52 Pick-Up # 32 – Mandabi (1968)

Back already?
 

Sorry. Had to. Like I said before, this is on me.

Anyway, welcome back to 52 Pick-Up as I work on getting caught up for the month of August now that things are winding down for the season.

Like I said last time, thanks to the will of shuffle, we're going in a different direction from last week. A different time, a different place, a different language.

But, the quality remains good, if slightly less feel good compared to last time. That's colonialism for you.

As promised before, this time I'm coming back to the films of Ousmane Sembène for the first time since watching Black Girl for the first time several years back. This time, in his follow up movie, he takes a bit more of a comedic tone, but his view of colonization is no less favorable in Mandabi.

In going into the pitch for this, I'll start with a quick note – the title of this movie translates to 'The Money Order.' The titular order being received by one Ibrahima (Makhourédia Guèye), a proud patriarch to two wives and seven children. The order comes from his his nephew working abroad, sending 25,000 francs he has earned to be divided among the family. Things are looking up for Ibrahima and his clan – until he goes to cash it and finds he's being declined because he lacks valid identification (and to add complications to getting one, he is illiterate). What follows is a bureaucratic labyrinth as Ibrahima tries to get all his paperwork in order so he can get the money order cashed before too much time passes and the money goes back to his nephew. All the while dealing with various debts being either called in or accumulating as he tries to get this all sorted out and settled up.

Why yes, this DID feel more than a little sadly familiar over half a century and half a world away, but that wasn't really the intent of the movie, so I will defer there.

There's a number of things this movie is commenting on, but in particular the way Sembène frames postcolonial Senegal here was the one that really hit me. Like last entry, this gave me something of a compare and contrast feeling, but in this case it was to Sembène's earlier movie, Black Girl. The similarity is, admittedly, more in the broad strokes already stated, this is definitely commenting on the impact of how colonialism has effected Senegal and the people there. The big differences come in how it's presented here.

For starters, Ibrahima is a different sort of focus compared to Diouana. Where she is taken out of her element and on the short end of the power dynamics, Ibrahima comes into this in more of a position of relative power. He even seems aware of this himself, as a recurring element of his character is in how he postures and adjusts his robes. This is a man who's used to calling the shots within his walk of life, and even moreso with the prospect of the financial windfall to come. Despite having more going for him, Ibrahima isn't any luckier when the dust settles. Diouana is left isolated and ultimately crushed by a world that is uncaring and unfamiliar. Ibrahima, meanwhile, watches as the world he's been so confident in is ultimately twisted against him as he finds himself repeatedly being out done by pencil pushers, debt collectors, and ultimately his own nephew (not the same nephew as before).

In Ibrahima's case, it's hard not to see the influence of France's colonization in his misery. Yes, it technically provided the initial good fortune as it was his nephew working in France that saved up the money, but it's also their systems that we see bogging everything down in bureaucracy at every turn. It's their influence we see in moments like Ibrahima watching government workers discussing the merits of living on credit bolstered by other credit. It's even that colonial influence in the form of nephew Mbaye, dressed in stylish European attire, who ultimately swindles his uncle.

By the end, I was still feeling the compare and contrast, particularly in the ways both of these movies, whether expressly or just as a result of how they're presented, seem to be targeting part of their message specifically at the colonial element of the audience. In the case of Black Girl, it came across as more explicitly damning – a reminder that some money or an apology can't undo lives destroyed by careless or outright malicious intentions of colonial power. In the case of Mandabi, it reads less as a 'this isn't something you can magically wipe away' and more presenting this morass of bureaucracy, debt hustling, usury and straight up 'everyone for themselves' betrayal and seeming to ask 'This is the civilizing you're so proud to have done?'

I have to admit, I'm still wondering how much of that particular tone was intentional and how much was me reading in more here based on my one prior encounter with Sembène. In the meantime, as I turn this over, it's giving me more incentive to keep an eye out for more of his movies. So far he's two for two and I am intrigued to see more.

But, that will have to be for another time. The days roll on and I've got two more titles left to close out August, which means another week of catch up before I'm back to the regular schedule.

So, I hope you all have a good weekend, and I'll be back here early next week with a movie that's been among the gaps I've been filling from before I really went out of the way to check out the Oscar heavies ahead of the big night. In this case, Todd Field's In the Bedroom.

Till then.

52 Pick-Up # 31 – Velvet Goldmine (1998)

Welcome back to 52 Pick Up.

First up, I'd like to extend an apology for the delay on this one. This summer has had some unexpectedly busy spikes off and on, particularly as planning with family went and it wound up catching up with me.

With that said, consider this the start of a catch up run of multiple entries in short succession to get back up to speed.

So, without further ado...

I had considered a number of tasteful ways to start this entry up.

Considered, and then realized I couldn't not do this instead - 

Well, Uncharted Waters is over. It's been a good run. But though the John Waters films may be done in this project, their spirit lives on in other filmmakers' ambition, creativity, and in cases such as today's full frontal nudity.

I know, that's not the primary point for this movie. In fact, there's a lot to recommend in this movie in general. This is just one where I had to make some joking acknowledgment of this, given how several people, including my wife who referred to herself as a 'pervert gremlin teenager' (her words) came to this movie – the promise of being part of Ewan McGregor's early cinematic reputation for dropping trou.

I'm sure there's a weirder way to set up that this week's entry is for Todd Haynes's Velvet Goldmine, but damned if I know it.

But, as I said before, this is a movie that has a lot more going for it beyond the notable celebrity nudity, though if that's your thing, yes, it is here. For my part, as someone who had known Haynes before this for his Sirk-coded Far From Heaven and 2023's May December, the idea of him taking on the glam rock era had me intrigued. It also has me realizing I need to see more of his movies, but that's for another time.

For today, let's get to the pitch.

The movie starts us with an introduction to the very theatrical (and yes, very David Bowie-coded) glam rock artist Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) an artist on a meteoric rise that culminated one night at a fateful concert where he predicted he would be assassinated. From there, the movie jumps in time and perspective to the 1980s and journalist Arthur (Christian Bale), a man who was among those following the glam movement Slade was part of – so much so that he witnessed the notorious concert in the prologue, where the attack was revealed to be a staged publicity stunt that effectively destroyed Slade's career. Years later, Arthur has been given an assignment to try and find out just what happened to the embattled singer following his disappearance from public life. What follows is a movie very much in a vein akin to Citizen Kane, as Arthur learns more of the story of the real Slade from the singer's ex-wife (Toni Collette) and his manager (Michael Feast.)

In terms of what stuck out for me, the Kane comparison was a big point – less so for the parts that are similar as the areas where Haynes differs and how that works to this movie's benefit. Both start, as established above, in a similar area – a fictional figure of fame overtly inspired by a real life individual (in this movie's case, Haynes takes from a number of artists for inspiration for Slade, but Bowie is easily one of the biggest, additionally Ewan McGregor is playing a role who is an amalgamation of Iggy Pop and Lou Reed) and hang a mystery over them that drives the story. Said protagonist slowly pieces together the famous person's life from those who knew the person directly, peeling back the celebrity story for the complicated, messy figure underneath. From this point, Haynes makes two particular deviations from what Welles did before (and I should give a heads-up, one of these will get into a spoiler, I will mark accordingly.)

The most pronounced split in this case comes in the form of the investigative figure, Arthur. In the case of Kane, the reporter is ultimately a framing figure. He's the one tasked with solving the mystery of Rosebud, but the story itself starts and ends with Charles Foster Kane. The reporter is there to get people talking about the man beyond the newsreels. In the case of Velvet Goldmine, Haynes makes this story as much about Arthur as it is about Slade. In fact, the movie even starts from the premise of their journeys being intertwined in the decision to introduce us to Arthur on the night of the fateful concert that sent Slade into self-imposed exile. As Arthur digs into the story, we are also treated to flashbacks into his own life and how his own interest in Slade led him to the concert that changed it all. In particular, we see how the advent of the glam rock scene became a sexual awakening for Arthur, eventually leading to him leaving his past behind and finding himself through the music. That their connection comes to a head on the fateful night that destroyed Slade's career even adding to it in a way as a sort of 'rising and falling' contrast. Granted, one can't quite call Arthur's trajectory a rise on the level of Slade's, but as he comes more into his own, it still works. Especially for the part that comes next.

Because, like many of my generation, my brain is wired for
The Simpsons quotes:
"He's not dead!"
"No, but his career is."

Okay, here's something I haven't had to do in a while, but like I said above, there was a bit of a spoiler point. I had considered how to write around this, but there was no way to really do it without becoming maddeningly vague, so I'm just gonna go for it. For those who've seen the movie or don't mind the spoilers, read on. For those who haven't and are interested but don't want the spoiler, just scroll down till you see...well, I can't show you McGregor letting it hang out, but I can at least give you the lead-in. Then you can tag back in.

Okay?

Okay.

So, going on the idea of the compare and contrast with Arthur and Slade, there is one particular detail that really stuck out to me, even more so as I wrote this out. This is referring to the movie's final reveal – Arthur discovers that, following his exile in disgrace, Slade returned to the music scene with a new name and face – as a conservative pop idol by the name of Tommy Stone. This in itself is already one Hell of a reveal just as far as Slade's story goes, both for the question of if this complete 180 was simply the one way he could come back without any suspicion or, much more likely, the question of how much of the Brian Slade figure was a case of a chameleon adjusting himself to the needs of his art and career and Tommy Stone is just the latest cynical development of this. It's an interesting question, particularly with regards to Arthur and the one figure in particular who links him to Slade more than anyone else – McGregor's Curt Wild. Playing off the question of Slade's authenticity, Wild serves as another sort of counter figure – a man incredibly at peace with who he is and what he does and, as pertains to this, who he loves.

Both Slade and Arthur have life changing encounters with Wild. While Slade's is the longer relationship, it's also the more erratic, with the breakup marking the beginning of the end of his career career. By comparison, Arthur only has one night with Wild, but it is presented as not a flashy affair, but a moment of genuine emotional connection as well as physical – Wild makes Arthur feel seen, validated on a whole other level than he did as a fan of Slade, and even though they only have that one encounter, it further lends to the idea of this chapter in Arthur's life being where he truly discovers himself.

Again, going back to the rise and fall, it is interesting how Wild inadvertently helps usher the destruction of one personality in one man and then helps the other come into his own. It also helps add to the ending for me in the light of the Tommy Stone revelation. Yes, the implication is that Slade sold out the ideals that he helped to define in the 70s in exchange for getting back into the limelight. At the same time, this doesn't make a bitter or cynical end for Arthur, because even as Slade the person is compromised, it doesn't diminish the impact his music had on Arthur and helping him figure himself out.

Okay, everyone back in.

Saying I was pleasantly surprised by this is an understatement. Like I said above, I came into this for the glam rock and overall good past experiences with Todd Haynes movies. Even with that bar, I really was taken with how what this movie did, particularly with the ideas of the art, the artist, and how both can influence people. There's a lot to unpack here, and I feel like I'll be coming back to this one down the line, and I'm glad I gave it a shot.

I'm also adding some other Haynes titles that I'd been putting off on this list as well, so let's see if any of them come up in the months ahead.

But, like I said up top, it's time for the end of summer catch up as I intend to get everything up to speed in time for September, so other next title is coming up fast on the heels of this.

We're taking a major shift next time in era, themes, and language here. I'm coming back to a director I first crossed paths with during an earlier write-up run here a few years back. Part of me would be tempted to leave that as a hint, but I feel like the turnaround is too short and, frankly, it would be breaking format here, so let's just say it.

I'll be back here real soon with Ousmane Sembène's 1968 follow-up to Black Girl, Mandabi.

Till then

52 Pick-Up # 30 – Pecker (1998) (with special bonus!)

Welcome back for a filthy, but strangely heartfelt installment of 52 Pick-Up.

Well, I knew this day was coming. Now that it's here, it's strange to accept.

This week marks the final entry in the series Uncharted Waters. With this, I can now say I have seen every feature length movie directed by John Waters (to date, fingers crossed.) It's been a weird, wild, often fun, often filthy journey to this point.

Following the arc that has been going over the last few entries in this particular series, Pecker feels like a suitable choice to go out on.

So, the pitch - 

The movie concerns Pecker (Edward Furlong) an aspiring shutterbug with a beat up old camera who, when he's not working at a local sandwich shop, is affectionately documenting the lives and eccentricities of his friends and neighbors. His work he proudly features in impromptu shows at his job where the locals are supportive but they seldom sell. Then, by chance, his work catches the eye of a New York art dealer (Lili Taylor.) Suddenly, Pecker finds himself the talk of the New York art scene and an overnight sensation. It's a nice time at first.
At first.

Movies like this are always a fun side of the Waters filmography. Often, when people think of John Waters, thoughts immediately go to the transgressive nature of a lot of his movies. The man named 'the Pope of Trash' evokes images of his constant impish energy and how it played into movies like Pink Flamingos that were designed to shock as much as entertain. Those movies are fun. VERY fun, in fact. But it's also movies like this that remind part of why his films work is because along with the filth, Waters is a filmmaker with a lot of heart. Sometimes it's pretty apparent, such as in movies like this and Hairspray. It does also find ways into some of his other films as well, often in his tendency to sympathize with the outsiders and the weirdos that most other filmmakers wouldn't quite be able to crack. Polyester, for example, works as well as it does in part for the work that both Waters and Divine do in making Francine both a classic Waters over-the-top character but not a broad cartoon. Even as she has a full blown comedic breakdown and bender, the audience has a degree of sympathy for her and want to see her get that happy ending.

Pecker, as I said above, is definitely in this vein. Not just the character of Pecker, but the world he lives in. The movie's opening, where we're introduced to Pecker and the people who make up his world and his art has a genuine sense of affection for everyone featured. Whether it's Pecker's Memama (Jean Schertler, equal parts sweet and funny) and her talking Virgin Mary, his older sister (Martha Plimpton) who emcees at a gay strip club with the kind of love for her job many would kill for, or his younger sister (a hilarious Lauren Hulsey) whose love of sugar borders on pathology, everyone in Pecker's orbit lives a strange life and they love living it. By extension, we can see Pecker's love for all of these people in how he interacts with them and presents them in his art. The larger world, as we see, looks down on these people, and sees Pecker's work as a sort of sideshow appeal/poverty porn in a way the movie has already established he doesn't.

"Full of grace! Full of grace!"

Which brings up the other interesting part of closing the run with this movie – in the larger cinematic work of John Waters, Pecker might be one of his most personal movies. It's certainly not a 1:1 in any sense of the word, but it's hard not to look at Pecker's love for the shaggy, weird world of his Baltimore neighborhood and not see a lot of the genuine affection Waters has for the world he came from. Even when Pecker is getting pictures of things like, say, a stripper's pubic hair, or a strip club patron's experience being easily teabagged, there is nothing of a sense of leering or acting like he's above what he's documenting. For Pecker, this is life in his neighborhood and he's happy to share it with the world. To paraphrase the words of his girlfriend early on (Christina Ricci) – Pecker sees the beauty in everything. It even leads to a moment that is equal parts sweet and funny as he helps her to see the beauty in the seemingly mundane discussing the stains she deals with in her laundromat job. It's the kind of moment that could, in another person's hands, be cloyingly sweet of overly twee. In Waters's hands, it becomes an escalation of the different kinds of filth and all the ways one can see something artistic in it. It's a challenging needle to thread and he finds a way to do it.

I know this isn't the last movie in Waters's filmography, with Cecil B. Demented and A Dirty Shame made after it. Despite that, this feels like a nice note to close out on for what it says for Waters as a filmmaker – this is a man who, over the course of several decades, has stayed true to his own unique vision and voice, not just in his films, but also in his writing and spoken word appearances. The end of this movie seeming to assure you might be able to take the artist out of the weird side of Baltimore, but you'll never take that Baltimore out of the artist. It doesn't have the same almost defiant tone of the movies that came after, but in turn, it seems to be saying 'This is who I am and this is who I'm always gonna be.'

"...it's just plain illegal."

So, again, actually a great heartfelt note to end the series on.

Normally, this is where I'd be setting up next week's movie. But I'm gonna have to stop things for a minute first.

As this marks the end of a dive into all of John Waters's directorial effort – and because I have been picking at this for a while now, let's close out with something I haven't done here since the Hellraiser run a few years back.

That's right – time for a John Waters ranking.

Goes without saying, these are all just personal opinion and take as such. Strictly speaking, even being lower down on this list isn't automatically a bad thing. Even a lesser John Waters movie is still a good time.

So, without further ado, I give you, the Dirty Dozen

Female Trouble – The champion remains undefeated. There is something about this one that just hits a perfect sweet spot for me. It's not like it's completely isolated in terms of Waters's work, given it plays into his fascinations with moral panic and true crime (he was into it before it was cool) and by extension the idea of crime as a form of celebrity, but the particular balance here is incredibly entertaining to me. At the center, Divine is sporting the same 'force of nature' energy she had honed over Multiple Maniacs and Pink Flamingos to deliver a delightfully insane turn as Dawn Davenport, a thief and a shit-kicker who'd like to be famous.

Serial Mom – Over a decade later, Waters came back to his exploration of the 'criminal as celebrity' idea. This time, however, the bloodshed is coming not in the form of your classic 'good girl gone wrong' but instead in the form of the model of modern suburbia (embodied in a show-stopping Kathleen Turner, dispatching her victims with just the right level of moderated enjoyment.) The change in venue, as well as the new figure at the center, feels even more prescient now watched in the light of the past decade's love with the true crime industry.

Cecil B. Demented – Speaking of Waters's cinematic prescience, hot damn, did he wind up calling Hollywood's shot here. Watching this for the first time during this project, I was reminded of the story from a few years back where the writers of Veep said they decided to end their show early because reality was getting too absurd for them to keep up with. Seeing Cecil and his merry band of Sprocket Holes declare war on what was, at the time, seen as a comedic exaggeration of the risk-averse, creatively bankrupt Hollywood machine, it's hard not to notice how several of the things called out in this movie only got worse after he made it. Of course, even without that prescience, the end result is still a very fun middle finger to the industry as delivered with full zeal by Stephen Dorff and Melanie Griffith.

Polyester – This was among my first Waters, and damn if it doesn't still hold up. I know I had already spoken about this some years back, but it bears repeating – I was sold this as 'John Waters does Douglas Sirk' and I think one of the most entertaining parts for me was just how much Waters understood the assignment while also making it his own thing. A wonderfully insane take on a melodrama with arguably one of Divine's best performances: the unique challenge of playing the one 'sane' person in a John Waters movie where everyone else is swinging for full tilt crazy.

Pink Flamingos – The audacity. The sheer bugfuck crazy audacity. There's a lot of films that get the reputation talked up to such a degree that the finished product feels like it fails to live up to the hype. Pink Flamingos arguably might be one of the few that can match the buzz.

Pecker – See my comments above. A lot of Waters films have heart, but few really get to put it front and center like this. It speaks to his skills that he can balance that heart with raunch and not have the film feel uneven when it all settles.

Hairspray – Again, when Waters wants heart, he can do it. In this case, it doesn't get quite as raunchy as Pecker, but it makes up for it with Waters's stylistic sensibilities and his penchant for championing the outsider in his own way.

A Dirty Shame – I feel bad putting this this low because I repeat what I said – Tracey Ullman and Johnny Knoxville are both doing phenomenal work here. Unfortunately the finished movie doesn't really quite work despite their best efforts. Still makes for an interesting (currently) closing statement for Waters at least – filth never dies, it just gets more creative.

Desperate Living – On the one hand, the full movie is kind of uneven, with some fun characters doing the best they can with a plot that gets lost in itself more than it should. On the other, Goddamn, that is a GREAT opening sequence and quite possibly Mink Stole's finest hour as a Dreamlander.

Multiple Maniacs – Once again, I'm gonna pull from the writeup I did on this a few months back – Multiple Maniacs walked so Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble could charge forward like an unhinged extra from Weapons.

Cry-Baby – The movie isn't without its charms. Waters has a fun sense for the 50s style and he has a likable, charming cast in his arsenal. Having said that, I also have a hard time looking past the fact this is a movie musical where, with the exception of Please, Mr. Jailer, most of the songs are pretty forgettable.

Mondo Trasho – I'd still say this is worth watching at least once for its role as the first John Waters feature. It will probably never get an official release, but luckily it enjoys a healthy life on the bootleg circuit. Has its moments, but it really feels uneven compared to Waters's next effort in Multiple Maniacs.

Holy crap. You guys are still here.

Well, that makes a wrap on John Waters (for now, fingers crossed) but 52 Pick Up keeps dealing out movies as I roll into August.

With that said, next month is coming in in style – I'm kicking off August with Velvet Goldmine.

Till then.

52 Pick-Up #29 – Redline (2009)

Readers...START...YOUR...ENGINES

Cause it's time for another installment of 52 Pick-Up!

Okay. That was a little underwhelming. Hey, can't win 'em all. For those just jumping in for the first time, this is my year long project to keep writing and keep expanding the cinematic horizons with 52 first time movie watches.

The summer is flying and as we work into the big spectacle of the summer movie season, it feels fitting to roll a movie that would be considered as going big to match.

In some ways, Redline might not be considered this. Rather than being a huge studio offering, the movie was the years-in-the-making hand drawn passion project of Takeshi Koike and animation studio Madhouse. On the other, this is a movie that goes big, loud, and as a result it is an incredibly fun ride that I now hope someone sorts out the distribution for, because I would love a chance to see this on a big screen.

So what is Redline?

I'm gonna give two pitches here – one that is the actual story, the other that is the vibe of said story.

The story – It is your proverbial far away galaxy in time and space. As the opening crawl states, even with advances in technology, racing still continues to be a thing. This is best embodied in the galaxy's most popular race, the Redline – a high stakes, traveling race that moves from planet to planet. The movie starts by introducing us to our hero, Sweet JP, during the last round of eliminations to qualify for Redline. JP is a skilled driver, but also a professional spoiler – he races just well enough to skew the odds, then is prevented from winning to allow the mob to cash out on anyone who bet on him. Following his being taken out of the eliminations, it looks like JP will be sitting out the Redline, until he is informed he qualifies from a mix of popular demand and the fact two other racers dropped out.
Why did those other racers drop out? Because this time the race is slated to be held in the demilitarized moon of a planet called Roboworld: a world where the inhabitants are technologically enhanced, armed to the teeth and have NO interest in hosting Redline. So, JP and a roster of various other colorful racers now find themselves pitting against each other and an increasingly hostile military force in a winner-take-all race for the grand prize.

The vibe pitch? You're a studio exec. You pitch the idea of a big budget remake of the cartoon Wacky Races. For your creative team? The staff of acclaimed cult genre magazine Heavy Metal. Their payment? Cocaine. Lots and lots of cocaine.

If that sounds insane in a fun way, it's because it is.

I'll admit to some transparency here. Part of why I took a while getting around to watching this was for years I mainly heard its reputation purely in the technical terms. Talk of how this was seven years of hand drawn animation. Which sounds impressive, but at the time initially had me wondering if this would just be a case of a movie that was technically impressive but otherwise pretty forgettable.

Having now watched it, let me just say this is some of the tastiest crow I have eaten in a LONG time. Yes, the movie is visually stunning and a technical marvel, and that is well worth singing the praises of. But alongside that, the movie is also bolstered by an incredibly fun, outlandish sense of style. The galaxy of Redline feels like a weird, wild, wonderful place that would be a fun time just to wander around in and see all the things going on in the background.

Which isn't to diminish the race itself. As much as I joked about it with my vibe description above, the full throttle energy at play in the Redline race itself is incredibly fun to watch. Where it's seeing a car piloted by two idol singers turn into a robot and start fighting against military intervention (no, this is not exaggeration) or a grudge between one of the Roboworld soldiers and a racing team played out as a car to car argument of Looney Tunes-level proportions, there is no line seen as too over the top to play. Every racer has their weird element and storyline to play out over the course and they all get their chances to shine as they speed and fight to the finish.

I can't rightly say I have any complaints for this one. At least as far as the movie itself goes. In terms of a release, I'm a bit surprised there isn't a more recent release for it. There was a Blu-Ray back in 2012, but it looks like it's no longer in print, and while not prohibitively expensive on the second hand market, it's gonna run up a bit of a cost (the DVD can be obtained cheaper, but a movie like this definitely calls for the better visual quality.) It can still be watched online thanks to the good folks at Tubi, but I would gladly welcome a good 4k release if one comes down the line.

I'm sticking to just screenshots, but I would say look up some clips
to really appreciate this. The stills are nice, but they can't
beat seeing this all in motion.

What can I say? I had a lot of fun with this.

Said fun also stands to continue next week, albeit with a bit of a possible bittersweet tinge. Next week, we come to the end of the sub-series Uncharted Waters as I dig into the last unwatched John Waters movie from my to do list, his 1998 feature Pecker.

See you back here next week for that, and, as a bonus, my overall John Waters rankings.

Till then.

52 Pick-Up # 28 – Hunt For the Wilderpeople (2016)

Welcome back to another installment of 52 Pick--

Huh?

Oh. Right.

So, I should probably explain myself.

As anyone who's been following this week to week, or at least read last week's entry, might recall, the initial pick for this week's was going to be Takeshi Koike's Redline.

Let me be clear: that entry is still happening. The movie has been watched and the post is underway to go up next week.

So why the change-up?

Let's call this a special emergency episode for lack of a better way to put it. Or, if you prefer the less urgent, I can call this 'A Very Special Episode.'

By this point, chances are some of you have already figured out exactly where I'm going with this – for anyone who didn't: this was a late tag-in to commemorate the recent death of Sam Neill. Talking over his work, it came up that I had never seen this title before, and it felt like a fitting tribute, seeing as this is considered one of the best of his latter movies.

Initially I hadn't planned for this to be an entry, but hey, the more I thought about it, I liked the idea.

So, keep your engines idling for next week. Until then, time to discuss a great movie from an all around class act of a performer.

It was this or Possession. 
While I still plan to see that, I feel like this might be the nicer title to bid a farewell with.

With that, said, let's get to the pitch.

Hunt For the Wilderpeople introduces us to Ricky Baker (Julian Dennison), a child in foster care who is brought to what he is told is his home of last resort. There he meets Bella (Rima Te Wiata) and her husband Hector, aka Hec (Sam Neill). Bella is warm and outgoing and quickly helps Ricky feel at home, winning him over even as he comes in guarded. By comparison, Hector is gruff and quiet, and just wants to be left alone. Despite that, things seem to be going well...until Bella dies of a stroke. Wracked with grief, Hector disappears, first into his own pain, then into the woods. Not wanting to go back into the foster system, and quite likely juvenile detention, Ricky fakes his death and runs into the woods himself. What starts as a half-cocked plan to run away soon turns into him running into Hector again. After a rocky initial encounter (pun half intentional) the two develop a rapport, as Hector starts to open up about himself and Ricky begins to learn how to hold his own out in the wild. Back in civilization, however, the remains of Ricky's plan have been found and misinterpreted as a kidnapping plot. So the two now unlikely friends soon go from finding their way back to society to staying one step ahead of the law.

The kind of wholesome family adventure you come to expect from Taika Waititi.

I'll admit that I mainly intended to make this about praising Sam Neill, both in general and for this particular role. That will be the bulk of this, but there are other things I did want to point out first.

I'm now wondering if one could put together a retrospective
around Sam Neill playing grouches who learn to like
kids. I mean, even if it's just the two movies, it's one
Hell of a double feature.

First, as good as Neill is, he's not carrying the whole movie on his back. As the lead he plays off for most of the film, Dennison is a welcome presence. He plays Ricky with a level of teenager swagger that can either serve as expression of confidence or shield as the moment calls for it. It's a detail we don't see him fully shed and the way Dennison pivots it from scene to scene is a great touch that helps make Ricky endearing. While no one else gets quite the level of focus, the rest of the cast are all still delivering good work, with particular standouts going to Rhys Darby as an erratic, if harmless backwoods loner and Rachel House as the foster care agent whose dedication to her job helps the situation spiral from a runaway to a manhunt. The latter is another case of the movie knowing just how to balance a character, with House playing someone who could have been more explicitly villainous but instead is presented as just FAR too zealous about what she does to realize she's completely overdoing the situation (contrasted well with Oscar Kightley as an increasingly exasperated police officer.)

As to the tone balance, part of this also goes to Waititi as the writer and director. It was a little strange at first to watch this and remember that, while he had been working for over a decade, at this point he was only just breaking out on the success of his earlier What We Do in the Shadows. This came in without much of the expectation that would come to define much of Hollywood's drive for the man and his various projects and attempted projects that followed (I'm still hoping his attempt to adapt Jodorowsky's The Incal happens, because he feels like a good fit there.) Remembering how hard Hollywood went in for him following this period, there's something about the low-key warmth and charm of this that feels refreshing, even as this has many moments that skew darker in their humor. Okay, maybe darker isn't quite the right term for all of it. Perhaps grounded? In any case, it's that sense that in many moments this could have gone a lighter, more whimsical approach, especially in the movie's back half, but Waititi still opted to keep one foot planted in a reality of sorts.

I'm trying to figure out the best way to put this without spoilers. I think the best vague way I can put it goes into what I was saying about the escalation. The stakes Waititi sets as Ricky and Hec's journey on the lam goes on become on one hand funny in his style for how serious House's foster agent is taking this, but also leads to stakes that can't simply be wiped clean. In the end, Waititi finds a way to end it that feels believable while also keeping the movie from tilting into a full downer. It's a balancing act he accomplishes several times in the movie and it's impressive how it never seems to tip too far to one extreme or the other.

Okay. Now back to Sam Neill, the reason for this surprise addition.

I do want to anchor all of this in just this role, but first I want to say, like a lot of people, I have many good associations with this man's work over the years. Some of it I've already touched on here in previous years (such as during my earlier October franchise runs where I discussed his work in both The Final Conflict and In the Mouth of Madness.) In general, he was a constantly welcome presence, having a general demeanor that he could easily tilt from abrasive and prickly to calm and collected to genuine warmth, often in the same roles and to great effect. It made him a constantly welcome presence on screen, and from all reports, a genuinely warm, likable person off camera as well.

In the case of Wilderpeople, he plays the poles of prickly and warm off each other beautifully. Like Dennison with Ricky, his Hec is a guarded person who has been marked by his initial negative encounters with people. There's a great moment from Neill early on with this after Bella's death where Hec talks to Ricky about her. In explaining his relationship to her, he perfectly underscores that, for their differences, he and Ricky are at their core similar people: two people used to being hurt united by someone who took to them and showed them genuine care and love when it seemed like no one else would. It's the kind of moment that an actor could easily risk overplaying and making maudlin, but Neill comes to with the right level of restraint to make it land. That restraint also works into his growth as the two come to understand one another. We see Hec warming up to Ricky, but it's not in such a way that it feels like a light switch was flipped – he puts his trust in him and respects him, but we also see he still has moments of being frustrated with Ricky's stubbornness and sometimes rash choices. 

The final act of the movie represents this well with regards to my earlier comments about the situation escalating to the point they can't simply act like nothing happened. At the start of the movie, Hec is keeping himself distanced from Ricky. At first this reads as just him not being good with children, later being too caught up in his own grief before finally coming around. By the end, his attempts to distance from Ricky return, not out of a desire to be rid of the child, but simply from seeing things have become so out of hand that he can tell running is just going to make things worse. Again, as a performer, it's the kind of shift Neill can handle without it feeling forced or unearned, and still allowing the audience to care for this gruff old grouch of a man as we can see how conflicted he is even as he tries to make Ricky understand.

This really feels like a perfect choice movie for remembering Sam Neill. Yes, it's not as iconic as, say, Jurassic Park (I can't even pretend to lie and say that would have been a first for this,) but it's a perfect showcase of a lot of what made Neill so endearing and enduring as an actor. I know he had work after this, but if this had been his final performance, it would have made a perfect note to go out on – at times rough, funny, complicated, but under it all, full of heart.

Rest in peace, Sam, and thanks for all the great work.

So...yeah.

Next week. Redline. Till then,

52 Pick-Up # 27 – Wise Blood (1979)

Okay, I think that's the last of the fireworks. Time to get back to work.

Welcome back to 52 Pick-Up. It feels weird to still be explaining this at halfway into the year, but as a courtesy for any late arrivals, this is my year long project as an incentive to keep writing something weekly and going through some films that have not seen before.

Last time here, luck of the draw meant I spent the week of 4th of July with a Canadian folk horror movie that explored some of the complicated issues regarding colonialism and pacifism. For anyone who was wondering why I didn't go with something American, I hear you – and I've got just the thing this week, though whether you'll like it or not may vary.

This is one where I will start by saying, I had a misconception of this movie going in. Further, that misconception was what intrigued me to watch it. Having now seen it, I'm actually not upset that I was wrong – the outcome I got here still made for an intriguing watch. If anything, it might have gone darker than what I was expecting.

Which makes one of the more roundabout ways I've introduced a movie for this project, but I'll explain further just how I misread John Huston's Wise Blood shortly.

This actually will dovetail nicely with what has become the de facto 'pitch' part of these writeups. For the longest time, my main association of this movie was that it had a young Brad Dourif in a dark comedy playing what was, for all purposes, a preacher. Initially I took this to mean he was an overt grifter, separating the religious from their money in a full pantomime of that old time religion.

I had the right character type, but the wrong actor, and how Dourif ties into that is much more interesting.

Adapted from the Flannery O'Connor novel of the same name, Dourif plays veteran Hazel Motes returning to his home town after his service is concluded. After coming back to find his home abandoned and dilapidated, he sets off to find a new path for himself. This leads him into several adventures, including a friendly, if naive zookeeper (Dan Shor), a gladhanding promoter (Ned Beatty) and sidewalk preacher Asa Hawks (Harry Dean Stanton) and his daughter Lily (Amy Wright.) At first, Hazel's stance towards the Hawks is only lightly antagonistic, not having any patience for Asa's act. This changes after he moves in with them and becomes more keenly aware of just how much of Asa's persona is fabricated. Disgusted and disillusioned, Hazel begins trying to push his own belief movement – the Church of Truth Without Christ. 

As presented, the idea is not designed to antagonize, but merely out of Hazel's sincere feelings after his time in the war and from seeing the theater of religion up close – both from Asa and, in flashbacks, from his grandfather (voiced by director Huston.) Of course, Hazel's sincerity soon meets its match as people around him start trying to play his movement just like any other, be it in Shor's Enoch trying to find Hazel a new messiah figure despite the stated ethos otherwise or Beatty's Hoover trying to turn the whole thing into a moneymaking endeavor. 

As much as this is longer than some of my previous 'pitch' summaries, this still only touches about half the plot and only a handful of the individuals Hazel crosses paths with in his journeys. Which is pretty impressive because the movie never really feels overstuffed or drawn out. It moves at a good clip and each of the encounters stacks on the increasingly taxed Hazel, which is a great showing for Dourif and a good opportunity to remind that this was a man whose first break into cinema got him an Oscar nomination. While he found a welcome (and quite entertaining) place in genre work, this was a guy who came out of the gate swinging as a dramatic actor at first.

I bring that up both as a general beat of praise for him as well as the fact that his performance is a big part of why this movie works for me, especially given this movie is ultimately a dark comedy. I know it's a regular spot for me, but I can find myself picturing a lesser version of this movie – one where Hazel is a broader character, angrier, or so tightly wound that we get a breakdown on the level of the infamous Frank Grimes from The Simpsons. If I'm being fair, there's probably even directors and/or actors who could make that balance work and work well. Even having said that, I like the way Huston and Dourif take this. Dourif's Hazel is a buttoned up, guarded individual from the jump (as the movie demonstrates early on with how little information he chooses to divulge from his time in the war, actively keeping it to the barest of bare minimums). As he meets people, he tries to remain distant and aloof as a baseline, only really starting to act otherwise when people get too close or are simply too much for him. Even his moments of anger come with a degree of restraint (and, let's be fair, this is Brad Dourif here – if they wanted this movie to have big anger moments, he could deliver those and leave a smoking crater in the aftermath.)

That restraint is the part of this performance that really makes this whole thing work for me, specifically regarding Hazel's church movement. The way Dourif plays Hazel, his movement reads as one born not of cynicism, but of sincerity. This is a man who genuinely believes that shedding a lot of the more explicitly supernatural trappings of religion could help improve people's lives. As much as the movie lines it up that this could have been him expressly trying to get revenge on Asa, he's speaking of his views with an interest in reaching people, and becoming ever more disillusioned and disgusted as people either miss the point or actively try to game it in defiance of what he's trying to achieve.

The result makes for a more subdued comedy, but also a much blacker one, as Hazel watches his well intended idea get wrestled from him and realizes there is no one he can really count on.

At this point, I have to take a moment to admit something: I haven't read any Flannery O'Connor to this point. I'm not sure how much of this is baked into O'Connor's work and how much was worked in by Huston. Having said that, if this is what O'Connor's style tends towards, this has me wanting to seek out her work. There is something very engaging about something that is, in many ways, very dark and nihilistic but also doesn't feel oppressive about it that helps make the comedy of this work.

So, to circle back to the start – this wasn't the movie I expected going in, but I still quite enjoyed what I got just the same.

And with that, July rolls on.

For those who have been enjoying the times shuffle results in wild tone shifts, oh, have I got a treat for you. Where are we going after John Huston's dark comedy about belief and human nature? Somewhere a little faster.

Or at lot faster.

A LOT a lot faster.

See you next week for Takeshi Koike's balls-to-the-wall sci-fi racing passion project Redline.

Till then.

52 Pick-Up # 26 – Clearcut (1991)

Whoo! Fireworks! Celebration!

Entry #26! I'm halfway there!

Wait, what?

Fourth of what?

Oh, sure. Yeah, there's that too. I suppose I can spare some fireworks there.

Speaking of, what movie got rolled for this one?

Oh.

OH.

I mean, good movie, but...oh.

Okay, let's start this again.

Welcome back to 52 Pick-Up. My year long challenge to keep writeups coming once a week and branch out with first time cinematic watches as I do so. With this entry taking things into July, I have officially hit the halfway point on this journey, and I have to say, I'm pretty happy with how it's come along so far. There's been some good, some VERY good, and even the movies I wasn't as wowed by, it was less 'this is awful' and more 'this just isn't for me.'

I feel like by commenting on that, I am calling down the thunder for something in the back half of this year, but I'll try not to dwell on that. For this week, I've got a movie I've had on deck for a bit thanks to the fine folk at Severin Films and their folk horror movie collections. It's a different sort of take on the genre and one that has just enough overlap to feel darkly apropos for the same week as the Fourth of July, even if this one is from Canada.

So, without further ado, it's off to the Canadian wilderness for Clearcut.

As a general pitch, Clearcut concerns one Peter Maguire (Ron Lea), a white lawyer acting on behalf of indigenous activists protesting a road that would lead to clearcutting trees through native land. At the start of the movie, Peter's case has been lost, and while he insists they can appeal (even if he himself isn't confident) the tribe doesn't share his already diminished optimism. As he considers his next course of action, the tribe's leader, Wilf (Floyd Red Crow) introduces him to a member of the tribe he's never seen before – Arthur (Graham Greene.) Arthur bonds with Peter over their frustrations with Arthur offering more extreme violent alternatives that Peter dismisses. What starts as a simple conversation soon spirals as Arthur enlists Peter first in kidnapping a logging manager, followed by a multi-day journey into the woods, where Peter's ideals will be put to the test.

Yes, this is a movie made in Canada, but damn if it's hard not to see the applicability of this story on the 4th of July weekend all the same. The conflicts presented here are far from unique to a single indigenous tribe, and one would be hard pressed to say America has been any more benevolent on this subject than Canada has been. In that regard, this timed up well as a dark but still incredibly relevant movie to watch, not just for the 4th but specifically for the 250th.

A large part of this goes to the ideological conflict that is the center of this movie. Make no mistake, while this is a great thriller and a subtle folk horror, that ideological struggle is the real heart of this, particularly with dealing with the complicated nuances around matters of colonialism, environmentalism, and pacifism. Much of this conflict is best embodied in Greene's performance as Arthur, and how he evolves from simply an angry native to an active challenge of Peter's entire belief system. Before I dig into that, I do just want to say – this is a great performance for Graham Greene, a man who was a consistent welcome presence as a character actor in indigenous roles for decades before his death. In fact, of the work I have seen him in, this might be my favorite Greene performance, playing against the stoic roles he was often cast as in a figure who grows from a seemingly straightforward angry man to the voice for generations of broken promises to his and other tribes. 

The folk horror element of this movie further lends to both Greene's performance and the ideological conflict at play. It's not presented as a major supernatural element, instead, the movie presents many smaller tells that Arthur may be more than the activist he appears to be. In that regard, it changes the nature of his role contrasted to Peter, simply from being an native lashing out and instead being a force that is taking this kidnapping and subsequent journey as a way to test, and ultimately teach Peter about the futility of the lawyer's insistence on a pacifistic approach to what is clearly becoming a losing battle.

That conclusion, as another welcome side, manages to thread a needle that often trips up movies dealing in topics like these – how to balance a story where you're showing flaws in multiple sides without coming across as a toothless 'all sides are kind of wrong.' Director Ryszard Bugajski is very interested in exploring the pros and cons of all sides, but toothless this movie is not – it acknowledges that these colonial forces do bring some things to the native peoples, but also doesn't shy away from what they have taken away from them – most notably in the movie's climax, in a scene where Arthur forces Bud, the kidnapped logging manager (Michael Hogan) to confront what his efforts will ultimately destroy. It's a moment that makes a striking contrast with Peter's journey as Arthur flat-out tells him to see and Bud, by his own admission, cannot.

If you're looking for something upbeat this 4th of July (and I can sympathize with that), you might want to wait on this movie for now. I would still say it is worth seeking out if you ever get the chance though. It wasn't quite the folk horror I was expecting going in, but what it was instead is a stripped down, engaging, at times intense look at the role and legacy of colonialism and whether this is something that one can peaceably deal with or can only meet with force.

For my part, this is up there on the biggest pleasant surprises of this project for me, alongside titles like Z, Wild Zero, and Marjoe (it's telling that only one of these isn't a downer, huh?)

And with this, this journey now officially concludes its first half, but there's still more to come.

For those dismayed I went Canadian for this holiday, don't worry – I'll be back in the ol' US of A again next week, and getting back in touch with that old time gri—er...religion.

So, see you all next week for a pre-horror Brad Dourif in John Huston's Wise Blood.

Till then.