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swo17 wrote:Which version of Deep Red do people recommend, the 126 minute Italian one or the 105 minute English one?

The Italian one, easily. The added material does drag a bit (I differ from knives there), but it is essential to the coherence of the movie. You cannot understand what Argento is doing, thematically, without it.

Thanks, guys.

It can be a bit jarring at first, but I prefer to watch the Italian version with the mixed English/Italian soundtrack that features David Hemmings' own vocal performance. The DVD and Blu-ray editions feature an all-Italian dub as well, but Hemmings gives a fabulous vocal performance, so it's nice to hear it over most of the movie.

That is the more interesting question I suppose, but I agree (no surprise there) with Feego and would extend that to other english speaking leads gialli.

I also listen to the English dub (with subbed-Italian for the added stuff). David Hemming's vocal performance is necessary.

Thanks for the Blier responses. My search wasn't very thorough, quite a few Blier fans here, obviously. Still toying with Calmos and Preparez vos mouchoirs right now, and with three or four Blier fans, he might even have a shot of making the final list!

EDIT:
Regarding Deep Red: Italian Cut definitely. While not necessarily better, what's left of the last wall-scraping scenes in the mansion don't make a whole lot of sense in the shortened US cut... (not that it's supposed to make sense in the Italian cut...)

Since Cold Bishop is doing just a thorough and detailed write up on the Shaw Brothers in the 1970s, I thought I'd write up some guides about some of their competitors. These won't be as thoroughly researched, but hopefully they'll help in painting a bigger picture of the Hong Kong and Taiwanese film markets. Not sure how many of these I'll have time to do, so I'll just keep cranking them out whenever I get the chance.


Joseph Kuo Nam Hung
The Seisure Soul Sword Of A Blind Girl (1970)
Sorrowful To A Ghost (1970)
The Ghost's Sword (1971)
The Matchless Conqueror (1971)
The Evil Karate (1971)
The Lost Romance (1971)
Mighty One (1971)
Mission Impossible (1971)
The Death Duel (1972)
Triangular Duel (1973)
Chinese Iron Man (1974)
Hero Of Kwantung (1974)
Rikisha Kuri (1974)
Shaolin Kung Fu (1974)
18 Bronzemen (1976)
Return Of The 18 Bronzemen (1976)
The Blazing Temple (1976)
Eight Masters (1977)
The Shaolin Brothers (1977)
Born Invincible (1978)
The Seven Grandmasters (1978)
The Shaolin Kids (1978)
The Smart Cavalier (1978)
The 36 Deadly Styles (1979)
Dragon's Claws (1979)
The Mystery of Chess Boxing (1979)
The Old Master (1979)
World Of The Drunken Master (1979)

(I had a lot of trouble finding any information on Joseph Kuo, so a lot of what follows is speculation on my part. I know very little about his production methods, or even what order the films were made within each year. I also wasn't able to find copies of all the films he made in the 70s, so this list is incomplete. If anyone spots any errors, please point them out to me.)

Joseph Kuo is one of the bigger names of the so called Taiwanese Independent Directors. Most of the films he made during this decade were made under his own production company Hong Hwa International Films. Although his films frequently were modeled after whatever was popular at the time, he was quite innovative within these formats and could put a fresh spin on a popular genre. Although very few of his films are masterpieces, they're consistently better made than many other independent films of the period. Even his more problematic films seem like they had some unrealized potential. While he often lacked polished scripts and big named actors, he had quite a few talented martial artists working for him, and the fight scenes in his films tend to be of the highest caliber. Often his best films involve minimal plotting with a charismatic lead and a slew of original set pieces.

Between 1970 and 1971 he continued to make wuxia films as he was doing towards the end of the 1960s. His wuxia films tend to be of the older more fantastical style that was popular in the mid 1960s, though clearly he was influenced by modern developments like King Hu's editing and building of tension, and the higher blood quotient of Chang Cheh's films. The Seisure Soul Sword Of A Blind Girl (1970) is a well executed Zatoichi ripoff, though the overall plot is forgettable, it manages to hold itself together through likable characters and a series of tensely directed fight scenes. Sorrowful To A Ghost (1970) is a mediocre start to his big wuxia trilogy of this period. Its well shot and employs some interesting stylistic devices, but mostly follows an uninteresting villain as he slices his way through hordes of forgettable good guys. The sequel, The Ghost's Sword (1971), is more of the same, but with a much more charismatic villain, and by far the most energetic, creative fight scenes I've seen from this period. Then The Matchless Conqueror (1971) wisely drops the bland protagonists to follow the more interesting villain of the second film. The story works much better than the previous 2 films, and Kuo turns out another set of creative and masterfully executed fight scenes. I haven't studied this period in too much detail, but the later 2 films in the trilogy were really eye opening viewing for me, as the wire-work appears to be way beyond anything else I've seen from around this era of filmmaking.

The Evil Karate (1971) has lots of great set pieces, but the story gets lost in the sea of colorful costumes masquerading as characters. The Lost Romance (1971) is a beautifully shot melodrama for Union Films, but the characters lack the depth necessary to give real resonance to the plot mechanizations. Kuo made 2 wuxia films for Shaw Brothers this year, which are more polished than his previous efforts but flawed in their own ways. Mighty One (1971) tries to create mystery by withholding the identity of the protagonists, but unfortunately its not interesting enough to keep the film moving. Mission Impossible (1971) mixes some horror elements to its wuxia revenge plot, but the plot doesn't really get interesting until the end.

In 1972-1974 he made a bunch of Kung Fu basher films modeled after The Chinese Boxer and Fist of Fury. This seems to me like the low point in his career to me, as many of these films lack the creativity of his previous efforts. They also bring out the more racist and misogynistic traits of the genre, which thankfully are absent from most of Kuo's other films. Although none of these films are exact carbon copies of each other, but many of them share similar elements, like having Man Kong Lung play a rickshaw driver. My pan and scan dubbed copy of The Death Duel (1972) probably skewed my appreciation of the plot, but this is a crippled hero film, where our protagonist loses most of his motivation to fight after losing only 1 of his eyes. Then, when observing a cat that always lands on its feet, proceed to hurl himself into the ground over and over again until he acquires the same skill, which is used maybe once or twice in the final battle. Triangular Duel (1973) does better by mixing in a lot of different narrative elements that are sort of interesting but don't completely work together, and introducing a bit of strategy into the end fight. Chinese Iron Man (1974) has higher production values, but follows the plot of Fists of Fury very closely, and consists mostly of evil Japanese caricatures doing evil things. Hero Of Kwantung (1974) and Rikisha Kuri (1974) manage to inject a little emotion into the formula by developing the community the protagonist lives in, and focusing less on all the bad things bad guys like to do. Hero Of Kwantung also has the most intense fight scenes in this period of Kuo's films. Shaolin Kung Fu (1974) doesn't feature any Shaolin Kung Fu or anything other fresh elements to the genre.

Starting in 1976 Kuo followed the popularity of Chang Cheh's Shaolin Temple and Lo Wei's Shaolin Wooden Men, by making 4 films featuring the 18 bronzemen variant of the Shaolin Temple Story. There's also some trace elements of the Chor Yuen/Gu Long style intrigue that was so popular at the time. Each of these films boasts a bunch of memorable training scenes that show just how good Kuo is at coming up with new set pieces for the same story. The first film 18 Bronzemen (1976) is probably the best all around film of the series, the training sequences and story are balanced and well executed. Return Of The 18 Bronzemen (1976) is my personal favorite because its a bit of an oddity in that its basically an origin story for the villain of the series. Though the hanging emotions are never addressed or resolved in the The Blazing Temple (1976) which recasts the characters of the previous film and acts as a standalone entity despite picking up where the second film leaves off. Both The Blazing Temple (1976) and Eight Masters (1977) are well done and worth watching if you like this sort of stuff, but suffer a bit from Kuo's occasional bad habit to use too much under-cranking during the fight scenes, making them much more cartoonish and less intense.

1977-1978 seems to have a more experimentation than other periods in Kuo's career. The Shaolin Brothers (1977) and The Shaolin Kids (1978) are both big costume epics that aren't about Shaolin, and are fun to watch, but have overly complicated narratives and interesting but not brilliant fight scenes. The Shaolin Brothers (1977) does feature hopping vampires, but they're not used as well as in the later Kung Fu Horror comedies of the 1980s. The Smart Cavalier (1978) has some weird comedy that I kind of like, but will probably ward off most other viewers. I think its actually one of his better films, but it has an awkward end fight that comes out of nowhere and features Lo Lieh acting like his previous Pai Mei roles, but weirder. Born Invincible (1978) copies the Pai Mei style films throughout, and while its a lot of fun and has earned itself a cult following, I don't think its as well executed as its predecessors. The Seven Grandmasters (1978) is probably Joseph Kuo's best overall film, and from what I've been told one of his few films to spawn its own imitators. I've heard it described as the ultimate Kung Fu road movie, and that holds up to my experience with the film. Basically you get to wander around with a bunch of fairly likable characters, through a large number of creative and brilliantly choreographed fight scenes, with some effectively minimal narrative tension to keep things moving forward.

1979 Kuo seems to have warmed up pretty exclusively to the Kung Fu comedy genre many of the films of this period being modeled pretty closely after Snake and the Eagle's Shadow and Drunken Master. Dragon's Claws (1979) is a rather poor imitation of the genre, and features one of the most forgettable protagonists of all time. The 36 Deadly Styles (1979) is also pretty mediocre and bland, though the end fight does feature a good number of some of the best martial artists of the period wearing some of the worst wigs. The Old Master (1979) is sort of an inspired failure in that Kuo got Yu Jim Yuen (the master of Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Yuen Biao, etc.) to star in it, and it also features Disco Kung Fu. Unfortunately Yu Jim Yuen isn't a particularly good screen fighter, and he's rather poorly doubled for most of his many fight scenes throughout the film. The Mystery of Chess Boxing (1979) and World Of The Drunken Master (1979) are both high points of the genre, featuring some of the best fight scenes ever filmed, with some inspired set pieces and more solid narrative structure than his other attempts. They both at least match, if not exceed, the films they're modeled after and never feel too derivative or stale.

Do you know the best place to find these titles on DVD?

Joseph Kuo actually gets a fair share of discussion in my big (and pretty much finished) Kung-Fu essay. His really is one of the quintessential "indie" directors, with all that suggests: the films are cheap, often sloppy, formulaic, sometimes incoherent... the mustaches and sideburns often look like they're about to fall off the actors... and he never built a set when a nice, empty field would do... but it doesn't matter, because once the momentum starts picking up, Kuo knows how to get the job done.

I usually spend the first half of one of his films fearful that the movie I'm watching is schlock. Then I spend the second half picking my jaw off the floor.

knives wrote:Do you know the best place to find these titles on DVD?

7 Grandmasters had a wonderful Region 1 release, that unfortunately is out of print now.

Most of his other films have Region 0 releases from Mei Ah, that are non-anamorphic widescreen and subtitled, which can be gotten cheaply from Hong Kong sellers, for example World of the Drunken Master is up on Buyoyo.com for HK$45 (USD$ 5.8), though buyoyo usually takes a week or 2 before they ship. These releases also show up on the amazon market place, though they tend to be more expensive there. Some of these have gone out of print.

Though unfortunately the Mei Ah release of 18 Bronzemen is a re-edit of the film that mixes in footage from Eight Masters, and all the DVDs of the original cut are pan and scanned and dubbed in english.

Some of his film also have some great German releases, but these usually don't have English subtitles (though they may offer and english dub track).

Mystery of Chess Boxing and Born Invincible have abysmal commercial releases, but there are widescreen subtitled copies of these films being sold by bootleggers and circulating through the back channels of the internet. A lot of his early wuxia films, I've only been able to find floating around the internet in pan & scan, but subtitled, editions.

If anyone needs help tracking down a particular film, feel free to drop me a PM.

Cold Bishop wrote:Joseph Kuo actually gets a fair share of discussion in my big (and pretty much finished) Kung-Fu essay.

Ahhh, seems my attempts at covering new ground were in vain. Eagerly anticipating your take on his role within the Kung Fu genre.

Cold Bishop wrote:and he never built a set when a nice, empty field would do...

He certainly gets quite a bit of mileage out of his meager resources, though it seemed to me as if he had aspirations of being a big budget director. Often trying to rival the Shaw Brothers at times, though being quite thrifty about it. For example re-using his Shaolin Temple sets over his 4 bronzemen films, and coming up with fresh spins on the various set pieces he built for each movie. And then employing miniatures for the attack on Shaolin Temple in The Blazing Temple. And shooting The Old Master in LA seems like a pretty bold move for an independent. He also re-uses the same dance set piece consisting of women in a circle formation waving red cloths in several of his late 70s costume pictures. Shaolin Brothers, in spite of the muddled narrative, actually has some of my favorite costuming of any Hong Kong or Taiwanese film of this period. But to be sure, many of his best films didn't need anything more than the open air of Taiwan.

YnEoS wrote:Ahhh, seems my attempts at covering new ground were in vain. Eagerly anticipating your take on his role within the Kung Fu genre.

No, man, this is great. I've still only seen a handful of his films (luckily, most of them in 35mm, because the DVD situation seems pretty dire outside a few big titles), so this is something I can refer to. I especially still know very little about his wuxia pians.

Mr Sausage wrote:The Suspended Vocation (Raul Ruiz, 1978): Seems redundant to call this one baffling, but what else can one say? [...] Now comes the confusing bit: there are two stories here running in parallel with each other, both featuring the same characters and the same basic plot, with events from one story influencing the other. One of the stories is shot in B&W, the other colour. The lead character in each story has the same name and follows the same plot trajectory in the same locations, but is played by two different actors. Sometimes both stories lead into and out from each other, sometimes they run parallel, with each character having a similar conversation with the same person. I haven't the slightest clue what the relation between the two stories is supposed to be.

Have just watched it, and am as baffled as you were. But I think the relation between the two stories is explained right at the beginning. There was once a film made by monks which was left unfinished; then twenty years later it was remade (with the original material found to be unuseable), and finally another remake was made again ten years later. What we see is a 'digest version' of the two 'remakes', the earlier being in black and white and the newer one in colour. It's also fascinating how when this title card with the explanation is shown at the beginning, there's also a voice-over which seems to read out the text but in fact varies and distorts it. The whole strategy in this respect reminded me a little of what Greenaway did in the same year with "Vertical Features Remake", though I must say that Greenaway's film is indeed much more coherent (and more to the point, not to speak of it being a lot funnier).

I agree that the Ruiz is pretty much a mess in terms of narrative clarity, but I also found it interesting in some way. I had the feeling that in some way he (or Klossowski) tried to comment on the disputes in left-wing groups by transplanting these little wars into the most conservative setting imaginable, namely that of Catholicism, thus being able to denounce these left-wing activists as prone to the same obscurantist ideologic authoritarianism that they were alledgedly fighting against. But that's just some sort of first impression of a film I freely admit I also didn't understand.

Tommaso wrote:

Mr Sausage wrote:The Suspended Vocation (Raul Ruiz, 1978): Seems redundant to call this one baffling, but what else can one say? [...] Now comes the confusing bit: there are two stories here running in parallel with each other, both featuring the same characters and the same basic plot, with events from one story influencing the other. One of the stories is shot in B&W, the other colour. The lead character in each story has the same name and follows the same plot trajectory in the same locations, but is played by two different actors. Sometimes both stories lead into and out from each other, sometimes they run parallel, with each character having a similar conversation with the same person. I haven't the slightest clue what the relation between the two stories is supposed to be.

Have just watched it, and am as baffled as you were. But I think the relation between the two stories is explained right at the beginning. There was once a film made by monks which was left unfinished; then twenty years later it was remade (with the original material found to be unuseable), and finally another remake was made again ten years later. What we see is a 'digest version' of the two 'remakes', the earlier being in black and white and the newer one in colour. It's also fascinating how when this title card with the explanation is shown at the beginning, there's also a voice-over which seems to read out the text but in fact varies and distorts it. The whole strategy in this respect reminded me a little of what Greenaway did in the same year with "Vertical Features Remake", though I must say that Greenaway's film is indeed much more coherent (and more to the point, not to speak of it being a lot funnier).

I agree that the Ruiz is pretty much a mess in terms of narrative clarity, but I also found it interesting in some way. I had the feeling that in some way he (or Klossowski) tried to comment on the disputes in left-wing groups by transplanting these little wars into the most conservative setting imaginable, namely that of Catholicism, thus being able to denounce these left-wing activists as prone to the same obscurantist ideologic authoritarianism that they were alledgedly fighting against. But that's just some sort of first impression of a film I freely admit I also didn't understand.

That's how I understood it: the differences between the two versions lies primarily in their ideological / theological slant. I don't get exactly what the nature of that is either, but knowing Ruiz, I'm pretty sure that if you sat down and gave it some serious analysis you would be rewarded.

Where's domino? He was a big champion of this film last time around.

If you want to see a Ruiz film in a similar vein that's vastly more complicated (and, for my money, a lot more entertaining), seek out Love Torn in Dream, which mashes up a dozen or more completely unrelated narratives, ranging from period melodrama, to pirate story, to kooky sci-fi, all starring Melvil Poupaud, who proceeds through the whiplash changes in time period, scenario and genre as if they were a single coherent narrative, while also incrementally advancing all of the component narratives whenever we return to them. Your mind will melt in a most pleasing fashion.

And where would one find "Love Torn in Dream"?

In this set, which is essential for all sorts of other reasons too.

Beat me to it!

The one I referenced includes direct ports of zedz's set, in addition to seven other Ruiz films, for about the same price.

Tommaso wrote:

Mr Sausage wrote:The Suspended Vocation (Raul Ruiz, 1978): Seems redundant to call this one baffling, but what else can one say? [...] Now comes the confusing bit: there are two stories here running in parallel with each other, both featuring the same characters and the same basic plot, with events from one story influencing the other. One of the stories is shot in B&W, the other colour. The lead character in each story has the same name and follows the same plot trajectory in the same locations, but is played by two different actors. Sometimes both stories lead into and out from each other, sometimes they run parallel, with each character having a similar conversation with the same person. I haven't the slightest clue what the relation between the two stories is supposed to be.

Have just watched it, and am as baffled as you were. But I think the relation between the two stories is explained right at the beginning. There was once a film made by monks which was left unfinished; then twenty years later it was remade (with the original material found to be unuseable), and finally another remake was made again ten years later. What we see is a 'digest version' of the two 'remakes', the earlier being in black and white and the newer one in colour. It's also fascinating how when this title card with the explanation is shown at the beginning, there's also a voice-over which seems to read out the text but in fact varies and distorts it. The whole strategy in this respect reminded me a little of what Greenaway did in the same year with "Vertical Features Remake", though I must say that Greenaway's film is indeed much more coherent (and more to the point, not to speak of it being a lot funnier).

I agree that the Ruiz is pretty much a mess in terms of narrative clarity, but I also found it interesting in some way. I had the feeling that in some way he (or Klossowski) tried to comment on the disputes in left-wing groups by transplanting these little wars into the most conservative setting imaginable, namely that of Catholicism, thus being able to denounce these left-wing activists as prone to the same obscurantist ideologic authoritarianism that they were alledgedly fighting against. But that's just some sort of first impression of a film I freely admit I also didn't understand.

I had actually forgotten that opening bit of explanation by the time I'd gotten a few minutes into the movie. I only remembered later, after I'd written my post. I still couldn't tell you how the two parts relate to each other, tho'. Your idea, that the film's interrogating political ideologies at a remove, sounds likely enough, tho' it could easily be doing something else entirely. The dialogue is so couched in its own peculiar cant that there's almost no way into it.

zedz and swo, thanks!

Viewing Log:

Behind the Green Door (Artie Mitchell and Jim Mitchell, 1973): Mildly successful crossover star Marilyn Chambers stars in the Mitchell brothers notorious effort to make an artistic porno (Given what I know about them, I doubt that they would have appreciated it being labeled erotica). Chambers plays an unnamed & silent California ingenue who is kidnapped by a pair of thugs (by the Mitchells themselves in an effort to make a feminist reading of the flick too simple to even bother) and is forced to participate in an underground sex show for well-to-do voyeurs. Her character is initially stimulated by a group of women and quickly becomes the willing participant to her rape as numerous men and women enter the stage from the titular green door to participate in the debauchery. The audience creates an orgy of their own, and the film's action culminated in a lengthy series of multicolored ejaculation shots. I really liked the idea underlying the brothers' efforts, but the whole learning to love your abduction/rape aspect of the film is as ill conceived and dangerous as any other rape myth out there. With this disgusting trope present in the film, I just can't get into it. Consensual sex can be sexy, depictions of rape never are.

Blanche (Walerian Borowczyk, 1972): Being mostly familiar with the director from his sexploitation period from the mid-70s on, I was quite surprised by Borowczyk's almost feminist medieval allegory (without any nudity!). Blanche is a young married woman whose complete lack of agency in this patriarchal world leads her open to the unwanted advances of both the king of France and other men (not to mention her loathsome slug-like husband). The film was a rather straightforward period drama that contained Borowczyk's trademark of meticulously composed shots and voluptuous entertainment. This was really a great film, and probably Borowczyk's best that I've encountered so far. Oh, and I looooooove the falsetto singer throughout the film.

The Perfumed Nightmare (Kidlat Tahimik, 1977): What a strange, enjoyable movie from Tahimik. Playing a version of himself, Tahimik takes us on a journey through his Indonesian upbringing and adult efforts to break free from his provincial life. The film is composed mainly of asides from the main plot: from Tahimik's desire to become the first Indonesian to walk on the moon, to a gruesome recollection of a coming of age ritual, to a Tahimik's disgust with his native made automobiles. This was one of the most bizarre films that I'm seen in a long time, but Kidlat's journey always proved to be endlessly fascinating. This was a great discovery!

Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets (Shûji Terayama, 1971): This was my third work by Terayama (Grass Labyrinth and Pastoral: To Die in the Country being the other two), and while it's probably my least favorite of the three, it's still nothing less than a masterpiece. Although the film is far more about style and mood than plot, it still loosely tells the story of an unnamed protagonist disaffected by society. Sex does little for him, and he seems to find his only true voice in his anger. Terayama is possibly the most poetic filmmaker that I have ever encountered, and this film only reinforces that opinion. I would be surprised if this didn't make it on my final list.

Turkish Delight (Paul Verhoeven, 1975): I'm typically a big fan of Verhoeven's work and this is possibly the director's best known early work. That's why I'm so surprised that it left me feeling rather flat. Rutger Hauer and Monique van de Ven star as a pair of free spirited and mischievous lovers who spend their days and nights fucking through the streets of the Netherlands. The film, told mainly in flashback after the couple split up, features pretty daring material for its day and superb performances by its two leads. However, Hauer's character was a completely unlikable and unrelatable sociopath who spends most of the film torturing his wife and mother-in-law. Other film's like Naked have had similar leads, but while I can appreciate that one, Turkish Delight let me feeling rather icky by the end. I wouldn't say that it's a bad movie, just not a particularly enjoyable one.

Your post on Beyond the Green Door reminds me that I did let curiosity get the better of me last month when I watched a "respectable" period porno film to see if in fact it was possible to objectively consider the film as a film rather than pornography (as per my query earlier in the thread). Maraschino Cherry (Radley Metzger, 1978) starts off promisingly, intercutting short sexually explicit interludes with really really bad (but still kinda endearing) Playboy party jokes and both elements are presented with goofy good charm. "Could I have misjudged films of this sort from this era?" I thought to myself. Pornography is pretty boring, to be honest, but cut to such small vignettes (I doubt any penetrative scene lasted more than a minute or two) it at least never outstayed its welcome. There was even a funny gag about Reader's Digest. However, about halfway in, the film exhausts its interest in being a sex-positive female-driven daffy porno comedy and just inserted loooooong and tedious sexual escapades and it dawned on me-- I am well aware that this is quite a silly and obvious thing to consider an epiphany-- "Oh right, the whole reason this exists is to aid the viewer in masturbation." Even for such a short film, I could not have been less invested or interested as the film worked its way to climax. One film is hardly enough to make an overarching claim that porno films probably can't be considered in strictly cinematic terms outside of their social context, or at least not considered well, but I also have no desire to seek out any more to test the theory. So I guess I can call this an Unsolved Mystery which will likely never receive the ***UPDATE*** music treatment...

domino harvey wrote:to see if in fact it was possible to objectively consider the film as a film rather than pornography (as per my query earlier in the thread).

Shouldn't that be *for you*? Certainly I can't be alone in largely not caring about the designation of pornography. I really don't see the sex interlude any different from, say, a musical number in a musical.

Isn't everything anyone types "for them"? My original query might frame this exercise better

I don't see it in the quoted part, but it might be a case where my mind in atrophied due to the sun.

Some recent '70s viewings, Fonda! Fonda! Fonda! edition

The China Syndrome (James Bridges)
A Fail-Safe for the '70s, this edge-of-your-seat thriller again depicts big, powerful men playing with big, powerful chemicals on a playing field where nothing could possiblye ever go wrong. The film even stars a Fonda--my analogy is airtight. Speaking of Jane Fonda, I tend to find her activist roles a bit overly zealous, but here she plays a really relatable, well rounded character, starting off somewhat naive and pragmatic, and only shifting into concerned citizen mode when there is no other sensible alternative.

Sometimes a Great Notion (Paul Newman)
According to the back of the case of the Shout! Factory release, this is Paul Newman's directorial debut. And what a debut! With such a strong voice and command of the cinematic form, you would swear it was at least his second film. The logging scenes in this are both breathtaking and horrifying, and one of them in particular is among the most harrowing and tender human moments I've ever witnessed on or off the screen. And then of course the ending wouldn't feel out of place in a zombie movie. A Henry Fonda zombie movie.

The Hired Hand (Peter Fonda)
I'm afraid I don't see why this proved to be such a controversial recommendation in the westerns thread. I thought it was a mostly solid western, even if it did subvert expectations for the genre in terms of plot. Mostly, I was impressed with the visuals and the haunting score. Also, does anyone reach his long arm out of the screen and gently coax you into a film better than Warren Oates?

The Driver (Walter Hill)
So wait, Drive isn't a remake of this? They're basically exactly the same movie, right down to the first two-thirds of the plot and an actor named Ryan spending most of his screen time brooding at you from the depths of his little puppy dog heart. Only switch out the mob for Bruce Dern's "I'm not a cop, I'm Bruce Dern" act and remove all of the needless gore. I'll grant that Drive has a tighter first ten minutes, but on the whole, I liked this version a fair bit more.

Illumination (Krzysztof Zanussi)
A very touching, frightening, and mysterious portrait of a genius grappling with his human limitations, made all the more poignant and tragic by the untimely death of the lead actor a year later in a hiking accident. (This was his only role as an actor.) The Second Run DVD includes a nice tribute film made about him by his son. Not that I necessarily am or am not a genius, but I really identified with this material on a personal level.

Seven Days (Chris Welsby)
Abrasive, invigorating time lapse footage of nature from canted angles that is likely every bit as riveting as it would have been to watch God create the heavens and the earth (assuming you have that footage super-sped up, because otherwise I don't have time for it).

Veredas (João César Monteiro)
A tour through Portuguese history by way of presumably symbolic encounters and poetry recitations, somewhat in the vein of The Travelling Players. It would likely mean more to a native, and I need to watch it again to feel a little more qualified to say what's going on, but for now, man, what a gorgeous looking film!

Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea (Jindřich Polák)
Another sci-fi outing from the director of Ikarie XB-1, only this one is considerably more zany. You know how everyone always says that if time travel were ever invented, the first thing to do would be to go back and make sure that Hitler won the war? Sorry, I meant every present-day Nazi. Well, here's a movie for those guys. Only, like all well-thought-out time travel assassination plots, it's easier said than done. There's a great scene here where Hitler is watching footage of the future defeat of Germany shouting "God would not let this happen!" that's substantially more satisfying to me than, say, taking him out in a blaze of glory in Inglourious Basterds.

The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy)
If you look up posts about this film on the site, it seems that most of them begin with "Well, I guess I'm the last one to see this." I find myself in the same boat, so maybe it's not anywhere near as universally known as everyone seems to think? Also, my boat's motor is strangely not working anymore, so I guess I'll have to stick it out another day on this strange island... In any case, this was an incredibly strange film (and apparently, the version I saw moves up Britt Ekland's, um, incredibly strange musical number to practically the beginning of the film, making everything even incredibly stranger) with which I became instantly smitten.