[rating: 2] I'm no fan of Japanese horror movies, but if there's one Japanese director working today who could make one I do like, it's Takashi Miike. He hasn't made one I like, but he probably could. Film criticism is of course always a subjective exercise but, despite my informal and personal style, I usually try to write a review based not just on my personal feelings while watching a picture but on my knowledge of cinema technique and history as well. It's hard for me to do that with Audition, because I think it's probably not that bad but I very much didn't like it. At the same time, I almost liked it, and can see how I could have. The story is that of Mr. Aoyama, a widower (Ryo Ishibashi) who, when told by his son that he looks old and lonely, decides it's time to remarry. But he is old—older, at least, than his first time around—and doesn't know if he has what it takes to jump back into dating, a young man's game. He wants to find his ideal woman, but on the other hand he doesn't particularly want to work at it. What's interesting here is that it's ...

[rating: 4] The 1973 cult classic The Wicker Man is something of an oddity; even as you're watching it, you're not quite sure whether it's stupid or grand. (This is in contrast to the 2006 remake, where you're always sure what you're watching is awful.) For example, when the goofy song "Corn Rigs" plays (and plays, and plays), you think the movie leans more toward Mystery Science Theater 3000 territory. It's only after the film is over and you give it some thought and discussion that you can be certain you've just witnessed something extraordinary. Police sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) arrives unwanted on the Scottish island of Summerisle, famous for its one-of-a-kind produce. He's investigating the disappearance, brought to his attention by an anonymous letter, of a young girl named Rowan Morrison. None of the island's residents are at all helpful; at first they deny that any such person as Rowan ever existed, and when that is revealed as a lie they resort to other obfuscations or simple silence. A grave marked with Rowan Morrison's name is found, but no death certificate is on file and nobody has anything to say about the circumstances of her death. Even the girl's mother won't ...

You know how the young kids these days are always using the Facebooks for their social networking and whatnot? Sure you do. Even people's moms can effortlessly make their way around Facebook now. (If there were no moms, there would be no Farmville.) So you probably also know all about how Facebook wants you to "Like" everything by clicking on a little link, and then once you Like some things it will tell you about some other things you might like to Like, based on other people who Liked the same things that you like. Here's one it gave to me recently. The suggestion for something I might like was "action movies." A little generic, perhaps, but okay, sure, I like some action movies. Now here's the justification it gave for suggesting that to me: Many who like L'Avventura like action movies That's a head scratcher, I have to say. Yes, it's true, I like L'Avventura and I like my fair share of action movies. But, starting with one, it's something of a leap to reach the other. If you're not familiar with L'Avventura, allow me to explain. It's a 1960 film from director Michelangelo Antonioni, and the first in a thematic "trilogy" that includes La ...

Recently I was watching Body Heat, Lawrence Kasdan's 1981 directorial debut. It's a great movie, working both as tribute to the film noir of the 1940s and on its own as a part of that genre. It was Kathleen Turner's first movie, too, and it's probably the most thrilling debut of an actress since Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not. The movie is probably most famous for all the steamy sex scenes between Turner and William Hurt. Now, I love this movie. But when I was a child, one of the movies I watched over and over and over again, as children do, was Who Framed Roger Rabbit, which is also an excellent picture. But because it was such an important part of my early life as a viewer, any time Kathleen Turner opens her mouth to speak, I can't help but think: Jessica Rabbit! With that in mind, the sex scenes in Body Heat take on a disturbing tone, don't they? I mean, you kinda can't help but think of Roger Rabbit taking the place of William Hurt during all those passionate encounters, and that's just plain wrong. Roger Rabbit should not be doing that! I was also watching the ...

The release of a new James Bond movie used to be a big deal for me. I've been a lifelong fan of the big-screen adventures of everyone's favorite secret agent. Not all the movies have been great, but for most of the run of the series they averaged out to be pretty good, a reliable every-few-years source of enjoyment. Then, in 2002, came Die Another Day, Pierce Brosnan's last outing as 007 and one of the five worst movies I've ever paid money to see in a theater. I was absolutely repulsed by the movie's oppressive badness. The experience of watching that movie was like when you're a little kid and a bully pushes you down and farts on your head, except the bully was thirty feet tall and the fart was in deafening Dolby surround sound and lasted for 133 minutes. Now, I'm usually of the opinion that the reboot of a series of long standing is a pointless and often lazy technique, but when it was announced that the next Bond movie, Casino Royale (2006), was going to be a back-to-basics restart of the Bond franchise, I thought perhaps it was the only thing that could redeem Agent 007. Still, ...

I've just finished watching Anchors Aweigh, the 1945 musical that first paired Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra. I'd never seen the movie in its entirety before. The only part I had seen is the famous sequence where Gene Kelly dances with Jerry the Mouse. I rather suspect this is the only part most people have seen, and they probably couldn't even name the movie it came from. That's too bad, because it's really pretty good. It isn't up there with your big-time classic musicals like My Fair Lady and Singin' in the Rain, though it was nominated for the Best Picture Oscar, but it's a hell of a good time. I personally liked it much better than the more critically lauded (at least nowadays) An American in Paris.  It's got plenty of good songs, a charming though light-and-fluffy story (but that's what we expect in an MGM Technicolor musical, right?), and Gene Kelly's always wonderful dancing. A dance with Kelly and Sinatra, who ably keeps up, to the song "I Begged Her" is my personal favorite. And then there's the dance with Jerry Mouse. Though it's unfair that the rest of the movie seems to have been forgotten, this scene deserves every bit ...

If you've read just about anything I've written on this site, then you know that I tend only to like the mustiest, fustiest of movies and that my opinions on film are more in line with critics than with the popular audience. But this isn't always true. Sometimes I disagree with the critics and the audience. As an example, let's take the 1981 movie Chariots of Fire. It's the true(ish) story of some British runners in the 1924 Olympic Games, it won a slew of awards (including the Oscar for Best Picture), and it's beloved by critics and moviegoers everywhere. Not by me, though. It's not a movie I'm prepared to come right out and say is bad. I think it's probably just as good as people say. But, for whatever reason, I can't get into it at all. I'm not sure exactly why I don't like it, but there are a few possible reasons. Most obviously, the movie's about running. In terms of physicality, my lifestyle is more akin to Jabba the Hutt's than Carl Lewis's, so a celebration of the runner's art isn't exactly up my alley. Yet I don't think this is the reason I don't care for Chariots of Fire; ...

[rating: 5] Humphrey Bogart did the same thing in every movie, to different degrees, from thoroughly grizzled in The African Queen to—for Bogart—downright sentimental in Casablanca. The question, then, is when he did it best. Was Sam Spade the peak Bogart character? Or Philip Marlowe? It's nearly impossible to choose, but an argument can be mounted that Fred C. Dobbs in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is Bogart's greatest achievement. We first meet up with Dobbs in desperation and penury, homeless and begging on the streets of Tampico. All he wants is to get his head above water, to live comfortably without having to depend on handouts from rich American vacationers. Nothin' fancy, just freedom from poverty. Even when he first hits on the idea of prospecting for gold, his ambitions remain modest. Howard (Walter Huston, in one of the best-deserved Academy Award winning performances of all time), another drifter with some experience as a prospector, tells him what gold does to a man, the way getting a little only makes you hungry for a whole lot more. Dobbs insists that won't happen to a simple, reasonable man like him, that he'll just collect his little piece and go home. We know better, ...

[rating: 5] Has there ever been a Kris Kringle more spot-on than Edmund Gwenn, a little girl more bug's-earish than Natalie Wood, a Christmas movie more magical than 1947's Miracle on 34th Street? Don't be silly. Of course there hasn't. Though there are other excellent holiday movies that are indispensible for any merrymaking movie buff, none is more perfectly realized than this story of a little girl learning to believe. That little girl is Susan (Natalie Wood), as adorable as anything you've ever seen but sadly lacking in the childlike sense of wonder department. Her mother (Maureen O'Hara) has raised her by the generally appropriate maxim of "deal with the real world and don't go falling for a lot of dopey nonsense," but this has had one unfortunate consequence: Susan doesn't believe in Santa Claus! This cannot stand, so it's rather fortuitous that a man claiming to be the one and only real Kris Kringle plops right into her lap. The kindly old man teaches Susan a thing or two about imagination and manages to bring a little Christmas spirit to everyone he encounters, to boot. When working as a department store Santa at Macy's, for example, he doesn't hesitate to send shoppers to ...

 [rating: 2.5] When Eric assigned me to write A Charlie Brown Christmas, I'm not sure he knew what he was getting himself into. See, I'm not much like other merrymakers who fall all over themselves praising any little thing which carries the smallest iota of warmhearted nostalgia.  I can't ignore things like horrible dialog, an annoying plot with laughable transitions, and just general bad direction and production all around. No amount of feeling like I'm "supposed" to love something (and I do feel that it's a sweet little piece of pop history) can make me ignore all of that. It's a cute story with some touching moments, but all things considered it's rather absurd and it doesn't even try to make sense. The story opens with Charlie Brown feeling depressed about Christmas, God only knows why (FORESHADOWING, THANK YOU!). Apparently he thinks Christmas has become too commercialized, though we only learn that through a few meandering and mumbling scenes with Linus, Snoopy, and Lucy. Finally, five minutes into this barely 30-minute piece, we have a reason why it exists. So Charlie is depressed and basically disowns Snoopy because decorating his dog house is far too "commercial" an activity, and Lucy names him director of ...