The Assassination Bureau

Basil Dearden's The Assassination Bureau opens with a montage of public muders. Sonia Winter (Diana Rigg) quickly figures out they're all connected, and she's determined to dismantle the very organization responsible for the killings. How? By ordering the death of its chairman Ivan Dragomiloff (Oliver Reed).

Dragomiloff is intrigued by Miss Winter's commission so he issues a challenge to his organization of assassins: kill him or he'll kill them. What ensues is a mad dash across Europe as Dragomiloff and Miss Winter try to beat out the other killers. But what else awaits them?

Based on an unfinished Jack London novel (it was finished decades later by another writer), The Assassination Bureau was made amid the public interest for espionage and intrigue courtesy of James Bond. (Amusingly, three actors in this would go on to have major roles in the franchise.) But as is the cases with imitators, they seldom match up with the original.

It's clear that Dearden is trying to emulate the Bond movies with The Asassination Bureau. The problem is that when one adapts an unfinished work that was completed by someone else, it'll still feel incomplete. And that's one of several flaws on display here.

The Assassination Bureau tries too hard in both being its own thing and tackling various elements at once. And as such, it feels longer than it actually is to get through. Yes, Reed and Rigg do have solid chemistry (even if they very much didn't behind the scenes) but even then that just barely keeps the film afloat. All in all, it's not a complete write-off but it isn't something worth recommending either.

My Rating: ***1/2

The Outsider

There's been a decided shift over the decades with how Indigenous peoples have been depicted in Hollywood. The days of brownface have since been eradicated (for the most part) in favor of actually casting Indigenous actors in roles beyond the bloodthirsty savage stereotype. Still, there's a strange fascination in seeing earlier titles.

Now Delbert Mann's The Outsider has Tony Curtis as Iwo Jima flag raiser Ira Hayes. Having a Hungarian-American Jew from the Bronx play a Pima Native American wouldn't fly today (the only real similarity both men have is that they served in World War II, albeit different branches) but that's not to disregard Curtis' work here, far from it. Being more of a physical actor (as in more aware of body language), he conveys the discomfort Ira experiences from being in the public eye.

Speaking of which, The Outsider provides more of a depiction of how one buckles under the pressure from being put on a pedestal. Instead of offering him help as he slips into alcoholism, those that Ira encounters look down on him for not being the example of an American hero he should be. How much of that is true is hard to say but one thing's certain: had Hayes gotten help, he probably would've lived longer than 32.

Mann however can't quite break free from his television past, and it shows from time to time in The Outsider. Most of the actors feel confined in their actions and deliveries, almost as if they weren't allowed to be relaxed. It's jarring in comparison to Marty's easy nature.

The Outsider is far from great but Curtis' performance makes it bearable. Being made before knowledge of PTSD was better known, it probably explains the film's ham-fisted approach on the matter. Still, it's not a complete slog.

My Rating: ***1/2

Goodbye Charlie

Bloodshed, gender-bending, Tony Curtis as the male lead, a curvy blonde as the female lead...no, this isn't a description of Some Like It Hot (though it could be) but rather a film from five years later: Vincente Minnelli's Goodbye Charlie. (Coincidentally, Billy Wilder was offered to direct this but flatly turned it down.) And Minnelli's picture is surprisingly...amusing in its execution.

The plot of Goodbye Charlie kicks off after the titular character gets gunned down by a jealous husband. His friend George Tracy (Curtis) flies in for a (rather pitifully attended) memorial service and afterwards, a dazed blonde (Debbie Reynolds) stumbles onto the doorstep of Charlie's home. Turns out this blonde is a reincarnated Charlie.

Similar to Some Like It Hot, Goodbye Charlie has the initially introduced male character slowly but fully embracing their new feminine identity. (Likewise, both films have Curtis' character very wary about the whole situation.) That said, the now-female Charlie can't quite break free from their old ways... (The fact those jokes got past the censors is staggering.)

This being a Minnelli picture, the sets have all the markings of some of his earlier films. Fully stocked liquor cabinets, bookshelves filled with hardcover titles, and enough vibrant colors to warrant the existence of Technicolor. And that's not even getting into the Helen Rose-designed wardrobe. (It's worth mentioning that before making this, Minnelli was lobbying hard to direct My Fair Lady but his salary demands were too high for the studio's liking. Could you imagine what that film would've been like had he gotten the gig instead of George Cukor? It's possible that what didn't go into the musical went into this.)

That all being said, there's not a lot to write home about Goodbye Charlie. Apart from Curtis' facial expressions and acting constantly on the verge of mental collapse (and Walter Matthau sporting the most ridiculous Italian accent imaginable), it follows the same formula as other sex farces of the era. Still, it has its moments; just...not a lot.

My Rating: ***1/2

Requiem for a Heavyweight

Ralph Nelson's Requiem for a Heavyweight opens with a tracking shot fo bar patrons watching a boxing match on an unseen TV with immense interest. It then cuts to the mayhem of the fight as seen from the perspective of Luis "Mountain" Rivera (Anthony Quinn). It's this fight (up against Cassius Clay, no less!) that Rivera needs to call it quits if wants to stay alive.

With the help of his trainer Army (Mickey Rooney), Rivera tries to find some steady work outside the ring. His manager Maish Rennick (Jackie Gleason), however, has a number of debts to some bookies so he wants to Rivera to keep fighting. But what does the fighter's future hold?

There's a weariness to Requiem for a Heavyweight that shows an empathy to Rivera's situation. With a script penned by Rod Serling, that tiredness and cynicism make all the more sense. (Just watch The Twilight Zone or Seven Days in May.) The film's not in the mood for bullshit.

Now this version of Requiem for a Heavyweight has some noted changes from its original teleplay. (The lead character's named Harlan McClintock, for starters.) And the conclusion for the film is decidedly more depressing on many fronts. (But again, with Serling at the typewriter, that's not a surprise.)

Requiem for a Heavyweight is definitely not the kind of uplifting picture most boxing films were the previous decade. With Serling's shrewd views on full display, the film shines a sad light on those in Rivera's small circle. And as some episodes of The Twilight Zone showed, not everyone gets the happy ending they seek.

My Rating: ****

Pretty Poison

It's established early on in Noel Black's Pretty Poison that Dennis Pitt (Anthony Perkins) is not entirely there. (Well, he is on parole from a mental institution.) Soon he gets Sue Ann Stepanek (Tuesday Weld) wrapped up in his "missions", and it doesn't take long for chaos to unfold.

This being Perkins' first post-Psycho Hollywood role (he had done several projects overseas), there are the obvious parallels between his famous role and Pretty Poison. But Black wanted to capture the Perkins previously seen in Friendly Persuasion and Fear Strikes Out, not the one that limited the actor's future career. (Perkins still got typecast after this.) That said, the two periods of his profession are entwined within Dennis.

That's not to disregard Perkins' work in Pretty Poison, far from it, He was an actor who captured a sense of naivete very well throughout his career. Though often in roles where he's a bundle of nerves within a lanky frame, he was still good at his job.

And then there's Weld. Surprisingly devoid of an Oscar nomination for her work in Pretty Poison, she plays Sue Ann as a classic femme fatale: attractive, seductive and very dangerous. (She certainly lives up to the film's title, that's for sure.)

Pretty Poison is part of that cinematic canon which marked a decided shift in Hollywood and its storytelling. Gone is the whole concept of playing it safe; now directors, writers and actors had less restrictions for the stories they wanted to make. And the results -- like what's seen here -- can be downright anarchic in comparison to the previous decade's contributions.

My Rating: ****1/2

Experiment in Terror

The name Blake Edwards is usually synonymous with comedy. The Pink Panther series, Victor/Victoria, Operation Petticoat, The Great Race...apart from the occasional romance, this was how his legacy was shaped. But in 1962, he had two San Francisco-set films starring Lee Remick that were most definitely not comedies.

The most famous of the two is Days of Wine and Roses, which got Remick her lone Oscar nomination. The other was Experiment in Terror, which is decidedly more diabolical than Edwards' other works. (Seeing that it opens with Remick's Kelly Sherwood being threatened by a shadowy figure in close-up, that explains everything right there.)

Alongside Remick is Glenn Ford, a regular amongst film noir. As FBI agent John Ripley, he does a role similar to The Big Heat in that he'll seek justice by any means possible. (Okay, not in the same ruthless ways as Dave Bannion.) But will Ripley succeed in capturing the raspy-voiced sociopath?

In very stark contrast to Edwards' other films, Experiment in Terror is not interested in the sake of laughs. (Same with his other 1962 release.) It's an anxious picture, borrowing cues from the likes of noirs past. (It's also one hell of a follow-up to Breakfast at Tiffany's, that's for sure.)

Experiment in Terror may not be Edwards' usual fare but boy, he certainly knows what he's doing. (Apparently, his output from that year convinced him to focus more on the sillier side of life afterward.) And with it being released in a very stacked year for movies, it's clear as to why it's not as known as To Kill a Mockingbird or The Miracle Worker. But should that fact lessen one's curiosity towards it? Of course not.

My Rating: ****

Cat Ballou

The opening moments of Elliot Silverstein's Cat Ballou pretty much establishes the general mood of it all, what with Nat King Cole (who died a few months before its release) and Stubby Kaye serving as a sort of Greek chorus. But boy, that doesn't even begin to describe it.

Starring Jane Fonda early in her career, Cat Ballou is a sort of send-up of the genre. (It's worth mentioning that her father was doing a number of westerns by this point in his own career.) It has a more slapstick approach to the subject matter, something not often seen in the otherwise somber field. (In fact, the source novel was a serious work. The comedy was added for the movie.)

Fonda may have been the star of Cat Ballou but the one responsible for stealing the show is Lee Marvin. (He didn't get that Oscar for nothing.) Playing dual roles as both Ballou's ally and enemy, he very obviously subverts his usual tough guy image. Now if only he had more opportunities to do comedy...

Similarly, Fonda is more known for serious fare but as she showed with Cat Ballou, she's good at comedy too. (Then again, Grace and Frankie might have reminded newer audiences to that fact.) And while she didn't enjoy making it, she still plays the straight woman role well.

Cat Ballou is a nice subversion of other films of the genre before it. Being released the same year as The Sound of Music and Doctor Zhivago, perhaps a less serious production was something the masses were looking for. (Hey, there was a lot going on then.)

My Rating: ****

Village of the Damned

Wolf Rilla's Village of the Damned starts off normally. The residents of Midwich go about with their day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. But at the stroke of eleven o'clock, they all go unconscious. Nearly four hours later, they wake up unharmed...or are they?

A few months pass and several of the village's women have given birth to blonde-haired children.(The news of these simultaneous pregnancies sparked some rumors throughout town.) These children develop faster, much to the amazement of Prof. Gordon Zellaby (George Sanders), whose "son" David (Martin Stephens) is amongst this group. But soon things take a dark turn...

Usually when people think of British horror films, more often than not their first thoughts are towards those made by Hammer Film Productions and/or ones where Christopher Lee is involved. But with Village of the Damned, it has an Oscar winner as its lead. (And in a bit of playing against type too!)

Speaking of which, this was clearly a change of pace for Sanders. Here's a performer whose roles usually consisted of his character his utter disdain for humanity, so to see Sanders as a more kindly figure is something of a shock. But surprisingly, it's a casting decision that's an inspired one.

Village of the Damned was amongst the coming decade's many films wrought with paranoia. (Hey, it was during the Cold War.) It may not have the blood and gore usually found in the horror genre but this is the kind of picture even the squeamish can enjoy. (Oh, and it predates Rosemary's Baby in convincing the viewer to never have children ever.)

My Rating: ****

Two Weeks in Another Town

The opening moments of Vincente Minnelli's Two Weeks in Another Town shows Jack Andrus (Kirk Douglas) walking around the grounds of the sanitarium that's been his home for some time. Once a big movie star, now nobody would touch him with a ten-foot pole. Well, except for director Maurice Kruger (Edward G. Robinson), and even that isn't without its own melodrama.

Temperamental actors, a movie going overbudget and way past schedule, snarled romances, and feuds on set and off. These are the things plaguing both Jack and Maurice in Two Weeks in Another Town. Jack's ex-wife Carlotta (Cyd Charisse) -- who was responsible for landing him in the sanitarium -- tries to seduce him back while Maurice's wife Clara (Claire Trevor) spends most of her time screaming at her husband. No wonder they're the way that they are.

This isn't the first time Minnelli and Douglas tackled Hollywood; in the previous decade, they had made The Bad and the Beautiful. (Snippets of the earlier film are shown as a previous work of Jack's.) But in comparison with the two, Two Weeks in Another Town is decidedly less jaded in depicting behind-the-scenes shenanigans.

And seeing as how their last two films resulted in Oscar nominations for Douglas, it would make sense to see if the third time's the charm. But in contrast to The Bad and the Beautiful and Lust for Life, it's not as focused on the story at hand. (Though Robinson and Trevor's scenes are an interesting reversal of their roles in Key Largo.)

Two Weeks in Another Town may not be quality Minnelli but it does have its good points. (Its running time is not one of them.) His films with Douglas are an underappreciated collaboration, making one wonder what it'd be like had it been a regular teaming...

My Rating: ****

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

How does one describe Jacques Demy's The Umbrellas of Cherbourg? It's more than a simple musical, much more than that. (It is Demy after all.) But it's more than the typical fare the likes of MGM churned out at the time. But how?

The film follows the young love between Geneviève (Catherine Deneuve) and Guy (Nino Castelnuovo), stalled because of him being drafted. He leaves her alone and pregnant, yearning for him to return to her. But will this long-distance relationship survive?

Being the second of a sort of trilogy (the other films being Lola and The Young Girls of Rochefort), The Umbrellas of Cherbourg establishes Demy's standing in the world of film. In contrast to the films made by his wife Agnès Varda, his works more often than not are romanticized visions of reality. (Compare Lola with Cléo from 5 to 7.)

In a way, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is a low-scale opera. (All of the dialogue is sung.) There's that tone -- pardon the pun -- of melodrama throughout, yes, but that's the point. It's supposed to be morose amid the various pastels. (What, you never heard of the concept of dissonance?)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg shows how one's aspirations and dreams don't often come to fruition. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your life to move forward, even if you don't want to. But as time wears on, you'll realize you've made a wise decision. (No one ever said or expected life to be fair to them from beginning to end.)

My Rating: ****1/2

Portrait of Jason

Shirley Clarke's Portrait of Jason isn't the conventional type of documentary. Its subject Jason Holliday (née Aaron Payne) isn't a name very well known by the masses but he's an engaging figure to watch as he tells his life story and ambitions. But is it as simple as that?

What's shown in Portrait of Jason could easily be described as that from the first few minutes but it unravels into something much more than that. Being made during a time where race and sexual identity were regular points of discussion (it certainly wasn't always), Clarke depicts an unbiased glimpse into someone's own life and how they see the world around them.

A key aspect throughout Portrait of Jason is how Jason presents himself to the camera. He has a flamboyant nature to him, a telling detail since he wants to be an entertainer. But as the film wears on, the barriers he had put up start to fall down. Off-camera taunts from Clarke and her then-partner Carl Lee reveal who Jason actually by film's end.

Being released the same year as Bonnie and Clyde and The Graduate, Portrait of Jason came out at a time when Hollywood was changing the rules. No more were the storytellers going to play it safe and get by with the occasional stray innuendo. But 1967 was the year that marked a cinematic revolution.

Portrait of Jason showed that women may have gotten the short end of the stick in previous years but they sure as hell weren't going to be in that position any longer. As Dorothy Arzner and Ida Lupino did before her, Clarke shows there's much more to storytelling than the then-required romantic subplot. They showed that a new perspective can be a good thing.

My Rating: ****1/2

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte

Following the success of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, Robert Aldrich and Bette Davis re-teamed two years later for Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte. (Joan Crawford was originally cast but was replaced by Olivia de Havilland.) But how does it compare to the more famous title?

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte is more sinister than the earlier film in spots. But instead of Davis as the abuser, here she's the victim. (It is strange to see her in a more helpless situation.) However, her Charlotte Hollis has a shared trait with Jane Hudson: vainly grasping at days passed.

In fact, there are several connecting factors between Aldrich's two films besides their leading lady. Both What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte recruit actors whose careers may not have been what they once were. (Okay, Agnes Moorehead being the sole exception because of Bewitched.) Perhaps that started the trend of star-studded pictures the following decade?

Back to that aspect mentioned earlier. Both Charlotte and Jane try to reclaim the past while at the same time slowly lose their grip on reality. (While Jane wants to be in the spotlight once more, Charlotte yearns for the days before her lover was brutally murdered.) But life just throws many curveballs at both of them.

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte shows that sometimes the best kind of horror doesn't always require blood, guts and gore to make it work. A little bit of gaslighting works just as well too. (Man, imagine how much more terrifying it would've been had Davis and de Havilland swapped roles?)

My Rating: ****1/2

Carnival of Souls

Herk Harvey's Carnival of Souls opens with a drag race gone very wrong. Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss) miraculously survives the accident, much to the surprise of everyone and Mary herself. She moves on with her life but things take a turn for the strange for Mary...

Carnival of Souls was released the same year as Lawrence of Arabia and To Kill a Mockingbird so obviously a B-grade low-budget horror didn't have the same sense of prestige. But all these years later, Harvey's film has persevered in its methods and to no surprise, it influenced its fair share of other films.

Many aspects of Carnival of Souls certainly provided some inspiration for David Lynch when he made Eraserhead (the creepy as hell organ music in particular). George A. Romero credits this with inspiring the zombie makeup in Night of the Living Dead. Who would've thought a horror picture with unknown names attached would have such an impact?

Speaking of unknown names, there's something about Hilligoss that adds to the creepiness of Carnival of Souls. Perhaps it's the close-ups on her face as she realizes something's not right. With a streak of light across her widened eyes and arched eyebrow, she says everything with her face when most others would say it with a scream.

Carnival of Souls has a slow build-up to its ultimate finale but boy, does it pay off. What could've easily been lost amid the many high-profile films of 1962 instead becomes an influential work for future generations. And boy, that ending's a doozy.

My Rating: ****1/2

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

David Swift's How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying takes on a more amusing tone in hindsight of Mad Men. Not strictly because it involves the advertising business in the 1960s but because both works feature a similar name: Robert Morse.

A whole four decades before Mad Men re-introduced him to mass audiences, Morse's big break came in the form of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. And his J. Pierpont Finch has more than a few similarities with Don Draper.

Both men quickly go from complete unknowns in New York City to the top of their business. Of course knowing their personality types, neither Finch nor Draper climb up the corporate ladder in an honest manner. Sometimes a few strings need to be pulled to get what one wants...

That aside, Finch and Draper are of different temperaments. Draper indulges in numerous vices while Finch is noticeably more virtuous in nature. And Finch's environment relies more on backstabbing whereas Draper's focuses more on competence (which is a tall order what with all the drinking and sleeping around).

Anyway, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying certainly captures the era it's both from and set in. But it's because of that aspect the film hasn't aged well. Still, seeing this then a particular scene from Mad Men's final season makes for an amusing combination.

My Rating: ****

The Best Man

Franklin J. Schaffner's The Best Man has its opening credits superimposed on images of all the United States Presidents up until the then-current one in office. (Being a film penned by Gore Vidal, it was probably his idea.) What ensues in Schaffner's sophomoric film shows that very little has changed since its 1964 release.

Apparently Vidal had enough insight that there's an absurdity within politics. In the fifty-two years following The Best Man hitting theaters, reality starts resembling fiction to a nigh unsettling degree. (Good thing Vidal isn't around to witness this current election otherwise that would've surely killed him.)

Similarly, Vidal managed to foretell the future of American politics. At one point in The Best Man, Art Hockstader (Lee Tracy) talks about the possibilities of a Jewish President, a Negro President and even a woman President. (It's worth mentioning that Vidal lived to see Barack Obama become President.)

And of course the characters of The Best Man were inspired by real-life politicians. William Russell (Henry Fonda) is based on Adlai Stevenson II while Joe Cantwell (Cliff Robertson) was inspired by Richard Nixon, John F. and Robert Kennedy, and Joseph McCarthy. And Hockstader is a mix of Dwight D. Eisenhower and Harry S. Truman. (Worth mentioning that Vidal wasn't too fond of some of them.)

It's unsettling how much The Best Man parallels the present election. So much focus on the mudslinging between the candidates and not enough on their policies. Hopefully Vidal's not currently turning in his grave.

My Rating: ****

This Sporting Life

The late 50s and early 60s saw the emergence of the British New Wave. It depicted kitchen sink drama, another name for the plights the working-class protagonist encountered. By now it's a movement that has run its course but sometimes it makes its presence known in more recent titles.

One title from the movement's peak was Lindsay Anderson's This Sporting Life. Like earlier films of the British New Wave such as Saturday Night and Sunday Morning and Room at the Top, it depicts a man who's unsatisfied with his current life and finds brief solace in a woman. But that only adds to his problems.

This Sporting Life was Anderson's first feature-film debut after making several documentary shorts. Here, he channels the era's long-simmering anger in the form of Frank Machin (Richard Harris). But this detail also shows the film's age.

Onto Harris' performance. Nowadays he's known for playing Dumbledore in the first two Harry Potter movies before Michael Gambon took over. But his work in This Sporting Life decades before shows his abilities as an actor. His Frank can be crass in one moment then considerate in the next. (The film's penultimate scene is a particularly harrowing piece of acting from Harris.)

This Sporting Life may not measure up to other British New Wave titles to some but it does have its moments. The work from Harris and Rachel Roberts is good but again certain elements show the film's age. At least Anderson depicted Britain's anger better five years later.

My Rating: ****

Lola

With the French New Wave, there was an emergence in promising directors. Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut, Claude Chabrol, Eric Rohmer, Jacques Rivette...they were the key figures in making the movement come to be. But there are a few other names from that time in cinema that tend to get overlooked.

One such name was Jacques Demy. Now his films like The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort are well-known to the film community (as well as his marriage to Agnès Varda) but his smaller, non-musical films tend to get overlooked. Such is the case with his debut Lola.

Much like Varda's Cleo from 5 to 7 the following year, there's more to Lola than it lets on. It's not just about the titular cabaret singer (Anouk Aimée); it's about a small group of in Nantes, their lives intersecting for only a fleeting moment.

Interestingly, Demy had intended for Lola to be a musical but didn't have a budget for it. (It leaves one wondering what this would've been like as a full-fledged musical.) But does this detail hinder the film's quality? Of course not.

Lola was one of several examples to prove that a new film movement was underway but all these years later, it seems to have gotten lost amid the mix of The 400 Blows and Breathless. Demy also showed that he was a promising director for the world of cinema to keep an eye on. (Also expect more reviews of his films here.)

My Rating: *****

One, Two, Three

Usually some directors have a certain style to their work after a few films. Sometimes it's how the characters interact. Other times it could just be the genre the films fall under. Either way, you can sometimes tell the film you're watching is one of theirs without seeing their name in the opening credits.

Take for instance Billy Wilder. His films more often than not feature sharp banter and even sharper opinions on politics. (Granted, the former gets more recognized than the latter.) That;s usually why his films have endured all these years later.

With One, Two, Three (a follow-up to the one-two punch of Some Like It Hot and The Apartment), Wilder takes aim at the then-simmering Cold War. (The Berlin Wall was being built during filming.) And with Wilder being one of Hollywood's big names to flee Europe as Hitler rose to power, he doesn't sugarcoat Germany's past actions either.

Wilder frequently knows whom to cast for particular roles in his films and hits the nail on the head as a result. Some instances include playing against type (Humphrey Bogart in Sabrina, Fred MacMurray in The Apartment). And the latter category definitely fulfills James Cagney's work in One, Two, Three. (Seeing the fast pace most of his lines are delivered, it's no surprise that Cagney went into retirement after making this.)

One, Two, Three feels more manic than some of Wilder's other films, almost to the point where it resembles more to a Mel Brooks film. That said, there are other aspects that are pure Wilder. It's not as great as his other comedies but when Wilder's name is attached to a film, you know you have to seek it out.

My Rating: ****

Le Bonheur

When infidelity is depicted, the reasons behind are seldom of romantic means. Usually it's shown as an escape from the tediousness of marriage. Other times, it only comes into play when the unfaithful party yearns to feel young again. But sometimes an affair can blossom from other reasons.

Agnès Varda's Le Bonheur provides a different reason for why an adulterous liaison might occur. François (Jean-Claude Drouot) feels beyond content with his wife Thérèse (Claire Drouot) and two young children. He decides to extend his happiness to Émilie (Marie-France Boyer), a women he meets while on business. But how will this end?

In stark contrast to the black-and-white cinematography of Varda's earlier film Cleo from 5 to 7, Le Bonheur has a bright palette of colors in every shot. (It could also be viewed as the mindsets of the lead characters.) Perhaps she borrowed a few cues from husband Jacques Demy?

As per usual with Varda, Le Bonheur shows an exploration of life and the people that inhabit it. She shows the world and the flaws its dwellers display. After all, to quote Some Like It Hot, nobody's perfect.

Le Bonheur is further proof that Varda is one of the great for the world of cinema. She knows how to capture everyday life and all of its little imperfections. We must honor her while she's still with us.

My Rating: ****1/2

A Hard Day's Night

Everyone knows how Richard Lester's A Hard Day's Night opens. A throng of screaming fans are chasing the Beatles as they try to get to their train. Given this was made during the height of the band's fame (it was made shortly after their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show), it wasn't too hard to find extras to do the task. But there's so much more to the film than the opening sequence.

From an era with ever-changing opinions on next to everything, A Hard Day's Night is a testament to its era. This was a time in history where its target audience were the baby boomers, a generation more liberated than the previous one. This was a generation seeking its own identity and what better form of identity is there than music?

As you watch the Fab Four on screen, you can't help but be surprised that A Hard Day's Night had a script. (An Oscar-nominated one too!) Of course the quartet are playing exaggerated versions of themselves but does that matter in the end? Of course not. But to choose which of the four steals the show, that honor easily goes to John Lennon. ("I now declare this bridge...open!")

That said, there are a few elements in A Hard Day's Night that wouldn't go by as easily as they did in 1964. At one point in the film, Ringo Starr temporarily leaves the band which he would do several years later. (And then there's the manager repeatedly threatening to kill Lennon...) That said though, the looming shadows of those events don't hinder the film's quality.

A Hard Day's Night is a deeply entertaining film, one that can be enjoyed if you're a fan of the Beatles or not. (Though to be honest, how could you not be a fan of the Beatles?) It's just one of those films that you need to see.

My Rating: *****