#243 Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)

****

Director: Woody Allen

Cast: Woody Allen, Claire Bloom, Stephanie Roth, Mia Farrow, Jerry Orbach, Bill Bernstein, Martin Landau, Greg Edelman, Alan Alda, Anjelica Huston, Jenny Nichols, Joanna Gleason

Another example of Woody Allen's best work, Crimes and Misdemeanors is witty, adult, dark, philosophical, stark, and sumptuous. It follows two leads down two very different struggles, both happening simultaneously in Manhattan (where else?). Martain Landau plays an inspiring (and Oscar-nominated) role as Judah Rosenthal, a successful, married, and highly respected eye surgeon who is fed up with living a double life. When his mistress of two years, Dolores (Huston), threatens to expose their relationship to his wife (as well as reveal some shady embezzling Judah has done), Judah realizes he must take a drastic move to end his extra-curricular affair once and for all. Lost on what to do or where to turn, he goes to his brother Jack (Orbach), who convinces Judah to take Dolores out. "My people will take care of it. You won't be a part of it."

Meanwhile, somewhere else on the island, Woody Allen is living as Cliff Stern, a documentary film-maker with a not-so-successful track record in his career and a crumbling marriage. Forced to take a job to be his ridiculous brother-in-law's (Alda) biographer, he meets Halley (Farrow). The two grow as friends until Cliff finds himself madly in love with her, to a point that his paranoia over his brother-in-law's lame advances on Halley almost drive him mad.

The film celebrates Allen's familiar existentialist tone... and convinces us that only New Yorker's really know how to fuck up relationships properly. Alan Alda shines as a pretentious dope, and Woody's neurosis wiggles and trills off the screen until you feel like you yourself may walk away from this movie bumbling and wringing your hands together. In a Dovstoyevskian conclusion, the film examines the nature of the human conscience, the theme of religious guilt brought on by tradition, and the hopelessness of having hope.

Another Woody Allen classic that I'd happily recommend onto a friend.

#223 Targets (1968)

***

Director: Peter Bogdanovich

Cast: Tim O'Kelly, Boris Karloff, Arthur Peterson, Monte Landis, Nancy Hsueh, Peter Bogdanvich, Daniel Ades, Stafford Morgan, James Brown, Mary Jackson, Tanya Morgan

So the alleged story is as follows: Producer Roger Corman realized that under contract, Boris Karloff owed him two more full days of filming. He took 20 minutes of unused footage from the film The Terror and sent Karloff over to director Bogdanovich. The result is this short, horror crime film in which Karloff essentially stars as himself, a retiring old horror film actor who simply feels that he has become an anachronism. He states, "My kind of horror isn't horror anymore," as he waves a murder report in the newspaper.

This story is also cut with shots of boy-next-door Bobby Thompson, a young hunter who lives with his picture perfect family of his wife and two parents in suburbia. We watch as he prepares for a murdering spree: collecting guns, target practice, and lies. After killing his own family, he goes on a killing spree of complete strangers.

We expect, of course, that these two characters are going to cross paths, but when and how are indeed a surprise. A perfect commentary on the unstoppable movement toward a more violent America, in which we are all simply pawns. Faceless dots.

A remarkable reference could be made to Orson Welles in The Third Man (1949)-- how much do we care about these faceless, nameless dots? Looking forward to exploring that comparison.

#218 Spoorloos [The Vanishing] (1988)

****

Director: George Sluizer

Cast: Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu, Gene Bervoets, Johanna ter Steege, Gwen Eckhaus, Bernadette Le Saché, Tania Latarget

What is worse than death? For Rex Hofman, it is living a life shrouded in the torturous mystery of his girlfriend's disappearance. While vacationing together, Rex and Saskia stop at a gas station in France. When Saskia never returns to the car, Rex launches a full investigation of her disappearance. Years later when the case goes cold and the police have long-since shut the file, Rex remains plagued by the mystery and his sorrow.

Having taken over his life completely, the campaign to find Saskia expends all of his time, money, and energies. When he finally comes face to face with her abductor, Raymond, he is met with an unexpected proposition. Raymond–a normal man by any other definition: a professor, husband, father– offers Rex the opportunity to find out how Saskia died, but only by experiencing it himself. Otherwise, he will never know.

Thus, the film reaches the ultimate psychological climax. And while I refuse to spoil the ending, I will say it is one of the most disturbing things I've seen in a long, long time.

While this film by no means follows the standard "horror" genre formula, it supplies enough suspense and fright to indeed go beyond a mere 'crime film' into the classification of horror/suspense. A shocking and frightening foreign film, whose later remake I suggest could not possibly compare. Unique in that it follows the mind/life of the criminal in more detail than that of the victims, we get a fascinating view of Raymond practicing for his crime (without ever really seeing the actual full thing). And in what we can only assume are Saskia's last moments alive, we are plagued with the unfortunate experience of watching her vitality and innocence as she interacts with who will soon facilitate her unfair and inhumane demise.

Worth seeing, but come prepared. This one is not going to leave you with a good feeling in your stomach.

#204 Fargo (1996)

*****

Director: Joel Coen

Cast: Frances McDormond, Steve Buscemi, William H. Macy, Peter Stormare, Harve Presnell, Steve Park, John Carroll Lynch, Kristin Rudrud, José Feliciano

The Coen Brothers' widely-disputed "true story" about a North Dakota kidnapping case turned murderous in the year 1987–it's a folksy, you-know-the-town-all-too-well kind of story.

Jerry Lundegaard (brilliantly played by Macy) is a poor sap working at a car dealership, secretly over-run by debt, and under the strong thumb of his wealthy father-in-law. He arranges for his folksy, midwestern "You betcha!" wife to be kidnapped, so he can split the ransom with the criminals, and start a business deal that will relieve his debt.

But when the two hitmen, Buscemi and Stormare, find themselves involved in triple homicide as opposed to just a single kidnapping, the whole rug begins to unravel. Enter Frances McDormand (the director's wife, mind you) who plays Marge Gunderson, another folksy character who would go on to win best actress with the Academy for this performance. A pregnant, slow-moving, and slow-talking police chief, she calmly steps weaves her way through the complicated mess. She is always 2 steps behind, but just close enough to make everyone nervous.

We watched as Jerry sweats out the complications of the chain-reaction he has started. His fumbly speech, his awkward manner as his brain spins in circles... so completely relatable and real that it can't be anything but brilliant.

Often described as a black comedy, it in some ways brought Little Miss Sunshine to mind. Even though that film is on a whole other level in terms of what brand of "comedic relief" is used, the parallels between Jerry (Fargo) and Richard (LMS) somewhat astounded me. Both even depend on a certain "Stan Grossman" to bring their wacky business deal to fruition. Was LMS a nod to the Coen Brothers?

Regardless, A+

#180 Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

***

Director: Arthur Penn

Cast: Warren Beatty, Faye Dunaway, Michael J. Pollard, Gene Hackman, Estelle Parsons, Denver Pyle, Dub Taylor, Gene Wilder

Some day they'll go down together.

They'll bury them side-by-side.

To few it'll be grief,

to the law a relief,

but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

-Bonnie Parker, 1933

Bonnie Parker (Dunaway) and Clyde Barrow (Beatty) were real-life American depression-era outlaws who became criminal celebrities during the 'public enemy' craze between 1931 and 1934. This film adaptation of their story is comedic, sultry, fashionable, and action-packed, and it stands today as a true classic in the genre of American outlaw films.

This young unmarried couple leads a gang of criminals around the country, robbing banks, grocery stores, gas stations, and stealing cars all along the way. While they manage to stay free, this doomed couple is aware that their luck is bound to run out soon. They suffer from being sensationalized in the media, and consequently, pinned with many crimes they didn't commit. However, they were responsible for numerous murders... so don't feel too bad for them.

This film is often referred to as a slapstick comedy, but I didn't see that so much. Much more notably it was a film about sex and violence, as this was one of the first films to be made after a significant "loosening" of the censorship rules. Estelle Parsons won an Oscar for her performance as Buck Barrow's (Clyde's brother) wife, and this film also was Gene Wilder's first on-screen appearance. I actually have to admit that I would've probably given this movie another star if it weren't for Parsons' performance-- I found it almost intolerably annoying. Of course, that IS the point of her character, but it was excessive and ruined some key scenes of the film for me. Dunaway is a gorgeous Bonnie, and her costuming was truly outlaw-French chic. Beatty as Clyde sometimes is almost a toonce too... hunky... to be believable, but I still think this is an amazing classic.

It stands as a clear predecessor to an entire genre of great crime films, especially The Godfather which would follow in 1972.

Yes please.

#150 The Thin Blue Line (1988)

***

Director: Errol Morris

Cast: Randall Adams, David Harris, Gus Rose, Jackie Johnson, Marshall Touchton

This is a documentary bent on exposing a case of wrongful justice carried out in Dallas County, Texas. The story is that of Randall Adams, a man sentenced to life for the murder of police officer, Robert Wood-- the disturbing part being that he is innocent. The documentary dramatically re-enacts the case, obtaining interviews from all involved, including the then-16-year-old runaway who did in fact commit the murder of the police officer.

Randall Adams, somewhat of a drifter, ran out of gas on his way home from work one day. A 16-year-old runaway (David Harris) assisted him on the side of the road, and the two spent the rest of the day together: drinking beer, smoking weed, and saw a movie. But this is where their stories diverge. Randall Adams claimed he went back to his motel, watched tv, and went to sleep. David Harris claims they were driving when a cop pulled them over, and Adams fired at the officer as he approached the car.

Carried by the momentum to quickly clear out the case, the police of Dallas County and VIdor, Texas neglected to examine the majority of the evidence pointing clearly at David Harris as the murderer. Instead, Randall Adams was tried and found guilty, and it wasn't until after the release of this documentary that he was freed from jail-- 12 years after he was convicted.

The story is a good one, albeit quite frustrating to watch dumb people fuck up a man's life. Also, the style of the documentary was very, very dated to the 80s. I enjoyed the film a great amount, but it's not the best documentary I've ever seen. Also, the director reused clips of footage probably 6-8 times throughout the movie. Perhaps he was doing it for emphasis, but at certain points, it just really felt like he didn't bother shooting enough to make a film.

#145 Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer (1992)

****

Director: Nick Broomfield

Cast: Nick Broomfield, Arlene Pralle, Aileen Wuornos, Steve Glaser


This is the documentary of serial killer Aileen Wuornos. Or was she a serial killer? Or is this documentary even about her killings? Or her? Not really.

This documentary is actually a look at the people surrounding her case: the police, her adoptive mother (adopting her just after she was arrested, oddly enough), her makeshift lawyer, the courts, etc. Her case is unique in that is shrouded in lies, back-tracking, a complicated history, and a slew of people that involved themselves in her case to make money. The documentary focuses mostly on her lawyer, Steve Glaser, a pot-smoking hippie who calls himself Dr. Legal and seems far more interested in writing classic rock anthems about her case than about working on it... as well as her seemingly insane adoptive mother, who adopted Aileen just as she was brought to court, charging outrageous amounts of money for interviews and movie deals. The two, together, seemed to manipulate and turn heads, convincing Aileen to plead no contest and to take the death penalty...

Oh, it's confusing. I've actually clouded my thoughts on this film by watching the follow-up documentary created by Broomfield 12 years later entitled The Life and Death of a Serial Killer. In this documentary, we get a foggy look at Aileen's complicated and abusive childhood, her lesbian relationships, her callgirl work, and her side of the story (though it changed from interview to interview).

One thing is for certain, however. The legal happenings surrounding this case certainly seemed beyond backwards. Aileen Wuornos was an abused child, coming from a home of incest, betrayal, abuse, homelessness, teen pregnancy, prostitution, hitch-hiking... you name it, she experienced it. She entered into the world of being a hitch-hiking hooker, where she allegedly began murdering her customers-- 8 in total. In the end, she was charged with 6 counts of the death penalty, and her sentence was indeed carried out. However, along the way, her lawyer, crazed adoptive mother, abusive people from her childhood, AND the police working on her case were all found guilty of cheating her and using her for movie deals and money.

Back and forth throughout the film, Broomfield interviews Wuornos, who sometimes testifies extremely convincingly that she had been brutally raped, and only killed customers when she thought she was in serious danger of being murdered herself. Sometimes, however, she would renounce these statements and said she killed to make burglary easier. It's a confusing mash-up of who is lying and who isn't, and by the end of the second documentary, the filmmaker himself is on the witness stand.

The end of the film makes a pointed view of the final days of Wuornos. Obviously completely driven to insanity, she raves about conspiracy theories, poisons, in-jail rapes, and even aliens. It is pointed out that the day before her execution she was considered by state psychologists to be perfectly sane, and thus, her sentence was carried out. At the end of the film, there seems to be a silent bond between filmmaker and audience that something seriously wrong has taken place within the justice system-- though it's absolutely impossible to know where to point the finger.

Was Wuornos truly a cold-blooded killer? And in the end, after all the corruption, lies, cheating, cover-up, wrongful profit surrounding her case... did it really matter? Chilling indeed.

The movie Monster was in fact released as a Hollywood picture about her. After all the disgusting information about how these movie deals came to be, it's almost hard to stomach the thought of watching such a film-- when even a documentary filmmaker 15-years-on-the-job wasn't able to really uncover the truth. How can we trust that Hollywood even had a clue?

Ah well.
If you're interested in crime, documentary, political corruption... it's all very fascinating, albeit very disturbing. I do recommend, however, if you watch The Selling of a Serial Killer that you follow up with the second documentary. It is much more telling and focused on the woman herself, although both sides of the story are worth raising an eyebrow over.