FILM / Captain Canada's Movie Rodeo / June 2023 / Gabriel Ricard
Image © Orion Pictures
How do I feel about A.I.?
I don’t. Not especially. That sounds smug, intentionally vague, or lazy. It’s not. I’ve just decided that beyond frustration for those effected by its rising popularity, along with the basic dread most things give me, especially when it comes to technology with a direct possible impact on storytelling, I’m just not going to think about it too much. The world is probably doomed with or without my participation, so the current plan is to behave decently, take care of everyone, and live in a cultural bubble that will increasingly rely on pirating old movies just to give a fuck about getting out of bed in the morning.
Right now, my opinion is that pretty much all of the AI I’ve seen so far looks like someone sculpted a bucket of shit into shit with eyes and vaguely familiar features and constructs. After about five minutes, and this certainly applies to every dumb fucking “Someone Asked AI to Make a Wes Anderson Cowboy Porno Set in 1970s Spain and the Results Will ASTONISH YOU” variation I’ve had to see over the past several months, it all becomes the height of tedium.
It's as ugly as it is empty, but after seeing the way a lot of people seem to react to movies now, maybe it’s what we all ultimately deserve. We don’t respect creators or artists. We certainly don’t respect film, filmmaking, or filmmakers. Same for television. Same for literature. Same for music. Good stuff is still being made, but there are corporations and their tireless working-class acolytes that want to do everything they can to make that good stuff difficult, if not impossible, to find. The simple act of loving art is very, very tiring these days.
All I can do is pay attention to the good stuff I happen to love and hope you reading this are doing the same in your own way. That’s all we can do right now.
Hotel Poseidon (2020): B-
Image © Abbatoir Ferme \ Potemkino
Dave’s life in Hotel Poseidon is a literal and metaphorical Hell. I’m not surprised this movie has gotten some mixed reviews. The hotel in which our hero (Tom Vermeir, who keeps a very human element to this grimy madness) works as the manager is a nightmare landscape of decay, delirious insanity, and the constant company of the worst people you can ever imagine. The movie settles on this, and although we do get a plot and progression as Dave struggles with basically everything, we don’t travel very far from his cruel existence.
The humor in Hotel Poseidon, because this is pitch-black comedy of the bleakest order, is built around absolute, soul-deadening despair. It’s the atmosphere created around a man who barely has the desire to keep his eyes open, but who must endure the torments of family, ex-girlfriends, and hotel denizens who remind me of horrible everyday people on the streets of an old Ralph Bakshi movie. That’s not for everyone, but I was fascinated and horrified enough to stay to the end. It’s a visually and narratively creative effort from Dutch filmmaker Stefan Lernous that leaves me interested in whatever his next move might be.
Take Back the Night (2021): C+
Image © Josasi Studios
There’s a lot I like about Take Back the Night, which gets its points across with brutal effectiveness with serious and singular DIY spirit, combined with fantastic performances by the entire cast, particularly Emma Fitzpatrick (who co-wrote the script) as Jane, who finds herself the target of a mysterious, monstrous, and brutal assailant. Surviving one encounter, only to find herself being questioned by everyone from the cops to her own sister, Jane nearly drowns in aggressive, sometimes violent efforts to disregard her account, gaslight her about her own memories. At times there are people who put her directly in harms way. Combined with the sudden supernatural attacks that begin to stalk her every move, Take Back the Night forces us to live with Jane in a situation in which absolutely nothing is safe.
On this point the movie is a powerhouse of successfully wrapping its vital commentary around a compelling and richly atmospheric narrative. The point of all of this in Take Back the Night is to believe women, and director/co-writer Gia Elliot is someone to watch for passionate, inventive cinema. My only real complaint is that the last 20 minutes just couldn’t measure up to the momentum of everything before it. I will say the ending is a different approach, to be sure, and I would imagine some of you will appreciate that more than I did.
Gretel & Hansel (2020): B-
Image © Orion Pictures
I was oddly wary of Gretel & Hansel, directed by Oz Perkins. The film starring Sophia Lillis sounded like a decidedly alternative, arguably feminist reimaging of the iconic fairytale Hansel and Gretel. Not because of those qualities, but because it sounded like an ambitious idea that wouldn’t be able to keep all of its necessary crucial elements running in successful succession. There’s also just something potentially very boring about any sort of reimagining of a children’s story for boring-ass cynical adult horror fans.
It turns out I was a complete jackass for assuming the worst of a film helmed by one of the best horror directors working today. Gretel & Hansel tells a remarkably fresh account of the original story, with an emphasis on Gretel and a remarkable performance by Lillis, who continues to be the most interesting member of The Loser’s Club. The production design by Jeremy Reed and costume design by Leonie Prendergast under Perkins’ direction focuses on characters and understated visuals that build something as fascinating as it is unsettling. Gretel & Hansel is a unique variant to a classic that more people should take a chance on appreciating. Perhaps most of all for Alice Krige as one of the scariest and most tragic witches in recent memory.
Somewhere in Queens (2023): A-
Image © Bona Fide Productions
Under no circumstances did I expect Ray Romano’s directorial debut Somewhere in Queens to be one of the sweetest and most likable movies of 2023. I expected something in the broad terms of his sitcom. Maybe something along the lines of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I’m admittedly a fan of Everybody Loves Raymond because how can you not love a cast that includes Peter Boyle and Doris Roberts being deeply dysfunctional with each other? Nothing necessarily wrong with any of that, but that’s what I was expecting.
But expecting that disregards the very good character actor work Romano has been doing in the years since Everybody Loves Raymond. He gives another good performance in his wheelhouse of sweet, tired, and amiable middle-aged guys who are more well-intentioned than crass and reckless (the sort of characterization Romano is sometimes inexplicably held responsible for). That’s obviously not enough for a good movie, so it was consistently surprising to be introduced to so many well-rounded, funny, believable and constantly appealing characters through excellent performances by Laurie Metcalf, Jacob Ward, Sadie Stanley, Sebastian Maniscalco, and pretty much everyone else. I was surprised further by the movie’s gentleness and affection for life and people and family coming through in ways that were more often than not understated and nuanced. Sometimes things go a little off in the rails in this this story of Leo who begs his son’s girlfriend to keep dating him until he gets a potential basketball scholarship that will take him away from Leo’s overbearing Five Boroughs Italian family, but I think you’ll be impressed at how infrequently that happens.
I’m not fond of this expression of image, but Somewhere in Queens is a movie I left the theater smiling about. It wasn’t embarrassingly sentimental or overly simplistic either. Romano’s writing and direction here offer one of the most pleasing and unexpected movie watching experiences I’ve had this year. Even if you absolutely despise Everybody Loves Raymond, I can almost promise you’re going to love Somewhere in Queens.
The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao (1964): B-
Image © Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
The fact that Tony Randall’s performance as Dr. Lao portrays Lao as an intelligent, well-spoken man of culture and history certainly doesn’t change the fact that Tony Randall was not even a smidgen Asian. The characterization is a stark contrast to something like say Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s just three years earlier, but that’s not really an excuse either. Either you’ll appreciate the many incredible visual gifts and charming performances in this story of a Chinese Man and his medicine show rolling into a small western town to create some unique situations and maybe change a few lives along the way. Or you won’t. Either one is valid. In the wake of Asian-led films with Asian directors and crew, it’s good that movies like The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao are confined to the past.
Even so, keeping this movie firmly in the past, there’s a lot to potentially enjoy here. The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao isn’t in the vein of something like Song of the South, with Randall’s charismatic and potentially supernatural Dr. Lao as more of a wraparound concept for a wide range of personalities and styles. There’s some true technical wizardry to be appreciated in this film, and a sense of playfulness about the world that is unfortunately tied forever to yellowface, as benign as it might be.
There’s a historical context to consider with The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao, the last film directed by George Pal of The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine fame. It can be at least interesting to see where the movie unexpectedly differs from your expectations, and to track potential progress in things like casting and cultural agency from then to now. That’s a lot by design to take away from The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao, which is interestingly enough the movie Joel Robinson quotes when he leaves the Satellite of Love. I can see why.
Gabriel Ricard writes, edits, and occasionally acts. His books Love and Quarters and Bondage Night are available through Moran Press, in addition to A Ludicrous Split (Alien Buddha Press) and Clouds of Hungry Dogs (Kleft Jaw Press). He is also a writer, performer, and producer with Belligerent Prom Queen Productions. He lives on a horrible place called Long Island.