I watched 8 movies last week:
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- The best you can say about Empire Records, which is not a very good movie, is that it stars a lot of young actors who seem like they’re going to go on to bigger and better things—and some of them even did. It’s barely a comedy, more an excuse to hang together a decently eclectic but also forgettable mid-’90s soundtrack.
- And Justice for All is all over the map, and likely would be unwatchable with a different actor at its center, yet Pacino somehow makes it feel like it all works even when it very clearly doesn’t. “These subplots are all thrown into the story’s way without much regard as to whether they’re serious and subtle or broad and comic;” wrote Roger Ebert, “the movie is a compromise involving various approaches to the material. But Pacino’s performance forces a kind of logic on the events.”
- Serial Mom feels more like a goof than an outrageous satire, but it’s a fun enough goof.
- Fiend Without a Face has been described as “tepidly macabre,” which seems an apt description. There are some interesting moments, and fun late ’50s special effects, but there’s a lot that’s memorable here.
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- Tucker: The Man and His Dream is maybe a little too enamored with that dream for its own good, but Jeff Bridges is fun on screen as the man.
- Maggie Smith is the chief reason to watch The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne.
- My Darling Clementine is often hailed as the best Western John Ford ever made, and it’s not difficult to see why.
- As a writer director, Tilman Singer “might still be finding his narrative footing,” as critic Jeannette Catsoulis writes, “but there’s a playfulness and novelty to his weirdness that deserve encouragement.” There’s more of a coherent story, certainly, in Cuckoo than in Singer’s first film, Luz, but that’s not always to the film’s benefit. There’s a lot to really enjoy in his follow-up—though he remains more of a talent to continue to watch than a fully successful filmmaker.
I also re-watched 25th Hour, which is still really terrific.