Lost in Criterion

Alexander Nevsky, one of Sergei Eisenstein's famous Soviet historical epics, is a monstrous and monstrously propagandistic film that has left all sorts of influence in its wake. Pat and I aren't really into it, even with it's massive battle sequences.

Pat and Adam watch Pygmalion and get distracted complaining about how people who actually agree with Henry Higgins still exist and shouldn't.

Ozu's 1959 comedy Good Morning is about two young brothers who go on a silence strike until their parents agree to buy a television. It's also a pretty great window into suburban life in Japan in the Sixties. That combines to stand in a pretty stark contrast to the other Japanese films we've watched so far.

I think it's safe to say that Pat and I are outside the originally intended target audience of Perry Henzell's 1972 Jamaican gangster film The Harder They Come, but then we're outside the originally intended target audience for a lot of the movies we've watched and loved through the course of this project.

We've seen Olivier's nationalistic take on Shakespeare in Henry V, now we get to watch him channel German expressionism in Hamlet.

Federico Fellini's directorial debut, though co-directed with Italian great Alberto Lattuada, 1950's Variety Lights is as entertaining as any of Fellini's later work, if not quite as crazy as some of it. Still full of the crazy characters that fill his movie universes. Bittersweet to say the least, but a great film.

A rare treat on this week's Lost in Criterion: a film Pat loves and Adam just can't get into. Lars von Trier's feature-length debut The Element of Crime (1984) is a dystopian film so noir-like that it's more like a noir reduction, boiled down until it is thick with rain and contrast. People like it! Adam is not one of them.

We get another serving of the misanthropic drunk. The Golf Specialist (Monte Brice, 1930), The Pharmacist (Arthur Ripley, 1933), The Fatal Glass of Beer (Clyde Bruckman, 1933), The Barber Shop (Arthur Ripley, 1933), The Dentist (Leslie Pearce, 1932), and the silent Pool Sharks (Edwin Middleton, 1915). While some are better and more memorable than others, I think Pat and I enjoyed each much more than we liked The Bank Dick. The less time we spend with W. C. Fields the more we enjoy him.

There's only one truly good scene in The Bank Dick, but fortunately it's almost the entire last act.

This week we're watching Roger Vadim direct his then wife Brigitte Bardot in the festival of slut-shaming and misogyny that is And God Created Woman.