This movie about a love triangle between a blind guy, a woman hired to take care of him, and Russell Crowe was highly regarded by Josh Larsen, a critic with whom I sometimes agree. It's the second young Russell Crowe movie I've seen in my journey through the cinematic year of 1992, and there's something really magnetic about him. Hugo Weaving plays the blind guy, and he makes that face that he always makes but is also really good. An actress I don't know named Genevieve Picot is the third tip of that triangle, and she's delightfully nasty. The dynamics are interesting, and the buddy relationship that forms between Weaving and Crowe's character adds a bit of humor that kept it lively. The funniest moment takes place at a drive-in with Weaving pulling off some surprising physical comedy chops. "I forgot" is a line that got a laugh out of me. The soundtrack is by a band I think I used to listen to called Not Drowning, Waving, and there's a driving percussive thing accompanying a lot of this that gave the movie an energy. A lot of this centers on an interesting premise of a blind guy taking pictures and having somebody describe them to him, and one great moment has Picot assembling a bunch of photos with pieces of Russell Crowe in them to create this Picasso-esque version of him. A 16/20.
Tilda Swinton plays a centuries-old man who somehow transforms into a woman (spoiler, probably) and Billy Zane effectively plays a queen in this fartsy and quietly feisty feminist film. I don't know if it's feminist or not. It does have the line "I can think of only three words to describe women, none that are worth expressing." Tilda's titular character breaks the 4th Wall a few times, and the whole thing is sly humorous. It's got an odd rhythm and some lovely framing that almost tricked me into thinking I was watching a Peter Greenaway movie. If only Michael Nyman had scored the thing. Actually, the score (by David Motion and director Sally Porter) was really good. 16/20
Not sure if this has aged well with all the mockumentary comedies that have followed it. I'm also not sure who would be filming this thing. That was really distracting with this viewing though I like these middle-aged angsty Woody Allen movies. Since I'm at a mature age now, I should probably rate this a 16/20, but I don't know if I really like the movie or not. These "Best of Year" lists I've been working on sure have forced me to watch or rewatch a lot of Woody Allen movies.
Almost abandoned ship with this Paul Schrader drug dealer drama because of a really yucky crappy opening song (by The Call, I believe) and enough early saxophone in the score to make this this feel like an 80's movie. Colors are lurid, and I'm also not sure what to make of all the scarves. I stayed in to see what Willem Dafoe was up to, and it turned out to be lots of scenes where he's writing in a diary because Paul Schrader apparently really likes to show his characters doing that. Sam Rockwell and David Spade, the latter playing a character called "theological coke head," also make appearances. This movie wasn't very good. 10/20.
I'd seen this before, of course, but that third season of the series might give this a whole new context. My memories were sketchy though I did remember that the film has a sinister ceiling fan and a white horse that just materializes in the middle of a bedroom. I did not remember how significant the roles of creamed corn and a monkey play in this though. I swear, the first chunk of this thing with the investigation of a murder is straight comedy, but the rest of this bounces between comedy and horror in a way that only Lynch can make work. I considered watching this a second time to unwrap its mysteries, the early mentions of the number 6 and the letter T either red herrings or possibly a nod to Sesame Street. Then I thought better of it. This movie is a lot funnier than Husbands and Wives. Sheryl Lee's performance is a gonzo one, but when she laughs at that angel, it's quite a moment. And man, that band sure can groove! Let's go with a 15.5 out of 20.
Don't know Taiwanese director Tsai Ming-Liang, but this reminded me a little of Wong Kar-Wai, probably superficially, and I liked it, especially for a first film. There are moments when it might struggle to find a consistent voice, shots of elevator buttons feeling a little extraneous. There's so much water in this, water seeping from below and raining from above. Characters are lost, one literally asking "Where am I?" more than a few times, and there's one reference to AIDS that made me wonder how important that particular crisis is to this movie. I have no idea what the titular deity has to do with anything.
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