of self-empowerment message you want from this sort of movie. 
                   

I love James Bond movies, but this is one of the only times I watched the end credits roll and thought, "Wow. That was a real movie." Director Sam Mendes keeps things clipping along at just the right pace, and cinematographer Roger Deakins makes it all look beautiful. Plus, Daniel Craig -- a solid actor -- actually has a story with some genuine emotional heft, and, as a bonus, we even get to bid farewell to the Aston Martin DB5 (with modifications). Speaking of those modifications, when Bond and company were gathering up all their weapons for the final siege, I kept thinking "I hope someone remembers there a machine guns behind the headlights." Thankfully, someone did.

Inspired by this post by Richard Harland Smith over at TCM's Movie Morlocks page, I wound up watching "Ghost Catchers," a movie I'd never seen despite my love of Olsen & Johnson's fourth-wall-shattering comedy/musical "Hellzapoppin'." This 1944 film doesn't hit those dizzying heights of absurdity, but it is a lot of fun, with a couple of crazy dance numbers and some truly strange visions (including the very disturbing man crying like a baby the TCM article mentions). Trouble is, all these Olsen & Johnson movies are very tough to find, especially in the states. Hey, Criterion -- how about an Eclipse collection of these forgotten oddities? Hell, I'd buy one!

Another movie inspired by an intriguing write-up, this time around coming from Bill Landis' "Sleazoid Express" book . Also known as "An Eye For An Eye," this 1973 no-budget chiller focuses on a children's TV host who brings murderous justice to parents who abuse their kids. There's a potentially powerful movie to be made from that premise, but unfortunately, this ain't it. The script is lifeless, the direction is awful (though, admittedly, I was watching a nth-generation dupe) and the performances are lackluster. If it weren't for a bit of mild gore and the generally sleazy tone of the whole thing, I'd swear this was a made-for-TV movie ... except, frankly, it never even reaches that level of basic competence.

Ah, now this is more like it. A great film that manages to be both funny and creepy, often at the same time. That other big devil movie of the era, "The Exorcist," is fine, but it pretty much beats its audience into being scared with loud noises, child abuse and, of course, a heady brew of pea soup puke and blasphemy. "Rosemary's Baby," on the other hand, gently lures you down the path until, by the time you realize it's too late, everyone you know is a Satanist and your baby's in a black crib with an upside-down cross hanging over it. "To 1966! The Year One!"

Next time: Nine more movies, including an Oscar contender, a murder mystery set in an aquarium and possibly the most depressing double feature of all time.