directed by David Greene (1969)

If I Start Counting were remade, I know exactly the kind of rote crap it would become: it would star some slutty looking not-quite teen and be slick, boring, and lifeless.

This largely forgotten original however, is none of these things. It’s a bit messy, sure, and definitely unpolished but features a great performance by its actual teen star (who you may recognize from An American Werewolf in London) and really effectively creates an eerie tone.

It might remind one of the tenser quiet moments of Black Swan meets a late 60’s after school movie.

When women are being murdered near an abandoned suburb, a young girl, hopelessly in love with her adopted much older brother begins to come to the chilling conclusion that he may be responsible. Hovering between a world of romantic innocence and the violent, dirty, and painful world of adults, she tries to come to terms with her sexuality and her emotions while trying to disprove her suspicions.

I pretty much live to find overlooked treasures like this and am thrilled that Netflix streaming has embraced the discarded films of the past as much as the newest releases.

And even though (as noted) a remake would probably only be junk, if someone with a sense of mood and style were to remake it, Peter Sarsgaard would rule as the older creepy brother and like almost everything I re-cast in my mind, Juliette Lewis would find herself in the role of a mysterious lady he goes to visit. As for the teen, I’d cast an unknown.

Click here for the rest of I Start Counting

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Posted on June 26, 2011

directed by Menahem Golan (1980)

Trying to cash in on the success of Grease and Rocky Horror, the makers of The Apple weren’t terribly ambitious with production values. Their future is one of hologram stickers and aluminum foil but their expectations of how the world would change by 1994 (!) were ambitious indeed. Surprisingly, we are not all being controlled by the devil with holograms and pop music… or are we??

A totally eye popping crazy thing, The Apple is worth at least one viewing in your life. The Adam and Eve parable that could only be described as both dumb and fascinting has become a bit of a cult classic, though to be perfectly honest, it wears a little thin after about an hour.

But just know that between the seemingly unending weepy songs there is a simulated sex dance that looks like it takes place in a Sleepy’s in heaven and a floating car in the sky that abruptly ends everything (though not in quite as cool a way as it does in Repo Man).

The fact that this is a German made film is clear in a million little ways, but the leading lady is unmistakably Canadian, with the kind of slutty, round faced loveliness that I never fail to be charmed by.

Trashy fun, this gem can be seen on Netflix streaming and even if the plot lacks a bit, some of the songs are undeniably catchy. Plus there’s ton’s of latex jumpsuits, see through rain coats, studded everything, and diamond encrusted grills.

It has the dubious distinction of being one of the few movie musicals not made into a live musical. Seems about time to change that, no?

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Posted on June 7, 2011

Directed by Darren Aronofsky (2010)

I know I am late to the Black Swan parade, but since Darren Aronofsky is pretty much a bad word in our house, this recommendation is for those, who like me, were hesitant to believe the hype because they just hate Requiem for a Dream so much.

After watching the stylized sexual thriller, I was both elated and initially a little disappointed. The first half of the film surprised and floored me with it’s incredibly haunting mood, subtle creepiness, and paranoid tone. It reminds me of the best work of Roman Polanski or Ken Russell.

About half way through, though, when everything breaks apart and the more traditional horror movie events come into play, I felt betrayed that the subdued artfulness had gone out the window. However, once I had finished watching it all and looked back at it for what it was, not the movie I expected or wanted it to be, I realized the somewhat repetitive “gotcha” part felt like it had passed in a few seconds and effectively felt like some fever nightmare.

This manic explosion of insanity did have some truly stunning parts – like a particularly cringe inducing scene involving Portman’s legs and the absolutley exquisite final dance where we see her internal transformation into the black swan flawlessly displayed externally in a feat of special effects and amazing costuming.

Still, it’s the slower paced eerieness that sets the tone perfectly and promises a conclusion more complex and strange than we get.

Portman is very believable as a frigid, scared young woman who seems constantly falling victim to the few people she’s let into her life.

One of those people is her mother, played with tight lipped, quiet obsession by an unsung Barbara Hershey. Another is Vincent Cassel‘s predatory director – a role that could have easily fallen into parody in the hands of anyone less French, oddly handsome, and confident in his lechery.

Mila Kundis doesn’t get much praise, maybe because her role is simpler than Portman’s, maybe because she is, after all, some girl from That 70’s Show, but she is effective and necessary as a foil to Portman’s pent up anxieties. It’s also fun to see Winona Ryder as an aging ballerina, even if I didn’t totally buy her wobbly, cocktail spilling performance.

The Tchaikovsky score is, of course, beautiful and Rodarte lends their ethereal touch to the great costumes.

A surprising and very strange delight.

Click here for the rest of Black Swan

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Posted on May 16, 2011

directed by Masahiro Shinoda (1964)

From the Japanese New Wave movement emerges this hard boiled noir. Pale Flower, of the gambling noir sub genre, is tough, cool, and stylish. Shot in such stark black and white that only slivers of the action are often visible, it takes us on a cold journey to the Tokyo underworld where addiction, desperation, skewed loyalty, and failed redemption run rampant.

It follows yakuza gangster Muraki who has just been released from prison for murder to find his old life changed. His gang’s in a truce with his rivals, he no longer yearns fpr the woman that waited for him, a young man enters his life unexpectedly, as does an strange, beautiful and mesmerizing gambling addict named Saeko.

Muraki is played with calm gravitas who barely registers emotion whether he’s falling in love or some one attempting his assassination. His contorted pain finally reveals itself in a surreal nightmare sequence that will have you wondering if Polanski saw this before making Rosemary’s Baby.

Saeko is equally enigmatic. Wildness and lunacy stir quietly behind her doe eyes. It almost makes you wonder if she were simply perfect casting for her inherent madness or if Mariko Kaga is one fine actress who does more with her vacant eyes than all the smizing in 100 cycles of ANTM (yes, I’ve taken up watching again.)

It’s funny, I usually scoff at remakes, but I often cast them in my head as I watch classics. In this case, I’d move the story to Las Vegas, focusing on rival meth gangs. Titus Welliver would be my lead with Juliette Lewis as his former lover, Joseph Gordon Levitt as his new young friend and, if she can lose the vampiness, Evan Rachel Wood perhaps as the degenerate gambler though I’d consider Amanda Seyfried or Angela Bettis.

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Posted on April 18, 2011

directed by Federico Fellini (1957)

I expected Nights of Cabiria to be great, considering Fellini is directing, but it’s so much smaller in scale and less dramatic and surreal compared to my favorites (8 1/2 and Amarcord) that I was surprised to fall so hopelessly in love with it like I have.

Much of the magic of the film belongs to Fellini’s wife and star Giulietta Masina, whose adorable face is one of cinema’s most expressive. She manages to make the character of Cabiria, an aging prostitute in Rome touching, prickly, slightly disturbed and incredibly charming all at once.

I really can’t imagine any other actress creating such a memorable and complex woman with little more than a smile and a smirk. Of course, the cast orbiting her is also spectacular and in usual Fellini fashion, awesome to look at. Her curvy best friend Wanda is notably amazing.

Divided into small intimate vignettes of her life, you grow incredibly tender for this scrappy but deeply damaged woman. Nothing is more painful than watching someone you care about get hurt and it’s even harder you see it coming a mile away and they are oblivious.

As she walks down the street, literally brushing her self off from rock bottom and manages a tearful smile to the camera, it’s impossible not to get teary eyed yourself. It’s a rare treasure to find a film that can evoke so much compassion.

Cabiria just reminds me and affirms again that Fellini truly was a genius, whether depicting the lavish loves of the jet set or the hard knock day to day of the poor. A must see!

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Posted on April 2, 2011