His first feature film, the 1969 Downhill Racer is one of Michael Ritchie‘s efforts concerning competition, and like his Smile, an admirable effort it is.

The best thing about it is Robert Redford‘s acting as David Chappellet, a skiier who aspires to be an Olympic champion. Chappellet had humble beginnings—with an unloving father, in fact—and grew up with no real education. This, says his coach (Gene Hackman), is “not enough” for an Olympic competitor. Though he wins races, Chappellet is cocky and irresponsible, an athletic know-nothing. He is a poor representative of the United States. Will he learn?

In Redford we see an enticing intelligence. He has thorough understanding of his character, with James Salter‘s fine screenplay enabling him to shine in every nuance. The account of Chappellet’s life is always absorbing. Indeed, the interlude with him and high-class lover Carole (Camilla Sparv—not the actor that Redford and Hackman are) could have gotten boring, but it doesn’t. I don’t much like the music by Kenyon Hopkins, but Ritchie directs with an artist’s eye. I don’t know whether there is any true resolution at the end of Downhill Racer, but at any rate, to my mind, as a movie it never goes downhill.

His first feature film, the 1969 Downhill Racer is one of Michael Ritchie‘s efforts concerning competition, and like his Smile, an admirable effort it is.

The best thing about it is Robert Redford‘s acting as David Chappellet, a skiier who aspires to be an Olympic champion. Chappellet had humble beginnings—with an unloving father, in fact—and grew up with no real education. This, says his coach (Gene Hackman), is “not enough” for an Olympic competitor. Though he wins races, Chappellet is cocky and irresponsible, an athletic know-nothing. He is a poor representative of the United States. Will he learn?

In Redford we see an enticing intelligence. He has thorough understanding of his character, with James Salter‘s fine screenplay enabling him to shine in every nuance. The account of Chappellet’s life is always absorbing. Indeed, the interlude with him and high-class lover Carole (Camilla Sparv—not the actor that Redford and Hackman are) could have gotten boring, but it doesn’t. I don’t much like the music by Kenyon Hopkins, but Ritchie directs with an artist’s eye. I don’t know whether there is any true resolution at the end of Downhill Racer, but at any rate, to my mind, as a movie it never goes downhill.

With White Material (2009), French director Claire Denis has done an intelligent and provocative job of presenting the human inability to see things as they really are.  Isabelle Huppert’s Maria, a white woman in Africa, is deluded about the danger posed by ferocious civil-war fighters.  Her indolent son (Nicolas Duvauchelle) responds to the conflict by becoming a gun-toting troublemaker—much to his peril.  In the realm they live in, human life could not be cheaper; no one can afford to be blind.

Denis’s film has a nervous energy and a real punch to it.  It’s candid.  If it had an MPAA rating it would probably be NC-17 because it briefly shows an actor’s impressive penis.

(In French with English subtitles)

Français : Isabelle Huppert au festival de Cannes. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In Darkness (2018) is not a Hitchcock-like thriller, even though it wants to be. It features too many banal camera shots. Too, it suffers from a certain banal complexity—banal now—which sometimes confused me. The protag it concerns is a blind young woman (Natalie Dormer) who desires revenge on a Serbian businessman and vicious criminal.

Directed by Anthony Byrne with a screenplay by Byrne and Dormer, at least the film is properly disturbing about straightforward violence. As well, a few impeccable performances emerge, as from Miss Dormer—credible as a blind person and a nifty fit for an espionage thriller. Along with a very attractive elfin face, Dormer has a thin body whose breasts she knows she can be proud of. Her nudity is meant to contribute to the movie’s arthouse look and cred except, unfortunately, In Darkness is not a success.

A movie like Double Indemnity (1944) could never be far-fetched since every fifth episode of Dateline confirms that the premise is authentic. A man and his new female lover, with money in their sights, murder the lover’s lousy husband. Billy Wilder adapted the story from a James M. Cain novel, co-writing it with Raymond Chandler, and although the work is not a signature Wilder flick (as Ace in the Hole and The Apartment are), it serves up the same theme of corruption that resulted in Wilder’s humorous near-misanthropy.

D.I. itself isn’t humorous, of course; it’s potboiler drama with a lot of frowning in it. Do understand, though, that what goes down quite well in an efficient novel—viz., a lot of dialogue—does not necessarily go down well in a movie. Still, it matters that Chandler authored the characters’ talk, so adult and peppery. . . Wilder turned out a decent film noir, without—fortunately—becoming known for film noir.