Hell or High Water

2016, US, directed by David Mackenzie

Paired as a double-bill with Charley Varrick, this doesn't have quite the same grasp on character as the earlier film, but it's still a fine picture, with a grizzled Jeff Bridges performance that's a pretty clear re-working of Rooster Cogburn, terrific management of pace, a distinctive and well-used West Texas setting (the film was made in roughly the right geographical area), and some very fine camerawork by Giles Nuttgens.

Charley Varrick

1973, US, directed by Don Siegel

If Charley Varrick appeared today, I'd expect it on the small screen: Varrick is the kind of anti-hero/flawed hero that surely figures in the ancestries of characters like Walter White. As much as I enjoy the pleasures of the expansive series format, Don Siegel's film is a salutary reminder that one can pack a great deal into two hours without compromising on character detail or nuance. Indeed, the film does an especially fine job of shading in Varrick's many sides, part of its careful navigation of the fundamental problem of sympathy with/for the character given that he is, after all, an armed robber. Obviously, the choice of Walter Matthau helps greatly -- there's a kind of hang-dog affability trailing him at almost all times, providing an excuse for his actions almost as they occur, and the actor also finds beats of humour that leaven what could otherwise be a rather dour exercise in criminals turning on one another. 

Der Verlorene

1951, West Germany, directed by Peter Lorre

An excoriating film about the German experience during the Second World War, all the more notable for coming just a few years after the end of the conflict, well in advance of a more systematic historical reckoning. Lorre's only film as director makes adept use of flashback structure to bring us back to the moral compromises of the Nazi era, with the shifts in time also effectively emphasizing the ways in which the past overshadows the present. The film is especially strong on the ways in which the Nazi regime made use of the trappings of the law to bend individuals toward its ends, though Lorre doesn't make excuses for the behaviour of his compelling yet amoral central character (who evokes one of Lorre's most famous roles from the German phase of his career, in Fritz Lang's 1931 M).

A Brighter Summer Day

1991, Taiwan, directed by Edward Yang

An extraordinarily ambitious film that aims to paint a picture of an entire generation of (urban) Taiwanese still adjusting to live after migration from the Chinese mainland, drawing liberally from Edward Yang's own youth in Taiwan -- the Chinese title for the film makes reference to a tragedy that is woven into the latter stages of the film, and which transfixed Yang and his peers at the time. A degree of historical knowledge, such as that provided by the booklet accompanying the Criterion edition of the film, greatly helps with understanding of Yang's goals, in particular the unusual, loose-limbed first hour or so during which the film gradually coalesces around one protagonist while nonetheless retaining a sense of the broader fresco.* Indeed, the film is novelistic in the best sense, weaving a variety of destinies together to exceptional effect.

The English language title emphasizes the fascination that overseas, and particularly American, culture held for young Taiwanese of the 1950s and 1960s, just as postwar Germans delved into the depths of American popular culture, as in the films of Wim Wenders (like Wenders, Yang suggests a deep degree of alienation in the postward populace, an absence of emotional engagement that underpins the film's bursts of violence). Yang is looking back at his own youth, but there's little trace of nostalgia -- even when the film is lit with a wonderful warmth, there's often a sharp contrast with the events or words onscreen, while Yang makes exceptional use of naturalistic lighting effects during one of the film's most bewildering and brutal sequences.

* I also found John Anderson's 2005 book Edward Yang, published by the University of Illinois Press, very informative. Yang's untimely death in 2007 means that Anderson's book stands as a comprehensive career survey.

Deported

1950, US, directed by Robert Siodmak

Not classic Siodmak by any stretch of the imagination, and indeed the skill on display in his Hollywood films of the late 1940s seems temporarily to have abandoned him: though relatively brief, the picture overstays its welcome, and both photography and editing are disappointingly below par. The only real interest comes from the location shooting; though Siodmak apparently preferred to stay in the studio, he always had a fine eye for a good real-life backdrop.

You're Ugly Too

2015, Ireland, directed by Mark Noonan

Not a bad film -- the central pairing of Aidan Gillen and Lauren Kinsella is often effective, even affecting -- but one that's distractingly derivative, in a way that smacks of funding-body conservatism.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

2005, US, directed by Shane Black

Perhaps it was my mood, but this didn't work for me although I'd long wanted to catch up with it. There's nothing wrong with a good neo-noir, even one that thumbs its nose at genre conventions (see, for instance, Goodbye Paradise), but this comes across as entirely too self-satisfied, and I didn't warm to Robert Downey Jr's lead character.

Zootopia

2016, US, directed by Byron Howard & Rich Moore

From this adult's perspective, Zootopia performs the key function of delivering good entertainment for kids while also providing more than a few components for the accompanying adult to enjoy -- perhaps never more so than in the scenes wherein the DMV employees are revealed to be... sloths. On my second viewing, I was much more aware of the various movie/TV homages/references -- it's hard to miss the extended, multi-part nod to The Godfather, but the nods to Breaking Bad, the slo-mo boxing of Raging Bull, and the numerous winks to other Disney properties all keep things lively for the older viewer.

Hail, Caesar!

2015, US, directed by Joel and Ethan Coen

Not vintage Coen Brothers -- it certainly doesn't reach the heights of their prior behind-the-Hollywood-scenes opus, Barton Fink -- but still highly entertaining, with vignettes to treasure (Jonah Hill's performance, and the glimpses into the technique of the movies, among others).

The Assassin

2015, Taiwan/China/Hong Kong, directed by Hou Hsiao-Hsien

Coming immediately on the heels of a viewing of Come Drink With Me, Hou's film was almost shocking in is use of aspect ratio: gone, at least in the early going, is the wonderful width of the Shawscope frame, in favour of the Academy frame, although this quickly creates a sense of intimacy that's key to the film's atmosphere (and which proves quite effective even used outdoors). The atmosphere and texture are key here; the narrative is tricky to grasp, especially on a first viewing, and I found the brief bursts of action relatively confusing, whereas the use of light and framing are often hypnotic, with a colour palette that sometimes recalls Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, perhaps because both directors were interested in the effects of natural light.

Come Drink With Me

1966, Hong Kong, directed by King Hu

The first of King Hu's wuxia films, in which he developed the template on which he'd expand (in every sense: Come Drink With Me is a good deal shorter than Hu's subsequent career highlights, especially the epic A Touch of Zen). Given that Hu had little enough experience behind the camera, never mind in this specific genre, it's a strikingly confident film, making exceptional use of both exterior and, especially, interior spaces: one sequence set in an inn is a masterpiece of staging, the frame alive with action at various depths (it's also an especially satisfying sequence as Golden Swallow, memorably played by Cheng Pei-pei, showcases her abilities).

Docteur Petiot

1990, France, directed by Christian de Chalonge

Michel Serrault is very good in the title role, his precise gestures and distinctive phrasing creating a deeply disconcerting portrait of (real-life) violence and madness that seem, in Chalonge's telling, entirely in the spirit of the times, that is, occupied Paris. Whether the locations are authentic to the story or not, they are used to excellent effect to create an atmosphere of desolation and desperation, with the sound design constantly keeping the ear off-balance.

Ball of Fire

1941, US, directed by Howard Hawks

Wonderful big-screen outing, and despite my love for both Hawks and Stanwyck this was a first-time viewing for me. There's such a strong association these days between Hawks and the more manly genres that it often comes as a surprise to be reminded that he directed several of the great screwball comedies, although there's certainly some overlap in terms of the director's interests in the world of work and the various professional codes and behaviours that he contrasts to amusing effect when juxtaposing the academics and the gangsters. Occupying a role in between both groups, Barbara Stanwyck owns the film even when surrounded by a galaxy of fine character actors.

Une Nuit

2012, France, directed by Philippe Lefebvre (aka Paris By Night)

A solid French thriller set over the course of a single night, with a possibly corrupt cop doing the rounds of the nightclub circuit. The rhythm is intriguing, with moments of adrenaline interrupted by deliberate longueurs as the characters spend time in the car on the way from one place to the next; there's a real Melvillian echo to the central character, a single-minded individual with his own morality. 

The Face Behind the Mask

1941, US, directed by Robert Florey

Terrific crime melodrama, with Lorre in top form as a new arrival in the US dealt a terrible hand by fate after he is disfigured in a fire. While there narrative gets a touch overheated by the end, I was struck most forcefully by the depiction of the US as an immigrant's nightmare, very much in opposition to the usual narrative of opportunity and success. 

Man Up

2015, UK/France, directed by Ben Palmer

Begin Again

2013, US, directed by John Carney

Whiplash

2014, US, directed by Damien Chazelle

Impressive on every level: performances, construction, visuals, and with a final payoff that's intense and emotionally fraught (the almost unspoken depiction of a kind of masochistic self-abnegation, both in pursuit of success and in terms of the willingness to submit to the Svengali-type, is quite exceptional). Chazelle also orchestrates an enjoyably percussive editing style, with brisk conveying of information. 

Er ist wieder da

2015, Germany, directed by David Wnendt (aka Look Who's Back)

When I was in Berlin last year, there were posters everywhere for this but I couldn't make my schedule work to take it in; I'd heard of the book, which posits Hitler inexplicably awakening in modern-day Berlin, and read mixed things about the success of the film, though it's certainly worth a look as a curiosity and a muddled commentary on modern German pop culture (as well as the continued efforts of Germans to deal with their country's past). The land of Goethe and Schiller has no equal in its ability to plumb the depths when it comes to reality TV culture, and the film makes a good deal of hay with this, but what's most notable is the exceptional commitment of Oliver Masucci as Hitler, staying in character in the unscripted, public sequences to a quite extraordinary degree. Obviously, there's a debate to be had as to whether you can effectively use Borat-style tactics when you're dealing with an actual historical figure rather than an invented Kazakh lunatic, but there's an unfakeable discomfort that comes from the bizarrely warm embrace with which "Hitler" is met in so many quarters.

Guardians of the Galaxy

2014, US, directed by James Gunn