Lost in Criterion

Michael Ritchie's directorial debut is one of the greatest sports films to ever come out of Hollywood, second only to Ritchie's later Bad News Bears.

A spiritual successor to the works of Francesco Rosi, in content if not style, Matteo Garrone's 2008 film Gomorrah takes a look at the modern state of organized crime in Naples. Filmed on location in the real life places the portrayed crimes take place, and with non-professional actors who would go on to serve prison time for their involvement in real life crimes, Gomorrah shows us the all-too-common story of those ground up and left behind by capitalism.

Arnaud Desplechin's 2008 A Christmas Tale wears its influences on its sleeve and meshes them into a cohesive whole, but perhaps an overly-full whole. There's a lot going on here, and clearly the version we're seeing was meant to have even more going on.

We loved the last Costa-Gavras film we saw, and we love this one. Z (1969) is a story pulled from the headlines of the director’s homeland of Greece that takes a hard look at police alignment with far-right politics and the disastrous results oh letting that power go unchecked.

Wim Wenders Wings of Desire is one of the most arthousey arthouse films we've seen since our last Jean Cocteau, but this one has Peter Falk and is thus much more accessible.

We finish up the "And Seven Short Films" included on the Monsoon Wedding release with the four fiction shorts included: The Day the Mercedes Became a Hat (1993), her section of the 11'09'01 anthology (2002), Migration (2007), and How Can it Be? (2008).
They are an interesting mix of Nair's work made under a variety of political impetuses. 

According to the cover, the title of Criterion Spine 489 is Monsoon Wedding and Seven Short Films, and we're being extra completionist by dedicating two episodes for covering the Seven Short Films. This week it's the three documentary shorts: So Far from India (1983), India Cabaret (1985), and The Laughing Club of India (2002).

Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding is a fantastic look at family at a few crossroads in an India at a few national crossroads of its own. And as if the movie itself weren’t enough, the Criterion Collection packs this release with seven other shorter pieces from Nair, which we’ll be covering in the coming weeks.

James Ivory’s adaptation o the E. M. Forster novel, Howard’s End is a star-studded, period-accurate recreation of a Britain in transition from patriarchal colonialism to kindler, gentler, female-inclusive neoliberal colonialism. It actually doesn’t deal with the colonialism all that directly, but we still see the failings of the new order in regards to class equality, how a even a little power can corrupt and how charity isn’t justice.

Alexander Korda’s 1941 biopic of Emma Hamilton and her love affair with Horatio Nelson doubles as an attempt to convince the US to enter World War 2. Korda almost faced a Congressional inquiry for this act of propaganda, but Pearl Harbor happened five days before he was to appear. As far as pro-war propaganda goes, this is possibly the worst we’ve encountered in the Collection, which would explain why it’s Winston Churchill’s favorite movie.

The Criterion Collection was kind enough to give us a David Mamet film previously so that we could establish our distaste for him before diving into the complicated and delicate political and racial identity issues at the heart of Homicide. I doubt we threaded the needle we were trying to thread here.

Honestly, it's hard to remember that Whit Stillman's ode to the yuppies who killed disco is a period piece. One because there's very little in the main characters that feel of the time period the movie is set in, but also because the moneyed class gentrifying neighborhoods and cultural movements out of existence is a perennial problem.

New Year New You

In Chantal Akerman’s 1975 meticulous look at domestic life, Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, her protagonist makes some changes. Maybe we all should.

After many years we finally see another Roman Polanski film and maybe moving forward it would be best if we don't watch the bonus features that contain interviews with Roman Polanski, who always seems to come off as a misogynistic jerk. Repulsion itself is a pretty good thriller, technically, though it would be better if we felt that the filmmaker wanted us to be sympathetic to the main character at all.

For this year's Holiday Special we come to the saint of "movies that incidentally take place at Christmas" Shane Black. Black wrote The Long Kiss Goodnight before taking a long break from screenwriting. Renny Harlin directs, and he's no stranger to holiday-adjacent action fare having also directed Die Harder.

Joining us this year are Stephen G. and Ben JW, and Ben makes a compelling argument that this is Shane Black's most actual Christmas movie. Whether or not that's true, it's ridiculous.

In 1967 Jean-Luc Godard was like any modern young Marxist: blaming all of life’s ills on consumerism, blaming consumerism on America, yelling at his old friends for being bourgeoisie, getting into public debates with people who know his side better than he does, dating teenagers…but those young Marxists are usually college sophomores and Godard was 37. But like any good leftist unwilling to read theory, he eventually got a friend who wasn’t and could explain it to him, his in the form of Jean-Pierre Gorin. But before he and Gorin started working together, Godard had a few more things to work out and he decided to do so publicly. 2 0r 3 Things I Know About Her is just one of the half dozen or so films he made while in this ideological flux, all of which are more interesting for the meta-commentary they offer us on Godard’s mind than for being good movies.

In the mid 1960's Jean-Luc Godard was going through a lot: his politics were changing, his marriage to Anna Karina was ending, and he was becoming more and more disillusioned with US cultural hegemony. So he made a lot of movies about it, and this is the most scattershot one: Made in USA .

We finish up Masaki Koboyashi's The Human Condition and need some extra time to talk about both the third movie and the work as a whole. After nearly 2 hours talking it out we're left unconvinced that this is an anti-war movie let alone the best Japanese anti-war movie, unless you thinly define "anti-war" as "anti-the WW2 Japanese war machine". How disheartening.

In part two of Masaki Koboyashi's epic The Human Condition our main character for some reason decides that being a good soldier who sticks to the word of the regulations will somehow make things better for him in a war he claims he fundamentally disagrees with. That's right, the politics get even murkier in Road to Eternity.

We start into Masaki Koboyashi's epically faithful adaptation of Junpei Gomikawa's six volume examination of Japan in World War 2 through the lens of a man who generally opposes war, or at least militarism, played by the great Tatsuya Nakadai.

The Human Condition is, in total, just shy of 10 hours long. But it's helpfully broken up into three films (each containing two sections) released between January 1959 and January 1961. We'll be similarly breaking down Spine 480 into three episodes.

We've seen a lot of great Louis Malle films in the Collection, and now we get one more. A very long conversation about art or something, and while it is itself quite good, we're very interested in the peripherals film about class.

Alain Resnais's Last Year at Marienbad is an obviously influential movie that's nearly impossible to describe. Adam thinks it's a ghost story. Pat thinks it's an examination of the epistemological crisis. Both or neither are probably true. Truth is a game, and the game is rigged against you.

First released in 2004 as a series of television episodes, then recut into a feature length film for 2006, Marie Nyreröd’s Bergman Island is an intimate portrait of director Ingmar Bergman looking back on his life just after his final retirement from film making, and just a few years before his death.

It's our first David Fincher film in the Collection and what a choice. A tour du force of special effects that do not hold up, Benjamin Button updates and elongates the F. Scott Fitzgerald short story into whatever this is.

Nothing like a gangster movie to get us talking about the alienation and the lack of community under capitalism. But beside (and because of) that, this is just such a fantastically bleak movie. Peter Yates directs Robert Mitchum and Peter Boyle in The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973).