david lynch's INLAND EMPIRE (2006)

ok, david, i give up. what's it mean?

you mean you don't know either?


oh, you don't care?


sorry, must have misheard you.

robert altman's GOSFORD PARK (2001)

nicholas ray's REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (1955)

i was alarmed and heartbroken to find that, after years of putting it off until i could see it on the big screen (mostly because it's a usual suspect for revival) that the tragic second act of Rebel Without A Cause had been ruthlessly spoiled for me years and years ago by Paula Abdul's "Rush, Rush" video. that aside, though, the film is still remarkably fresh for its age, and deep; the name (borrowed from a psychology book because...well, because it's a great name for an iconic movie) is colossally inaccurate, as every mote of rebellion (or, rather, angst) is poignantly delineated as a horrible, ineffable gift from parent to child, as Jim, Judy and Plato struggle to find the path to adulthood when the adults around them withhold influence, love, even presence. ("How can a guy grow up in a circus like that?" "Beats me, Jim. But they do.") James Dean is a revelation; i must admit this is the only one of his few films i've seen, but it's immediately clear why he still haunts American iconography. he was a beauty with a beautiful gift.

judd apatow's THE FORTY-YEAR OLD VIRGIN (2005)

i've jocked Apatow enough lately, so i'll skip that, except to say that i'd forgotten how broad 40-Year Old Virgin is in a lot of ways, and much to its credit; sure, you have stuff like the chest-waxing and the face-vomiting, but the extent the film goes to the trouble to earn, and own, those sorts of gags is really a wonder. but the main thing, on watching the extended cut of the film: alternate cuts are usually something i regard with mild curiosity rather than excitement, but i remember being struck by the longer versions of Peter Jackson's Lord Of The Rings films (which i naturally adore) and how interesting it was to think about where and why he managed to cut so much material that, in its restored context, seems so essential. just as interesting craft-wise, though, the opposite is true of a film like The 40-Year Old Virgin, where the extended cut simply sloppies up the movie by 30%. that's not to say that extended versions of some of the funniest scenes in recent comedy aren't a joy to have access to, but comparing this newer version to the one that so impressed me in the theater is a useful highlight of what's required of a good comedic film versus a compilation, however hilarious, of funny riffs on scenes that sadly don't have any business being longer. (that's not to say 40 Year Old Virgin isn't funnier in it's longer form...it's just not necessarily as good.) again, though, a good lesson in editing: just because Apatow's films feel loose (maybe, despite the results, even a tad bit more than is good for them) doesn't mean they haven't been carefully polished. but, then, it must be that much easier now that, with DVD and all, he's only parting with the footage for four months.

greg mottola's SUPERBAD (2007)

it’s interesting that audiences generally demand very little from teen comedies where authenticity is concerned. while most of us haven’t ever been chased by a knife wielding maniac or (sadly) gotten caught up in a too-cute, happily ending romantic comedy, nearly everyone experienced the four years of social and hormonal torture that is high school, with the apparent exception of the people hired to write movies about it. Superbad, though, proves itself a bawdy, gorgeous exception to the rule, tackling the frustrations of late adolescence with an unexpected genuineness and an underlying emotional intelligence (quickly becoming producer Judd Apatow’s trademark) that twists its protagonists’ constant vulgarity into a sweet love song to male friendship. it certainly helps, of course, that Michael Cera and Jonah Hill turn in revelatory comedic performances as two friends in pursuit of booze, though their chemistry does become a sort of liability for the film as it progresses, due simply to the fact that a typically less-funny subplot concerning a third friend’s misadventures with a pair of wistful cops persists in drawing us away from Cera and Hill, and slows the movie down in the process. still, Superbad is a distinct treat, destined for cult status and content for the moment with being the funniest movie of the summer.

matthew vaughan's STARDUST (2007)

Vaughan's winning, clumsy comic fantasy has been subjected to more than a few Princess Bride comparisons, but it's the two films' key dissimilarity that's most interesting: Princess Bride allows its fantastical adventure to flourish in the background of its wit and whimsy, while Stardust unwisely puts these elements at odds with each other, trading in tonal focus for a strained grandiosity (one hopes Vaughan was at least offered a bulk discount on sweeping aerial shots) that leaves it on an awkward fence between the genres. it's a pity, too, because Stardust is an otherwise charming piece of late-summer escapism, stocked with a game cast and a refreshingly fun, ribald attitude that raises it well above any of its peers in the post-Frodo/Aslan cash-in frenzy, even if one is left with the distinct impression that Neil Gaiman's source novel is probably that much more entertaining.

werner herzog's RESCUE DAWN (2007)

one of the most immediately apparent qualities of Herzog's Vietnam-era POW drama is a relative technical crudity, particularly compared with the stylistically slick (albeit usually "gritty") war films we're accustomed to; it's pieced together without much regard for useful conventions of story and pacing, and only occasionally takes the time to drink in the imposing splendor of the Laotian jungles that so thanklessly serve as its backdrop. but this indifference to expectations is symptomatic of what ends up being the film's greatest strength: downed American pilot Deiter Dengler's harrowing journey into and out of a makeshift prisoner camp is lent an astonishing dimension of truth (as it deserves, being a true story) by Herzog's dismissive attitude towards affected Hollywood scriptcraft. Dengler's fiancée, for instance, is mentioned in a brief anecdote, but we aren't subjected to mooshy bookends; Dengler recounts his childhood inspiration to be an aviator, but we aren't whisked away to flashback; Dengler is betrayed, and the betrayer walks away from the narrative's grasp, or concern. instead, there are only scenes, however disjointed, from the barefooted jungle travails of a mild man unwavering in his intent to emerge a survivor, and even if Herzog never hits at the heart of Dengler's character, his journey is uniquely credible enough to make us reflect on our own.

danny boyle's SUNSHINE (2007)

david lean's LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962)

having never seen it before this weekend's presentation at the Tennessee Theatre (i had been holding out for the big screen), Lawrence Of Arabia was an interesting surprise to me. i'd expected an epic, and an epic it certainly is, the sort that Hollywood has forgotten how to make - it's not just the size of the canvas but also the level of detail you place on it, and Lawrence draws fine, patient lines where today's outsize spectacles throw broad, lazy strokes. yet it's not these lines that really matter in the film, but what's between them: a careful (though occasionally oblique, and frustrating) character study well-merited by a figure of such mystique. it would have been enough for the film to wrestle with itself over whether T.E. Lawrence (played with a distinct otherworldliness by Peter O'Toole) is a noble warrior or a patronizing, narcissistic creature of dangerous folly, but Lean and screenwriter Robert Bolt smartly pester the audience with a further question only they can answer: does it matter that he's both?

paul greengrass' THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM (2007)

Greengrass is at this point responsible for two of the decade’s finest, most affecting films in Bloody Sunday and United 93, so it seems a little strange that he’s also behind a pair of its most breathless, rollicking action flicks, but it’s the gravity and apparent lack of polish that make The Bourne Supremacy and The Bourne Identity such essential, encouraging mainstream fare. in Ultimatum an impeccably beefy Matt Damon (nearly unrecognizable next to the bucktoothed smile in a few carefully recycled flashbacks) continues his reign of terror upon the people who so tragically made him into such a badass, and Greengrass once again drags the audience by the gut through a minefield of dense conspiracy and virtually nonstop action setpieces, his camera shimmying and shaking all the while in a verité whirlwind of combat best observed during a hand-to-hand fight to the death during which neither the musical score nor the audience dare make a sound. earlier this summer Live Free Or Die Hard scored points by looking amiably back at the whiz-bang of 90s action, but it’s nice to know that the Bourne films continue to grow in popularity by keeping their eyes fixed firmly forward.

billy wilder's ACE IN THE HOLE (1951)

not long before the end of "Portrait Of A 60% Perfect Man", the centerpiece special feature on Criterion's spectacular new DVD release of Billy Wilder's Ace In The Hole, film critic Michel Ciment is unfortunate enough to voice an observation about the warming romanticism of Wilder's later work, at least in comparison with the good-natured acerbicism of his best-known films. the 74-year old Wilder, ambling around the patio of his California home, immediately perks up in his own defense. "Don't say that," he fumes playfully. "I want to be known as a cynic, as somebody with a vitriolic tongue, I like that much better. I don't want to be known as a softie." Wilder is obviously amused, but there's little to suggest that he's not perfectly serious.

among Hollywood's all-time greats, Billy Wilder has the filmography to back up his claims to such cynicism, however sweet. responsible for films like Some Like It Hot, Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity, and The Apartment (to name only the most classic of the classic), the writer-director always sought to push the envelope as he entertained, and took obvious pleasure from highlighting the unsavory corners of the mundane. and it's this aspect of Wilder's creative personality that makes Ace In The Hole, released in 1951 but previously unavailable on home video, such an essential piece: this is Wilder at his most forceful, uncharacteristically disinterested in anything but illuminating society's basest tendencies. it starts mean and it ends sad, and 56 years later it strikes a deeper chord than ever.

the film follows disgraced big-city reporter Chuck Tatum (a fiery Kirk Douglas) as he joins the staff of an Albuquerque daily in an effort to work his way back up the ladder. such an opportunity eventually reveals itself at a pit stop on the way to cover a rattlesnake hunt, where Tatum and his young photographer learn that the filling station's proprietor, in search of Indian relics, has been trapped in an underground shaft. Tatum sees his in and seizes it, deftly tipping the national spotlight to a roadside cliff dwelling and the tasty "human interest story" trapped within, and before long the local sheriff, an excavation contractor, and even the man's own wife are on board to milk power, money, and fame out of the would-be tragedy...even if it means protracting his rescue.

Ace In The Hole was an abject failure upon its release, both commercially and critically, and it's not hard to see why: it's a nasty, bleak portrait of America at its worst, and offputtingly bereft of the witty humor that marks nearly all of Wilder's other work. but it's also fearless in its misanthropy, and uncomfortably prescient, as our news media has done little but slouch toward Tatum's ethically desolate sensationalism in the ensuing years. it’s the subtext to Wilder's ruthless indictment of the burgeoning Media Circus phenomenon, though, that contains Ace In The Hole’s most scathing, and important, lesson: the blame lays as much with the consumer as the producer.

true to form, the Criterion Collection has bestowed Ace In The Hole with an impressive restoration and a collection of supplementary material befitting an American master’s lost opus, from a fine commentary to a handful of lengthy interview pieces, including the aforementioned hour-long 1980 bull session with Ciment. (there’s even a video afterword by Spike Lee, speaking of how the film’s social outrage influenced his own work and proudly showing off a poster signed by Wilder and Douglas.) given both the film’s bottomless relevance and own compelling history (before being essentially buried for half a century, for instance, it was briefly re-released with the “more cheerful” title The Big Carnival), it’s a bit of a shame that the producers of the two-disc set weren’t able to present a bit more about the film itself, but the focus on Wilder is a welcome tribute. and though it’d be unfair to say that Ace In The Hole is one of his very best films, its merits extend beyond its notoriety, and its teeth are as sharp as anything Hollywood has dared to make since.

(from the KNOXVILLE VOICE)