44. On the Beach (1959) - February 12th
When I started watching this, I was immediately struck by how much it reminded me of several films: specifically,
Them!,
The Thing From Another World, and most significantly,
These Final Hours.
For the first two, it was mostly similarities in execution. All three films spoon-feed the audience a strong message by playing up the melodrama and spending a notable amount of time preaching on their (in the case of
On the Beach, literal) soapbox about the film's choice of extremely topical issue. The similarities are drawn closer in the case of
On the Beach and
Them! because they both discuss the dangers of atomic warfare and man's hubris, but
On the Beach is considerably more realistic so it tries to get away with a more self-serious tone, whereas
Them! plays up the campy nature of giant ants while still hoping people will understand that the ants are also a metaphor.
On the Beach differs from the other two primarily because of the aforementioned self-serious tone; even though it feels a little overrun with melodrama to soften the dark nature of the film's content, it still stops to make sure that its key moments hit hard. The "There is still time... Brother" banner seems a little hokey when you have a man preaching under it and a group standing around him while "Waltzing Matilda" plays loud and proud over the film for the 20th time, but when we see that same spot again, completely empty, save for that banner, it's a lot more poignant.
The similarities to
These Final Hours were particularly interesting to me, not in the least because it shows a contrast between an approach to society's destruction in 1959 versus 2013, as well as society's destruction in a few months as opposed to a few hours. A lot of time in
On the Beach is spent either in denial about the impending doom of humanity, or trying to come to terms with it and how to handle the situation when death finally comes; radiation kills slowly and painfully, so we get to see people grimly discuss handing out suicide pills and decide where they want to die, informed by the curse all that extra time affords.
These Final Hours has its title for a reason; society essentially has to go through the process of
On the Beach in a much shorter time-frame, before getting past it and jumping right in to the complete nihilistic revelry. It's a lot grittier, more brutal, and contrasts with
On the Beach's suggestion that humanity will try to bow out gracefully. There are still people that die recklessly in
On the Beach, but they are a massive minority compared to
These Final Hours. Personally, I like both; while the quick and dirty destruction is something that appeals to me,
On the Beach proves the value of the slow and dignified descent;
These Final Hours only really has the time for a couple of key emotional moments, and only at the end of the film, whereas with the long countdown
On the Beach offers considerably more meditation on the topic, with several key moments that reinforce the film's cold ending. Ralph abandons the
Sawfish to certain doom because he wants to make sure that he dies in his home town, and we get to spend time with him as he whittles away the last of his life, where he takes comfortable resignation in his decision, rather than seeing it as a mistake and fighting to get back on the sub. This difference also serves to contrast spoon-feeding your audience and trusting that your audience understands;
On the Beach has several heavy moments, but only twice lets them actually sit, and otherwise tries to make sure that the audience understands.
These Final Hours, on the other hand, only has a rare moment of vulnerability, but let's the audience ponder the value of the moment. It's likely a product of time and the nature of their goal as films; a 1959 audience for a bigger film is going to have different perceived needs to a 2013 audience for an indie film.
On its own,
On the Beach is solid. Sure, its melodrama and attempts to over-explain character emotions are tiring, the acting quality varies, it's overlong, and it repeats its key themes a lot, but for all its preaching it actually follows through on its points and shows the outcome as much as it talks about it. Ralph says too much when abandoning his crew to die in his hometown, but he also has to abandon his crew in morbid fashion to talk too much in the first place. Peter and Mary coming to terms with having to kill their baby and then themselves is incredibly dark, and the film knows it, and for a few moments you are left to come to terms with one of the hardest things a character has to do. This film works best when it counts the most, and while I have issues with it some of them are a product of its era. -
7/10
45. Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987) - February 14th
Before I go and see what is considered by some to be the new best superhero movie, I thought I'd sit down and watch what has historically been called one of the worst.
The film goes out of its way to claim that title, beating out
Batman and Robin and
Superman III seemingly through sheer lack of care (that said, I have yet to see the likes of
Catwoman and
Steel, so I can't say for sure that this is the worst, just the worst I have seen so far). The effects are significantly worse than they were in the first film 19 years before, the action is so very boring, the music is a dull replicate of John Williams' original work, and even Christopher Reeve can't give energy to dialogue so stale it wouldn't even be heard in an after-school special, especially when he, and indeed the rest of the cast, are completely lifeless. The plot can't keep track of any detail is suggests, even at the smallest level, and is entirely a slave to convenience. Superman's hair is so strong it can hold up a thousand pound weight but gets cut a few seconds later, and Superman can wipe and un-wipe Lois' memory as he sees fit to ask her advice; the film simply introduces and throws away aspects like this consistently. It's worsened by the filmmakers scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of story; having Clark and Superman have to be in the same room at the same time for an incredibly contrived reason plays like the worst of TV sitcoms, and it's not even done enthusiastically enough to suggest that anyone making it happen even thought it was warranted.
Superman III was incredibly strange and barely ever worked, but at least it was so zany in its efforts that no matter how stupid the film got it never felt like they weren't trying and actually wanted to have fun.
The Quest for Peace is just devoid of any sort of joy or energy, and its only meaning is so forced that I'm surprised that even exerted the effort to make it happen. -
2/10
46. Black Panther (2018) - February 14th
Yeah, this was excellent, both as an MCU movie and as movie in general, with elements reminiscent of the likes of everything from
Star Wars to
James Bond. My full review can be found
here.
8/10
47. Mudbound (2017) - February 16th
Hot damn, this was outstanding.
Mudbound had me from the start; its desperate yet nihilistic content, its soft yet foreboding colour palette, the southern hymn grimly swaying over the whole affair, it was a perfect mix of life and death, hope and fear, diplomacy and guilt. The brothers are outright stated, but the tension is implied, and the uncertain conflict between the words the characters narrate and the words they say to each other is a strong dissonance. The film is intriguing right at the beginning.
What follows is a complex story that explores themes of racism, PTSD, betrayal and the like, reinforced by everything from the plot to the characters to the colour to the soundtrack. It's really brilliant how it all just fits; at once I was gawking at how good a shot looked while melting in to the music and being moved by Jamie's refusal to vulnerability, it all at once being excellently executed while working together to reinforce one another.
The film builds slowly, moving with characters first as opposed to plot, but it leaves the seeds of its climax all throughout the film, as some people grow and change, and others stay far too much the same. Despite taking its time, the film is always engaging, pulling you with its insight in to a cast that is extremely well developed, their interactions and reflections on those interactions moving the movie where it needs to go in order to show the impact these people have on each other's lives, and the impact the greater world has had on them. Jamie's PTSD is considered thoroughly, with the differences in how people interact with him after he starts dealing with him, and the attitudes of some characters like Pappy (may he burn in Hell). It's a a choice that works to leave him without resolution as well; trauma doesn't just go away, and he lives in a world not equipped to help him. Ronsel's experiences with racism and how they contrast between Europe and the US is also exceedingly well discussed. It's a tangled mix of bittersweet emotions that has no easy answer, even if there ultimately is a right answer.
This comes to the crux of the film for me personally. It made me feel things, including strong emotions of anger and hatred for its most vile characters, in the briefest of moments I was wholly consumed by the emotion of the movie - that doesn't happen often (incidentally, it did happen last week when I watched
Lady Bird and immediately felt the need to see my mother, but before that it was over 40 films ago). There's an incredibly strong sense of direction in
Mudbound, and as I said, all that this film seeks to accomplish is reinforced by almost every aspect of the film; from the music to the visuals to the character to the plot. -
9/10
A final note is as much about narration as a tool as much as it is about its use in
Mudbound. As a rule, I usually dislike narration; it's a technique that inherently tells rather than shows, which can be a problem in a visual medium. This gets worsened by how often it's used in a lazy fashion. Your average high-concept sci-fi blockbuster will simply front-load the details of its world, rather than trying to insert details organically; this was an issue even as recently as
Black Panther, which started off by summarising Wakanda's history, and even though it did it under the shaky premise that it was a bedtime story, it still felt forced. The film expresses all of the details of the story organically over the course of the film anyway, so why they felt the need to do it is beyond me. It gets worsened by the fact that there's no thematic throughline, so narration is often synonymous with pure exposition. Narration will often just appear at the very start and at the very end of some films, with no diagetic reason for it to be happening, such as a character reading a note or people having a conversation; it's just a character talking directly to the audience for the sole purpose of conveying information that the writers couldn't think to convey in any other way. This appears exceedingly lazy. This is often easy to fall back on for films based on books; "the story was already expressed in this way once, why try and show it when we can just have a character tell the audience directly?" It's easy to break immersion when you awkwardly break the fourth wall, and unless you have a reason to talk to the audience that just happens to include exposition then that's exactly what's going to happen.
As it is,
Mudbound exhibits some of these traits and being adapted from a book this isn't surprising. However, it also makes some fantastic, if not always necessary, use of it that makes the overall experience with the narration in the film is a net positive. The foremost reason for this is that it's used almost incessantly; this isn't just a lazy set-up and wrap-up style, the film keeps us the narration in just about every scene, doing so from multiple characters, and using it largely to bounce between story beats in this complex tale while also doing its best to combine that with the evolving emotions of the characters and more specific details. There's still an air of 'why?' around it a lot, as a lot of what is expressed to us through narration is also expressed to us visually, and seems intent on reinforcing but instead makes redundant. However, it works flexibly with the movement of the film itself and breezes through details that are nice flavour for the characters, if technically unneeded. We can infer from the way Henry is that his marriage proposal wasn't anything special, and we know from the scenes that follow it that Ronsel's return to the US is fraught with racial tension, and we can tell from the surrounding scenes roughly how Laura and Ronsel feel about those things, but the language used suits the characters they're spoken by, and as such doesn't feel out of place when used as consistently as it is, so even though it's unnecessary, it's doing its best to reinforce what we see on screen rather than act as a substitute for something we could be seeing on screen instead. That said, the battle scenes are a perfect example of what this film can accomplish without non-diagetic reinforcement. The effectiveness of these scenes without narration cannot be translated one-to-one with the potential effectiveness of the other scenes without narration, but they are enough to show just how much the filmmakers are doing with what we can see; this film look fantastic and communicates a lot with pure visuals, and I can't help but wonder how the other scenes would be if they were allowed to simply be observed rather than heard. At the same time, one thing I really appreciate about the wartime scenes that don't contain battle is the use of narration for Ronsel but not for Jamie; it's a detail that contrasts the struggles of the two characters while highlighting Jamie's approach to dealing with his trauma, shutting out all expression and understanding of feeling.
48. Invasion of the Astro-Monster (1965)
I could watch
this stuff all day.
Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster was really weird.
Invasion of the Astro-Monster keeps up the tradition with more schlocky sci-fi strange. There's just something peculiar about a plot involving aliens from a previously hidden tenth planet in the solar system making a deal with Earth to borrow Godzilla and Rodan to fight King Ghidorah on their planet and then turn around and take control of all three monsters in order to invade Earth, I don't what it is, but something's just not quite right.
In all seriousness,
Invasion of the Astro-Monster is about par for the course at this point in the
Godzilla series; throughout the 60s the themes of the films evolved with society's obsessions, and as humanity's interest in space grew, so did its inclusion in
Godzilla movies. A lot of this is draws from
Ghidorah and at least tries to continue to explore themes from it, but struggles to be about something amidst an almost unbearably slow story and charmingly bad effects. It's hard to get something out of a film like this when its not doing more than has been done before by a film in the same series that came out a year before. I still appreciate the film for its schlock, as well as the goofy, cutesy, kid-friendly Godzilla that would become the standard of Godzilla's portrayal over the next few Showa-era films, but this is a clear step down from
Ghidorah. - 5/10
49. Godzilla, King of the Monsters (1998)
This was short and sweet documentary that covers the history of Godzilla. A lot of the details, such as Godzilla's metaphorical purpose, or the conflicting anecdotes about the origin of Godzilla's name, were things that I already knew, but they were nonetheless expressed with passion from people who were directly involved with the making of the original movie or very close to those people. One quote from Jun Fukuda, a director on a handful of Showa-era
Godzilla films, was particularly poignant: "He carried this rage within him because of his origins. He's like a symbol of humanity's complicity in their own destruction. He doesn't have an emotion. He
is and emotion."
Other details I wasn't previously aware of, such as Ishiro Honda's personality as a director, and the budgetary and time constraints that ultimately led them to film using the iconic rubber suit. It's fascinating to hear and see bits and pieces of the filmmaking process from the perspectives of the people who actually made it, to be reminded that the first
Godzilla film was made with a passion to express the pain of a nation that was in a state of cultural suppression in the wake of atomic destruction. There's a fondness for their former fervor, and an insight that can only be obtained by experience.
The documentary then goes in to the evolution of
Godzilla in to the prototypical cinematic universe, with crossovers and
Avengers-style meet-ups, influence on children's television in to the eventual creation of
Ultraman and other Sentai, which turns back around in to Jet Jaguar's inclusion in
Godzilla vs. Megalon. It's all really fast and funny to consider, but from here on out the documentary becomes too shallow, only touching on ideas, when even the first section had left me wanting for more detail. It's still intriguing for me personally, beyond the original filmmakers giving their two cents on the 1998 Roland Emmerich
Godzilla film, there's not much here. It's a shame too, because it had such a strong start, and I would love to hear more about my favourite monster, but it simply isn't here. - 6/10
Published February 18th, 2018
