Mississippi Burning

There's a real ugliness in people, a festering sickness in one's soul that emerges time and time again. And it's shown its presence throughout history, its effects lingering for decades after. Worse still, it's something that never fully disappears.

Alan Parker's Mississippi Burning isn't just simmering in hatred -- it's full-on marinated in it. (It's telling that non-American directors are more than willing to expose America's hideousness.) It may have been a few decades after the film's setting but as the coming years would also show, very little had changed.

Frustratingly, for a film about the civil rights movement, Mississippi Burning doesn't put a lot of focus on the Black characters. Preferring to spotlight the agents played by Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe, the film only gives the Black characters any attention when they're about to be subjected to violence, as they're being brutalized, or as they're licking their figurative and literal wounds -- in other words, they only exist to suffer. Were this made today, that would absolutely not happen.

That aspect aside, Mississippi Burning is captured stunningly by cinematographer Peter Biziou. You can practically feel the Mississippi heat through the screen, the smell of the swamps. It's little wonder that Biziou was a regular for Parker (and that his work got him an Oscar).

Mississippi Burning is very much not an easy watch. (Then again, what else would one expect from the man responsible for Midnight Express the previous decade?) To say things have changed since both the setting's time period and the film's release would be a colossal lie. If anything, we're repeating what had happened ad nauseam.

My Rating: ****

Fun with Dick and Jane

The opening credits of Ted Kotcheff's Fun with Dick and Jane shows how the titular couple grew up, met, and settled into the American Dream. A comfy life, for sure...and then Dick (George Segal) gets sacked from his job. Soon, he and Jane (Jane Fonda) struggle to both make ends meet and keep up appearances.

But desperate times call for very desperate measures. Dick comes up with committing robberies to keep food on the table. Jane gets involved as well, and things seem to be going well. But how long can they keep this up?

Made during a time where everyone was feeling financial strain, Fun with Dick and Jane probably seemed absurd to certain audiences upon its release. In hindsight, however, it paints a far more cynical picture. Once one reaches a particular standing in society, others feel schadenfreude at seeing them fall from grace.

Speaking of, Fun with Dick and Jane portrays its setting as a dog-eat-dog world. You have to stoop to levels you'd normally never stoop to. Your self-respect takes a backseat as you try to survive. And after a while, you don't recognize your own reflection.

Fun with Dick and Jane still holds up after nearly a half a century. Aside from a few jokes that aged like milk in the August afternoon sun, you could remake this beat for beat. Just goes to show that the more things change, the more things stay the same.

My Rating: ****

The In-Laws

Comedy is a hard thing to get right. What's funny in one decade could be seen as offensive in the next decade. It's all a matter of making sure you hit your mark without any mistakes along the way.

So you could imagine the undertaking Andrew Bergman went through in writing Arthur Hiller's The In-Laws. A few years after the success of Blazing Saddles (he co-wrote it), he was tasked with writing the script for a picture that was to star Peter Falk and Alan Arkin. (It was initially going to be a sequel to Freebie and the Bean, which had also starred Arkin.) Knowing the potential that could be mined from the two actors, Bergman took on the opportunity.

While a little slow in its build-up, The In-Laws goes out on all pistons running. Falk plays with his Columbo persona, seemingly not all there but very much is. Arkin, meanwhile, plays the straight man to Falk beautifully. It's a shame the two didn't work together more after this.

Now Hiller isn't the kind of director you'd associate with this type of picture, having made Love Story earlier in the decade. But bear in mind that just three years earlier, Hiller made Silver Streak, which starred Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. He may not have done comedy often during his career but Hiller knew how to get the beats down.

The In-Laws may be one of the more underappreciated comedies of the last half century. It takes someone who really knows what they're doing to get something like this right. Thankfully, it's directed by, written by, and stars such people.

My Rating: ****1/2

Trapeze

Carol Reed is one of the names most synonymous with the film noir genre. With other genres, there always seemed to be something amiss. Most of the time, it has to do with the picture being more about style than substance. Still, some of the tricks Reed learned from his noir pictures show up in these.

Take, for instance, Trapeze. Being one of his few films made in Hollywood, Reed has more of a scale to work on than Odd Man Out and The Third Man the previous decade. But as was commonplace for titles of the time, having more isn't always a good thing. It tries to put in too much with a two-hour runtime.

Starring in Trapeze are Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, and Gina Lollobrigida, all of whom as the film's living eye candy. Of them, Lollobrigida (and co-star Katy Jurado) has the more substantial role, acting as the classic femme fatale in some scenes. (Amusingly, Lancaster and Curtis' earlier interactions are similar -- albeit less cynical -- to what they'd do in Sweet Smell of Success the following year.)

Now Trapeze was shot in CinemaScope, and boy, does it show. The sweeping shots of the circus interiors courtesy of Robert Krasker proves that cinema can lead to something beautiful. The problem is that the general picture relies more on the images than the story that goes with them. Such is life.

Trapeze is by all accounts the standard spectacle picture of the 1950s but it still has its moments. A little bit more time spent on the script would've benefited it greatly. But all in all, it's the kind of film you can't see yourself watching again...unless you're in that kind of mood.

My Rating: ***1/2

Mortuary

With so many names who grew up on B-movies end up making movies themselves, it's little surprise that such titles would inspire their own work. Be it cheeky homages or full-on dedications, what were initially written off as cheap productions have had a more lasting impression than intended. And none more so than horror pictures.

Howard Avedis' Mortuary certainly plays up the various elements found in B-movies. It's admittedly self-aware in its cheapness, which is more than can be said about other titles from the same time. That said, it's clear that said belt-tightening affected the quality of the overall script. (Honestly, a student film is better written than this.)

Being released in the shadow of titles like Suspiria and Halloween (ironically, both of which were blatantly cribbed here), Mortuary feels completely lackluster in comparison. It's not just about depicting decent scares; it's about building suspense for the scares. That's key to horror.

If there's one redeeming aspect of Mortuary, it's that it features Bill Paxton early in his career. Being one of the few actors who elevated a movie's quality from his presence, it's clear that Paxton approached the script differently than his co-stars. Regardless, movies lost something when he died in 2017.

Mortuary is very much lacking in its many moving parts. With a barely cohesive script, it's the kind of picture that a new-on-the-scene actor typically does so they can make rent. Still, Paxton just barely saves it from complete unwatchability. Faint praise, yes, but it's all it earns.

My Rating: ***

At Close Range

Fact is often stranger than fiction. It's why people are so drawn to true crime, and why Hollywood practically drools over the potential money it'll make. And it shows how the most unexpected people will do the most unexpected things.

Take, for instance, one Bruce Johnston, Sr. He and his gang of thieves -- some were his own family members -- terrorized Chester and Lancaster Counties in Pennsylvania for years before his criminal empire crumbled. A few years after Johnston and his crew were sent up the river, James Foley's At Close Range was released. Naturally, names were changed, but that doesn't make it any less unsettling.

What makes At Close Range stand out is that it's not set in some thriving metropolis (as most neo-noirs are) but rather the rural outskirts of it. The sweeping farmlands and small storefronts provide a stark contrast to the neon lights and tall buildings. After all, more secrets can be hidden when you know your neighbors.

But in watching At Close Range, it becomes bittersweet in seeing what became of Foley's career. Between the success of this and Glengarry Glen Ross six years later, it looked like everything would be in his favor. But as is the case with any promising career in Hollywood, it didn't pan out that way. (Sure, he had success with television but his more recent film entries are...eesh.)

At Close Range is an understated work on the strength of family ties. With strong work from Sean Penn and Christopher Walken, it depicts the poisonous grasp sometimes found within a family. Blood may be thicker than water but in this instance, it spills just as easily.

My Rating: ****1/2

Spontaneous Combustion

Tobe Hooper has always been something of an anomaly within Hollywood. After hitting it big with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he never seemed to reach the same heights afterward. (Even the success of Poltergeist continues to be overshadowed by rumors that Steven Spielberg actually directed it.) Though he shifted to television soon after, that's not to discredit his film work completely.

Now Spontaneous Combustion is hardly top-tier material from Hooper (or from anyone involved in this, really), but it still gets the job done. But boy, even then it's tough to get through at times. (Oh, the plights of late '80s-early '90s horror flicks.)

That's not to say Spontaneous Combustion is completely terrible, far from it. Hooper had a good idea for his picture, make no mistake; the problem is that everything around it stumbles at the starting gate. (Honestly, most of the actors oversell the half-hearted dialogue.)

Of course, there is one shining grace to Spontaneous Combustion: its star, Brad Dourif. Being the kind of actor who knows how to work with what he's given, he elevates the otherwise lackluster title. Though one has to wonder how much of a role Child's Play had on his casting here...

Spontaneous Combustion is by no means a masterpiece both Hooper and Dourif make it mostly tolerable. Though in watching this, it makes one think a retrospective on Hooper is due. Sure, there were some following his death in 2017, but there could stand to be a few more...even if a lot of his output fell flat.

My Rating: ***

BOOK VS MOVIE: Housekeeping

As one goes through life, very rarely is it in their favor. Close connections crumble, hopes and dreams don't come to fruition, and happiness and disappointment often go hand in hand. That all being said, that doesn't generally mean life is boring and predictable.

If anything, life is what you make of it. And the people you encounter are the ones who help shape it (for better or for worse). Be it family and friends or complete strangers, how they interact with you and make you see the world around you leave a lasting impact, good or bad. But this always depends on the person in question.

Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping follows such a scenario. Under the care of their eccentric aunt, two girls grow up differently in a remote town. Robinson weaves a tale of loneliness amid family ties, how your own blood can be a complete stranger. But she also shows how one has a hunger for individuality, that drive for independence. (Everybody wants to be somebody.)

Bill Forsyth's adaptation follows Robinson's novel practically to the letter. (Forsyth said he made the film to get people to read the book.) Similar to his earlier film Local Hero, Forsyth depicts a lingering pathos within its frames. Even something so open can feel so lonely.

So which is worth checking out? Robinson has a poetry in her words while Forsyth sings with his images. Both tell the story in their own way but very similarly as well. It's a simple tale, yes, but they convey it beautifully.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

Blue Sky

The opening credits of Tony Richardson's Blue Sky depict an assortment of magazines, all advertising glamor and sophistication. Photos of Hollywood starlets strewn about amid promises of beauty if use this product. All the things Carly Marshall (Jessica Lange) yearns for but are just out of her reach.

As the wife of Major Hank Marshall (Tommy Lee Jones), she is expected to be a dutiful housewife and mother. But there's something not quite right with Carly, a fact Hank and their daughters are all too acutely aware of. But as the Mitchells settle in on a new army base, things get more complicated.

There are elements in Blue Sky that are reminiscent of Richardson's films during the British New Wave all those years ago. Co-writer Rama Stagner based Carly and Hank's marriage on her own parents' relationship, and strained connections are no stranger to Richardson. The problem is that it doesn't feel as fraught as, say, Look Back in Anger or The Entertainer.

Indeed, Blue Sky feels incomplete as a story, with many parts that don't always interlock. Granted, Richardson wasn't in the best of health during production (he died of AIDS complications sometime after; the film then sat on the shelf for nearly three years), but even then, he still made the most of it. It's a decent swan song for the director.

Blue Sky mainly relies on Lange (who ended up winning an Oscar) and Jones' work to carry it through but they succeed in doing that. Overall, however, it has good ideas but they are clumsily put together in certain scenes. Still, it's enough for it to be watchable.

My Rating: ****

Hopscotch

Ronald Neame's Hopscotch opens with CIA field agent Miles Kendig (Walter Matthau) photographing a microfilm transfer being foiled. Upon his return to the States, Kendig gets demoted for not arresting Mikhail Yaskov (Herbert Lom), the European head of the KGB. Frustrated, he heads to Salzburg.

Reuniting with his former lover Isobel (Glenda Jackson), Kendig decides to write his memoirs -- well, more accurately, expose the dirty dealings of G.P. Myerson (Ned Beatty), his boss at the CIA. As such, Kendig is now on the run from people who very much do not want that information getting out. But will Kendig succeed?

Taking Brian Garfield's original novel (he also co-wrote the script) and making it more comedic in tone (both Neame and Matthau insisted on that), Hopscotch eschews the flashier elements of the spy genre in favor of sheer cunning and scheming. After all, that's what it takes to be a spy: being one step ahead of everyone else. (Take note, James Bond.)

Admittedly this is not the kind of role one would normally associate with Matthau. But it's his working-class charm that makes his role as effective as it is. You certainly don't expect someone like Matthau to take on the CIA, do you?

Hopscotch is the kind of picture seldom seen nowadays, the kind with sharp writing. (Nowadays everything's dumbed down for an audience not paying attention in the first place.) It also vindicates that spies aren't always looking like they stepped off a movie set; they usually look like your next-door neighbor.

My Rating: ****1/2