Recent Screenings/Re-Screenings
The last couple of weeks have led me down a particular path with a handful of movies that delve into the darker aspects of human behavior and activity. Not that I was actively seeking it, but perhaps it's a sign of the times. Here are six films I either watched for the first time or revisited after a second—or maybe third—viewing:
Manhunter (1986)
Directed by Michael Mann
This movie stars William Petersen in the lead, one of the most puzzling casting choices for any role, let alone as a leading man. For reasons that elude me, Petersen appeared in a couple of highly regarded films in the 1980s—this one and To Live and Die in L.A.—before gaining fame with a long stint on CSI. Personally, I find him completely unconvincing: his performances feel overacted, transparent, and lacking in depth.
Mann's career took off early with his first feature, Thief. That film certainly had plenty of swagger and style, but it also benefited from an actor (James Caan) with the chops to anchor a story so heavily reliant on visuals and atmosphere. Manhunter exemplifies Michael Mann's typical approach: stylized visuals, a moody atmosphere, and a tightly curated soundtrack. While some might describe this as "cinematic," I find his approach forced and overly self-conscious. Even strong supporting performances by Brian Cox and Tom Noonan can't redeem it for me. At times, it's unintentionally laughable. I'd skip it—but feel free to judge for yourself.
Happiness (1998)
Directed by Todd Solondz
I hadn't seen this since it first hit theaters in 1998, but I vividly remembered its radical, warped, and deeply unsettling nature. Even more remarkable is that Solondz managed to secure funding for such a project. This is easily one of the most misanthropic, malignant, and perverse depictions of humanity ever put on film.
The ensemble cast takes on challenging roles with excellent performances, particularly the late Philip Seymour Hoffman and Dylan Baker. Their characters are sick, twisted, and almost unforgivable, yet their portrayals are rich and disturbingly real.
This film delves into the lives of deeply flawed individuals—pedophiles, sexual deviants, pretentious poseurs, and even a murderer—all portrayed in a stark, matter-of-fact manner. It's not an easy watch; you might feel compelled to take a long, hot shower afterward. Yet, its brilliance lies in its execution and its excellent performances, making the discomfort worthwhile. Happiness is arguably Solondz's masterpiece, though it's certainly not for the faint of heart.
Dark Horse (2011)
Directed by Todd Solondz
Following a string of solid films in the 2000s, Solondz delivered Dark Horse, his last feature before an extended hiatus. While it doesn't have the same impact as Happiness or Welcome to the Dollhouse, it still offers a compelling exploration of human failings and poor life choices.
The film follows Abe (Jordan Gelber), a grown man-child overshadowed by his father (Christopher Walken), infantilized by his mother (Mia Farrow), and secretly admired by a coworker (Donna Murphy). Abe's unlikely relationship with a semi-catatonic Selma Blair leads to a spiral of failures, culminating in catastrophic consequences.
The film relentlessly subjects its protagonist to ridicule and humiliation, making it a challenging watch. It's yet another exploration of human weakness and failure by Solondz. While it lacks the punch of Happiness, it's still worth a shot.
Candy Mountain (1987)
Directed by Robert Frank and Rudy Wurlitzer
I'm a sucker for road movies, and Candy Mountain offers a gritty, unconventional take on the genre. On a rewatch, I found myself appreciating its story and atmosphere more than when I first saw it in the late 1980s.
Kevin J. O'Connor plays Julius, a young musician who’s somewhat lost and naive, but also ambitious and willing to stick out his neck to get ahead. The problem I have is that the actor’s performance often comes across as forced and unnatural, even awkward at times.
With a stronger actor in the lead, the film could have felt more authentic and effectively conveyed the character's struggles—both internal and external. Fortunately, the supporting cast shines: cameos from Tom Waits, Dr. John, Joe Strummer, and Rockets Redglare bring vibrancy and depth to the film.
Visually and thematically, the film tries to capture the tension between an older, accomplished master and a younger, aimless musician. While flawed, it's an interesting, worthwhile watch.
They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (1969)
Directed by Sydney Pollack
Sydney Pollack's career includes several outstanding films, such as Tootsie, Three Days of the Condor, and Absence of Malice. They Shoot Horses, Don't They? is among his bleakest works, set during a Depression-era dance marathon. The surrounding locale feels like a relic of a lost world—empty, desolate, cold, and dark—imbuing the interior hall with an almost claustrophobic atmosphere.
Jane Fonda gives an unforgettable performance as Gloria, a disillusioned and deeply cynical woman fighting to win $1,500 in a grueling last-couple-standing contest. Michael Sarrazin, Susanna York, and Gig Young also deliver outstanding performances.
This is a profoundly sad film, unflinchingly exposing the despair and desolation of its characters. The ending is devastating. It's tough to watch, but it's an essential piece of cinema.
Oh, Canada (2024)
Directed by Paul Schrader
Paul Schrader has been on a creative streak over the past eight years, producing small, introspective films that dive deep into the psyches of flawed protagonists. Oh, Canada continues this tradition.
The story centers on Leo Fife (Richard Gere), a dying, reclusive filmmaker whose career is the subject of a documentary crew's latest project. However, Fife hijacks the narrative, turning it into a confessional about his youth, marked by cowardice and broken relationships. Does this absolve his poor life choices in the end? It’s an open question…
One standout scene features Fife recounting how he dodged the draft during the 1960s by pretending to be gay, only to be called a "coward" by the officer in charge. This moment reflects a deeper cowardice—one that defines Fife's life choices.
Oh, Canada is the kind of small, character-driven film that appeals to adult audiences seeking more than mere entertainment. It's understated yet deeply resonant. While not his best, it aligns closely with Schrader's best work.