Adventures in Film: February 2024

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (2001)

One of the first films that I have a memory of seeing as a young kid. Even though so many of the performances are wooden, the dialogue can be rickety as hell, and some of the effects have aged like milk, it still oozes with character, warmth and magic.

All These Women (1964)

This is the first film in the Ingmar Bergman's Cinema box set from Criterion that I haven't connected with. I think it largely comes down to the fact that I don't think Bergman had the chops for comedy at this stage in his career. To watch a feature length comedy film and not laugh once is like staring at a bright light to bring on a sneeze that you are on the brink of and never quite succeeding.

Women Talking (2023)

Caught up on some big films from last year that I didn't get to at the time, and Women Talking was at the top of that list. It is just stacked with stellar performances, and to be honest I think the film speaks for itself louder than any insufferable cinephile blogger ever could. Go and see it now if you haven't already.

Foe (2023)

This was such a disappointment for me given how much I love both of the lead actors. Paul Mescal's performances in both Aftersun and Normal People have changed the way I think about screen performances, and Saoirse Ronan has never been bad in anything I've seen of hers. And they're both great in Foe, too. The problem is simply that the script is boring. There is an interesting idea at the heart of it, and I am almost certain that it will translate better in the novel that this is adapted from, but as a piece of on screen drama it just never got off the ground.

Bottoms (2023)

Another catch up from last year; funny as hell, not quite as transgressive as it thinks it is or as I was hoping it would be, and enjoyably unhinged. Has me excited to see Shiva Baby.

Sawdust and Tinsel (1953)

Felt like a pleasant and inevitable realigning into gear from Bergman. At this stage in his career he hasn't quite ascended to God-mode, but all of the hallmarks are there. It explores the idea of humiliation in more detail than any other Bergman film I can remember.

Rushmore (1998)

I've had the Criterion Blu-ray sitting on my shelf for about 18 months after my brother gave it to me for Christmas, so it feels good to finally sit down and watch it. It feels odd seeing a Wes Anderson film that was made before he pushed so far into his instantly recognisable style to the point of self-parody, and because of this Rushmore feels more accessible in a really positive way. The characters take more of an active role in the storytelling, whereas in recent years it has felt like Anderson has placed a greater focus on the frame, editing and artifice of filmmaking as the storytelling vehicle. This is much more to my taste.

The Iron Claw (2024)

As somebody who could not care less about professional wrestling, it is to this film's credit that my lack of interest in the subject matter did not stop me from being drawn in. In the same vein of films like Whiplash (2014) and Black Swan (2010), it's a film about obsession and the drive to be the very best. The real strength of the film is the chemistry between the brothers, led by Zac Efron, and this nucleus allows the film to meander occasionally without totally losing momentum. The final moments definitely had me tearing up.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

I've lost track of how many times I've seen this now. Endlessly quotable and hilarious.

Jesus of Montreal (1989)

I saw this in preparation for an episode of Filthy Hope - you can see the whole thing here.

Man Bites Dog (1992)

American Psycho and Natural Born Killers both owe a lot to this film. It's fascinating to see what the Australian Classification Board deem as worthy of a "Refused Classification" - I'd be curious to see whether or not it would receive the "R18+" classification if it were submitted today. Nevertheless, I loved this as a razor sharp satire, and the ballsiness of the ending does it for me.

Sorority House Massacre (1986)

It's terrible. Like, really terrible. But I love it.

The Rite (1969)

This TV movie by Ingmar Bergman really tickled me. It exists sort of in between the worlds of film and theatre (not to the extent of After the Rehearsal, which I saw later this month), examining the relationship performers and artists have with their critics and with the broader concept of "decency" and "offence" in art. It has one of the wildest final acts in a Bergman film, and the sequence in Scene 7 (the film is split into 9 Scenes) is some of the best, most transportive screen acting you could ever hope to see.

Annette (2021)

I really tried to get on board with this, and while I enjoyed it overall it never quite clicked with me in a way that would elevate this to something really special. There are more than a couple of earworms, and the design of the wooden doll/baby is genius. The fact that the uncanny doll/child made me tear up lets you know that this film works - it just never quite worked for me.

Violation (2020)

I saw this on Shudder after having seen the Blu-ray for it in the horror section at JB Hi-Fi a bunch of times, and decided to take a punt on it. It is basically a rape-revenge thriller that spins some of the tropes from films like I Spit on Your Grave on their head, and it was a real pleasant surprise to see how far it pushed some of those aesthetic and formal choices. It's not often that you see an erect penis on screen these days, I'll say that. It's probably about 20 minutes too long, and it would probably have more of an impact if it retained a little more of the amateurish, rugged edge that defined the films that Violation is riffing on. But even saying that feels like a disingenuous critique, because one of its strengths is the cinematography and production design. I don't know, if you want to see I Spit on Your Grace revisited with the cinematography of something like Antichrist, give it a go.

The Magician (1958)

You know that a filmmaker is incredible at his craft when a film that would stand out as something wonderful on its own feels like just another film in a filmography. Spielberg feels the same sometimes, but I can't think of another filmmaker that achieves this so regularly. The Magician is wonderful, and I had to keep reminding myself of that. Bergman just makes the incredible feel normal, sometimes to the detriment of films like The Magician.

The Zone of Interest (2024)

You can read my extended thoughts on The Zone of Interest right here on the blog.

The Magic Flute (1975)

Opera just isn't my thing, and the fact that not even Ingmar Bergman could get me into it just reinforces that. As much as I try, opera just isn't for me.

After the Rehearsal (1984)

Similarly to The Rite, After the Rehearsal exists in a strange in between world at the intersection of film, theatre and television. The way that Bergman leans into his signature close up in conjunction with the sparse, minimal set design and production, renders a film like this as being almost entirely about the dialogue and the performances through which that dialogue is delivered. To keep me on the edge of my seat while two people literally just talk for 70 minutes is an achievement that Bergman seemingly achieves while operating at what most would consider his B-tier. In seeing him work in this stripped down setting it lets you see more clearly just what makes him a master filmmaker. Human frailty and brokenness are expressed in ways that have to be seen to be believed.

The Touch (1971)

In stark contrast to After the Rehearsal, the next film in the box set is probably the "worst" of Bergman's films I have seen so far. His first film in the English language, and starring American Elliott Gould alongside Bibi Andersson, there is something that just feels a little off about the whole thing, maybe even lost in translation. There are some surprisingly explicit sex scenes and nudity, a boundary that Bergman is known to push, but overall The Touch feels like a flat, lifeless romantic drama that unfortunately doesn't deliver on either the romance or the drama.

Sanctuary (2023)

I missed this one when it came out last year, and came across it while doing some mindless scrolling through Binge. Christopher Abbott has an instant ticket sale from me whenever he appears in anything - his presence in Brandon Cronenberg's Possessor makes him instant royalty for me. He is also hilariously twisted in Yorgos Lanthimos' incredible Poor Things. So this had been on my radar since I saw the trailer back in late 2022. The best I can say about it is that the two central performances from Abbott and Margaret Qualley absolutely carry the film, an exploration of sexual deviancy and shifting power dynamics. My issue with the film is that it isn't actually as transgressive as I think it wants you to feel like it is. But nonetheless it's a hilarious and delicious-looking dark comedy - just one that could (and perhaps should) have reached greater heights.

May December (2023)

This was one of my most anticipated films of 2023, and I was incredibly disappointed to have missed out on its screening at the Sydney Film Festival back in June. I finally got to see it on the big screen out at The Ritz, and it was so worth the wait. I will save my thoughts for a longer in-depth piece, but I loved how campy it was while also expertly navigating some very very murky moral territory. Imagine if Bergman's Persona was camp. If you're not instantly on board, I don't know what else to tell you.

She's Gotta Have It (1986)

Spike Lee's debut film is a fascinating watch; you can see all of the distinctive features of his filmmaking that would go on to be honed and crafted into classics like Do the Right Thing and Malcolm X. You know that a director is a real talent and has a voice that they are desperate to see projected through celluloid when even a low budget, shoddy cameras and film stock, and limited resources can't get in the way of that happening. Having only actually seen six of his thirty-odd films, it feels like it's time to dive into some of that back catalogue that has been patiently waiting for me to discover it.

Baghead (2024)

The first film I've seen this year that I would simply categorise as bad. There are so many different options available to horror filmmakers with which they can attempt to thrill an audience, but at the end of the day they are all there to achieve something that a film in this subgenre should achieve at a base level - is it scary? The biggest fault of Baghead, aside from the creaky dialogue and unbelievably shoddy pacing, is the fact that at no point does it even approach being scary.

The Serpent's Egg (1977)

I kind of loved watching this, but mostly from the perspective of seeing it within the larger story of Ingmar Bergman's filmography. It is fascinating to see this collaboration between the Swedish auteur and monolithic film producer Dino De Laurentiis. Everything about it feels wrong, in a similar way to Bergman's other previous attempt at an English language film, The Touch. It's a film with flaws that run deep into its very roots, and yet that singular and instantly recognisable voice of Bergman still chimes amidst the mess.

Dune: Part Two (2024)

I went to see this twice on opening day, the first screening of which was in Sydney's newly renovated IMAX cinema. It's incredible, and I will definitely be writing about this film in great detail on this blog.

Dune: Part Two (2024)

The second of my two screenings of Dune: Part Two was on 70mm at The Ritz. Wonderful experience.

American Fiction (2024)

There is a wonderful irony inherent in this film being nominated for Best Picture at the upcoming Academy Awards; not because I don't think this film deserves to be nominated, I think it is a very fine film. But given what this film is about and the hypocrisy it is depicting, I think that the film is on the right side of a pretty hilarious joke being played on the Oscars this year.

Leave the World Behind (2023)

I wanted this to be better than it is, but unfortunately it starts to crumble under the weight of its own lack of subtlety. It has a great concept at its centre, and the performances always teeter on the right side of camp, but by the time this came in to dock at a preposterous 138 minutes it had used a sledgehammer to crack open a peanut more than once. There are some great moments and the tone treads a wonderfully knowing line between absurdism and genuine dread, but I think there is a solid 90 minute M. Night Shyamalan thriller buried under this somewhere.