The first time I saw this in 2010 I recognizing it as a good movie, but it also kind of terrified me because my daughter was on the cusp of the high school experience, and this high school seemed pretty scary. It turns out I needn't have worried, because actual high school was way worse.

Now that my daughter is a fellow adult survivor of high school I can just enjoy this for what it is: A wicked smart script brought to life by an absolute dream cast. It was the first thing I ever saw Emma Stone do, and she's every bit as fantastic as I ed. And there's a pre-fame Penn Badgley (You), plus Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson as the world's greatest parents.

Bert V. Royal's jewel of a screenplay makes the case that while a ive, healthy home life won't keep being a teenager from being a horrible experience, it definitely helps make those years survivable. It does this while skewering annoying, hypocritical Jesus freaks and mob-like social pressure. There is a real joy of life at its core that ends up being hopeful without ignoring the real consequences of bad choices. The dialogue is energetic, the gags terrific, and the set-ups and pay-offs are delightful.

Will Gluck directs with an absolute sense of glee, nailing the tone and keeping the staging clear. The result is laugh-out-loud funny, thought provoking, and kind of a hug at the end.

Darren Aronofsky and his friend Ari Handel got the idea for this film during post production on Requiem for a Dream. Handel said that this was the film they'd wanted to make for years, and they finally had the chance. Warner Brothers sent them to Australia to make it, and a couple of years later they had several large sets constructed.

Then the studio shut them down and told them to come home. They still wanted to make the movie, but they saw casting as key. Aronofsky absolutely crushed that requirement by casting Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz in the lead roles. They are both mesmerizing, and it's hard to imagine anybody else playing those parts.

The result is a surrealist meditation on grief, obsession, and death as a creative act. It's set in three time periods, with Jackman and Weisz playing different, yet related, characters in each. It's rich in visual metaphor and quite cinematic in the sense that the story couldn't really be told in any other medium. And yet it's also a love letter to books.

This is the film where Aronofsky got enough of a bump in budget to start producing some serious eye candy. The production design, which is all based on corridors that begin in darkness and end in light, gave cinematographer and long-time collaborator Matthew Libatique the playground he needed to paint the film in luscious color and shadow.

The editing here never calls attention to itself, but is crisp and deft, an impressive example of the craft. And the reliable Clint Mansell provides a score that once again s the tone of the film without intruding.

The rocky road to production was worth it.

Sophie Thatcher, who was so good in Heretic, anchors this sci-fi/horror/romcom mashup with another great performance. I really wish Max didn't spoil the first act turn right on the film's splash page, because the premise is pretty good.

And so are most of the other performances. Opposite Thatcher we get Jack Quaid (The Boys), plus Lukas Gage (White Lotus), and Harvey Guillén (What We Do in the Shadows) being pretty much the character he always plays.

The film starts a little slow, and gets kind of explainy, but pretty much pulls things together at the end. I'm not sure the shifts for the (dark) comedy always worked. It felt a little tonally wobbly in places.

Thatcher had to have gotten a kick out of the film's title because of the way it will resonate with anybody who served a Mormon mission. This is no Heretic but it's pretty fun.

Edit:

I should have mentioned that the film does have something to say about what an abusive relationship looks like.

I've been going through Aronofsky's early films, and tonight rewatched his first feature. It's a very low budget exercise that now plays as a kind of adorable production and practice run for Requiem for a Dream. I mean, the landlady was played by the craft services person.

You can see Aronofsky building experience with his core team, including DP Matthew Libatique and composer Clint Mansell. No wonder they hit it so far out of the park with Black Swan. They had been making features together for 13 years. Speaking of which, it's been about 12 years since I saw this, so I'm giving myself a break for not ing much. I did the tone, though. And, interestingly, my star rating is the same as what I figured when I entered the date here.

Aronofsky hadn't yet become fascinated with eating disorders, but he was already good at exploring mental breakdowns, the effects of drugs, obsession, and a certain kind of body horror. Is it great? Not quite. But can you see the promise of what was to come? Yeah, you can.

There's something about Spanish directors. It's a kind of freedom to play with the form, and the chops to back it up. I was intrigued to learn that Pablo Berger, who directed one of my favorite movies, Blancanieves, had made an animated film. After thoroughly enjoying it I was struck by how many of my favorites are from Spain.

We've got the perfect El Orfanato, plus Marrowbone, and the stunning Carmen, just to mention a few. Anyway, Robot Dreams is not like any of those films. It's a beautiful execution of a very loopy idea that ends up being an utterly charming and well-observed look at life.

Oh, wait: It does share something in common with those other films: An ending that is both brilliant and nothing like what Hollywood would do.

If there were an Oscar for licensing, this would win. You'll see what I mean.

I should have known, given how reliably Berger makes me cry with Blancanieves, that there would be some really emotional moments. But here he demonstrates a flair for gentle comedy as well. I laughed out loud many times. Visual storytellers take note: You don't need dialogue if you know what you're doing.

DNF.

It started slowly, kind of established the rules, and then changed them: The magical future character becomes a voice on the phone. WTF?

Mostly just dialogue, not much visual storytelling. I gave up 42 minutes in because I still didn't know what kind of story I was in, and I was getting bored. I wonder if it would work better as a short story than a movie.

Kind of sad about that because I'm a big Aubrey Plaza fan.

I ed this as a difficult watch, and that part of my memory was exactly correct. It's a surrealist look at people destroying themselves, mostly with drugs. As if I needed more reasons to be thankful that I've never used.

It's imaginatively crafted, having its own crackling, manic kind of energy. Aronofsky really treats the screen as his playground, sometimes splitting it even when characters are in the same space, and the sound work is terrific. I think my favorite little moment is the shot of Ellen Burstyn staring at the door that her son, played by Jared Leto, has just used for his exit. Subtly, behind her on the right, we hear the refrigerator compressor start up.

I guess I should mention that there's a credit for Refrigerator Puppeteer.

That doesn't spoil anything, really. One of the best reasons to watch are the performances. Everybody is great, but especially Burstyn and Jennifer Connelly. They're both just heartbreakingly mesmerizing and brave.

Rather famously, Aronofsky was influenced by, and liberally quoted from, Perfect Blue. You can watch this comparison of one shot without spoiling either film. This is, in many ways, live-action anime. Whether you come down on the side of homage or knock-off, it's clear that Aronofsky has great affection for the form. You can read this article for one person's take. I suspect that the answer is it's complicated.

that my star rating is about rewatchability and not quality. This is one that I have to take in spaced-out doses.

I'll see myself out.

Dave Peoples recommended this film to me, very specifically saying that I should see the American remake and not the Danish original. Dave is not shy about preferring European originals, so that got my attention. What I gather from Seth Andrews' review is that this version features a much better cast and a re-tooled third act. I can believe it.

The cast is led by James McAvoy, who is flat-out fantastic, and Mackenzie Davis who, like everyone else here, is given a great script to work from. Even the kids, as is becoming the new normal, are terrific.

This is essentially a reverse home invasion film that tonally, but not in plot, reminded me of The Invitation in the way that it slowly ratchets up the tension until all hell breaks loose in the third act.

Writer/director James Watkins gives us wonderfully complex and flawed characters, and stages everything well. There's nothing showy about the camera work, but I also realized with relief as the credits rolled that not once had I said "stop that" to the screen. I spent my time squirming and engrossed.

Edit:

Do not watch the trailer until after you see the movie. I hate trailers like this. Major spoilers.

My second watch, my daughter's first. Short version: It's just as good the second time. In other words, still perfect.

Hitchcock had what he called the Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not get caught. He maintained that he could make you empathize with anybody, no matter what they were doing, if he placed them in jeopardy of getting caught. Ripley is a prime example of how well that works; the Eleventh Commandment fuels the show.

It's storytelling at the highest level. If you haven't seen it yet, you owe yourself the treat.

You can read my original review here.

This was literally the B side of the Blind Fury DVD I rented, and the description sounded pretty crazy so, why not give it a shot?

A reminder here that my star system has to do with rewatchability, and I'd easily watch this again with someone else who hasn't seen it just for a good laugh. Because laugh I did. A lot. This film is so astonishingly inept that it wraps back around to an MST3K level of funny, much the way an Ed Wood film does.

I have no idea how Albert Pyun convinced anybody to fund this low-budget sci-fi mess, nor how he eeked out enough money to get Rutger Hauer to show up in Bratislava. Maybe he needed the work. He was only 51 but didn't seem to be moving very well.

The premise is pretty convoluted, to the point where both voiceovers and dialogue are mostly delivering exposition, but suffice it to say that this is a post-apocalyptic world and all of the characters are robots. You can tell that they're robots because there are little servo noises cut in for all their movement, and most of them seem to be from the Robot Ministry of Silly Walks. Except Hauer, who doesn't move much. That big, badass sword on his back? You'll be waiting the whole movie for him to use that thing, honey.

For the first half hour I was cracking up and wondering when the story was actually going to start. It kind of sort of does, eventually, but not really. Meanwhile, it's so earnestly bad that it's easy to picture Pyun nodding to himself after every take and thinking, "Oh, that's so awesome." What isn't padding or exposition is shoe leather, which is a good trick because everything seems to happen in a little section of a bombed-out Latvian city that has a sign saying California slapped on it so, okay, let's just say this is southern California and just roll with it.

Pretty much everything that can be done wrong in of film craft is done gleefully wrong. There are times when the actors are cut by the frame line, or one is fringing on the left, overexposed from being too close to the light, while another is fringing on the right, getting lost in shadow. The action sequences are a master class in editorial desperation, some of the sound effects are hilariously inappropriate, the visual effects cheap and cheesy, and the script (which took two guys to write) is an incoherent, amateurish mess.

And dramatic staring. This movie has all the dramatic staring.

You can get an accurate idea of what to expect from the trailer. It's hard to believe that this film is from 1995 (not 1996 like Letterboxd says) because it's such a throwback to '80s sci-fi action.

This will go on my list of Bad Examples of Visual Storytelling because a forensic viewing could be very instructive on what not to do.

But, boy howdy, did I get some laughs.

George Miller serves up a heaping bowl of action and pulls off the trick of making a prequel that doesn't suck. Not an easy task. It's got all the craft and aesthetics we expect at this point.

We also get a really great cast, including a very impressive performance by Alyla Browne as the young Furiosa. She blends into Anya Taylor-Joy so well that you can miss the transition. We love a resourceful little girl who can kick ass, and she really delivers. Taylor-Joy, not surprisingly, does a great job. I love that her character hardly speaks. Chris Hemsworth brings his usual mix of impossible physique and delicate comedic timing.

Of course we have the crazy cars, crazier stunts, and heart-pounding action set pieces that typically fuel these films. This is pretty much live-action cartoon, a violent fairy tale, and revenge story.

The VFX are, of course, flawless. Props to the sound design team for bringing us some delicious automotive growling along with some elegant smaller accents.

It is too long. This is a real meal. And I'm not sure why they intercut highlights of Mad Max: Fury Road with the credits. Seemed an odd choice. I liked Fury Road better, but this did get my pulse up and make me laugh.

This, as my daughter might say, is not a good movie, but it's a great movie. I cracking up at the climactic kill in 1989, and I cracked up again. Based on an earlier script by Japanese writer Ryôzô Kasahara, it has a fun premise for a brainless '80s action picture: Rutger Hauer as a guy who is blinded in Viet Nam but is now a formidable swordsman. Because where else would you learn to be a blind samurai than in a village of kindly Vietnamese during the war?

His best friend, played by one Terrance O'Quinn (who evidently became Terry O'Quinn when he stopped having hair), is a chemist who a corrupt Reno casino owner wants to make some designer drugs because reasons. (I have to suspect that Vince Gilligan was doing an homage to Blind Fury when he made Walter's fancy meth look like blue crystals.) As leverage he sends goons to kidnap the chemist's son in Florida, just as Rutger Hauer happens to be visiting.

Hilarity ensues.

It's got wacky dismemberments, mulleted henchmen who have never held a gun before in their lives, ludicrous action pieces, winky one-liners, and a synth score. In other words, everything.

Director Philip Noyce, who amazingly had Dead Calm open the same year, seems to understand the assignment and cranks out a goofy actioner. This is not high cinema by any means, but that last kill is still a hoot.

Well, I'm good and wrecked.

Adolescence is a singular work of mad genius, one of the best things ever made for the small screen. It is four one-hour episodes of gut punches delivered with unbelievable skill and unimaginable daring. Schools in England plan to show it to students, something I wholeheartedly endorse, because it really has something to say.

I will avoid spoilers as much as possible, and it's likely that you already know too much about the story. Do see it, and do see it as cold as you possibly can.

Technically this is a marvel. Each episode is shot as a oner. Episode 1 is the second take they shot. Episode 4 is the fourteenth. I can scarcely imagine what it took to block, choreograph, and shoot this show let alone write it. The second episode, near the end, has a camera hand-off that, even though I know how they must have done it I don't know how they did it.

What they did with the audio blew me away as much as the camera work. Somehow they got clean dialogue (that must be from cunningly hidden microphones on the actors) and panned it so that the relative position of the audio source always matches picture. In movies for the big screen dialogue is always pegged to the center channel so that audiences in an auditorium get the best average experience. Here they knew it was for home video, so it is 2.0 stereo with no surrounds, but with the panning our aural "lens" mimics the camera lens, with the effect being that you are right there with the actors, in their space, like the voyeur the show wants you to be.

All of this is in of performances that are all perfect. I mean everybody. I mean the kids in the back of the classroom, the customers at the hardware store, and everybody you see or hear.

In episode 3 (which was shot first!) pay attention to the sound of rain on the roof, and notice exactly when clouds and block the sun, subtly darkening the face you're seeing. That's god-tier movie production right there.

Show co-creator Stephen Graham plays the dad, who is the real protagonist. But the performance everybody is talking about is that of Owen Cooper, a first-time actor of around 14 playing a 13-year-old. Having called everyone around him perfect I'm grasping for superlatives, but he is incandescent, vulnerable, tragic, and terrifying. I'm out of words. They bet the farm that he'd be able to pull it off. They won.

The last moment of the last episode broke me like cheap pottery. After I recover and watch this again (I do not recommend binging it) I may turn on the subtitles because the parents' Scouse accents were a real challenge. But the visual storytelling is so strong that what is said is really secondary anyway.

It's a monumental achievement, and if you're a parent make sure you have a full drawer of spoons before diving in. It's a compelling, wonderful ride but a rough one.

See my friend Stu's review for some links to look at AFTER you finish the show.

Edit:

AFTER you see the whole show, there is also this interview with the show creators, and this interview with the sound design team. (I was wrong about body mics, but right about some other things, including the weather in episode 3.)

I threw this on the queue because (I thought) it's the film that one of my students used for an animatic exercise. Turns out that clip must have been from a different Andrew Garfield Spider-Man film. But I like Garfield, and I'm always down for a film with Emma Stone, so I wanted to give it a shot.

First, the good news: Garfield and Stone are, unsurprisingly, excellent and fun to watch. And... uh... The sound design is great, and the production values are everything you'd expect from a Marvel film.

Other than that, though, it just kind of goes in one eye and out the other. I sometimes use a distance metric for movie quality; it's how far you get from the theater before you stop thinking about the film and just forget about it. Had I seen this in the theater it would have made it just about to the concession stand.

The story is kind of dumb, once we get past the requisite, dragged-out origin story that we all have freaking memorized after so many reboots, where the script thinks we're all kind of dumb and/or not paying attention. There are insulting flashbacks to remind us of things, devices that are equipped with AEVs (Automated Exposition Voices), and an entire city tuned in to radio and television from the Exposition Network. There's Dennis Leary's character making a major turn merely because the script required it.

Oh, and it's also too long.

My biggest question: Why are there lizards in the New York sewers but no rats?

Emma Stone's last line is emblematic. "He made you promise, didn't he" is a perfect bit of dialogue. Which was then followed by two more sentences to Drive. The. Point. Home.

Is there a law against subtext in the MCU?

But Stone and Garfield were good.

I guess I was busy in 1995, and then life happened, but I only now got around to seeing this. It's one of the sweetest romances I've ever seen. The idea is so simple, and the execution so deft, that it really sneaks up on you.

It helps that the two lead actors are beautiful and absolutely, one hundred percent, no-doubt-about-it perfect in their roles. There isn't a nanosecond where you doubt that they are coming up with their thoughts right in the moment. And talk about chemistry: you won't find any better.

Linklater uses a light touch here that lets you just get swept up in this one magical night, and is then able to obliterate you with a handful of shots of empty locations in the morning light.

I'm really looking forward to seeing the other two films in the series. I wonder if there are tours of the locations in Vienna. My thanks again to Andrew Stanton for the nudge.

I hadn't seen this one since a screening at the Paramount in Oakland probably well over a quarter century ago. It's one of the later Marx Brothers movies, but still has some really funny bits. And by bits I mean hunks, essentially sketch comedy. The Vaudeville roots really show. It progresses from set piece to set piece.

These movies were essentially variety shows laced together with something you could squint at and call a "plot", so the pacing is a little uneven. But that's part of the charm. It may hit the brakes for a huge musical number, but one that morphs into Chico's piano falling apart and becoming a harp for Harpo.

There are plenty of classic quips from Groucho, including, "If I held you any closer I'd be behind you" and "Hey, don't drink that poison! That's $4.00 an ounce!".

If you're not old, you're going to need some context. Perhaps you've heard that the Marx brothers do blackface in this film and might be inclined to think that the film is racist. And you would be tragically wrong.

Bear in mind that this was 1937. The film was actually way ahead of its time and quite daring in the way it portrayed Blacks. The standard Marx Brothers schtick was to ridicule rich, white people. Margaret Dumont, who was one of the best sports in movie history, is again here their foil as the ungainly woman with more money than sense. Toward the end of the film we get a glimpse at the Black community in this fictitious part of Florida, and they are treated with nothing but affection. They're the only sane, happy people in the film, and their musical numbers are thrilling, athletic, fun, and make the stuff we saw in the fancy nightclub look as lame as it actually was. (The women fake-playing their instruments are a scream.)

When the boys paint axle grease on their faces to escape the corrupt sheriff they are simultaneously making fun of blackface (Harpo only paints one side of his face) and showing that they want to their new Black friends.

Still not convinced? If what they did in this movie actually disrespected Blacks they wouldn't have had to cut the Black footage out for it to be shown in the South.

So if you want to see some absurd comedy and laugh at some highly-skilled silliness, don't let anything you've heard about it put you off from this time capsule.

Made in 1983 for only €400,00, Angst never made its money back, but it has a dedicated cult following and has certainly influenced a lot of filmmakers. I would bet folding money that the Wachowskis were well aware of it when they shot Bound. And their version of the actor-mounted camera shot isn't as good as in Angst.

That's because Angst was written, edited, and most importantly shot by Zbigniew Rybczynski, who you may call "Zbig Rib-chin-ski". If you're not familiar with his experimental films and music videos you owe it to yourself to start with Tango and Close (To The Edit). His camera work here is dreamlike for its unusual and highly effective perspective choices.

He mounted a mirror at 45 degrees to the camera's lens, allowing it to easily do both high angles and a perspective that seems to be shooting low angles from below the floor - because optical parallax actually puts the camera under the floor. He used cables and pipes to fly the camera around in the street, and even got an industrial 2-arm crane to do some shots that are all the more amazing because they were done blind: no remote video tap here.

And where he beats Bound hands-down is with a rig that suspended the camera rig above a ring around the actor's waist, so it could orbit the actor in a 360 while still being attached to him. I guessed more or less correctly how it was done, but it had me really wondering. (There's an interview on the Blu-ray extras that includes a diagram of the contraption. It's wild.)

Erwin Leder, fresh off of Das Boot, plays a character who is a composite of three different German serial killers in a story based on one of them. "K" had been held some ten years in prison for killing people, and then the psychiatrists said he was good to go and he got a release. Three guesses what he did on his first day of freedom. Leder considered himself well prepared for the role as he grew up in the psychiatric facility that his dad ran, and some of his childhood playmates were schizophrenics.

As my daughter points out in their review the film is noteworthy for portraying the serial killer not as some charming rogue but a pathetic, rather stupid loser. And that leads to the film's sense of humor. Oh, it's a home invasion with all that implies, but it's also kind of an Austrian comedy. I could not but laugh at the almost slapstick way "K" drags a victim's body downstairs the hard way when there was an empty wheelchair right there. Then there's the dog, Rybczynski's own dachshund, Kuba, in a charming and extended cameo.

It's not for everybody, of course, but don't let the X rating the MPAA originally gave it put you off. Even with the one gory death scene it would be a mild R now. One more tip: If you watch the Blu-ray, choose the default movie and not the one with the prologue.

Sigh. Where to begin? Since Fox has a history of contracting up-and-coming directors to the franchise so they can boss them around, I'll charitably say that this isn't Fede Alvarez's fault. I have a feeling that he's no David Fincher (Alien³) and stepping into a production of this scale could overwhelm anybody.

In any case, what we have is a pastiche of moments from every other film of the franchise, except with MORE MONEY and WAY MORE VFX. And dumbed down to the lowest common denominator of studio executive. It really feels like it were made by committee. Those VFX are all very pretty, and very well executed, though, so the Oscar nomination is well earned.

The cast isn't really the problem here, but the casting could have been more careful. Cailee Spaeny was terrific in Bad Times at the El Royale, and Isabela Merced was previously in Sicario: Day of the Soldado, so they're both highly qualified actors. But they look so much alike here that I was often confused about what was happening to which character. (Also, in those other films they had scripts.)

Yeah, let's talk about how disrespectful this script is. The dialogue is riddled with clumsy exposition. They even made an uncanny almost-Ian-Holm, no doubt at great expense, just to have that character deliver nothing but exposition. I guess because the other android, Andy (get it?), bravely played by David Jonsson, couldn't deliver all of it. Even our Final Girl is laden with lines like, "The elevator won't work without gravity!". At one point she is firing a gun that has a bright red bar graph to indicate remaining ammunition. Said bar graph is thoughtfully on the camera side of the weapon where we can't miss it. But Andy has to shout, "You're down to forty percent!". Still not worried that she's going to run out? A few seconds later: "You're down to twenty percent!".

Oy.

At least the premise and the physics make no sense, either. The original Alien is still probably the best gothic horror film ever made. Aliens cleverly switched genres to action. And since then we've gotten sort of sci-fi franchise films. This one feels like it wants to be everything, strip mining the earlier films for shots and setups, and ultimately fails to be much of anything. I mean, it's not very scary, is frequently just dumb, and ended up breaking my Twister rule* when Andy says, "Get away from her..." (long pause so that even the audience who have taken gummies to numb the pain will see it coming) "...you bitch!"

Said to a Xenomorph warrior, not a queen.

If you're in the mood for a good Alien film, watch the original.

*The Twister Rule: Never remind me of a better movie in the middle of your shitty one.

Such a lovely film, and one only Guillermo del Toro could make. As he did a decade earlier in Pan's Labyrinth he weaves a beautiful fairy tale set against war, about a princess from another realm who has to undergo a transformation to find her place, and where the monster is the good guy.

This is the film that knocked me head over heels in love with Sally Hawkins, who is just the epitome of appeal here. Michael Shannon summons all of his dark energy to make a villain you love to hate, and Richard Jenkins is adorable and heartbreaking as Hawkins' lonely neighbor. And what can we say about Doug Jones, the man who really knows how to work a suit? Both he and Hawkins communicate clearly without saying a word.

It's been a long while since I saw this film, and on this viewing I was struck by how deftly musical the editing is, and how well del Toro orchestrates the visual and audible transitions. The audible rhythm of Shannon in bed with his wife becoming mechanical sounds in the lab is a subtle and delicious example. The craft is excellent right across the board and, yes, (I know you've been waiting for this part) I cried.

A little bit Rashomon, a little bit family drama, and a little bit courtroom drama, Anatomy of a Fall is ultimately a philosophical challenge and a showcase for some astonishingly naturalistic acting. Thanks to The Zone of Interest (required viewing for everyone) we expect that kind of excellence from Sandra Hüller, but Milo Machado-Graner, who was 14 and playing a convincing 11, gives a jaw-dropping masterclass in performance.

Director and co-writer Justine Triet is a wonderfully unobtrusive filmmaker, getting out of the way of the story and performances. I appreciated the choice to eschew a musical score, which allows the source music in the film to flex its emotional muscles. She has made a film that not only runs on subtext but is arguably all about subtext.

The craft includes some highly skilled and effective sound design that's so natural that I doubt that most audiences even know that there is any. The mix is so good that it really places you in the locations.

I don't believe that an American studio could nor would have made this film. Happily Triet was allowed to make the film she so evidently wanted to make. It's not showy, but it's emotionally gripping and will leave you thinking.

I just noticed that this is reviewable on Letterboxd. I made a wild guess as to when I saw it.

The short version is that the show is fantastic. The animation technique is used as a powerful storytelling tool and not just a gimmick. If you haven't seen it, see it.

It had been far too long since watching Kubrick's Viet Nam grinning gut punch. This is practically two movies for the price of one, with the sequel to the boot camp film already spliced on. I how, on my first viewing, Lee Ermy's voice kept echoing in my head all the way to the end.

That's part of why I was so thrilled years later when my words ("Recon plan Charlie, execute! Let's move move move move move!") came out of Ermy's mouth in Toy Story. If you don't know the story, he was hired to be a technical advisor, and retains that credit. Kubrick overheard him coaching the actor who was cast to play Gunny Hartman, fired the actor and cast Ermy. The result is an iconic, absolutely unforgettable character.

I still think that Vincent D'Onofrio is one of the most underrated actors ever to work in pictures. His Gomer Pyle could have been a cartoon in lesser hands, but he gives us a nuanced and tragic human being, also one of the most memorable characters in the film.

The sheer aimlessness of what happens to Private Joker, played with an intelligent detachment by Matthew Modine, and the rest of the Marines in Viet Nam echoes the violent flailing U.S. forces experienced through that whole conflict, and the tragedy of what he ultimately finds himself capable of lands hard. Kubrick's choice to play that moment entirely on Joker's face and never show us the aftermath is why Kubrick was a great director.

Another thing I from my first viewing was the sudden realization of what schlock Platoon was, and a sense of shame that I had ever been impressed by it.

This is the real deal.

I'd like to tell you about a darkly comedic tonal high wire act that really digs deep into the realities of high school. I'd like to tell you about one, but instead I'm going to tell you about Jawbreaker. Maybe Writer/director Darren Stein was trying to do a tongue-in-cheek version of River's Edge but with mean girls. To his credit, this was five years before Mean Girls, but...

Someone got Stein a fairly stacked cast, though the well-known names are pretty much all in day-player roles. Well, maybe Carol Kane had to show up for two or three days. So he's got that going for him, but...

But we're in one of those high schools populated entirely by seniors who have been in high school for nearly a decade. Think I'm kidding? The stars are Rose McGowan, 26, Julie Benz, 27, and Rebecca Gayheart, 28. Just don't ask me which one was the protagonist because I have no clue whose movie this is. Let me tell you, this made for an interesting forensic viewing, what with trying to figure out who the main character was.

This premise might have been spectacularly done in the hands of, say, Karyn Kusama. She would have whipped the script into shape for starters. Instead we have an unfocused mess with horrible dialogue, unnecessary flashbacks, and characters who are all types rather than people. Give Pam Grier an Oscar for introducing herself as Detective Vera Cruz with a straight face.

But we're just getting started because the direction is slapdash, haphazard, and often mystifying. The film is so ineptly made that it almost wraps back around to being funny. When a high school boy makes a naughty tongue flick at a girl it's covered with a cartoon sound effect. And then, as if the movie has stumbled into a whole new corner of the sound effects library like a toddler in the pantry, it gleefully throws a cartoon effect on every one of the wipe transitions, of which there are many. I've honestly never heard such a whack sound design job on a film.

At several moments I thought that drugs may have been involved. The edit suite must have been awash in cocaine.

I know someone who saw this in high school and has fond memories of it. If you're in that club, my suggestion is that you not ruin those fond memories by rewatching the film. But if you're a writer and want a fascinating example of how not to write characters or structure a screenplay, tie on a barbecue bib and chow down.

This time I feel genuinely ashamed that this film languished so long on my shame list, and I'm so grateful to Cat for nudging me to do something about this Grand Canyon-sized lacuna in my film literacy.

Arriving like a ghost from over a century in the past (why, my dad was still a toddler when this was made) it is a straight-up banger. The 4K restoration streaming on Shudder probably looks better than any presentation audiences got in 1920. The amazing production design still feels bold and fresh.

Arguably the film that launched the German Expressionist film movement, it casts a long, highly stylized shadow across pretty much the entirety of film history. Filmmakers have obviously been mining it for a good 105 years so far, and are likely to continue doing so. You can see its influence everywhere, from Nosferatu to Nosferatu, The Elephant Man to Barbie, and everything Tim Burton has ever done. And that's just the look. The double-twist ending has been copied over and over again.

Conrad Veidt was only 27 when he played Cesare the Somnambulist. He later appeared in The Man Who Laughs, and eventually Casablanca. Even at that young age he had an astonishing amount of control over his facial expressions.

Don't wait until the 70th year of your life like I did. If you haven't seen this yet, watch and be amazed. I believe that the screen should be your playground, and director Robert Wiene clearly felt the same. Influential, ahead of its time, and still pretty spooky.

For a film I haven't seen in 40 years I'm surprised how many things I ed from it: Terri Garr's plastic raincoat, the mob traveling with the ice cream truck, and that $20 bill wafting out of the cab window, just to mention a few. I liking the film, and I still do.

It's an absurdist nightmare of a movie, full of laugh-out-loud moments, dark humor, and that kind of tension you feel in a stress dream. Scorcese's camera work and Thelma Schoonmaker's editing are both poetry, and the very stacked cast (plus cameos) really delivers. Griffin Dunne delivers some of his best lines just as facial expressions, though the dialogue is packed with great stuff. And I have to it that if Rosanna Arquette had flirted with me in a coffee shop I'd probably follow her downtown as well.

Pulling off such an episodic story and keeping things engaging is no mean feat. A big part of how screenwriter Joseph Minion (who also wrote Motorama) and director Scorcese pull this off is through escalation. Things start out a little bad, get a little weird, and then progressively get weirder and worse for the whole night.

Harold Lloyd once said, "A guy wants something -- you have comedy." The want here is pretty simple: just to get home. And sometimes the universe just doesn't cooperate.

If you want to catch it on Prime, act quickly. A warning said that it was leaving Prime in 3 days. So no more than 2 for those of you reading this.

Edit:

Here's a nice interview with Griffin Dunne and Amy Robinson, who produced the film.

If you like a confident, slow burn horror film, read on. You should start by checking out my daughter's review for some salient observations. As they pointed out, it's not about blood or jump scares, but tone. Uncanny indeed.

A young woman gets a job as a night clerk at an Austrian hotel and, well, something's not quite right with the place, starting with the elevator music. Indeed, all of the music in the film is diegetic, adding to the mounting sense of dread. The boundary between the hotel interiors and the dark woods outside gradually blurs until perhaps there isn't one.

In the sense of location as character, and the reliance on mood, Hotel could be The Haunting meets Skinamarink. Sort of. It really is its own thing, and those wacky Austrians are just such a barrel of laughs.

This is billed as writer/director Jessica Hausner's sophomore outing. I've not seen any of her other films, but she has a great eye for camera. The influence of Michael Haneke seems obvious, and I mean that as a compliment. The compositions are well considered, the camera operation minimal and motivated.

If you like a film that goes at a deliberate pace, yet is confident in its editorial elision, this could be your cuppa.

I knocked a big one off of my shame list tonight. I knew very little going in, mostly that it was based on a true story and had really put Peter Jackson on the map. Having seen Meet the Feebles long ago I knew that he was willing to take cinematic risks, but didn't know what to expect.

From the vantage point of all of these years I could see the Lord of the Rings Peter Jackson throughout. He has a kind of signature camera grammar that really works here. Not only was this the breakout film for Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey, but it features some bleeding-edge VFX work from a little outfit called W.E.T.A., back when they still had periods in their name.

Winslet's performance is astonishingly mature, but Lynskey was, as some critics at the time put it, perfect. She embodies every reason that we adults are so glad to no longer be teenagers, and the relationship which forms the spine of the movie is strong and heartbreaking.

I did not expect a story like this to have so much humor in it, but Jackson really pulls us in with some nicely-observed moments before he gradually dials up the tension. In that sense the film is a recapitulation of the opening, which lulls before startling. His director cameo is adorable, by the way.

The last line of the film, actually delivered via a super, lands a real gut punch. It's little wonder Jackson got work after this.

A reminder that my star ratings are about how much I want to re-watch the film, and not its quality.

This movie means a lot to a person very dear to me, and I appreciate that they thought I'd be able to get it. But I don't think I got it. I have a hard enough time watching footage of people at clubs and parties, where I have to remind myself that those people are having fun. But these people and these parties just made me kind of sad because everybody seemed so desperate and empty. I also weary rapidly at drug use depictions, and this is sort of Leaving Las Vegas but with heroin and ketamine instead of alcohol.

The choice to shoot on video, with what seemed like a pro-sumer camera, made it feel to me like I was watching a true-crime re-enactment on TV, and the pushed performances just enhanced that effect. Are Seth Green and McCauley Culkin absolutely fearless here? And how. But I never felt like any of the relationships were real.

It's odd that the film pulls all of its punches on the violence. Some of the shots were staged really badly and I often couldn't tell if it was supposed to be aping bad documentary footage or was just inept. For me the total effect was to make me start checking my watch, and it's not a long movie. It does seem to want to be a fourth-wall breaking tongue-in-cheek docu-drama based on real crimes but, as I said, I didn't get it.

That's probably on me.

Once again, when Andrew Stanton makes a strong recommendation one is wise to heed it. I had no idea what this movie was about and wondered if it would be my thing or not. Then it hooked me right at the start and never let go.

The script by writer and co-director Kelly O'Sullivan is pure spun gold. We meet a dad, perfectly played by Keith Kupferer, who is struggling to navigate the world and deal with his explosively angry daughter, played by his real-life daughter, Katherine Mallen Kupferer. Realizing that this was not just a daddy-daughter story but a real daddy and daughter added an extra gut punch. I didn't recognize her from her bit part in Widows, but she is stunningly good. The entire cast is wonderful, and the production is a prime example of how much you can do on a low budget if you know what you're doing.

This is billed as a comedy and a drama, and indeed there are some deeply funny parts. As the story unfolds, though, the tears start flowing. If you don't both laugh and cry at this movie then just report back to Boston Dynamics to have your hydraulics checked. If, as I teach in my class, the one job cinema has is to convey emotions then this is some first-class cinema.

I'm a bit stunned that it was directed by two people, because while the vision is consistent the direction never, ever gets in the way. We're just swept up by a terrific cast of characters about whom we come to care quite deeply. I'm staying vague because you should have the chance to figure out what's happening on your own.

The last time I saw this movie was so long ago that I still hadn't put it together that this David Fincher was the same young David Fincher that I ed from the ILM shooting stage, so I was well overdue.

Here's what seeing a Fincher film guarantees: A high level of craft, photography, staging, and blocking. He's also good at casting, and gets solid performances from his actors. Edward Norton is flat-out great here, and manages to ground this wild ride even while being the unreliable narrator. I didn't recognize a blond Jared Leto, but I did spot Holt McCallany (Mindhunter) as the zealot who has an epiphany about death and identity.

A special shout-out to Ren Klyce for some absolutely stellar sound design. He does spectacular things here without calling attention to himself. But that's the level of work one expects from Skywalker Sound.

Though the movie is pretty old now, I shall allude to, but not spoil, the Big Reveal. I caught a detail this time, my first viewing since learning what was going on, that made me smile. It's right in the second shot where we see Tyler holding the muzzle of a .45 in Edward Norton's mouth. The hammer is down, meaning that the pistol is in a condition where it's impossible to fire. In other words, it's a harmless threat. Nice detail.

There are oodles of those nice details that only jump out on a repeat viewing. This is a dark, violent comedy that is very well told.

It's amazing how much of this movie I ed vividly given that it's been over a quarter century since I last saw it. But we studied this movie when we were developing A Bug's Life, and I used clips from it in the Wide Screen Inspiration Reel used to sell the idea of making our film wide screen. We ended up lifting shots straight from OUTW. When Hopper puts his foot on Flick's head that's Frank saying, "I could squash you like a wormy apple". We staged a grasshopper test scene almost exactly like the entrance Frank and his men make at the ranch. I'm sorry that camera move didn't make it into the film.

Speaking of Frank, this was Henry Fonda's first and only turn as a bad guy, and he's terrific. I mean, when the first thing you do in a film is gun down a young boy you may as well commit. Charles Bronson, as "Harmonica", is absolutely iconic, more Bronson than ever. Jason Robards was a daring choice for his role and he proves that Leone made the right choice.

This movie has the best cold open sequence of any western, and one of the very best in cinema history. It's a stand-alone short film that ends up being both a brilliant head fake and a fantastic character introduction. It also sets up the rules of the world, so you go in knowing that it's a mythical western, a pushed and heightened love letter to the tropes of Hollywood, so you just expect silly things like fanning single-shot revolvers from the hip and being deadly accurate. It even takes the face-off shootout to new heights when the two combatants stare each other down for over three minutes of screen time before firing.

And that's not the only case of the movie taking its time. It revels in its, shall we say luxurious, pacing, and is a big serving. But the scenery and faces in close-up hold our attention. The movie features some of the best staging and blocking in depth that you'll ever see. And when you're backed up by an Ennio Morricone you can really luxuriate. They very cleverly sent a unit to Arizona to get some real American West to intercut with the Italian shooting locations, and it's the perfect dodge.

Seminal, with a wry sense of humor, this is one of the westerns you need to see if you want to say that you've seen westerns.

Full disclosure: One of the producers on this film is a friend of mine. He posted on his socials that it was now available streaming, so I took a look.

This is considered a "zero-budget" film. Even though all of the donations at the end of the credits add up to something just north of zero, it punches well above its weight in of production values. Sure, it's a 2.0 mix, but the mix is good and the sound design works great. The photography looks quite nice, which is important because the film relies a lot on the stunning locations in the California desert near Borrego Springs.

Two women (Sisters, I think? Friends?) head deep into the desert for some kind of religious reasons, and things aren't quite right out there. To be honest, I'm not clear on exactly what isn't quite right out there, but it looks great.

The stars, Jenna Kanell from Terrifier (my daughter's review), and Hannah Alline are as beautiful as the scenery, and their chemistry is quite good. They really have to do the heavy lifting here in long scenes that explore their relationship, their future, and their past. Their performances feel very grounded and natural.

If you want to get an idea what kind of thing you can get up on the screen on a very modest budget, or if you go in for subtle think pieces, this just might be your cuppa.

Oz Perkins is really good at tone. The best thing about The Blackcoat's Daghter was the creepy tone, and I thought he nailed a very different tone in Longlegs. Not to mention I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House. So when Perkins takes a stab at comedic horror, for me he gets it right in the jugular. After looking at my daughter's review I think maybe it was to my advantage that I haven't read the short story, because it's apparently a different feel.

But, man, did I laugh at a number of places, often the little touches, like the sign coming into town, a long scorch mark on a kitchen ceiling, or a guy puffing his bangs out of his eyes. Some of the best humor comes in the cut, and I really appreciated that Perkins and his editors, Graham Fortin and Greg Ng, understand the economy and potential humor of elision. In other words, the movie knows how to tell a joke.

Perkins knows how to shoot and stage a film, and has once again assembled a good cast to populate it. Theo James, who was wonderfully hunky in The White Lotus shows his chops as decidedly non-hunky twins, and Tatiana Maslany is perfect as the lovable but less than perfect mom.

Lee Unkrich is laughing at the the wrench he unknowingly threw into Perkins' plans, but I think that Oz not only recovered from it, but made a smarter choice. The drumming works great, probably better than cymbals would have.

I also love that he put something at the very end of the movie, meaning it will be missed by the philistines who walk out during the credits.

This is an odd, original little film that revels in how weird it is. The title character, born with a lazy eye, obsessed with perfection, and working for an animal doctor (the word veterinarian is never used), has a very hard time fitting in. She's weird.

This is a slow-burn kind of horror that gets a fair way down the road before any killings start and, when they do, makes the interesting choice to have them all be quiet. No musical score. And why might there be so many interesting editorial choices here? One possible reason comes to mind.

One of the editors was Rian Johnson, three years before he directed Brick. You think that's interesting? The DP was none other than Steve Yedlin. Everybody starts somewhere.

Some performances are better than others, let's say. But Angela Bettis is weirdly compelling as May, and the film is fresh in that it's difficult to predict where it's going (for the most part). But it does have a memorable last shot that comes as a complete surprise.

If you've ever felt weird, the odd one out, you'll likely find May resonating with you, even if her coping skills could be better.

I was led to believe somehow that this movie had more story than Kill Bill: Vol. 1. Huh.

There's a fun, gorgeous, tight 90-minute actioner in here somewhere, but it's buried under 55 minutes of lard. I thought Tarantino's thing was snappy dialogue, but here it's indulgent, pointless, repetitive dialogue about things we already know happened, things that would be happening now if somebody shut the hell up and did something, and things that people are planning to do in the future. Then there's all the shoe leather. It seemed like the editor didn't want to leave a scene until it extracted a yawn.

Nobody will be seated during the tense "packing a million dollars back into a suitcase" scene in Kill Bill: Vol. 2.

The production values are once again good, even when Tarantino deliberately parodies (copies?) bad rear projection or over-the-top zooms from '70s kung fu films.

Nobody will be seated during the tense "making a sandwich" scene in Kill Bill: Vol. 2.

I'm all for films that take their time. They don't have to be in a hurry. But if your two-and-a-quarter-hour film has a grand total of one dramatic surprise, maybe you want to step on the gas a little bit.

That sandwich, being made in Mexico, used Pan Bimbo, which was a great touch. But also Best Foods mayo. So I don't know what was happening there.

Nobody will be seated during the tense "characters sit facing each other while recapping the entire two films" scene in Kill Bill: Vol. 2.

Emblematic of the glacial pacing, the film has four credit sequences. One of which covers both movies.

At least it's off my shame list. I have no need to see these again.

While this high school take on Cinderella at least gives her some agency (yay), it's probably better suited for a middle school slumber party than for watching as an adult. The script has more on-the-nose, stilted, expository dialogue than would seem to fit into a film with an under 90-minute run time. But those are 90 very, very, very long minutes.

There are things to like. Their names are Jennifer Coolidge, Regina King, and Chad Michael Murray. Coolidge makes a suitably horrible evil step mom, King makes a badass fairy godmother, and Murray decided to be the one guy to give a grounded performance, even though his Prince Charming is somehow unable to see through a Clark Kent level disguise. Nobody else in the movie could act their way through a wall of damp toilet paper.

I was always the oldest kid in my class. I was already 18 when I graduated high school. But the average student at the school in this movie must have been at least 22. The characters are all just types, the gags are pretty juvenile, and you can see them all coming from a mile away.

Well, naming the football team that Prince Charming plays for the Frogs was kind of clever. So there's that.

Clearly a labor of love, Flow represents a real accomplishment on a number of levels. I'm told that it was produced in Blender, an increasingly capable 3D animation system favored by the budget-minded. Latvian director, writer, producer, editor, cinematographer, chef, cook, and bottle washer, Gints Zilbalodis, has leaned in to what it can do well and sidestepped some really hard problems, mostly fur. He's clearly a Miyazaki fan and the surreal story, such as it is, features fantastic landscapes and water.

The animation is well observed and for the most part quite good, as is the camera work. If you are particularly captivated by cat behaviors you are likely to enjoy this more than I did. Here is where I must digress to point out that when visitors to my house see the local feral cats in the back yard they typically coo, "Oh, kitty!" while I'm fantasizing about how awesome it would be if a raptor screeched down from the sky and carried the little murder beast off in its talons. So making me root for a cat as the main character is an uphill battle, and I want to be up front about that bias.

The best thing about the film, and deserving of celebration and accolades, is that there is no talking. Now, technically, there is a lot of dialogue in the film but, as Andrew Stanton said about the first act of WALL·E, it's just not in English. There's plenty of mewling, barking, grunting, and squawking, but the storytelling here is primarily visual, and I love that.

The story is fantastical, surreal, and somewhat episodic, but each animal on this strange odyssey has a distinct personality, and you can easily track the relationships as they build up. More power to them for just getting this thing made. (It apparently took going hat in hand to just about every government in Europe.)

Edit:

I watched a Q&A with Zilbalodis and his producer. A few interesting highlights:

He wrote the script, then set it aside and went straight to 3D visualization, something I take to be kind of a layout , from memory. He hasn't read the script in 5 years and doesn't recall it in detail. A fair amount was improvised, like the giant cat statues where the script had giant human statues.

The choice to make the environment very detailed, for immersion, and the characters stylized and unrealistic was, wisely I think, a deliberate one to avoid approaching the uncanny valley.

They expected it to be a niche, festival film and were pleasantly surprised at its commercial success. In Latvia it's the highest-grossing film in history, and another market where it did extremely well is Mexico.

This was his first time using Blender. He was used to Maya, and found it easy to change over. The realtime render engine in Blender was a huge advantage in working quickly and thus saving money. But he was glad to have people who could add capabilities, because the realtime renderer doesn't do water and reflections very well. He plans to continue using Blender.

The cat's sounds were mostly from the sound designer's cat. The animal normally talked a lot, except when a microphone appeared, so he ended up hiding mics around the house. The Capybara was a baby camel, and the stranded whale was a tiger.

David Fincher knows how to stage, shoot, and pace a movie. Here he brings us a contained thriller written by David Koepp that does a great job of wringing tension out of a simple premise. Fincher also knows how to cast a film, and everybody does a terrific job.

It's interesting to see a baby Kristin Stewart, who would have been 11 or 12 years old, absolutely crushing it as a surly tween. The dynamic between her and Jodie Foster as her mom feels completely genuine.

Amid the rising action and threats there are some wry moments of humor. Jared Leto, credit where due, nails his role as a Dunning/Kruger criminal mastermind, and gets some good comedic moments. One of the funniest moments is when Koepp hangs a lantern on what would have been a serious logic problem, and turns it into a foible.

I don't know the story behind why there are two DPs credited, but one of them is none other than Conrad Hall. It's a great looking film, and Fincher was having fun with digital enhancements making for some "impossible" camera moves. There's one sequence shot in particular that's great mostly because it's so well thought out.

You do have to give the film a couple of Hollywood gimmes. It helps if you don't know how the 911 system works, how combustion works, or how many rounds a handgun holds. But structurally the film delivers, and is ultimately powered by all of the relationships.

Wow. I'm going to start by citing a couple of other reviews that make salient points. Karsten says that it "goes unnecessarily hard", and Andrew Stanton is absolutely correct that going chimp on this protagonist was a genius move because it generated instant sympathy for a character who makes a lot of ugly choices during the course of the film. I love that it's only ever addressed slyly and obliquely.

That work by Weta is so stunningly good that it blew the top of my skull off hard enough that it made a dent in my ceiling. This Corridor Crew video will give you an inkling, but it's so damn convincing that you can forget that it's there. The level of acting they get out of Williams' voice, Jonno Davies physicality, and Weta's work is stunningly good, which is vital because the lead character, who is in just about every shot, is 100% CGI. (And a great middle finger to the dilettantes who whinge about how "CGI is ruining movies".) The level of detail here is absolutely astonishing. When that little flake of potato chip popped out of young Robert's mouth I was all in.

I'd never heard of Robbie Williams before this, and have no idea how close to actual events this hews. To be honest, I don't care, because this takes the riches-to-drugs rock and roll story we all know so well to new heights through sheer audacity and craft. The film was Oscar nominated only for VFX (well deserved) but should have gotten one for editing as well. Director/cowriter Michael Gracey and his team of five editors have strung together a seemingly endless and inventive string of transitions, and held the pace at MTV levels for long stretches without causing any confusion. Gracey's hand-held and vertiginous camera work makes it so that when the quiet, still moments hit they land with a huge impact. Imagine if Game of Thrones had all been staged as well as this film.

As good as the dialogue is, which just crackles, my hat's off to the many times when the story is told visually rather than with a line. I cheered when a character found a tiny thing that told several scenes worth of information. (You'll know it when you see it.) But this happens in small but beautiful ways all through the film.

You can get a non-spoiler look at how amazing it is by watching the Rock DJ number that has been released as an extended clip. If that doesn't make you itch to see the movie then I'm not sure what will.

Paul Schrader's Taxi Driver starts out with trouble and gradually builds to a violent finale. Decades later he gave us this slow burn that starts out pretty normal and then just gradually gets darker and more tightly wound. I won't spoil the ending. It's nothing like Taxi Driver's, yet probably as memorable.

Ethan Hawke is a protestant reverend at a small New England church that is more of a tourist stop and gift shop than a real church, though it's associated with and subsidized by a nearby mega-church. He seems to be in some kind of personal crisis, but still does his best to tend his tiny flock. And then he has a fateful conversation with a young husband in the throes of despair over the future of global warming.

Schrader gets excellent, naturalistic performances out of Hawke and everybody else, but if you want a master class in naturalistic acting just pipe what Amanda Seyfried does here. You won't catch her acting in a single frame, and the result is enthralling.

Schrader also knows how to direct, stage, and shoot a film. The craft is all aces, and there's a moment (you'll know it when you see it) that just really goes sailing right out there.

I know that this sounds like a strange pitch for a film, because it is. But besides the performances I can just about guarantee that you will not see what's coming nor where the film is going, though you may think you have it figured out a couple of times.

It does skate right up to the line of breaking the Goldwyn rule, and I should caution you to approach the film with a drawer full of spoons because it probably will trigger some real existential anxiety. If you're up for it, though, it's worth your time.

In literature we have the unreliable narrator. These are films where the film itself messes with your sense of is this really happening. Often these films don't break the fourth wall, they just eliminate it.

Note: Please click the Read Notes button.

• Carmen

  Two parallel stories at a time, and you don't know which one you see end.

• Perfect Blue

  You'll wonder what's actually happening to the characters and what isn't.

• Black Swan

  Both a tribute to Perfect Blue and it's own terrific story, which may be from the protagonist's point of view or not.

• Altered States

  It's kind of right there in the title.

• Caché

  So many moments that start like one thing and turn out to be another.

• Inland Empire

  Which movie is Laura Dern in? Yes.

• The Mystery of Rampo

  A writer in pre-war Japan finds himself inside his own novel.

• TÁR

  It's almost a spoiler to put it on this list. But it's amazing.

• Stalker

  Unreliable narrator(s) in an unreliable place.

• The Stunt Man

  Peter O'Toole's character literally invites us to the other side of the looking glass, and once we go through those doors it's pretty much impossible to know what's real and what's fantasy. Fantasy becomes the reality of this film.

...plus 3 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

Films you should see that all happen to be directed by people from Spain.

• The Orphanage
• The Impossible
• Society of the Snow
• Marrowbone
• Blood Wedding
• Carmen
• El amor brujo
• Blancanieves
• Robot Dreams

Films that are good examples of visual storytelling. This list includes the films I show clips from in my Visual Storytelling class at the California College of the Arts.

This is not a ranked list.

Note: Please click the Read Notes button.

• The Mascot

  Amazing stop-mo film from 1933. It's as surreal as a fever dream, but has some stunning work in it. You have to look past some of the ideas that were the norm in 1933. It's hard to find, but there's a sort of workable transfer here.

• The Wizard of Oz

  There are a million reasons why this film should be a dated train wreck, yet it's a timeless classic. Study it to try to learn why.

• The Little Foxes

  Masterful staging; look at how depth is used. When characters tell the truth it's usually in a reflection. Lies are told face to face. The production design is needlepoint: thorns, pricks, polka dots. All barbed and dangerous like Bette Davis' character. And gorgeous Gregg Toland photography.

• Casablanca

  It was going to be a B picture, but became a classic. Notable for its use of visual systems.

• The Uninvited

  The first serious ghost story on film. Stunningly beautiful and still effective.

• Laura

  Classic film noir that influenced later films and launched a famous song. Revel in the cinematography, and reflect on how effectively a clock can be used.

  Arguably it's the first noir.

• Brief Encounter

  Film (and especially television) directors should watch this on repeat until they understand how little coverage you need if you know what you're doing.

• Beauty and the Beast

  No, not that Disney thing, but the good one. The only reason it doesn't look completely original now is that everybody has spent decades ripping it off — I mean paying homage.

• The Best Years of Our Lives

  Daring, heartbreaking film about WWII soldiers trying to adapt to civilian life. The visual storytelling is top notch. Don't let "it's old" put you off. Have a hanky.

• Sunset Boulevard

  Another Billy Wilder movie that had a disastrous test screening and went on to be a seminal work. Beautifully structured storytelling, super clear staging and cinematography. Watch for the subtle reveals and the way people are framed by architecture.

  If you haven't seen this you are not film-literate.

...plus 89 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

You can learn a lot from studying films that really don't work. Some of these have a lot of good things about them, but just fail at some basic principle of visual storytelling. Here are some that are spectacularly bad enough in at least one area to serve a pedagogical purpose.

Note: Please click the Read Notes button.

• Lost in Space

  There isn't a single line the movie doesn't cross in confusing ways at least a few times. Inexcusably bad staging. Highly educational.

• Mystery Men

  A master class in how not to write, stage, shoot, or edit comedy.

• Pitch Black

  An example of breaking the One Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Be Boring. Besides learning how not to write convincing characters, you could learn a lot about how not to shoot and edit action. A real mess.

• The Room

  Infamous as one of the worst films ever made, and deservedly so. It succeeds as a parable about the Dunning-Kruger Effect. You'll see examples of how not to write, direct, shoot, or edit a movie. And I guarantee you'll laugh.

• 1408

  Overcoverage, line jumping, and frenetic editing.

  Boo.

  Did I just scare you? Probably not.

• John Adams

  Everything about this production is awesome: The script, the cast, the production design, the sense of history, the emotional engagement — except the camera work, which has a completely unhinged use of Dutched angles and horror-movie wide angle shots. It's both worth seeing and worth learning from.

• Red Riding Hood

  Where should I put the camera? Everywhere! When do I move the camera? All the time! Whee!

  Pretty much a master class in how not to stage and shoot a film. The screenplay's a gem as well. Great for Bad Movie Night with friends.

• Chef

  A solid script and good performances make it worth seeing. But see if you can identify why so many of my students choose something from it for the exercise where we try to improve on the staging in a film.

• Maleficent

  Here’s a beautifully photographed movie that not only has a mess of a script, but forgets to actually show us important events. Early in the film Maleficent loses her wings. Late in the movie she gets them back. Neither event happens on screen.

  And let's not forget the creepy date rape.

• My Best Friend's Exorcism

  It may be the worst adaptation ever, but at least the filmmaking is sloppy.

  (Do not watch this film until you have read the book.)

...plus 1 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

1. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan