Steven Rubio's Online Life

duel (steven spielberg, 1971)

This is the thirty-first film I have watched in "My Letterboxd Season Challenge 2023-24", "A 33 week long challenge where the goal each week is to watch a previously unseen feature length film from a specified category." This is the 9th annual challenge, and my fifth time participating (previous years can be found at "2019-20", "2020-21", "2021-22", and "2022-23"). Week 31 is called "Cut to the Chase Week":

Quick! What do Watergate, pet rocks, bell bottoms, roller skates, disco, and afros have in common? The 1970s! Do you know what else we got in the '70s? Nothing less than Jaws, Alien, Rocky, Taxi Driver, The Godfather, and Star Wars, that's what. But there's a little subsection of 1970s moviemaking you might not have thought to consider: The Golden Age of the Car Chase. The '70s was the decade for 'em. More violent, more exciting, and more real (shove off, CGI), the decade's car chases threw around unbelievable amounts of gasoline-propelled metal in raw, exhilarating ways and paved the way for such epic chases as those seen in Ronin, The Italian Job remake, the entire Fast and the Furious franchise, Death Proof, Drive, and Baby Driver, to name a few. So strap in, rev your engine, and hang on to your mutton chops—this week is gonna be a wild ride!

The challenge this week is to chase down and watch a movie from Karl Janssen's The Golden Age of Car Chase Films (1970s) list.

Pauline Kael once told a story about sitting around watching the Bela Lugosi Dracula with some academic friends. As the post-mortem conversation went:

We had begun to surprise each other by the affectionate, nostalgic tone of our mock erudition when the youngest person present, an instructor in English, said, in clear, firm tone, "The Beast with Five Fingers is the greatest horror picture I've ever seen." Stunned that so bright a young man could display such shocking taste, preferring a Warner, Brothers forties mediocrity to the classics, I gasped, "But why?" And he answered, "Because it's completely irrational. It doesn't make any sense, and that's the true terror."

Duel makes no sense. And that's the true terror.

It's worth noting that Duel is indeed a tense picture, something of a small masterpiece, stripped to its essentials. (This may have been even more true in its original form as a TV movie, since 16 minutes were later added by Spielberg for its theatrical release.) I think its reputation is greater than it might deserve, because it's called Spielberg's first feature and in many ways it is recognizably his. (It ranks #959 on the They Shoot Pictures, Don't They list of the top 1000 films of all time.) Duel is good, Duel is efficient, Duel shows a promising film maker, but his next (first theatrical) feature, The Sugarland Express, is a better movie.

music friday: 1987

Los Lobos, "La Bamba". A return to the charts for this classic, as Los Lobos recorded a version for the biopic of the same name. This was one of the first songs I ever sang in public ... our garage band played a gig that went well for a change, and we were called back for an encore, which we hadn't prepared. So we started in on "La Bamba", and I did the vocals, even though I didn't know the words. Many, many years later, I learned the words, and once sang it at a karaoke bar. I didn't need the teleprompter.

Rick Astley, "Never Gonna Give You Up". Would we even remember this song if it wasn't for Rickrolling?

Whitney Houston, "I Wanna Dance with Somebody Who Loves Me". My daughter loved her. Me, I was more on the side of Robert Christgau, who, in a review of the 1987 album from which this track came, called Houston "the most revolting pop singer in Christendom", finishing the review with "the results are forgivable--she does have a good voice, you know. C+"

Bonus: Eric B. & Rakim, "Paid in Full (Seven Minutes of Madness - The Coldcut Remix)". I don't know exactly what song from 1987 sticks with me the most, but this has to be in the running:

geezer cinema/film fatales #205: the hitch-hiker (ida lupino, 1953)

Ida Lupino gets credit for being a woman director in Hollywood when there were no such things. I'm behind the times with Lupino ... this is the first of her directed movies I've seen, and I only saw one movie that she acted in (High Sierra, which I watched recently).

The Hitch-Hiker is compact (71 minutes). Lupino wastes no time, there is no flab, nor is there time to think too hard about what you are seeing. In short, it's effective for what it is attempting. It's a noir without a femme fatale, and ironically the only noir directed by a woman. The best noirs (Double Indemnity and The Night of the Hunter, to name two) are as good as the best films of any genre. It does seem to me that the genre has a reputation that is a bit elevated, though. If you make a spare, inexpensive film with a touch of style, your movie will be highly regarded. A movie like, say, Kansas City Confidential is fine, but that's all it is (and it should go without saying that "fine" is not a pejorative).

So The Hitch-Hiker is a good movie, but its status may be high in part because Lupino directed it, and it's an underexposed noir.

For boomers, the highlight of The Hitch-Hiker is probably William Talman as the title character. This hitch-hiker is a vicious killer, while Talman became best known for his years playing district attorney Hamilton Burger on the old Perry Mason television series. Talman is indeed ferocious here, with a droopy eye that adds menace. Edmond O'Brien and Frank Lovejoy are two friends who pick up Talman, to their regret. The movie I was most reminded of was Detour, which is the best of all the cheapie Grade-Z noirs. The Hitch-Hiker is nowhere near as good as Detour, but it's a worthy addition to your noir viewing.

film fatales #204: the blue caftan (maryam touzani, 2022)

Quietly smoldering triangle that takes some different approaches, although the end result isn't too far off from the norm. The main difference is that the triangle consists of a husband and wife and a young man who attracts the closeted husband. The catch is that the wife is dying of cancer. The wife is played by the wonderful Lubna Azabal, who starred in Denis Villeneuve's best film, Incendies.

Director/co-writer Maryam Touzani and cinematographer Virginie Surdej create an intimate environment that invites us into the budding threesome. There is the expected awkwardness ... the husband suppressing his feelings, the wife dying but wanting her husband to feel free when she is gone, the young man who gradually enters the lives of the others (he is an apprentice at the couple's caftan store). Nothing feels false, and we want the best possible outcome for all of the characters ... to the extent it is possible, Touzani rewards our desires.

The film feels long at 122 minutes. It's not that there is anything obvious that could be cut, but the low-key tension walks a fine line between intensity and torpor. But that's a minor complaint for a film that takes just enough liberties with romantic triangle tropes to make The Blue Caftan feel unique.

inherit the wind (stanley kramer, 1960)

This is the thirtieth film I have watched in "My Letterboxd Season Challenge 2023-24", "A 33 week long challenge where the goal each week is to watch a previously unseen feature length film from a specified category." This is the 9th annual challenge, and my fifth time participating (previous years can be found at "2019-20", "2020-21", "2021-22", and "2022-23"). Week 30 is called "Classic Performers: Frederic March Week":

Celebrated film and stage actor Fredric March was born in Wisconsin in 1897. He began his career as an extra before making his debut in 1929's The Dummy. A year later he earned his first of five Oscar nominations for The Royal Family of Broadway. His accolades include two Oscars (for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Best Years of Our Lives), two Best Actor awards at the Venice Film Festival, and a Silver Bear for Best Actor at the Berlin Film Festival. He is also one of only two actors, along with Helen Hayes, to win two Oscars and two Tony awards.

This week's challenge is to watch a film starring Fredric March.

I have a personal connection to Inherit the Wind. In high school, I played Matthew Brady, the William Jennings Bryan stand-in. I wondered if I would remember any of his lines, 50+ years after the fact, but alas, those brain cells are gone.

There's a problem with this movie, and its name is Stanley Kramer. Kramer was nominated nine times for Oscars, six as a producer of Best Picture nominees, and three nominations as Best Director. He won none of those, but it's a sign of the high regard for Kramer that he was nominated so frequently. Perhaps most appropriately, in 1961 he received the Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award, given for "creative producers, whose bodies of work reflect a consistently high quality of motion picture production." The year after Kramer's death, the Producers Guild of America created the Stanley Kramer Award, given to "a production, producer, or other individuals whose achievement or contribution illuminates and raises public awareness of important social issues."

Important social issues ... these things interested Kramer, inspired much of his work in film. His movies, as producer and director, included The Defiant Ones, about two escaped convicts, one black, one white, who must learn to move beyond racial animus. On the Beach took place at the end of the world after nuclear war, and was hailed by Nobel Prize winner Linus Pauling as "the movie that saved the world". There was Judgment at Nuremberg, which fictionalized the Nazi trials at Nuremberg, and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, about interracial marriage. All important social issues, which are supposed to imply important movies. One feels a bit embarrassed at complaining about the quality of Kramer's films ... isn't it enough that he made them?

And so, Inherit the Wind, based on a stage play that dramatized the Scopes "Monkey Trial". A high-school teacher in Tennessee taught evolution in the classroom, which was illegal at the time in Tennessee. The actual trial was purposeful, intended to showcase the problems with the law. A national brouhaha ensued, with three-time Presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan joining the prosecution, while famed lawyer Clarence Darrow took part in Scopes' defense. The highlight of the trial came when Darrow put Bryan on the stand to essentially defend the Bible.

There is a lot of drama inherent in this story, and it's hard to screw it up too much. I imagine even our little 11th-grade production was fairly engrossing. If it was just a courtroom drama with some added interest from the based-on-truth story and big-name lawyers, Inherit the Wind would be tolerably good. But it's not just a courtroom drama ... Kramer was perhaps unable to just make such a movie. No, it had to have a Big Theme about an Important Social Issue. And then everything had to be simplified, so that Scopes/Darrow were always in the right, and Bryan and the fundamentalists are wrong. Darrow (in the play/film, the character is named Drummond ... Bryan becomes Brady) shows how right he is by showing with manganous brilliance that he is not perfect, that he knows that Bryan/Brady is a decent guy. This is used to make the character seem to have depth, but it's phony.

Spencer Tracy plays Drummond effectively, but he doesn't break a sweat (in-joke, since everyone sweats during the movie). Fredric March overplays as Brady, and the part is written that way ... I wouldn't be surprised if I overplayed back in high school. But March's makeup is awful ... it looks like they hired a high-school student for the job. The battle over what can be taught in schools still remains sadly relevant in this country, which means Inherit the Wind is as relevant as ever, for what that's worth.

music friday: 1986

Falco, "Rock Me Amadeus". Actually came out in 1985, but hit the top of the Billboard charts in '86. Wikipedia lists 21 versions, edits, and remixes. Falco also hit with "Der Kommissar", which I only remember from the version by After the Fire.

Madonna, "Papa Don't Preach". It's not that there was a time when Madonna could do no wrong. It's just that there was a time when she cranked out a gazillion great records.

Jermaine Stewart, "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off". A former Soul Train dancer who had a moment in the sun as a singer.

Bonus: "Rock Me Dr. Zaius".

revisiting the 9s: parasite (bong joon-ho, 2019)

[This is the twenty-first in a series that will probably be VERY intermittent, if I remember to post at all. I've long known that while I have given my share of 10-out-of-10 ratings for movies over the years, in almost every case, those movies are fairly old. So I got this idea to go back and revisit movies of relatively recent vintage that I gave a rating of 9, to see if time and perspective convinced me to bump that rating up to 10.]

In 2019, I wrote about Parasite:

"I'm not sure I can even reduce Parasite to a specific genre, which may be a sign that I liked it even more than the others.... Parasite starts off as one kind of movie, almost a comedy, gradually and almost unnoticed takes a turn into another kind of movie, reflects on the notion of parasites, and somehow at the end you realize it was never just one kind of movie, but always all kinds of movies. It is constantly surprising."

If anything, I was more locked in than ever to the class warfare angle. This really is a great movie, deserving of all its many awards (Best Picture Oscar, #242 on the They Shoot Pictures, Don't They list of the top 1000 films of all time, #11 for 21st-century pictures). It is the perfect example of my tendencies to hesitate over the greatness of newer movies ... I have no idea why I didn't give this my highest rating the first time I saw it.

This wasn't an exact revisit, though, for on this second viewing, I decided to watch Director Bong's black-and-white version. Honestly, it quickly became normal, and I didn't spend much time thinking about how it looked it color. It was still great.

And here is one of Bong's memorable acceptance speeches at the Oscars:

geezer cinema: godzilla x kong: the new empire (adam wingard, 2024)

The first movie in the Monsterverse, Gareth Edwards' 2014 Godzilla, makes a case for being the best Godzilla movie of all time. At the least, it's the best one made in America. Next was Kong: Skull Island, an entertaining film. Godzilla: King of the Monsters, was a further step downwards, while I liked Godzilla vs. Kong.

Then the Japanese upped the ante with Godzilla Minus One, which is the best Japanese Godzilla movie ever, in part because you actually cared about the human characters. I thought it was one of the ten best movies of the year, and it even won an Oscar.

This is the context within which Godzilla x Kong was released, and the comparison isn't kind. It's nowhere near as good as Minus One or the 2014 version. It's nowhere near as good as Skull Island or Godzilla vs. Kong. I'm not even sure it's as good as King of the Monsters. The human actors do what they can (Brian Tyree Henry can do no wrong, but once again, he's used as comic relief), but the monster fights, as impressive as they are, are ultimately boring. Impressive doesn't mean good. When monsters fight in Godzilla x Kong, you marvel at what can be done with movies today, but you don't give a shit about the monsters doing the fighting. The worst is a little junior Kong, who is predictably annoying ... never trust a monster movie with a precocious kid monster.

Meanwhile, the dialogue is endless and uninteresting, stopping in a couple of spots for egregious exposition overload that stops everything in its tracks. I'd say Godzilla x Kong is disappointing, and if your hopes were raised by the likes of Minus One, you will feel bad. But what Godzilla x Kong (the x is silent) really does is fulfill any expectations you might have for a movie with such a dull title.

revisiting the 9s/film fatales: winter's bone (debra granik, 2010)

[This is the twentieth in a series that will probably be VERY intermittent, if I remember to post at all. I've long known that while I have given my share of 10-out-of-10 ratings for movies over the years, in almost every case, those movies are fairly old. So I got this idea to go back and revisit movies of relatively recent vintage that I gave a rating of 9, to see if time and perspective convinced me to bump that rating up to 10.]

In 2012, I wrote about Winter's Bone:

I think it’s the best fiction film I’ve seen from 2010, and I thought Jennifer Lawrence should have won the Best Actress Oscar over Natalie Portman for Black Swan. Lawrence was a revelation when I first saw the film. I knew nothing about her. Things have changed in just two years: as the star of The Hunger Games, Lawrence is poised to become one of the top stars of her day, and she’s only 21 years old. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have reached such a pinnacle at an early age for the usual reasons (great-looking, panders to young males), but because she is giving excellent performances. It doesn’t hurt that she’s great-looking, of course, but Winter’s Bone buries her traditional good looks in grit and mounds of cold-weather gear, allowing her to be a special kind of beautiful, strong and centered. Perhaps Portman gives us a peek at what Lawrence might have in store: three movies in the Star Wars franchise, lots of indie films, the lead role in an action picture, and ultimately an Oscar.

It's interesting to look back after watching Lawrence's career over the past decade-plus. She did indeed end up in franchise films, playing Mystique in X-Men movies four times, and, of course, starring as Katniss Everdeen in four Hunger Games movies. In 2015 and 2016 she was the highest-paid actress in the world. But she has also featured in non-franchise films, including some indie projects (she formed her own production company ... the first release was the fine Causeway starring Lawrence and Brian Tyree Henry). She has been nominated for four Oscars, winning Best Actress for Silver Linings Playbook. It's a very successful career, and she's still only 33.

But what about "The 9s"? Did I underrate Winter's Bone because it was too new? I've seen it at least three times now ... clearly I like it. I taught it in tandem with the novel on which it was based when I was teaching. Perhaps most important for this purpose, in 2021, for a user poll at They Shoot Pictures, Don't They, I listed Winter's Bone among the 25 best movies of all time. 5, 945 films received votes ... I was the only person who voted for Winter's Bone. I have it at #7 on my list of the top films of the 2010s.

So yeah, I think it's time to give it the cherished 10/10.

film fatales #203: the beguiled (sofia coppola, 2017)

This is the twenty-ninth film I have watched in "My Letterboxd Season Challenge 2023-24", "A 33 week long challenge where the goal each week is to watch a previously unseen feature length film from a specified category." This is the 9th annual challenge, and my fifth time participating (previous years can be found at "2019-20", "2020-21", "2021-22", and "2022-23"). Week 29 is called "'We Come to This Place for Magic' Week":

We come to LSC Theaters to laugh, to cry, to care. Because we need that, all of us. That indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim, and we go somewhere we've never been before. Not just entertained, but somehow reborn, together. Dazzling images on a huge silver screen, sound that I can feel. Somehow, heartbreak feels good in a place like this. Our heroes feel like the best parts of us, and stories feel perfect and powerful. Because here, they are. LSC Theaters: We Make Movies Better.

This week's challenge is to watch a film either starring Nicole Kidman or set in a movie theater.

For those of you who don't go to AMC Theaters, here is the inspiration for this week's challenge:

Sofia Coppola makes some interesting decisions when making her version of The Beguiled. She returned to the original novel, stating her movie was not a direct remake of the 1971 version with Clint Eastwood (a movie I apparently saw and didn't like ... according to the IMDB, I rated it 5/10 but I have no memory of this and as far as I can tell I have never written about it). There is a slave in the novel and '71 film that is the only person of color in either ... I'm not certain I understand her reasoning, but Coppola removed this character from the story ("(y)oung girls watch my films and this was not the depiction of an African American character I would want to show them."). Coppola and cinematographer Philippe Le Sourd opted for a 1.66:1 aspect ratio, slightly different from today's standards, to make the movie look claustrophobic. Perhaps most important, Coppola chose to tell this story of a wounded soldier during the Civil War who ends up at a girls school in Virginia from the point of view of the women.

As I say, these are interesting decisions. But in the end, I didn't care for the movie despite those decisions. There's nothing I can put my finger on, but neither could I figure out why this story was being told. It is entirely possible that it's all on me; there is nothing "wrong" with The Beguiled.