Upcoming Agenda

For the next couple of months, the majority of my posts will probably be short ones on the movies I'm watching.  I'm now focused on filling in the gaps uncovered during my recent countdown from 1926-2008.  Each time I see a new movie, I'll list it under the "Recently Watched" sidebar and throw up a few sentence capsule in red under its respective year. For instance.

Next up are:

3 Hitch (Rich and Strange, Sabotage, Secret Agent)
The Informer
Twentieth Century
Sylvia Scarlett
Captain Blood
A Story of Floating Weeds

1964: Gertrud (Carl Theodor Dreyer)

1964: Gertrud (Carl Theodor Dreyer)
It's hard to think of many American equivalents, perhaps John Huston's The Dead and some of the final films from Howard Hawks and John Ford.  What I'm talking about is when a director, towards the end of their career, starts making these films that are so pure, so refined, that they take on a whole other form.  Ever chew on a Saltine for a really long time?  Okay perhaps that's not the best example, but it will at least lead you in the right direction of my point.  

Simply put, Gertrud is a UFO that doesn't quite feel like a normal film. There's something very abstract about it, something off and naked about it all.  It's distilled to the point of being transformative.  

It's enough that I find the unique form of Gertrud incredibly fascinating.  But I also respond to it as one of the most powerful love stories ever put on film.  And, if these two things weren't already enough, I'll say this:  I can't think of any final moment in any work, in any medium, that more precisely offers closure on a great artist's career.

Other contenders for 1964: A good number of things I still need to see.  These include:  Sidney Lumet's Fail-Safe, Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars, Arthur Hiller's The Americanization of Emily, Sergei Parajanov's Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew, Mikhail Kalatozov's I Am Cuba, Michelangelo Antonioni's Red Desert, Cy Endfield's Zulu, Frank Tashlin's The Disorderly Orderly, and Grigori Kozintsev's Hamlet.  I need to revisit Satyajit Ray's Charulata, Richard Lester's A Hard Day's Night, and Peter Glenville's Becket (high school English class) as it's been too long since I've seen any of them to know where they'd place on this list.  This year I really like Howard Hawks' Man's Favorite Sport and Don Siegel's The Killers.  I love Francois Truffaut's The Soft Skin, Bernardo Bertolucci's Before the Revolution, Chris Marker's La jetee, Jacques Demy's The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove..."  My closest runner-up is Alfred Hitchcock's Marnie.

12/27/10 I watched Sidney Lumet's Fail-Safe.  Interesting that this and Dr. Strangelove... both came out this year.  Lumet's film is somewhat naturalistic, absent of music, and told almost without humor or obvious satire.  I thought it could have benefitted from color rather than black-and-white, as its earnestness feels stilted because of its aesthetic.   But as is often the case with Lumet, it is well-told and well-acted.  I just never fully connected to anyone onscreen.  

5/18/11 I watched Sergei Parajanov's Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. Parajanov's style is kinetic and certainly unique.  But I found its poetic, slightly non-narrative ambitions quickly frustrating, and was very rarely absorbed in any way.  

7/24/11 I watched Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew.  Intimate and personal telling of the Jesus story by Pasolini. He gives it a very stylish and immediate feel with an abundant use of the zoom and handheld camera.  

10/15/11 I watched Jean-Luc Godard's Une Femme Mariee. Provocative as usual chez Godard, but this one is so cerebral as to become distancing compared some of my favorite of his films from this period. 

1/8/12 I watched Robert Rossen's Lilith.  An unusually demented work about the mentally ill.  Form merges into content in a very admirable way, but this isn't completely my kind of thing.  The sickness finally becomes so claustrophobic as to shut off my empathy valve a bit.  

1/8/12 I watched Michelangelo Antonioni's Red Desert.  I definitely have a take it or leave it attitude when it comes to Antonioni's work.  I always admire his framing and extraordinary eye, but his fascination with bourgeois loneliness in the early sixties just simply leaves me uncaring.  

10/31/13 I watched Mark Cousins' The Story of Film: An Odyssey: The Shock of the New - Modern Filmmaking in Western Europe.  A little less exciting than I hoped, covering perhaps my favorite period in all of film history.  But I did enjoy Cousins' treatment of Bergman and Bresson.  I just wish he went a little deeper into the Nouvelle Vague and touched on Melville. 

11/24/13 I watched Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars.  The music and Leone's use of it are still so fresh and fascinating today.  And he certainly found the perfect anti-hero in Eastwood.  But this one is not totally my thing.  I prefer later Leone when he had more money and his artistry replaced a little of the crudeness at the fore.

12/5/15 I watched Guy Hamilton's Goldfinger.  An entertaining Bond for sure even if I felt it lost a little steam by the time they got to Fort Knox.  The gadgets are great and the first 30 minutes are extremely top shelf Bond.  

3/5/17 I rewatched Jacques Demy's The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.  I was frustrated by the backlash against La La Land.  And I was confused by the critical preference for Moonlight.  Sure, Chazelle's film had the more robust budget.  But I felt like his film also had far more filmmaking rigor than Jenkins' and that Chazelle's formal approach in general was much clearer and achieved at a significantly higher level.  And when I hear someone compare Moonlight's color palate to the incredible work Doyle and Wong Kar-wai achieved together I really don't see it at all.  
With that out of the way,  I was looking forward to rewatching Demy's film, cited as a key influence on La La Land.   I remembered Demy's work with color as among the most impressive in film's history and it was as brash and beautiful as I remembered.  The pinks, purples, and splashes of bold colors of Demy's cinema certainly find their way into some of the clothes and onto some of the sets of La La Land (most noticeably in Emma Stone's apartment and her roommates' outfits).  What I did not remember though is just how bittersweet and powerful the final minutes of Cherbourg are.  Rewatching it now, if you felt it like I did, it seems that the secret behind the emotional power of some of La La Land's final exchanges is Chazelle tapping into the same cinema magic Demy concocted for Cherbourg's last moments.  Both films explore unrequited and both get deep rewards for staying on the other side of happily ever after.  

1/29/18 I watched Vincente Minnelli's Goodbye Charlie.  A bit too zany for my taste but interesting as yet another loose installment on Minnelli's obsession with Hollywood and his deep ambivalence about the system in which he made a great name for himself.  

3/3/18 I watched Eric Rohmer's Nadja in Paris.  A little known short by Rohmer is yet another great installment in the tremendous Nouvelle Vague body of work from 1958-1965.  It is ten minutes or so of pure voiceover but Rohmer announces early his extraordinary skill for capturing women and the streets and people of Paris.  

6/25/20 I watched Martin Scorsese's It's Not Just You, Murray!  A pretty clinical and unemotional early short from Scorsese that's of greatest interest for already displaying some of the visceral camera moves that would become prevalent in Scorsese's later work.

12/7/20 I watched Maurice Pialat's Bosphore.  It is striking how much weight Pialat's early work already carries.  Much of it comes from his extraordinarily strong framing but it also his depthful voiceover and his editing that confidently moves from static shot to static shot interspersed with a few beautifully orchestrated moves of the camera.

1/15/22 I watched Cy Endfield's Zulu.  I've only seen three of his films but I feel completely confident in saying that Cy Endfield is a name that should be far more common and known in cinephile circles than it is.  Each of his films has a strong directorial presence and a position to the material that encourages contemplation without being distancing.  Although not my area of expertise, I can't think of a war film set up in remotely the same way as Zulu.  We remain in one location for the first two hours with very little in terms of plot advances as we get to know characters as they prepare for what is probably their final battle.  

1954: The Barefoot Contessa (Joseph Mankiewicz)

1954: The Barefoot Contessa (Joseph Mankiewicz)
I'm not sure I've ever met anyone that likes this movie as much as I do. I wish that weren't the case, but what can I really do about it?

I mentioned in an earlier post that two of my favorite themes on screen are friendship and loyalty, and that's what really gets me here.  It's the friendship that Humphrey Bogart shows Ava Gardner, and his loyalty towards her, that I find so deep and moving.  In fact, it's probably my favorite purely platonic male-female relationship in the history of film.

It's Humphrey at the end of his career, wise and settled in this very powerful way.  And, Ava Gardner, who I think is as beautiful as anyone I've ever seen.  Also, of note, are the colors and the grand sense of tragedy that Mankiewicz creates around it all.  

Another one I'd take on a desert island with me.  Be a great one to have, too!  If a stranger shows up, they probably wouldn't even want it.

Other contenders for 1954: A year, like any other, where I still have some things I need to see.  These include:  Luis Bunuel's Wuthering Heights, John Sturges' Bad Day at Black Rock, Andre De Toth's Crime Wave, Richard Quine's Drive a Crooked Road, Allan Dwan's Silver Lode, Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar, Kenji Mizoguchi's Sansho the Bailiff, William Wellman's Track of the Cat, and Josef von Sternberg's The Saga of Anatahan.  I really need to re-watch both Henri-Georges Clouzot's Les diaboliques and Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samourai.  It's been too long since I saw either of them to know where they would place on a favorites list.  Even with all these gaps though, there are still some films to mention.  I really like Otto Preminger's River of No Return and Anthony Mann's The Far Country.  I love Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront, George Cukor's A Star Is Born, and Jacques Becker's Grisbi.  But my closest runner-up is Roberto Rossellini's Voyage in Italy.

2/11/11 I watched William Wellman's Track of the Cat.  The fact that this is on Jonathan Rosenbaum's top 100 films of all time list makes me a little more skeptical of the great critic's taste.  Mitchum turns in a strong performance, and there is a decent allegorial weight to it all.  But much of it feels too theatrical for my liking, and with just mediocre Val Lewton-type suggestion.  

2/18/11 I watched Allan Dwan's Silver Lode.  Allegorical with some nice expressionistic touches from Dwan and Alton.  Just wish the execution was a little more subtle and the atmosphere more carefully and subtly handled.  

2/19/11 I watched Kenji Mizoguchi's Sansho the Bailiff.  Mizoguchi has a darker, more violent streak than Ozu, and his films can be rough where Ozu's are soft.  Heavy metal to Brit pop if you will.  But he's also a humanist.  And that comes through in this hefty work.  Mizoguchi feels very modern and masterful when it comes to dealing with non-linear structure, and certain moments, like when the mom and children are separated by boat, pack a real power.  Not fully felt for me but appreciated with the utmost respect.   

2/25/11 I watched Andre De Toth's Crime Wave.  The real stars here are the city of Los Angeles and a bunch of delicious character actors (particularly Jay Novello, Tim Carey, and Charles Bronson).   De Toth keeps things spare and taut, but a few times some inventive camerawork sneaks in.  Meanwhile the noir atmosphere never falters.   An exceptional example of B-noir.  Flawed, certainly, but an unusually strong outing.   

11/15/11 I watched Roberto Rossellini's Dov'e la liberta...?  A strange Rossellini that feels more Felliniesque than the work of the master of restrained and austere.  Almost felt like a made-for-hire.  

3/16/13 I watched Roberto Rossellini's La Paura. Bergman is wonderful as always, and it's interesting to see Rossellini doing noir. But the script is a bit lackluster at times. Particularly, without Rossellini's transcendent ending, the whole things ends up leaving a bland taste on the buds.  

10/11/13 I watched Douglas Sirk's Magnificent Obsession.  My first time with this well-known Sirk, and it certainly is as loony as I heard whisperings of.  But Sirk gives it tragic depth and keeps the emotion swirling and somehow manages to transform seemingly insane form (garish music and color) and content (plotting that no one in their right mind would ever consider plausible) into something uniquely wonderful.  Although I still prefer Written as it seems perhaps a little more restrained in its content and outlandish in its form, Magnificent deserves a place all its own. 

11/2/13 I watched Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar.  Feverish with Ray's unique emotionalism and spatial mastery on grand display.  Crawford is as powerful as ever, and this western is a world all its own.  It's pulp, melodrama, and baroque art.  It's no surprise this film enjoys such a major reputation - it's a wonderful piece of work by a great filmmaker. 

11/24/13 I watched Richard Quine's Drive a Crooked Road.  A very effective noir featuring the best and most natural Rooney performance I have seen.  Traces of the film show up in Lost Highway and possibly even Drive.  Cold, tight, and full-blooded noir, Quine might not be as harsh as Lang or Ray but he is courageous in his depiction of the femme fatale and seems at ease no matter how fatalistic the plot and the characters become.  

10/3/20 I watched Herbert Biberman's Salt of the Earth.  From a historical standpoint, it is a completely fascinating film.  I can't recall an earlier American work that bears so much Italian neorealist ethos.  While perhaps not always cinematically of the greatest interest, it is bold in the subject matter it tackles, particularly that of sexual equality.

2/2/23 I watched Robert Wise's Executive Suite.  Wise could very well be an unfair victim of the auteur theory.  Although I have seen no where near his entire body of work, I'm a huge fan of The Set-Up and really like The Day the Earth Stood Still.  I watched this because it's one of Rosenbaum's 1000 essential films and man is it good.  It's unique in its exploration of corporate America and seems like a clear predecessor to Lumet's 12 Angry Men.  

1943: Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock)

1943: Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock)
For awhile, it was hard for critics to think of Hitchcock as an artist.  He was the "master of suspense" and a wonderful entertainer, but it wasn't clear that his movies aimed for anything higher or more profound than that.  I'm not sure they always did, and for some reason in Hitchcock's case, I have no problem with it.   

What was it?  Was it Hitchcock's sense of humor?  Was it the way he would keep us guessing, depriving us of knowing for sure how the story would turn out?  Or was it simply the pure visceral thrills that he seemed to so easily provide?  Really, I'm not sure of the exact answer.  But whatever it was, Hitchcock could entertain at times in a way that would completely satisfy me, without ever seeming to directly address my more intellectual side.  

Shadow of a Doubt is a perfect example of the above for me.  It's fun, entertaining from beginning to end, creepy, darkly humorous, but it never really forces me to question anything above and beyond the story. All right, maybe it's just good moviemaking.  The story is extremely well-written, perfectly cast I would argue (particularly Joseph Cotten and Teresa Wright), full of some fantastic set pieces, and demonstrates Hitch's understanding and mastery of suspense as well as any film he ever made.  

It's Hitchcock as I like him most.  He's distilled down to his role as master entertainer.  And it would be years before the French New Wave guys let him in on a little secret -- he might also be an artist. 

Other contenders for 1943: This is the sort of year that gives me a slight complex.  I didn't realize, really, how many key movies I still have to see until I started doing this countdown.  But this year, as much as any, exposes some serious gaps.  From 1943, here are all the major movies I have never seen: Jacques Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie, Howard Hawks' Air Force, Henri Georges Clouzot's Le corbeau, Fritz Lang's Hangmen Also Die!, Carl Theodor Dreyer's Day of Wrath, Jean Renoir's This Land Is Mine, Raoul Walsh's Northern Pursuit, Robert Bresson's Les anges du peche, Howard Hughes' The Outlaw, Jacques Tourneur's The Leopard Man, Mark Robson's The Seventh Victim, and William Wellman's The Ox-Bow Incident.  Given that I've seen very little from this year, it makes sense that I only have one true runner-up. Michael Powell's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is another one of these movies that takes its time and gives us an unusually well-rounded look at the life of one man.  I've only seen it once, many years ago, but I remember it being human, epic, and very moving.  But, alas, I gave the year to Hitch as this is one of his films that I've always loved the most.  

9/1/10 I watched Jacques Tourneur's The Leopard Man.  I know it has a huge reputation, and I did enjoy it - it certainly achieves an extraordinary amount given its limited means.   And Tourneur/Lewton certainly understand the power of suggestion as well as anyone I've seen.   

9/10/10 I watched Henri Georges Clouzot's Le corbeau.  I was excited to finally see this one as I know it was a key film to Truffaut during his formative years.  Although I find it a little too talky and plotting and perhaps even a little dated, there are some extremely interesting moments.  I especially liked some of Clouzot's close-ups, and it was interesting to me to see how the idea of a character running from his past identity might have informed Truffaut's Shoot the Piano Player.

9/15/10 I watched Carl Theodor Dreyer's Day of Wrath.  It's a film with a huge reputation and one that certainly has a real special strength to it. Although I would have to say that I still prefer his Joan of Arc, Ordet, and Gertrud, I found this film to be incredibly powerful, as well.  I'm not sure I understand all the subtext, but Dreyer proves to be unusually skillful with nature, actors, and providing his films with a special heft and sacredness.  

9/17/10 I watched William Wellman's The Ox-Bow Incident. Interesting to think how much of an influence it might have had on both the tone and look of Jarmusch's Dead Man.  The dialogue and feel of the film is stunningly modern at times.  And it once again confirmed how much the war factored in as subtext to the majority of the films made during WWII.  Wellman once again turns in a very interesting film.

9/17/10 I watched Jacques Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie.  It's a very specifically directed film that maximizes all that it has.  I can't say that I fully connected to the story, but I certainly appreciate the strength that Tourneur was able to achieve from all his choices.  

9/22/10 I watched Mark Robson's The Seventh Victim.  Producer Lewton's reputation is valid - he's the master of lo-fi discomfort and offscreen sound, achieving masterful moments with the most limited of means.  Of all his work I've seen, this is probably my favorite.  

9/26/10 I watched Fritz Lang's Hangmen Also Die!  It's a bit long, perhaps, but Lang demonstrates many times how cinematic his eye was.  He also shows how baroque and dark he was willing to take his work.  Some incredible moments, and a personal film, albeit a bit propagandistic.  

7/13/11 I watched George Stevens' The More the Merrier.  An offbeat, tonally strange romantic comedy.  Some of the romantic stuff seems to defy the Hays Code, which is fun to see, but it was hard to ever fully get into rhythm with the thing.  

10/17/11 I watched Jacques Becker's Goupi Mains Rouges.  My least favorite of the Becker films I've seen.  Has a terrific scene near the end in a tree, but otherwise not as engaging as some of his other work.  

11/16/13 I watched George Stevens' The More the Merrier again.  I am sure there have been great studies done on the correlation between viewer state of mind and a response to a work of art.  Even though I pride myself on having a fairly good first response that rarely shifts significantly one way or another upon a subsequent viewing, I have had occasion where I completely change my opinion.  Here is such a time.  I am not sure how I could have ever made the comments above as today I found this to be one of the most wonderful, moving romantic comedies I have ever seen.  The chemistry between Arthur and McCrea is downright dangerous and Coburn is the lovely force, both funny and wise, that keeps the fires stoked.  A new favorite and a lovely film that I hope others get to savor soon.  It brought me the exact pleasure I needed on this glum Saturday.

5/19/14 I watched Raoul Walsh's Background to Danger.  I found it entertaining enough.  Full of twists and turns and Lorre and Raft are always fun to watch.  It was tough though for me to get terribly invested in the plot or any of the characters.  Definitely not top tier Walsh.  Just decent wartime entertainment.  

5/4/19 I watched Raoul Walsh's Northern Pursuit.  There were some impressive action sequences and Flynn was good as usual alongside Walsh.  But none of it felt truly passionate or memorable.  

11/23/21 I watched Tex Avery's Who Killed Who?  Inventive but not my thing at all.  

2/7/22 I watched Robert Bresson's Les anges du peche.  In a rare case, Bresson emerges in his first feature already a masterful filmmaker.  His style is not yet fully formed, that would not happen until his third feature, but his understanding and command of the medium's power are fully present.  

Although I imagine there is a way to view the film, being that it was made in 1943, as a film of resistance, I experienced it at face value as a film of faith.  As such, it demonstrates faith as well as anything I have seen on film.  Bresson finds the cinematic tools to make us understand certain beliefs, such as sacrificing worldly materials to attain a true spiritual state, that in less skilled hands would leave us unmoved and unenlightened.  I experienced the film not only as a film about faith but as an indication of Bresson's faith in the medium of cinema to plumb the depths of human experience and to emerge with emotions of a deep spiritual and intellectual revelatory power.

10/23/22 I watched Billy Wilder's Five Graves to Cairo.  One of Wilder's first American films, made before Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard.  Showing up on Rosenbaum's extended 1000+ essential films, it is not surprising that Rosenbaum was a fan.  He tends to champion films that take a more honest look at history and consistently places more importance on that aspect of a film than whether it is entertaining, moving or stylish.  I have never seen a mid-war propaganda film that was any more unflinching.  It seems so much of its time that you can still smell and taste the war on it.  

1941: Sergeant York (Howard Hawks)

1941: Sergeant York (Howard Hawks)
I love Howard Hawks, and almost all of his films I've seen.  He manages to be insightful and human and entertaining and fun all at the same time (in many ways, what I see as the very definition of Classical Hollywood).

In general, I would never call Hawks' formal approach gritty, raw, or naturalistic.  It's something slightly more glossy with a little artifice here and there.  In other words, films shot indoors with excellent production design that makes you forget you're not watching the real thing.  

But I've always felt differently about this one.  When I first saw Sergeant York, it caught me off guard.  I'm not sure the locations are any many more real than in Hawks' previous work, but there's a certain realism on display here that feels new and different for him.  Obviously a large part (maybe the only part) has to do with the fact that this is based on a true story.  If that's the case, that's fine.  Whatever the case may be though, this bio film (along with a Walsh entry that I'll discuss in my 1942 post) feels more real, more true, closer to life than any bio film I've ever seen.  

Other contenders for 1941: This year seems to be unusually rich.  I have several major gaps, but also several films that would be close runners-up.  The major films I haven't seen are:  Frank Capra's Meet John Doe, John Ford's How Green Was My Valley, HC Potter's Hellzapoppin', William Dieterle's All That Money Can Buy, Fritz Lang's Man Hunt, Jean Renoir's Swamp Water, Howard Hawks' Ball of Fire, Kenji Mizoguchi's The 47 Ronin, Ernst Lubitsch's That Uncertain Feeling, Michael Powell's 49th Parallel, John Ford's Tobacco Road, and Yasujiro Ozu's Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family.  I admire the hell out of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane and consider it one of the most important films of all time.  But for some reason it's yet to impact me on an emotional level, personally and deeply.  I really like The Lady Eve, Sullivan's Travels, and They Died with Their Boots On, but just slightly less than my two runners-up.  I love The Strawberry Blonde.  It captures a lost time and era in a way that feels extremely real to me (realism is one of the things I respond to most in film).  Then there's Alfred Hitchcock's Suspicion.  It remains one of my favorite films from the director and probably my favorite film ever dealing with paranoia and marital suspicion (Gaslight would be up there, too.)  Finally though I gave the year to the Hawks as it grabs hold of me in a way that I've rarely experienced with any other film. 

8/22/10 I watched John Ford's How Green Was My Valley.  A Ford family epic, full of depth, some marvelous moments, and some tremendous visuals.  I wasn't carried along at all times, but once again Ford proves that he was a filmmaker of great heft with a very fluid, almost effortless style.  

8/22/10 I watched William Dieterle's All That Money Can Buy.  An interesting premise and some admirable visual touches.  But I never found myself caring quite that much or terribly engaged by it.  

8/25/10 I watched John Ford's Tobacco Road.  I must say I struggled with this film about as much as I've ever struggled with a film by a master.  It all felt very broad and the comedy never really worked for me. Ford seemed pretty out of his element to me, and this film is as much a testament as any that it's impossible to make a good film every time out, even for someone like John Ford.

8/26/10 I watched Michael Powell's 49th Parallel.  A propaganda piece certainly, as attacking and venomous as anything I've ever seen made during a wartime.  Powell shows a tremendous feel for nature and an incredible ability to traverse tone.  He also does violence in an unusally direct and hard-hitting way.  There's a certain modernism on display here.  And even though at times, I felt like Powell could have tightened this thing up a bit, it's still an impressive work.  

8/27/10 I watched Fritz Lang's Man Hunt.  Propaganda but a pretty personal piece for Lang, too.  Full of some magnificent moments, particularly the opening sequence.  And Pidgeon has a great role.  All in all, pretty strong, with the exception of the romance, which really didn't work for me.  

8/27/10 I watched Frank Capra's Meet John Doe.  This one felt even more farfetched to me than some of the other Capra I've seen.  It had a few nice underdog moments.  But mostly I found it a little tedious and heavy-handed.  

8/28/10 I watched Howard Hawks' Ball of Fire.  It's one of his films with a pretty major reputation, but I must admit it overwhelmed me a little less than much of his other work.  I just never cared that much about the story, and it all felt more screwy than depthful, important, or even that much fun.  

1/17/11 I watched Alexander Korda's That Hamilton Woman.  Leigh is quite appealing, and the film at its best moments reminds me a little of Letter from an Unknown Woman.  Unfortunately though it often feels overly melodramatic, and Olivier feels a little less powerful than in his most memorable roles. 

1/14/12 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Mr. & Mrs. Smith.  It's of interest to see Hitch working in such different territory for him.  And Lombard is extraordinary.  But Montgomery is no Cary Grant, and the whole romantic comedy just feels like sub-par His Girl Friday or The Awful Truth.

11/22/12 I watched Michael Curtiz's The Sea Wolf.  A great, atmospheric first five or ten minutes followed by a pretty engaging nautical drama.  The movie features an unusually sexy Lupino and some memorable moments by both Garfield and Edward G Robinson.

1/12/13 I watched Raoul Walsh's Manpower.  An unusual Walsh outing full of more artifice than I typically expect to see or feel from one of the director's films.  Yet Walsh still gives it power, mostly stemming from the emotions bubbling up around the Robinson, Raft, and Dietrich triangle.  The theme of unrequited love is clearly dear to Walsh as it shows up in another of his films from '41, the extraordinary The Strawberry Blonde.

9/20/14 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's That Uncertain Feeling.  Merle Oberon was a bit of a revelation to me.  I am not sure how often I have seen her before but she is quite beautiful and fitting for the role in what is a mildly entertaining Lubitsch.  It creaks along at times and Meredith seems a strange choice for the role of threatening male to the Baker marriage.  

10/26/14 I watched Josef von Sternberg's The Shanghai Gesture.  It certainly maintains von Sternberg's reputation as one of cinema's masters of ambient art.  And it is of interest as being somewhat of a precursor to Chinatown and the noir sensibility in general.  The plot though and much of the vitality seem to be lost and it is much more interesting than affecting.

1/1/16 I watched Jean Gremillon's Stormy Waters.  The first film by Gremillon that I have seen and though I did not fall for it entirely it reminded me of a Hawks film from this era coupled with some of Prevert's sensibility from his work with Carne.  It has this interesting variation on the noir theme of the criminal's last job.  But instead of the final job going awry, it is an affair that puts everything and everyone into a tailspin.     

12/16/17 I rewatched Raoul Walsh's Manpower.  Interesting that I had seen it before as I don't remember watching it at all.  It is okay but nowhere near the very best of his work.

1/15/18 I watched Edward F. Cline's Never Give a Sucker an Even Break.  There is some really fun stuff like Fields' Sqwuigilum.  I just wish he didn't find so much fun in ending his films with long, chaotic car sequences.

1/5/20 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family.  The first full-blown Ozu sound masterpiece.

5/14/22 I watched Gregory La Cava's Unfinished Business.  A film that on the surface impresses by never going where you expect it.  In the way it feels like a romantic comedy dressed up like a drama, it reminded me of Cukor's Holiday.  La Cava puts it all together with great restraint and confidence and I can't ever recall liking Montgomery more than his performance here.  

1938: Holiday (George Cukor)

1938: Holiday (George Cukor)
Ah, how Cukor pulls this one off for me!  There's as much suspense in this romantic comedy as there is in any mystery or drama I can think of from this period.  I don't want to ruin it for those who haven't seen it. But suffice it to say, you're not sure where Cukor's taking the story until almost the very last second.


I guess I also have a thing about conformity.  The way that this film deals with familial pressure and the pressure to conform affects me in a very personal way.  In fact, it affects me as deeply as any film from the thirties.  


This is one of those years where it's absolutely no contest for me. Holiday is a desert island film for me.  Brilliant, I think, but more important, just a film that's extremely personal for me.  

Other contenders for 1938: There are a few films I still need to see from this year, most notably Michael Curtiz's Angels with Dirty Faces, Sergei Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky, and Alfred Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.  I do really like Howard Hawks' Bringing Up Baby but not near as much as the Cukor.  And, I love Jean Renoir's La bete humaine. But I can't say it affects me in the same deeply personal way as Holiday.


7/13/10 I watched Michael Curtiz's Angels with Dirty Faces.  There are some tremendous moments, particularly when Cagney starts yelping near the end and the shootout in the drugstore.  But there's something about Curtiz's touch for me that often feels a little heavy.  All in all, I enjoyed it even if it didn't all totally work for me.  


7/15/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.  It's one of his most well-respected British films, but I must say I was a little disappointed in it.  I enjoyed much of the humor of the first thirty minutes, but I wasn't as involved once the suspense part of the film kicked in.  Based on one viewing of The Lady Vanishes, I still much prefer The 39 Steps and consider it by far my favorite of what I've seen from Hitch's British period.  


7/25/10 I watched Sergei Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky.  Devoid of Eisensteinian montage, this one derives its power from a certain spareness and a commitment to combat verisimilitude.  I could never fully connect to the characters, but Prokofiev provides a haunting score and some of the acting is quite strong.  

1935: The 39 Steps (Alfred Hitchcock)

1935: The 39 Steps (Alfred Hitchcock)

This next pick probably illustrates, as much as any year, my distinction on this list of "favorites" versus "best".  I personally like the distinction, as some of the "best films" haven't always moved me, and some of my favorite films aren't necessarily considered the best.  This Hitchcock is considered by no one I've ever read as his best.  And, I'll admit that it's not near as depthful and artful as some of his later work.  However, it is, along with Rear Window, Suspicion, Shadow of a Doubt, and Marnie, one of my favorites by the director.  

Hitchcock has always had a playful streak, and it's in full bloom here. The 39 Steps is sexy, full of twists and turns, and just a purely fun romp. I'll admit, I usually need my mind engaged to fully embrace a film.  But, for some reason, I find this one so well-directed, the story so well-told, that I'm satisfied shutting off my brain and just letting one of the masters entertain me.  

Other contenders for 1935: As with other years, there are still some things I need to see.  These include: Leo McCarey's Ruggles of Red Gap, James Whale's Bride of Frankenstein, George Cukor's Sylvia Scarlett, Howard Hawks' Ceiling Zero, Mikio Naruse's Wife! Be Like a Rose, John Ford's The Informer, Michael Curtiz's Captain Blood, and Richard Boleslawski's Les Miserables.  There are two films I have seen that are strong runner-ups for my top pick.  Jean Renoir's Le crime de Monsieur Lange is another one of my very favorite by the director.  And, Mark Sandrich's Top Hat may very well be my favorite musical of all time.  I finally though gave the spot to the Hitchcock as I think it's one of the most fun and purely entertaining films of this entire era.  


5/1/10 I watched James Whale's Bride of Frankenstein.  I know that I'm in the minority on this one, but I definitely much preferred Whale's original Frankenstein film.  I found the original's direction to be more powerful and overall there seemed to be a little more heart in the first film.  But, the scene between Frankenstein and the blind man is a classic and fully felt.  

6/6/10 I watched Howard Hawks' Ceiling Zero. A tremendous performance by Cagney and one of the most incredible scenes of sustained tension I have ever seen as Texas navigates the skies.  Tough to find but so glad I finally got to see it.  Absolutely top tier Hawks. 


6/10/10 I watched Richard Boleslawski's Les Miserables.  Though probably the type of film the Turks of the New Wave would have rejected, as it does perhaps lack a little personality, it is extremely well-made.  March and Laughton are fantastic, and it doesn't hurt that they have the great Gregg Toland along for the ride.


6/21/10 I watched John Ford's The Informer.  The older I get, the more I realize how much depth the "masters" were able to achieve in some of their work.  I saw it recently when I watched Yasujiro Ozu's I Was Born, But..., and it certainly is evident in Ford's thematic treatment of Jippo's betrayal of Frankie.  Ford is able to achieve such universality with such simplicity.  And there's a sophistication to his concerns and characters that elevates him among most of his peers.  


6/25/10 I watched Michael Curtiz's Captain Blood.  I can't say I'm a natural fan of the swashbuckler genre or of Curtiz's campy style (I struggled even a little with his version of Robin Hood.)  But the charm and appeal of Flynn is hard to resist here, and he makes a very convincing hero.  Enjoyable although at times hard to take it for any more than that.  


7/9/10 I watched George Cukor's Sylvia Scarlett.  It's a real offbeat film for the time and didn't always hold together for me.  But when it's great, in the first few scenes between Hepburn and the painter, and the deliberation between the two on the train near the end, it's downright classic.  An awesome location, in the painter's home, and a few very fine Hepburn moments.  


3/1/12 I watched Henry Hathaway's Peter Ibbetson.  An unusually esoteric film that starts out normal enough but devolves into something far more elusive.  I'm not sure exactly what Hathaway is up to - it is unique but so strange as to lose interest for me by a certain point.

8/5/13 I watched Leo McCarey's Ruggles of Red Gap.  The Hollywood happy ending has become an almost absolute, an artificial emotional high that a filmmaker must provide the audience before turning the lights back on.  It is troubling and says as much about the American psyche as McDonald's or Hummers.  But what if there was a time when it is was not obligatory, when instead it was the optimal way to bring a story to a close.  I have seen my fair share of movies, and most of my favorites tend to eschew the happy ending for something else altogether.  Rarely, if ever, have I seen a movie like Ruggles, that without its happy ending, would simply lose everything, its reason for being, its internal logic, and its deeply lasting effect.  Of all I have seen, I put this one up as the quintessential happy ending.  If Hollywood were only taking its lessons from Ruggles, we may still be at the center of the most important and profound artistic medium of the last 150 years.   

9/22/13 I watched Mark Cousins' The Story of Film: An Odyssey:  1918-1935:  The Great Rebel Filmmakers Around the World.  Highlights for me included the parts on Gance, Ozu, and China's cinema at this time that is entirely unknown to me.  I look forward to seeing La Roue, The Goddess, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.  

1/11/17 I rewatched Mark Sandrich's Top Hat.  I think I haven't seen it since I saw it for the first time in '94-'95 and it quickly became my favorite musical.  It is a little more corny than I remember and a little more loose but Astaire's elegance and grace are a sight to behold and the music (courtesy of Berlin and Steiner) is catchy and moving.

7/24/18 I watched George Cukor's David Copperfield.  Some of the moments with young David rank as some of the greatest ever put on screen by a child actor.  But the film just feels a bit jumbled, as though Cukor didn't have the funds or focus to capture things the way he would have liked.