Cronos (1993) - No. Really. Who the Hell wants to live forever?

Welcome back for another round with the Criterion backlog!

This marks our second, and for this month, final entry for January's theme of famous firsts. Following our kick-off with the Coen Bros' Blood Simple, this time we're looking at the feature debut of Guillermo del Toro – Cronos.

Like our previous entry, besides being the director's debut, this also marks the beginning of several creative relationships that will continue through del Toro's later career. First off, lead Federico Luppi will return to work with del Toro again on The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth (both of which we'll touch on later.) Next, his director of photography, Guillermo Navarro, will work with del Toro on many of his subsequent features – and given the strong visual style of much of his work, it's a creative relationship worth highlighting. Finally, it marks the beginning of a number of collaborations (as well as a general good friendship) with actor Ron Perlman.

In terms of impressions from this watch in particular, I'll start by saying, it had been a long time since I previously watched this. Several years of long time. The result, overall, has proven a welcome revisit for a movie I was long overdue to rewatch. Taken alongside his larger body of work, I was pleased to see how much of what defines Del Toro's later filmography is on display here – the fascinating world-building he sets up around the titular Cronos device, his take on vampirism that presents it an even-handed and fairly human light, and a strong visual style, again aided by his long-term collaboration with Navarro as DP. There are several directors whose work I admire where I will admit, their first features are rough as they try to find their footing. In that regard, like the Coens before, Del Toro is one of those who found his voice early on and does a great job of making it heard here and keeping it up in his later movies.

Yeah, you won't die, so you don't have to worry
about unsanitary floors.
But again - at what cost?

Of those aspects mentioned above, the one that made the strongest impression for me this time out was the thematic handling of vampirism. The idea of a nuanced, humanizing look at the undead wasn't a particularly new one on its own at the time that this came out, so I can't say it's blazing trails there, but all the same, Del Toro's particular sentiments on the matter shine, thanks in part to how the mythology around the Cronos device lets him sidestep several of the more traditional trappings of the genre as it's generally known here. Vampirism as presented in the world of Cronos isn't sexy, or even all that sexual. It isn't about gaining new special powers, or becoming superhuman. In fact, for protagonist Jesus Gris (Luppi, showing a range from grandfatherly warmth and tenderness to energetic revitalization to exhaustion on a physical and mental level all over the space of 90 minutes) the only benefits he really notices are a bit of a fresh spark of vitality and youth, and even that is gradual rather than drastic. As the movie establishes with its opening narration, the primary driver behind the creation of the device and its appeal is purely immortality, and that at a cost.

That idea – the immortality for a price – is the central piece the movie hangs on, presenting its two sides in the afflicted Jesus and his counter in the sickly, aging Dieter (Claudio Brook), who simply desires immortality for immortality's sake, knowing what it will entail and not being deterred by that. The movie makes that more stark as we go on and see the extent of what the immortality does to Jesus, going from simply gaining new energy to (painfully) surviving several brushes with death, his human flesh literally sloughing away, revealing a 'new' Jesus, pale and ever thirsting for human blood.

I couldn't quite work it into the larger writeup in a way
I was satisfied with, but I do need to give some mention here -
I forgot how much the movie also plays into the addiction
subtext through the use of the Cronos device as its means
of conveyance.

That conflict isn't presented in a major way until the second half of the movie, but Del Toro lays the foundations for it very well in the first half. We see Jesus in his life with his wife and granddaughter, a man who has experienced losses, but ultimately still has much to love in his life and people he cares for that enrich his life. Conversely, Dieter lives in a cold, sterile room where his only family is his nephew Angel (Perlman), who he treats more as a strongarm and errand boy than family, with a sense of disdain that is more than mutual. Those relationships underpin the ideological conflict between the two old men perfectly – Jesus has those he loves in his life and the idea of becoming a vampire terrifies him for driving them away from him and his being tempted to feed on them, Dieter has no particular attachment to his nephew (or anyone) and so the idea of that rift from other humans doesn't phase him when weighed against the idea of never having to fear death.

Again, these sorts of retakes are part of why I'm looking forward to this project. Many of the films here I've not seen in some time, and I'm looking forward to looking at them with this relatively fresh perspective and having the chance to really dig into those ideas more.

There's not much more I can add in closing here except to say the fact that this isn't brought up quite as readily in terms of vampire cinema still surprises me. It's not that it's disliked (Hell, the fact it's been released by Criterion in two different editions speaks to that), it's more strange to me that it seems so readily overlooked in the general discussion of the greats of the genre is all.

Suffice it to say, if you haven't watched it, I would wholeheartedly encourage seeking it out. It's a Hell of a start to what has been a great career for Del Toro since.

That brings January to a close. Come back next month where, in recognition of Black History Month, we'll be focusing on some entries in the Criterion Collection by black filmmakers.

Till then.

Blood Simple (1984) - Breaking Up Is Hard Enough To Do Without the Psychopathic Hitman

Welcome back. Again, I'm surprised to be back here this early, but it's a good surprised.

As discussed last time, this marks the official kick-off on the Criterion backlog project (I'll need to come up with a snappier name for this in the future.)

Also, as promised, we're kicking things off with Famous Firsts, and fittingly, this pick is actually a movie of several famous firsts.

Blood Simple is, first and foremost, remembered as the directorial debut for Joel and Ethan Coen (though Joel is the only one of the two credited). Besides that, the film is also the acting debut of Frances McDormand – marking several collaborations and an eventual marriage to Joel - and the first feature film cinematography for Barry Sonnenfeld (if we're being technical, he worked on a documentary called In Our Water before this.)

With all that praise built up in its wake, one would almost worry the movie itself can't live up to what followed (and let's be clear, there has been some genuinely great work to come from these people since.) Fortunately, even watched with that legacy in mind, Blood Simple still holds up quite well, both as a first feature as well as just a general part of the larger Coen filmography.

As has become a pattern for me (and will continue with these) I'll start with an aspect of this hadn't really caught on to before (at least where rewatches are concerned.) In this case, the surprisingly lean nature of the film is something I'd never really properly take in before. A handful of principle players, a few key locales – three in particular – and a fairly grim, darkly comic tale of an affair and the Hell unleashed when the husband finds out. Granted, this is a neo-noir, so there are twists in store, but even those twists feel like logical extensions of the way the best laid plans of the movie's players all slowly go awry, rather than feeling like an arbitrary twist to keep the movie rolling.

There's still something darkly funny to me about the fact
that future couple Frances McDormand and Joel Coen first worked
together on a movie that starts from an affair then ends in a body count.

With that, I do have to give a shout-out to the players as they run through the movie's blood-soaked comedy of errors (I'll stand by this description, dammit.) Again, this was feature debut for Frances McDormand, and even before considering her later career (hello, future Oscar winner) she hits the ground running, carrying a role that could have been largely forgettable in less capable hands. As the two men making up the other sides of this movie's deadly love triangle, John Getz and Dan Hedaya likewise both shine, with Hedaya in particular straddling the line with a short fuse that can go from comic to dangerous as the scene calls for it.

As the supporting cast goes, I made it a point watching to give a shout-out to Samm-Art Williams. Besides having a great introductory scene (semi-related, this movie has left “It's the Same Old Song” stuck in my head for the past week), he takes on the relatively thankless role of being the movie's voice of reason and makes him a genuinely sympathetic, at times exasperated figure watching this drama play out from the sidelines.

Finally, yes, he needs his own paragraph, we have M. Emmet Walsh, the first in a long line of characters I have take to referring to as the Coen Brothers Nightmare Squad (without giving a full roster, I will say off the bat John Goodman in Barton Fink is part of the starting line.) Like McDormand, Walsh has a role that can fly or fall easily based on how it's played. In this case, Walsh plays the villainous Lorren with a sort of sick glee. He's definitely not going to turn down being paid for his services, but there is also a sense he is genuinely enjoying what he does even without the financial incentive. He goes from spy to assassin for Hedaya without even skipping a beat – it's a sick game to him and he is having the most fun out of anyone playing it.

One will protect you
One will stop at nothing to end your life
By the time you figure out which is which, it's already too late.

Part of why I had to give Visser his own paragraph, besides the fact that it's a Hell of a performance, is that the character is a big part of why Blood Simple stands out for me. The three leads are all well written and likable – even if I'll always first and foremost associate Getz with his later role in The Fly – but it's the dash of chaos and horror that is added by Visser that really ratchets the movie up, both from the obvious fact he is the devil on Hedaya's shoulder, as well as from the 'all bets are off' feeling that sinks in as he clearly starts running his own plans counter to those around him. That feeling marks the first of many times in the Coens' career where their filmography has flirted with horror without going full tilt into it.

With that said, I have to give a shout-out to another first here – this marks the first of a long list of collaborations composer Carter Burwell has had with the brothers, and while it's not his first movie period, his score is a great fit for the movie's slow shift into increasingly more chilling territory. While not as much of a earworm as the film's use of The Four Tops, I'd be lying if I said the piano score in this has not also stuck with me.

Honestly, the more I let this sink in, the more this really felt like the perfect pick to start this project off. It's a genuinely well made film that launched several careers, and even just within its own confines, goes well with evolving from a noir about infidelity before taking a violent turn care of a human devil in a cowboy hat.

That's as far as I can safely put it without spoiling anything, but I feel satisfied with it.

With a few days left in January, we've got another notable directorial debut on the docket for this weekend.

See you then!

2021 – New Year, New Project

I know, I'm surprised to be awake right now too.

Jokes aside, like many people, I had some time to do a lot of thinking last year while we were all stuck in various levels of quarantine. One of the things I came away from that realizing was, for all the ups and downs, I do miss working on this site on something of a semi-regular basis. The Halloween projects have been fun, but in the lead-up/follow through, I come away wondering why I don't do more.

Then, sometime late last year, an idea hit, inspired by two other events of 2020 (no, not those events.)

The first was of these was being invited by a friend to participate in a backlog challenge. This challenge, initially with regards to anime and manga, was a personal challenge to work through things in our backlogs that we hadn't gotten around to finishing previously and had on the back burner.

Still taking part in that as well, but I won't be documenting that one here, save for maybe if I find a particular title I really feel needs the extra shout out.

The other, and this was a biggie, was officially moving in with my significant other. In this case, it led to the inevitable meshing of our collected media.

In doing so, I came to the realization we have amassed as a sizable number of Criterion Collection movies between us. Not necessarily a superfan-sized collection, but enough that at a title a week, this would still take a couple of years go to through.

Subsequently, I mulled over the best way to go about this. I briefly considered doing brackets, either with voting or random draw, but after a point, it just felt like overthinking.

Then it hit me – just keep doing what I had done every October, but on a year-round basis.

So, with each month, I'll be picking a few titles (two minimum) for a theme run to work my way through the collection with.

And just to say up front (and slightly tip my hand) yes, this year this will also effect October's line-up, but this should be a fun one, so there's that.

I will also be doing what I can to work other projects in besides these, but this felt like a good way to work back into something with more regularity.

With that said, I'll be starting this off with two titles this week for January. The theme, in keeping with the kickoff, is Famous Firsts – noted directorial debuts.

Keep your eyes out for that first entry by Tuesday at latest.

Till then!

...ah, what the Hell?
I'll drop a hint for the first up.
Who knows, this might become a feature of these now.