The Best
Years of Our Lives (1946)
Directed
by William Wyler
* * * ½
The horrors of World War 2 are finally over, and among the
many men returning to America are three in particular – Captain Fred Derry
(Dana Andrews), Sergeant Al Stephenson (Fredric March), and Sailor Homer
Parrish (Harold Russell), all three returning to the same small Midwest town
they call home. As excited as they are, coming back becomes an arduous
transition, as the charm of Americana isn’t quite what it used to be: finding
work is a borderline impossibility; children are becoming adults; partners
leave. On top of that, their experiences from war haunt them, whether mentally
(Derry awakens from nightmares), emotionally (Stephenson takes to drinking), or
physically (Parrish lost both of his hands).
Perhaps I’m just not looking hard enough, but films about
returning vets are an uncommon breed. When they do come across, even if they’re
excellent films, they tend to overflow with boisterous melodrama and more
flag-waving than I’m comfortable with. None of this is present in The Best Years of Our Lives, an epic
that has transcended it’s time and region as an exceptionally timeless and
universal work of cinema. Stylistically, yes, this is definitely classic
Hollywood, but the drama still speaks for itself, rarely begging for sympathy
from the viewer if at all. And the drama is riveting for its near-3 hour
length, but let me assure you that not once does it feel like it.
I do have one criticism of this seminal classic: the entire
movie feels like a series of rising actions that never culminate into a climax
(with the exception of a few scenes), and I couldn’t help but feel left hanging
throughout. That said, the film does have an intentional feeling of aimless
wandering like our protagonists seem to be going through, so closer attention
to a subsequent viewing may alleviate this. Otherwise, this is a solid movie
and one of the finest examples of Classic Hollywood.
Hereditary (2018)
Directed by Ari Aster
* * *
[Possible Spoilers Ahead]
It is a time of tragedy for
the Graham family – Annie’s (Toni Collette) mother has passed, but after years
of a broken relationship, her eulogy is less than sympathetic. The emotional
damage done has passed on to Annie’s family, as everybody is disconnected – the
Grahams are a ticking time bomb, essentially. The tragedy worsens after Charlie
(Milly Shapiro), Annie’s daughter, dies in a freak accident. Grief stricken, unattached
to her family, Annie attempts to find emotional support, eventually crossing
paths with Joan (Ann Dowd), who turns Annie toward the direction of supernatural
contact. Simultaneously, however, Annie seems to be on the verge of completely
losing her mind.
I’ve said it many times
before, and I’ll say it many times again: while there are exceptions (namely
Carpenter’s The Thing), the best
horror films I’ve seen are set upon a foundation of some sort of human drama. Hereditary not only wisely follows through
with this, but truly stands out amongst modern horror, as it is an exceptionally restrained and patient
film – not once does it rush from highlight to highlight, not once does it
result to jump-scares or migraine-inducing quick cuts for effect. Further
making Hereditary worthwhile are not
only the amazing shot compositions, but the performances. Oh, the performances!
Toni Collette, especially. I hate to sound hyperbolic, but I really hope to see
an Oscar nomination for her. On a side note; one of my favorite hobbies is
assembling/painting miniatures, and Hereditary
tickled that a little bit, as Annie builds elaborate dioramas. Not
essential, but I couldn’t resist mentioning that.
As you can probably tell, Hereditary is slow-burn horror. Nothing
wrong with that (The Shining is my
favorite horror film, after all), but this is perhaps a bit too slow-burn. It
was compelling enough that I wanted to see how this movie would unravel, but it
moved slow enough that I found myself frequently checking the timecode (though
not so slow that I was prepared to walk out). The whole supernatural/Satanic
angle I found to be borderline insultingly hackneyed. Take all of this with a
grain of salt, as I’m still kind of taking it in. In the meantime, here’s how
I’ll put it: it was worthwhile within the runtime, but it didn’t last much
after that.
The Hero (1966)
Directed by Satyajit Ray
* * * ½
For anybody aboard the train bound for Dehli, they are in
for a treat of a trip. One of their fellow passengers is Arindam Mukherjee
(Uttam Kumar), an actor who walks the world with a godlike status, bound for
Dehli to receive an award. Though he seems polite and cordial, behind his
sunglasses is a weary and cynical man, having grown disillusioned of the world
around him from his experiences in the film industry. From his interactions
with his fellow passengers, particularly his conversation with a female
journalist (Sharmila Tagore) interested in his experiences, this train ride will
prove to be a pivotal and profound moment in his life.
Oh, Satyajit Ray, the great Bengali auteur behind the Apu
Trilogy, my favorite film of all time (yes, I’m counting the entire trilogy as
one film). After decades of borderline obscurity, it always brings me great joy
to see his work resurface, and The Hero is
one I’ve been particularly interested in. As usual, Mr. Ray doesn’t disappoint.
This is a fascinating character study under the circumstances of one of the
loneliest states of being a man can stand in – fame. Films with lead characters
like this are always at great risk of losing sympathy from the viewer. Thanks
to a compelling lead performance from Kumar, the character never becomes completely
unlikable and is always easy to sympathize with.
I don’t have too much to criticize here. The only thing that
really stands out in my mind is a side-story involving an advertising
specialist who doesn’t really have anything to do with the story on a surface
level. Granted, he’s probably there for thematic/symbolic reasons, but his arc
is so forgettable that the film could have done just fine without him. Overall,
while The Hero didn’t have the
lasting impact I hoped it to have, it was still an excellent addition in Ray’s
remarkable filmography.
Memories of Underdevelopment (1968)
Directed by Tomas Gutierrez Alea
* * * *
In the wake of the Bay of Pigs
incident, airports are crammed with people eager to get out of Cuba. Staying
behind, though, is Sergio (Sergio Corrieri), a bachelor who fancies himself an
intellectual. As his girlfriend, family, and friends have fled, Sergio wanders
the seemingly barren streets and city blocks of Cuba, his mind always on the
many changes that Cuba has gone through over the years. Though he mingles with
people here and there, Sergio only grows more and more detached from his
surroundings, to the point where his own country becomes something of an alien
landscape.
I wrote lists for Taste of
Cinema for a period of time, and my first piece for them was “10 Great Films
That Are Beyond Description”. Of course, as time goes on, the more I wish I
could go back and add/alter the list with more titles. If I could, I would undoubtedly
add Memories of Underdevelopment. It’s
difficult to really pin down exactly what this movie is about or trying to say.
Then again, as much as that may or may not be the point, what this is equally
(or more) about is capturing a specific kind of ennui, one of alienation, and
the film absolutely nails capturing this feeling.
Stylistically, Memories of Underdevelopment was
radically ahead of its time, using a collage of different techniques.
Interestingly enough (and admirably), the movie is always grounded in itself,
so to speak. To clarify; it never overindulges in any kind of technique, and
always keeps its cool. The result is something that was not only ahead of its
time, but still holds up today without feeling dated in the slightest. I wish I
had more to say, but it’s difficult for me to go into detail, as I’m not only
still processing the movie (a rather difficult one), but it also was not at all
what I was expecting. Perhaps there’ll be a Greatest Favorites entry someday.
In the meantime, I can assure you that this is an enigma of a movie worth your
time.
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