The 1971 Dillinger was written and directed by John Milius, a right-winger and gun fan. Crisp and exciting, the movie focuses on gun violence and gun justice (no trials). With aplomb Warren Oates plays bank robber John Dillinger, and Ben Johnson—relentlessly out to get his man—is FBI agent Melvin Purvis. Here, Milius is Sam Peckinpah without the intermittent visual poetry. He gets the job done, though, and not without personal vision.
Category: Movies Page 27 of 50
Roger Ebert called the John Huston film, The Man Who Would Be King (1975), “unabashed and thrilling and fun.” To me, there is too much brutality displayed for the picture actually to be fun, but a frank and enjoyable adaptation of Kipling it is. Peachy (Michael Caine) and Daniel (Sean Connery) are blackguards. A British colonial in India says he has no cause for arresting them but, as it happens, primitives in a faraway land have cause for executing them.
In point of fact, the men abide by certain values the Empire smiles on, but they also fail the Empire’s institutions, from the military to the church. Both are ex-soldiers, demonstrating as much gusto in their warfare as in their corruption. Good material is here for a film, which film is not much flawed and devotedly made. In terms of merit The Man Who Would Be King is the movie The Wind and the Lion should have been.
In May December (2023), by Todd Haynes, a committed actress played by Natalie Portman, temporarily stays with and studies a Mary Kay Letourneau-like character (Julianne Moore) whom Portman’s Elizabeth will portray in a movie. Gracie (Moore) has long been married to Joe (Charles Melton), the man she fell for when he was only thirteen.
Samy Burch‘s perceptive script serves up the themes of exploitation and objectification (both coming from Elizabeth), confusion and pressure in an abnormal household, and when an abnormal person like Gracie creates an abnormal marriage. Passably does Moore play a naive and neurotic woman. In a sad moment, she comments that Elizabeth is “getting on her last nerve”—this puzzles Joe—without quite knowing what she is saying. Persuasively and unshowily Melton and Portman play their roles.
A Netflixer, May December is not woke or semi-literate or trite. It is a brittle triumph which, as critic Alison Willmore indicates, approaches the place of horror without reaching it. This is proper, as are the nice comic touches along the way.
A 71-minute doc about Tom Wolfe, Radical Wolfe (2023) shows too much and comments on too much. Plus it makes a mistake in featuring clips from the film versions of Wolfe’s The Right Stuff and The Bonfire of the Vanities while sentences from the books are read aloud. Wolfe didn’t direct those movies!
All the same, Tom Wolfe is here, and engaging, and Richard Dewey‘s doc is usually honest. The huge-in-journalism (unlike journos today) author had many interests, exhibited well after the “intellectual Left” in college exasperated him. He explored New York City, a blue metropolis in all its disjointedness, in Bonfire. Dewey may not see the essential conservatism in this novel and others, but it’s there. . . Granted, I don’t like all of Wolfe’s writings, but his is an outstanding—and important—American success story, journalistic and, up to a point, implacably political. Thus I call it important.
Re the 1937 film musical, On the Avenue:
On the avenue, there is savory Irving Berlin music and some pleasurable singing and dancing.
Alice Faye is somewhat miscast as a jealous meanie, but as a performer she is a heartening jewel. Musically Dick Powell holds his own, and the unfunny Ritz Brothers do some pretty good hoofing. The hookiest song is probably “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm,” but “You’re Laughing at Me” and “This Year’s Kisses” also boast eminently likable and not too predictable melodies.
As romantic as it is mirthful, this vivacious flick was well directed by Roy Del Ruth.